I'm taking this chance to throw in some LGBT+ characters because every character in fanfic seems to be straight and cis and honestly that's pretty boring, especially since you're working with a fantasy world that could have entirely different gender or sexuality roles. Or even worse, you're working with the modern world, and that's definitely diverse with gender and sexuality. So really there's no excuse for why there isn't a nonbinary, hella queer 10th walker somewhere around here.
Also pipeweed is actually weed I will fight you on this
This chapter has drug use (just pipeweed) so if that's a thing for you, proceed with caution.
Dedicated to my brother, who gives me a kick in the ass when I need it and calls a moron the rest of the time. I'd probably be dead without you.
"So then Joffrey suddenly keels over during his wedding to Margaery because the wine Tyrion gave him was poisoned, and as he's dying, he points to Tyrion, so he gets arrested. But it was actually Margaery's grandmother who poisoned the cup when it was on the table!"
"No!" Pippin breathed. The Fellowship was all gathered around Gabriel, who was doing his best to sum up Game of Thrones for them. Gandalf and Aragorn were in the back watching them quietly, but everyone else was leaning forward, hanging on to his every word. He'd been at it for about an hour, and so far they absolutely loved it. It kind of amused him to see grown men absolutely enraptured by a TV show that Gabriel himself had grown tired of.
Gabriel nodded solemnly. "While everyone is panicking, Dontos Hollard tells Sansa to-."
"Wait, who?" Sam asked.
"The knight that Sansa saved and Joffrey made him the court fool." When they nodded their understanding, he continued on. "He tells Sansa to come with him if she wants to live, and he gets her out of King's Landing right before Ceresi orders her arrested-."
"Why would Ceresi arrest her?" Merry asked.
"She's Tyrion's wife." Boromir explained, and Gabriel nodded. "But wait, how did they escape? Would Ceresi not have King's Landing closed to any coming in or out?"
"She did, but not before Sansa and Dontos got to a rowboat-."
"A rowboat? It would make more sense for-."
"Well it was a rowboat, okay? Anyway, they row to a ship in the fog, and Petyr is on the ship. He tells Sansa that Dontos only saved her because Petyr promised to pay him-." The Hobbits and Boromir shouted their protests, and Gabriel held up his hands. "Look, I'm sorry, but that's the story! And seriously, out of everything that goes on, that's what gets you riled up?"
"But he gave her his family heirloom." Frodo spoke up. He didn't talk much, Gabriel noticed, but he was equally wrapped up in the story, if his body language said anything. "Surely he cared for her some?"
Gabriel shook his head. "The necklace was a fake, and he expected Petyr to pay him for it. Anyway, Petyr kills him-."
"Everyone in this tale dies!" Legolas protested. "Do any of them survive?"
Gabriel shrugged. "It's not finished yet-." The Fellowship all groaned in exasperation.
"Now you tell us?" Gimli barked.
Gabriel groaned and covered his face. "This is worse than babysitting a bunch of toddlers." He muttered. "Okay. Okay. Is there anything else you want to do? We've ordered pizza, we've watched a bunch of movies, we've played poker, B.S., go fish, slapjack, and pretty much every conceivable card game known to man..."
"I think we all need a good, relaxing smoke." Gimli said with finality, pulling out his pipe to prove his point.
"I agree." Aragorn said, propping up his feet. "Everyone is agitated; it will be good for us to relax. Master Gabriel only wishes to be a good host, it is not his fault."
"What exactly do you guys smoke?" Gabriel asked as everyone pulled out their pipes, except Legolas, who raised an eyebrow in distaste. "Is it tobacco? Do you even know what tobacco is?"
"Of course we know what tobacco is!" Boromir was cleaning his pipe, and Legolas moved over to the window. "But this is not tobacco. It is called pipeweed; it grows as a common weed in my country. But its leaves and flowers prove for a very relaxing smoke."
Gabriel's eyes widened as it suddenly made sense. "Oh." He said. Holy shit. Some kind of medieval weed?! Mike would have a litter of kittens if he knew what this was.
"Would you like some?" Merry offered. "I have a spare pipe somewhere..."
Gabriel looked at the clock; it was five minutes till ten. He had plenty of time before Michael got home. "Sure." He grinned.
"Great set tonight!" Scott threw his arm around Michael's shoulders as they sauntered off the stage to the cheers of the crowd. His black hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, but he still managed to look the part of a heartbreaker. "You always drive them crazy, you blue-eyed vixen." He winked and grinned, leaning heavily on him.
"Not as great as usual, but we managed." Michael put his arm around his friend and bandmate as they went backstage, laughing and cracking jokes as they walked. Their stuff was waiting for them, with a round of water bottles and towels. "Thank fuck." He muttered before he grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat off of his face. he grabbed a water bottle and gulped it down in one go, ignoring Scott's comment of "Wow, someone's thirsty." He and Scott cleaned themselves up as the staff started to clear out and the house music started to take over the club. The tip jar was overflowing, and Michael's waistband was stuffed with dollar bills. He grabbed his half of the tips and the dollar bills and counted them out. "Sweet, I made a hundred bucks." He stripped off the too-tight, sweat-soaked shirt he wore for his music sets, rolling his eyes at Scott's appreciative whistle. "Save it for the stage, Scotty."
"You know you like it, Mikey." Scott winked and grinned.
"I'm out of your league, baby."
"Oh well, your brother's cute too." They laughed. "So how'd your seeding or whatever go?"
"Seder." Michael corrected. "Oh my fucking God, you would not believe the shit we got into, Scott."
