DISCLAIMER : I would own the romance, but the romance element seems to have been taken out. Now it's adventure/humor. I don't know if it'll go back. Don't ask. No clue. Oh, and heck, forget it, this isn't a disclaimer. This is a claimer. I own all the Hobbits and Star Trek characters and everybody else. Get over it. PS and I also own Haldir.
A SILVER ROMANCE
Chapter Two : Roast Hobbit
All was quiet on the Western front. It was an interesting sort of day.
Chekov and the random ensign were being beseiged by hobbits.
(A/N : What a great way to end a chapter... but I just started, so no.) Chekov looked around "Uh, this isn't the pleneet" He looked up at the redshirt. "Hey, vern't you vearing a gold uniform? And vern't you a gerl?" (A/N : It's SUPPOSED to be spelled like that...)
The ensign smiled."Haha. Dream on. I've always been a reshirt. And I am a girl."
"But you ver vearing a dress and now you have real clothes"
The redshirt laughed. "Yeah, well, I don't like those stupid inform dresses."
"But the gold thing!"
"It was a holographic projection. Like Kat's jeans." (A/N : Everybody laugh at Margie! HAhahahaha...)
Chekov gave her a strange look and turned his attention to the problem at hand.
Hobbits.
They were looking up at Chekov and the ensign with something between wonder and fear on their brown faces.
"Big folk!" siad one.
"Look, Aragorn, weirdos!" said another, stuffing an apple in his face, then turning to spit out the core.
"No one at home'll beleive this..." said the third wonderingly. ""I tell you, my ol gaffer'd have thing or two to say about this. And then he'd call me a duffer..."
"NOOOOOOOOO!!!" wailed the fourth and final Hobbit. "The Ring! He sees all!!"
(A/N : It's SOOOO hard to tell which Hobbit's which (-_-) Not really...)
Someone very tall with blue-black hair stepped forward, passing by the little group, a bow pressed close to Chekov's nose. "Who are you! Speak, strangers, for we are on a pressing errand, and we shall not permit you to hinder it."
Chekov blinked at the arrow that was about halfway up his nostril (or at least he imagined it as such). "Ehm, I am called Chekov and this is"
"T'Jasmine Silver."
The person (who Chekov noticed had pointed ears) let the arrow tip fall. "Ai! Those are not orc names, Gandalf. What shall we do with them?"
"They do not seem unfriendly, Legolas," commented a very dark and handsome (A/N : No, Chekov and Silver do not think he's handsome... I do. But I still like Haldir better.) man. "I do not think we should harm them."
Legolas cast them a long look, as did another human, a tall old guy, and another short guy with a beard. The one called Legolas shrugged and did not make the long speech he wanted to.
Everybody else nodded, but they gave Silver long looks. The short guy with the beard grumbled.
"A girl?" He snorted and stumped off through the snow.
Snow
Snow!?
Someone had discovered Chekov's feet were cold.
He didn't say anything.
They were stumping through the snow in a big group. Chekov's feet were still cold. He didn't like winter, and he wasn't too fond of his outfit. He had discovered he was wearing the same kinds of outfits as the others. In fact, they were dress like the guy called Legolas.
Chekov wondered if he looked better in his standared gold Starfleet uniform or the elven outfit. He decided against asking Ensign Silver. It might seem shallow.
He wished he had a comb. Or food. Food would be nice
A heater would be better.
Chekov wondered if he could hunt rabbits with his bow. Or maybe he could hunt Hobbits. He wondered what roat Hobbit would taste like. Probably chewy and crunchy.
At least they would be quiet then.
"So if your on a quest to destroy the Ring of power but then your cousin gets stabbed by a nastybad ringwraith and the he gets sick and starts moaning and he looks quite ill but then a cool elf named Gary Moore or something like that takes your favorite cousin to a cool place called Imladeris and he gets all better and stuff, and all you really want is second breakfast but some stupid ranger"
Chekov wished the runt called Pippin would shut up. Chekov called him Pippy. Like Scotty. It was cool.
Chekov wanted roast Hobbits. These Hobbits. That was what he wanted most of all. Ensign Silver was learning to shoot arrows. Chekov wanted to go home. Chekov wanted a lot of things.
But before he went, he wanted roast Hobbit.
Chekov was having a bad day. First, they had woken up and fought wolves at about three in the morning. Chekov didn't like that part. Then they had marched a while, then fought a big water beast and Frodo had almost gotten killed. Now they were stuck in a dead Dwarven kingdom.
And the worst part was Chekov still didn't have his roasted Hobbit.
Ensign Silver, however, was having a spiffy time. She liked being in Moria. She liked using her bow. She wished Chekov would be better though. He was muttering grumpily to himself and didn't even perk up when she reminded him the Russians had invented chess and elevators and rollercoasters and had a literacy rate of 99.7% even back in the year 2003. She wondered what she could do. They were in a big room and Gimli was making a lot of noise about something. She was chatting animatedly but he'd been quiet for days.
Then there was a yell.
"ORCS!"
Chekov started and watched as the others ran around. He wanted something Russian. Like a dead chicken or a screensaver or his mommy or a PB&J. Some people who looked like Kirk were running around yelling. About then Chekov had to fight an orc so he had a problem and he didn't look around for a while. When somebody told him to run, he did.
The black-haired elf named Legolas was yelling and they were shunted around, not really certain of what was going on. Then they were being pushed forward and the others were yelling and Chekov's brain was telling him he wanted roast Hobbit. Something flaming was following them and Chekov wondered vaugly if it would roast Pippy for him but he didn't get a chance to ask. They were running and running and suddenly they were at a bridge. The others ran, but the redshirt who was now wearing green was waiting for him. He blinked, looked over his shoulder and began to sprint across the bridge. He wanted roast Hobbits, not roast Russian. Only the old man was left behind him now, and he was urging them forward. They were nearly to the end and Chekov was actually standing on the far side when it happened. The man shouted soemthing that Chekov didn't understand. Maybe he'd said eggroll. An eggroll would be good right now. Almost as good as a Roast Hobbit.
The old dude was in trouble. Ensign Silver was looking worried.
"We have to do something!" she whispered.
"Have fun," grumped Chekov. But Ensign Silver was dragging him out across the bridge, and he couldn't stop her. Then soemthing happened. Something really bad. Something bad enough to make Ensign Silve rmutter "crap" really loud. The bridge crumbled.
And then Chekov was falling. Oddly enough , though, one thing made him feel good...
Was it the fact that that Ensign Silver was still holding his hand?
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I guess it is a romance. And I'm going to have less comedy in the future. And that was the weird chapter. Less A/N, though. Hm. Well, I need confermation. If this stupid chapter doesn't get any reveiws, I'm cancelling the story.
