“Look I’m standing naked before you
Don’t you want more than my sex?
I can scream as loud as your last one,
But I can’t claim innocence.
“Oh, God, could it be the weather?
Oh, God, why I am I here?
If love isn’t forever and it’s NOT the weather,
Hand me my leather.”
* “Leather”. By Tori Amos. From the album, “Little Earthquakes”. Atlantic Records. 1991.
*~*
Legless and Stu rode over the rolling hills on matching white steeds. Both were dressed in rich forest colors of brown and green. Behind Legless rode Glimmergroin. They’d left Mirkwood and traveled first to the Last Homely House with news that Lorien had been abandoned at last and Skel-y-tore had arrived in Mirkwood. There had been a lengthy explanation of “Skel-y-tore’s” and “Thran Dual’s” identity that had ended with the Lord of Im Lad Reese chewing on a side braid and the Chief Advisor, Erector, sitting with his head between his knees. In Mirkwood, there was a general clean up of orcs and goblins still in progress. As for the spiders, Stu did not think anything shy of a nuclear bomb would ever clear out the eight-legged freaks and said so. Of course, he had to explain the concept of nuclear devices that included a detailed drawing of a warhead, which had an unexpected effect on Legless that Stu preferred not to think about.
How much further to Gonads?” Stu asked over the wind and thundering hoof beats.
“Another day, at best,” answered Legless. “I am sure Argyle will be glad to see you, as will Hal-drear.”
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to see the both of them, too. Do you think Orphan and Rummy will be there, to see their brother crowned?”
Legless’ face clouded. “Undoubtedly.”
“Grandlaff should be there, in case you get anything stuck—“ Glimmergroin began but stopped abruptly when a rather sharp elbow connected with his collarbone and nearly knocked him backwards off the horse.
“Ah, then we’ll have news of Frito and Arween.” Stu smiled wistfully as he remembered the earnest conversation between himself and the Half Ling. Upon realizing that Arween was now a mother without a husband, Stu had been naturally concerned. He assumed that the rules of Middle Earth were roughly equivalent to those in his own lands and that unwed mothers were seen as objects of shame or, at the very least, with some disdain. Frito, he’d discovered, was fascinated with elves as any one creature could be, which had set Stu’s mind to racing.
Stu and Legless and Glimmergroin came to a fork in the road and stopped to give the horses a rest. As Stu looked around, he realized that he’d been at the same spot before, only a few months back. He shook his head as he remembered the events leading up to his conversation with Frito about Arween.
*~*
The whole thing had come to him while they were on their way back to River Dell. While the company slogged through the spring rains, they’d come across an old man and his servant. The servant had been dressed from head to toe in the remains of a once luxurious cloak with hood and struggled with a donkey and cart while the old man had stood by eating an apple. Grandlaff became incensed and started to beat the old man about the head and shoulders with his staff.
Alarmed at the sudden behavior, Stu had physically dragged the wizard off the old man. “Hey, now, Grandlaff, that’s no way to treat a harmless old man.” He’d clapped the elder chap soundly between the shoulder blades and the fellow had gasped and choked as the apple lodged in his throat. “Easy, there, old timer.”
“That’s no harmless old man,” snarled the wizard. “That’s Sorry Man.”
“I beg your pardon?” The white haired old man had fairly bristled as he hacked up bits of apple. “I am not a sorry man, I am a great wizard.”
“You’re Sorry Man?” Stu remained incredulous as he eyed the thin man up and down. More than anything, Sorry Man reminded him of an aging hippy; kind of like Leon Russell, only without the white stovepipe hat. “You are the reason I have ragged shorts?”
“Sauroman! Sauroman! The wizard stamped his foot for emphasis.
“He’s as temperamental as Saw Ron,” muttered Stu, taking a step backwards. “Relax, Sorry Man, you’ll give yourself a coronary.”
“Saw Ron what?” The servant finally gave up pulling on the donkey’s reins and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Wormtongue, I should have known.” Grandlaff waved his staff. “Of course it makes sense that two of your ilk would seek each other out.”
“Oh,” said Stu. “Now I get it.”
“Not like that, Steward,” chastised Grandlaff. “Wormtongue is Sorry Man’s agent.”
“Well how the hell was I supposed to know?” Muttered an embarrassed Stu as he walked towards the cart. “As far as I can tell, every one here—“
“You may have destroyed the ring, Gandalf the Gray, but you have not defeated me.” Snapped the other wizard. He drew himself up to his full height and held out his long staff. Swinging it in an arc, he began to chant.
Stu had stepped close to Wormtongue about the time that Sorry Man started to swing his staff. He was forced to duck down and yelp loudly as he banged heads with Théoden’s former advisor.
Before anyone could react, Legless, seeing his
beloved in distress whipped out his bone-handled knives and neatly sliced the
tip of Wormtongue’s ear. In his haste to get clear of Legless and his
knives, Stu leapt away from the cart and crashed into Sorry Man. The old man
dropped his staff and staggered forward into Argyle’s waiting arms and
Stu sat down hard. There was a loud snapping sound as the staff broke, immediately
followed by roaring and then Stu shrieked.
“Put it out! Put it out!” He jumped up and ran in a tight circle
fanning his flaming behind.
“My word,” said Glimmergroin as he planted the haft of his axe firmly on top of Wormtongue’s unsuspecting foot.
“Here we go again,” said Pip as he scratched the top of his wooly head.
