A/N: For my beloved RagdollPrincess! You are the bestest of the best! I thought I'd die laughing from your song prompt!
A/N#2: The idea came from the discussion of the popular trope of placing a person from our world into Middle Earth...
"Thong Song" by Sisqo
Part 1
The world swirls around, sort of feels like that one time you went with your first boyfriend to a funfair and to prove him you were no wuss you went to that one ride. Needless to say, violently puking in front of him made you rather unattractive. Whatever, he sucked at French kissing. Wait… Meaning he was horrible! But there was excessive sucking as well... Yuck…
After a few moments of colourful swirls and nauseating flips that your sadly empty stomach is making, you find yourself standing in the middle of a very green field. Like, seriously, it is way too green. A moment ago you were walking on Graham Street, pondering your miserable life, and then next you find yourself… Well, by the looks of it, it is New Zealand or something. Hm…
A cup of caramel Frappuccino still clenched in your hand, you are a vision in blue. Stupid denim dress, that looks like nineties are going to call any moment and demand the camouflage pattern back, flip flops, because the shoes you were wearing have left you with bloodied blisters, and a handbag that is stubbornly dislocating your shoulder, all together you are not quite ready for hiking.
You are suddenly terrified. Isn't there like thousands of breeds of poisonous snakes in New Zealand? Or is it Australia? This is bloody more important than the mechanics of how you got here at the first place! You are in the middle of a freaking field. You are really not an outdoors person. You are a freak, you are a disgrace to all the daughters of prairies. The closest you came to hiking was tenting in front of the Legislature Building in that protest thing you went to with your friend Thea. And that was to impress that hot guy, who ended up to be a douche… Long story...
You take a sip of your Frappuccino and do the most logical thing a modern girl can do in the situation like this. You start rummaging through your purse looking for your cell phone. No service. Right… You stare at the sad empty triangle in the corner of the screen. And the battery is almost empty. Bugger…
It is also rather hot. Not too much, but your pale skin protests. You pull out the sunscreen out of it, let's face it, it contains pretty much everything, you name it, it has it, and generously spray yourself. Then you put on a pair of sunglasses and feeling somewhat better, you finally look around.
It is a field. Freaking field… Literally, there is nothing else. Something at the horizon, perhaps mountains. You suck in more of the caffeinated goodness and realize that it's almost done, and the ice has melted. It's slightly watery, but you will miss it like the dearest of friends.
And then you see a group of people appearing from behind a low hill on your right. There are about ten of them, and they are marching vigorously. Alrighty, it might not be that bad. They might be hikers… Or rangers… Do they have rangers in New Zealand? You quickly think of how much money you have in your purse. Will they take your loonies? And also you quickly push your hand inside it and find your pepper spray. Just to be on the safe side, you know… You work in downtown, you are prepared to anything.
The energetically sauntering group comes closer, and you feel suddenly nauseated. They are definitely not hikers. They are short, wide, hairy men. With axes. What the actual fuck?! You grasp pepper spray tighter in your hand.
OK, don't panic, Wren, it is not that bad… The voice in your head is shrieky. What do you mean it is not that bad?! They are obviously crazy. Look at the clothes, velvet and shit, and is that freaking armour?! Wait…
And then you feel suddenly better. They are obviously larpers! You exhale. Thank goodness, phew… You feel immediately more relaxed. They are usually harmless, all in their elvish world, silicon ears and stuff. You are still holding on to your pepper spray, but you feel better.
You patiently wait for them to approach, and then their leader finally notices you. Bloody hell, would you look at these eyes! God, you are actually uncomfortable from his attractiveness. You are usually fine with hot guys. You are not so bad yourself, guys like gingers. But this one is way too intense! And how do they make themselves so wide? Is it some sort of prosthetics? Do they have some rugs stuffed under their coats?
His blue eyes are scanning you. Damn, such a pity he is a mental case. Look at these lips, the hair, wait, is it a wig too? And hell, the nose. You've got a bit of a fetish, you just like long noses, and this one is… Yum…
You pull a smile on your face and step forward. A scary looking dude near the hottie grabs his axe. Wow, they are taking their little hobby way too seriously!
"Hi! Sorry to bother you but I'm sort of lost, so..." You probably shouldn't tell them you have just teleported here. Beam me up, Scotty, for fuck sake! They probably don't like trekkies. "Could you help me out a bit? Maybe direct me to the nearest village or something..." You start mumbling under the piercing stare of the long nosed hunk. Damn…
He screws his eyes sideways and exchanges looks with the bold and scary. The rest of the group catches up with the first two, and you just can't stop staring. Dear lord, that is totally barmy! Seriously, there is a dude whose hair looks like a starfish, there is a super round guy, and what's with the braids?! And is that an ushanka?! It totally looks like the Russian two-eared hat!
