A long, long time ago, in a land far, far away, there lived a lonely man named Stewart George Martin. Stu, as so many of his family and friends called him, was an ex-Navy Gunner’s Mate living in Wrangled Gorge. Abandoned by his wife, Brenda, Stu refused to remove his wedding band, slept in his dead uncle’s favorite chair, drank light beer with Oreos, and worked in a carpet mill.
In the land called Middle-earth, meanwhile, evil rose again behind the Black Gates of More-door. The land of Gonads, led by Captain-General Boomer, held her own against the foulness that spewed from the decimated land. But the One Ring, the great golden band created by Saw Ron, once more was loosed on the world. Stolen from the hapless Gollum by Dildo Back-ins, the Ring was passed to his nephew, Frito. When Grandlaff discovered the identity of the magic ring, he sent young Frito, along with three companions, Sam, Pip, and Mary, to River Dell where El Ron held sway.
But the elves did not know what to do with the ring. They wanted no part of hiding it for the evil was too great even for their magic. And the gods knew this. Therefore, they reached through all the worlds, parting the glittering silver veils that divide universe from universe, and searched for the one who might be able to help the peoples of Middle-earth.
Manwe peered down from the heavens and spied Stu. He noted the pot belly and bowed legs. He blinked in shock at the too-short pants with little lips on them. More importantly, he felt a small twinge of envy as he stared at the prodigious member jutting from beneath the hem of the short pants. Yet, as Manwe stared into Stu’s heart, he saw a pure soul, an uncorrupted soul. Manwe knew he’d found the savior of Middle-earth. He went back to his fellow gods and goddess and showed them what he’d found. They laughed when they saw Stewart Martin and teased Manwe for his folly. In a fit of anger, Manwe reached through space and time and wrenched Stu from his safe, slightly uncomfortable lounger and plopped him unceremoniously in Middle-earth.
And thus, Stu Martin became The Tenth Walker, a Ring Bearer, and the mildly homophobic life-bonded Prince Consort of the overly protective and slightly possessive Legless of Murkwood. And the history of Middle-earth was forever changed. This is Stu’s continuing tale.
*~*
“Do you smell that?” Legless’ nose twitched as he sniffed the air around him while staring through the open windows at the bright sky. His long warrior braids were gone and in their place was a hairstyle of such strangeness that he was hardly recognizable. He’d explained to anyone who’d listen that his beloved called it a Mo Hawk. He was more reluctant to explain how his long, glorious locks had become tangled in rocks and logs in a hot springs and had to be chopped off to get him loose.
Glimmergroin the dwarf lifted his arms and smelled his pits. “I bathed last week.”
In the great citadel of Minas Tear Ass, every one sniffed, trying to define the mysterious smell. There was a general shuffling of feet and muttering. King Argyle, still reeling from an accident involving shadow spiders, twin mischievous elves, and Glimmergroin’s axe, periodically wriggled his fingers and counted the digits to make sure they were still attached to his hands.
“Oh,” Frito said as he glanced at the baby who wriggled unhappily in Arween’s lap. “I think it’s Boomer. He needs a nappy change.” Arween, wife of Frito, daughter of El Ron, and mother of Boomer III--son of the deceased Boomer II of Gonads-- got up from her seat and carried her child from the room.
Legless shook his head and turned to face his beloved. “The sea calls to me. Do you not smell the salt air? Hear the gulls’ cry? The song runs deep in my veins.”
Stu closed his eyes as Legless’ arms came up around his waist. He tried not to think about the long fingers ghosting over his bottom. “Yeah, I sort of do. I miss the sea,” said the former Gunner’s Mate. “I miss watching the rise and fall of the ocean and feeling the spray on my face. Even on a carrier, it was always wet, although we couldn’t feel the ocean too much unless the weather was really bad.” He swayed slightly on his bandy legs as he remembered his happy years in the Navy. “I used to stand on deck after my shift and just watch the ocean rising and falling. Rising and falling. Rising and falling.” Unconsciously, he swayed in time to the remembered rhythm of the waves and his bonded elf swayed with him. “I used to write letters to Brenda in my head--”Stu stopped speaking when Legless growled.