“You oaf!” Sorry Man shoved his way out of Argyle’s arms and threw himself on Stu. The two fell down in the mud with Sorry Man on top.
“Oh, fuck,” whispered Frito to Sam as Legless rushed forward with his long arms outstretched.
“Wait,” called Argyle, but it was too late. Legless had thrown himself on top of the wizard and had grasped a bony ankle between two well-calloused hands and sunk his teeth into the tender flesh.
The wizard yelped and released Stu to grapple with the elf. Meanwhile, Stu had double handfuls of long, white hair. Sorry Man alternately swatted the man and the elf. Legless still had his teeth buried in white ankle. Wormtongue sat on the ground clutching his damaged ear with one hand and his aching foot with the other and yelled louder than anyone.
“Enough,” shouted Grandlaff over the din. “Stu, stop pulling Sorry Man’s hair. Legless, stop..whatever the hell it is you are doing.”
Blue eyes shifted to Grandlaff over the top of the hairy leg and Legless growled like a dog with a bone.
“I don’t think he meant it that way, Legless,” Argyle came forward and gently tugged at Sorry Man’s leg. “He was only angry because Stu sat on his staff. I don’t really think he’s ..you know, interested.”
“Interested in what?” Sorry Man’s eyebrow lifted a notch as his leg, compete with perfect teeth marks, was released.
The park ranger pointed at Stewart. “Him.”
“Eeewww.” Sorry Man scrambled away from the man and the elf.
Mary titled his head to the side as he read the lettering on the barrels on the cart. “Ho! They have Southfarthing!”
Argyle and Grandlaff trampled Sorry Man into the mud as they ran towards the cart.
Later, Stu lay on his side and watched as the wizard’s eyes glazed over while he puffed on his pipe. Frito, Mary, Sam, and Pip were scattered near Argyle and Glimmergroin. After sneezing for nearly five full minutes, Stu and Legless had taken themselves off a little way from the rest of the group and Legless insisted on seeing to Stu’s injury. Sorry Man and Wormtongue, thankful to get away from the crazy party, had taken their donkey, minus the Southfarthing, and hit the road.
Surprisingly, Stu had become accustomed to Legless’ touch and allowed the elf to place a light coating of salve on his blistered butt. “I sure will be glad to get back to Im Lad Reese.”
“We will not tarry there long, for I have need to return to Mirkwood.” Legless said as he leaned over to check Stu’s backside. “You should be well enough to sit comfortably by morning.”
“That’s good to hear. About Mirkwood. Just exactly what’s your daddy gonna say about all this?” He tried not to cringe when he thought about the situation between he and the elf. At least back home, if things did not work out, you could pay a lawyer an arm and a leg to get yourself out of an unhappy marriage. Apparently, however, elves took ‘til death do us part’ seriously.
“He will be delighted.” Legless doubted his father would be anything of the sort, but what was done was done and he did not want his already skittish beloved more nervous.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Frito had put aside his pipe and crept to where Legless and Stu sat. He eyed the elf nervously. Always protective of Stu, Legless had become more so after Helm’s Deep. While Frito did not doubt Legless’ loyalty, there was a near-madness to him when it came to the Steward.
“Not at all, Frito. Cop a squat.”
Frito tore his eyes away from Legless. “What?”
Stu rolled his eyes. “Have a seat.”
Frito settled with his knees drawn close to his chest. “Actually, I have a problem and I was hoping you could help me.” He blushed furiously. “See, I’ve been thinking about how lonely I’ll be in the Shire once all of you go back to your lives now that the ring is destroyed.”
“You’ll have Sam,” began Stu.
Frito’s mouth turned down in a funny little frown and he looked around self-consciously before leaning forward to whisper confidentially in Stu’s ear. “Well, yes, I suppose so, but, you see, Steward, he has these really hairy toes. They just don’t turn me on. You know?”
Stu glanced down at Fritos’ abnormally large, hairy feet. “Yeah, I hear you.”
“What turns me on are ears. Long, pointy ears.” Frito stared longingly at Legless’ ears and sighed. His blue eyes took on a lust-filled expression. “I can just imagine what it’s like to take the tip of one of those ears into—“
Legless squeaked and scooted back against Stu, who instantly laughed. “Relax, somehow I think our friend here has someone else’s ears in mind.”
“Gladiola.”
“Uh, she’s a little old for you, doncha think?”
“She’s sailed west,” Legless added. “Besides, Skel-y-tore would not welcome the competition.”
“Yeah, elves seem kinda funny that way. Hey.” Stu snapped his fingers. “Arween.”
“Arwen?” Frito’s face puckered. “The park ranger’s intended?”
“The mother of Boomer’s baby,” corrected Stu. “Look, she needs a husband and you like big ears. She has ears. Big pointy ears.”
“She’s pretty big other places, too,” observed Legless.
*~*
“I could just pretend that you love me.
The night would lose all sense of fear
But why do I need you love me?
When you can’t hold what I hold dear?
“Oh, God, could it be the weather?
Oh, God, why am I here?
If love isn’t forever and it’s not the weather
Hand me my leather.”
Stu sighed as he thought about how delighted with the idea Frito had been. While he and Legless pushed on towards Mirkwood with the dwarf and Elroy and Elly, Frito and the rest of the company had gone to Im Lad Reese. Stu missed not seeing Arween’s reaction to Frito’s promise of tender devotion, but he’d understood from other sources that she had fainted with joy.
*~*
You guys did not REALLY think I was going to do…elf/hobbit het, did you??
*fade to black *