"I can imagine. Let me try to picture it;" He slung his arm around Michael again and put his hand out in front of them like he was illustrating a scene. "Two brothers, so much booze you could drown, a couple of cute girls - or boys, you know, whatever you want-."
"Not that kind of shit." Michael ducked under the arm and got the rest of his stuff together as he thought. He liked Scott - he trusted Scott - but did he trust him with something that could have him institutionalized if he didn't believe him? He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Scott was twenty-one years old and built like a brickhouse; he and Michael had met through the Rabbi, because Scott's family was ethnically Jewish, even though he didn't practice it. They hit it off really well, and teamed up for music gigs, and had been fast friends ever since. He'd helped Michael through some tough times; for all he joked, he really was loyal to a fault. He'd given Michael and Gabriel a place to crash when they ended up homeless, then helped them get their apartment. When they were down on their luck and could barely afford the apartment, he'd paid for food and utilities. Scott's mom called Michael her other son because they spent so much time together for God's sake. But with something like this...? "Never mind. It's all over your head, you old burnout." He winked and laughed as Scott mimed being shot.
"You had to go there, you little twerp!" Scott lunged at him, and they wrestled until they ended up a laughing mess on the ground. Michael was on top of him and felt the laughter deep in the larger man's chest.
"We look like a couple of jackasses." He grinned.
"Two sweaty shirtless jackasses on top of each other. Sounds like a porno to me." Scott reached up his hand to clasp the back of Michael's neck, but hesitated, his hand hovering just above the skin. Suddenly, they both stopped laughing. They stared at each other for a long moment, and Michael cleared his throat before he stood up.
"I've gotta get back home. Gabe's waiting for me." He avoided looking Scott in the eye as he pulled on his sweatshirt and coat. "I'll text you for tomorrow night's set, alright?"
"Yeah. Sure. Alright." Scott stood up and practically sprinted over to his dressing table. "I'll see you around, man."
"Bye." Michael saluted and ducked his head, hurrying out the back door.
What the fuck was that?
As soon as Michael had stepped through the front door, he'd been bombarded with smoke, sending him stumbling back and coughing. For a second he thought his worst dreams had come true and Gabe had actually set fire to the apartment, but then he realized that he recognized the smell. It was the smell of a bunch of high schoolers who smoked and got high and thought they understood the universe, except this time, it was sweeter, and stronger. He looked back into the apartment and froze at what he saw.
The Fellowship plus Gabriel were lounging around the living room in a pallet that had been built out of the chair cushions and all of the blankets and pillows in the apartment, each of them with a pipe in their hand, including Gabriel. It looked like a goddamn opium den. Everyone froze when he opened the door, looking like a bunch of deer in the headlights of a truck. But one person in particular almost dropped his pipe with a whispered curse of "shit".
Michael looked at Gabriel.
Gabriel looked at Michael.
Aragorn cleared his throat.
No one dared to even breathe.
"You're so fucking dead." Michael said in a deadpan tone of voice.
"Mike, I can explain." Gabriel raised up his hands.
"I am going to kick your ass so hard you'll be tasting my boot in the afterlife." Michael threw down his bag and stormed towards his brother. "Hashem can't save you now."
"Master Michael, there's hardly anything wrong with a little smoke!" Boromir cried, coughing and giving a lopsided smile. "He's a young man, he can take it!"
"Me and Pip were hardly tweens when we had our first smoke." Merry spoke up. "It's not anything to-!"
Michael jabbed a finger at them. "You come into my house, you bring your weird-ass Middle Earth weed, you smoke it, in my house, AND YOU INTRODUCE MY BABY BROTHER TO IT?!"
They were silent, looking at the man in front of them. A vein had popped out on his forehead, the cords were standing out in his neck, and he looked ready to murder each and every one of them. No one moved until Gabe slowly offered his pipe. "Want a hit?"
Michael stared at him with his mouth open. "What?" He finally sputtered.
"Dude, chill. It's just some pipeweed. It's not even actual weed!"
"It's fantasy weed, and that's good enough to get the cops called on you!" Michael looked behind him to make sure the neighbors weren't listening, but lowered his voice anyway. "Do you know how much shit I'd get in if you were caught with this?!"
Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "Mike, do I have to remind you of the time when you were my age that I found you so faded out of your mind that you-."
"Okay, okay." Michael raised his hands and looked over the Fellowship. He was tired, he was stressed, he had no idea what to do with the situation he'd been put in, and before he knew it, he'd closed the door, shucked off his jacket and sweater, and plopped down next to Legolas and Gimli. "Hit me." He said in resignation.
A sharp knock woke Michael up out of the deep, dreamless sleep he'd been having. He grunted and sat upright, looking around. He was shirtless and had passed out in the middle of the floor, and the rest of his guests had seen fit to follow suit. Pipes were strewn everywhere; if the social worker walked in at that moment, Michael would be a dead man.
She's not going to be here until tomorrow. He yawned and laid back down, covering his face with his arm. He could catch some more sleep until his late shift...
There was another knock on the door. He groaned and stood up, rubbing his forehead. He looked around again and saw Gabriel curled around a pillow in his chair and smiled.
Another knock.
"I'm coming, I'm coming, don't get your panties in a wad." He called, rubbing his forehead as he walked to the door, grumbling in Yiddish the entire way. He undid the lock and opened the door, blinking blearily. "If you're selling something, I don't want any-." His eyes widened as he cut himself off. "I - I - Rabbi Gofman!"
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