Argyle gulped as he watched man and elf sway gently. His face turned pale and sweat beaded his brow. He glanced around, seeking some way to escape gracefully. “Maybe I should take Arachnophobia to the nursery,” he said weakly to his Queen, Hal-drear, who rocked the young child on his shoulder, and reached for their daughter.
Hal-drear frowned at Legless and Stu, remembering how his husband had turned green when at the top of the talan in Lorien. “Do you two mind?”
“What?” Stu looked around in confusion and then saw Argyle’s face. “Man, do you need some water or something?”
Argyle gulped, excused himself, and rushed from the room. Legless watched disinterestedly. “I think it is time we sailed, beloved, and followed my kin to the Undying Lands.”
“What’s the Undying Lands?” Stu frowned.
“It’s where Elves go when they are tired of Middle-earth,” Hal-drear answered with a slight sneer.
“We’ll live there together, beloved.” Legless’ smile radiated joy. “We’ll live forever in the grace of the Valar, side by side. A bonded couple among the First Born.”
“Forever,” Stu nodded absently as the idea tried to unfold in his brain. Forever. Til death do us part. It was something the elves, he’d learned, took literally. No divorce lawyers in Middle-earth. And apparently, none in the Undying Lands, either. His smile was not as joyful as Legless’.
“We’ll build a boat,” Legless grew more excited as he thought about it. “A boat with a single sail and we’ll go west, into the fading sun.”
“That’s all fine for you, laddie,” Glimmergroin harrumphed and thumped his axe on the floor, causing everyone‘s toes to curl. “You’ll be off on another great adventure and here I’ll be, stuck with doting parents and stinky nappies.” He shook his head at Aye-0-Win and Fairy-Man and Eye-O-More, who was also eyeing Fairy-Man. “Or worse.” He harrumphed and thumped his axe again.
“Come with us, Glimmergroin,” Stu thwacked the dwarf on the back. “We’ll make an adventure of it. The three of us. Together.” Legless’ eyes narrowed and he growled, reminding Stu of the time the elf had gnawed on Sorry Man’s ankle. “Oh, now, Legs, it’ll be fun with the three of us. The dwarf will be a great help, too, climbing the mainmast and helping to keep look out at the crow’s nest. With that low center of gravity, I’ll bet anything he’s solid as a rock on rough seas.” His body began swaying again.
“I’m a fucking dwarf, not a cat.”
*~*
Nearly a fortnight later, Glimmergloin was still reminding Stu that he was a dwarf and not a cat as the man had the dwarf high on the cross piece, scanning the flat horizon of ocean. The boat, really small and cramped, consisted of a small covered space in the center for their meager supplies of Lem Bass and fresh water and bedrolls. They slept in the open, beneath the stars, as Stu had insisted when he helped design the small boat. There was no way in hell he was going to allow Legless to get him alone again. Ever. He’d already had that experience in Murkwood. He didn’t relish a repeat performance.
Stu watched the storm clouds gathering on the horizon and frowned. For several days, the weather had been calm. Only that morning the clouds darkened and the sun remained hidden. Stu began to worry about it more and more as the day progressed and kept sending Glimmergroin to the top of the mainmast. He rushed around, rechecking ropes and canvases, securing their food and water. Legless remained at the tiller, holding their course steady and guiding by some homing instinct that Stu could not comprehend.
When the storm finally did hit, it came with a streak of light ning and a booming thunder that made their ears pop. Fat drops of rain slanted almost horizontally, stinging their skin and soaking their clothes. The ocean heaved beneath the tiny vessel, sending it rising several hundred feet only to drop it again the trough of waves. Glimmergroin hung on to the gunwale and heaved his guts over the side. Legless clutched the tiller with both hands while Stu stood with legs braced and one hand on the mast, staring straight ahead, as if defying the ocean and storm.
A wave crashed over the boat and Glimmergroin went flying into Stu, knocking him loose from his perch. Together they tumbled backwards, choking and coughing on the salt water, into the elf. Another wave spilled the trio into the ocean and capsized the small boat.
As the mast broke against the water, Legless flailed at the churning water and screamed. “Fuck me!