Two men in strange garb, at least for their current setting, stand alongside the rail of the red carpet with a group of other Hollywood reporters. They each hold a large mug of ale. As things are prepared around them they drink at rather constant pace, and someone comes by to refill every so often. A girl stands in front of them and tugs at their shirts, and runs a comb over their hair in turn. The two men look in confusion at the microphones they are handed.
"Speak into it!" A loud whisper comes from behind the camera.
The taller of the two, dark haired and blue eyed, turns the item over in his hand. "Like this?" His voice is distant as he holds the wide end away from him, as one might a bullhorn.
"No you idiot, other way 'round." Comes the aggitated female voice off camera again. "Whose idea was this? I'll throttle them."
"Yours Wil, I remember it was your idea." Come the enthusiastic reply, again from behind the camera. The reply is complete silence.
"Good Morrow fair people of Los Angeles. I am Framgar of the Breelands." Says the tall one, finally having gotten the idea of which end is which on the microphone.
"And I am Jonnathon son of Eldurion." The camera shifts, unable to keep the two men properly in frame together, as Jon is about a foot shorter than Framgar. "Welcome," he says trying to stand up on his toes, almost loosing his balance. "Welcome to 'Women of the Red Carpet." Jon looks up a perturbed frown on his face. "Hey horse boy! Sit down!"
Framgar had been about to speak and frowns down at his shorter companion. "Tisn't my fault you're short.... Get yourself a box 'Hobbit'."
Jon glares at Framgar, "When will you get over that nickname, I hate it." He grumbles as he waves to someone off camera.
"When you grow to a proper height, or get a box."
Soon a box is brought and Jon gets up on it, "There, happy?"
"For the moment. I shall let you know should anything else arise." Framgar then smiles most cunningly into the camera.
Jon makes a motion as if to dump the contents of his mug over Framgar's head, now his is within reach. "Naw, would hate to waste the ale." He mutters, thinking better of it, taking in a long drink instead. "Yes, so as I said, welcome to 'Women of the Red Carpet!'
Framgar pushes in front of Jon a little. "And because Hobbit here is so short and the producers forgot to have a box ready, that's all the show we have time for." He waves into the camera. "What?" Jon's grey eyes go wide his voice full of desperation as he motions with his mug toward the women coming towards them on the runway. "What about the girls?"
"Oh yes." Framgar reaches into his vest and calls out. "You pretty things won't mind having a private taping session with me later would you?" He grins his most charming smile and holds out little cards with phone numbers on them.
Jon pokes Framgar in the ribs as the taller man reaches across him. "Hey I'm coming too Horse- boy."
He swats at Jon's hand and rubs his ribs, stepping in front of the other man. "We'll surprise them." It is then Framgar turns and frowns at the camera. "Are you still," He looks for the right term, "rolling? Well shut it off you great lumox!" He nods to Jon who moves quickly towards the camera and grabs it. The image shakes wildly before turning to static.
"Speak into it!" A loud whisper comes from behind the camera.
The taller of the two, dark haired and blue eyed, turns the item over in his hand. "Like this?" His voice is distant as he holds the wide end away from him, as one might a bullhorn.
"No you idiot, other way 'round." Comes the aggitated female voice off camera again. "Whose idea was this? I'll throttle them."
"Yours Wil, I remember it was your idea." Come the enthusiastic reply, again from behind the camera. The reply is complete silence.
"Good Morrow fair people of Los Angeles. I am Framgar of the Breelands." Says the tall one, finally having gotten the idea of which end is which on the microphone.
"And I am Jonnathon son of Eldurion." The camera shifts, unable to keep the two men properly in frame together, as Jon is about a foot shorter than Framgar. "Welcome," he says trying to stand up on his toes, almost loosing his balance. "Welcome to 'Women of the Red Carpet." Jon looks up a perturbed frown on his face. "Hey horse boy! Sit down!"
Framgar had been about to speak and frowns down at his shorter companion. "Tisn't my fault you're short.... Get yourself a box 'Hobbit'."
Jon glares at Framgar, "When will you get over that nickname, I hate it." He grumbles as he waves to someone off camera.
"When you grow to a proper height, or get a box."
Soon a box is brought and Jon gets up on it, "There, happy?"
"For the moment. I shall let you know should anything else arise." Framgar then smiles most cunningly into the camera.
Jon makes a motion as if to dump the contents of his mug over Framgar's head, now his is within reach. "Naw, would hate to waste the ale." He mutters, thinking better of it, taking in a long drink instead. "Yes, so as I said, welcome to 'Women of the Red Carpet!'
Framgar pushes in front of Jon a little. "And because Hobbit here is so short and the producers forgot to have a box ready, that's all the show we have time for." He waves into the camera. "What?" Jon's grey eyes go wide his voice full of desperation as he motions with his mug toward the women coming towards them on the runway. "What about the girls?"
"Oh yes." Framgar reaches into his vest and calls out. "You pretty things won't mind having a private taping session with me later would you?" He grins his most charming smile and holds out little cards with phone numbers on them.
Jon pokes Framgar in the ribs as the taller man reaches across him. "Hey I'm coming too Horse- boy."
He swats at Jon's hand and rubs his ribs, stepping in front of the other man. "We'll surprise them." It is then Framgar turns and frowns at the camera. "Are you still," He looks for the right term, "rolling? Well shut it off you great lumox!" He nods to Jon who moves quickly towards the camera and grabs it. The image shakes wildly before turning to static.