And then you catch the eyes of another hottie. This one is younger, not your type, but mamma mia! And wait, another one! For the life of you you wouldn't be able to choose! One is all sunlight and smirk, another one all dark eyes, like black cherries or truffles, and the most kissable lips ever… My oh my…
"Who are you, honorable maiden? And what are you doing in the Vales of Anduin?" And here we go. Forget the boys, give me the man! Were you not that shocked and shaken by the whole teleporting without spilling your drink thing, you would have come right here, right now! Is he lowering his orgasmic voice on purpose or he is just that gifted?
You lick your lips and finally meet his eyes. And then the question reaches your brain. Well, hell, obviously the guys are staying in the image. OK, let's see what you can conjure. "Honourable sir, I am Wren..." Bloody hell, you probably need some romantic name here too, but whatever, "Wren of Winnipeg, and I am lost in these valleys. Would you be so kind as to direct me to the closest dwelling?"
And then boom! He cocks a brow, and you are dead! Seriously, dead. Or trembling and horny, depends on how you look at it. You are pretty sure this gesture is illegal in most of the States, they are such Puritans there in the South. Good thing, you people of the Chicago of the North are more tolerant towards blatantly sexy dudes. Purrr… You are not just tolerant, you are mentally undressing him. Forget the larping thing, he is delectable! They are probably not getting any, poor sods, with all their weirdness!
"The nearest dwelling, my lady, is in five day's travel from here." You nod just because anything he says sounds so good. Wait, what?!
"Um… What?! Seriously, dude, are you kidding me?!"
And then the tattooed dude steps forwards, snarling, and you squeak.
"You will address the man in front of you with respect, lass. This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, the King Under the Mountain!"
The hottie puts his hand on the scary shit dude's shoulder.
"Dwalin, you are frightening her. She is obviously fuddled." What?! Fuddled?! His attractiveness fades a wee bit.
"I am not fuddled! You are fuddled! Running around fields in stupid outfits with foil swords!" Yep, the third Frappuccino was a bad idea. You do not react well to caffeinated drinks, ginger's curse. But you were stressed, not every day you fail a job interview so embarassignly. Damn your gob, you just couldn't keep some of that info to yourself… But let's face it, the guy was dumb, you could do his job better than him. Well, could have done if you hadn't failed the interview. "Listen guys, I get it, you are having fun here, and I am ruining your pretty picture. So just tell me how to get to the city and I'll be on my way. You will continue your larping thing, and I'll take a cab and find some hotel for myself. OK?"
They are staring at you as if you are speaking Mandarin. Guh… The hottie is silent, some of the other ones are exchanging whispers. All together they don't look that threatening, but you are so jittery today. You start backing off.
"OK, I get it. You are on a quest, or something. I won't bother you anymore. Just wave towards the city, and be well." For no particular reason you salute. The black brow cocks again. Damn, he is hot...
The dark haired younger one lifts his arm, such a cutie, but an older guy with an ear trumpet shushes him. Tosser. They all stare at the blue eyed dreamy one. Well, they are taking the whole subordination thing seriously. Thorin, son of Thrain, son of something else frowns. You have a clear image of licking his neck in your head and slightly shake your head. Funny, since you broke up with Allan you really haven't thought of any of that, and now you are drooling over a loser with giant prosthetic ears. Barmy… Let's hope the beard is real at least, so yum… Wait, you actually hate facial hair. Well, there is the first time for everything...
"Where have you come from, my lady?" Oh, so grumpy! So mistrustful! This look from under his brows is really working for him. He is like an inch taller than you but he probably can be really intimidating. And then you finally come to your senses. Seriously, why are they all so short? Have they met online, "shorties only" forum or something? You are short? I am short too. Let's get dressed like a mix between a viking and a cameo from Tudors TV show and let us run through fields picking daisies! And their prosthetics do look very good. Like professional. Have they bought them from Steven Spielberg or something? Or that New Zealand guy who makes all those medieval films? You are not into this stuff, but even you were impressed.
"I have come from the glorious city of Winnipeg, the slurpee capital of the world," you just can't hold back the snark, can you, Wren?
"I am not familiar with such place. Where is it located?" Yeah, yeah, you have heard it many times. Manitoba, what's that? Is it near Connecticut? Whatever.
"Winnipeg is a glorious and prosperous city, your majesty, it is the birthplace of Bugs Bunny and Nia Vardalos," you haughtily lift your chin. Nothing else comes to mind, but there were definitely some other celebrities there… Hm… Oh right! "And it is the home city of Winnipeg Jets!" Nope? The info obviously doesn't register. You suddenly have an idea and rummage through your purse and pull out your Jets keychain. "Seriously, dude, they had Alexander Burmistrov there for a while, he was in the Russian National team when they won the World Cup!" You dangle the blue token in front of his long nose. And then your phone starts ringing.
And suddenly with deafening clanking and banging they all pull out their weapons, and the whole group sort of shrinks and turns into this one scary arse hedgehog, sturdy bodies pressed together, axes and swords sticking out at all sides. A round, grey haired bloke squeals, "It is dark magic! She will place a spell on us!"
Seriously?
A/N: Want more? Hit me with song prompts! :P