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This is adult material. If you are not of legal age to read adult material, bugger off. |
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Title: Legolas Misses
“My final count is Forty-two.” (smugly) “Forty-two? Well, that’s not bad for a pointy-eared princeling Elf. I myself am sitting pretty on forty-three.” (even more smugly) “Forty-three?” (righteous indignation) THWAP. “AHHHHHH!” (scream of pain) “Uh-oh.” (looks around for quick escape) “What in the name of!?! What do you think you’re doing, you reckless dull-witted Elfling?” (yanks arrow out of crotch) “Well, he twitched.” (defensive eyebrow crease) “Of course he twitched! My axe is embedded in his nervous system! You didn’t have to shoot me!” (highly righteous indignation) “I didn’t shoot you, I shot the Orc.” (making excuses…) “Well, you missed.” (this is one pissed off Dwarf) “I never miss.” (indignant sniff) “Well, I assure you, this time you missed.” (tentatively moves hips) “And I don’t know about you flighty, immortal Elves, but we Dwarves treat our body parts with a little more care. And this particular body part we treat with a great deal of care.” “It wasn’t on purpose. He twitched after I let loose the arrow.” (still defensive, but beginning to take the blame) “Oh, I see, ‘blame it on the dead Orc’. An old Elvish ploy.” (shakes head in disgust) “I apologize, friend Gimli. Let me help you up and check your wound.” (offers hand to Gimli) “You think I want some irresponsible immortal looking at my private bits?” (shocked and appalled, or at least trying to look so) “That arrow didn’t go anywhere near your private bits!” (back to being defensive) “Lad, you seem to be misinformed about the exact location and dimensions of Dwarvish private bits.” (as one might explain to a stupid child) “Do you care to enlighten me?” (curious) “No.” (in a huff) “You would prefer the lady Éowyn to examine you?” (smirking) “Very well. But at least let us leave these stinking corpses behind us and find a place where I won’t be ogled by passers-by.” (resigned sigh) “You think passers-by would be interested in ogling your private bits?” (a tad condescending, but hey, he’s an Elf, he can’t help it) (Dwarven grumbles as they walk to an alcove behind the wall. Gimli drops his pants and hikes up his chain mail) “Oh.” (gasp of surprise) “Well, get on with it. I feel a tad numb. What did you do, you witless Sindar? Take the end off it?” (trying to make the best of a bad situation by putting the other guy down) “Not at all, dear Gimli. It appears but a minor scratch.” (still sounding a little surprised) “Well then what are you staring at? Your eyes look like dinner plates?” (annoyed but getting smug again) “I think I would not refer to these as private “bits” my friend. They are somewhat more substantial than that.” (voice filled with something akin to awe) “Yes, ahem, we dwarves are built solidly all over.” (very smug) “And if you’re finished your ogling, Master Elf…” “No, wait. The skin is quite red here, on the tip. Perhaps I should check it, see if all is well and functioning.” (leans closer) “Perhaps that would be wise.” (not about to let on that Dwarvish private bits are naturally quite red on the tip) “Seems to respond well to touch.” (beginning to acquire a dreamy quality to his voice) “Ah, yes, that seems quite normal. Perhaps you could just, oh gods, yes, that’s an excellent test! Agggg…” (becoming quite incapable of coherent speech) (no speech from the Elf for some time, as his mouth is quite full) (torrent of incomprehensible Dwarvish, a mix of swearing and praising the oral talents of a certain pointy-eared princeling) (quick gagging sound followed by the sound of rapid swallowing) “Aaaaaah.” “Hmmm. Everything seems in quite delicious, I mean working order. But I hate to think that I may have caused any damage. Perhaps we should test your recovery time?” (suggestive waggling of the eyebrows) “We dwarves are renowned for our recovery time. In fact, as you can see, we require no recovery time at all.” (thrusts hips forward) “Excellent. That is most useful. I fear I took a kick to the rear during the battle, and if you don’t mind, you could perhaps examine it for me.” (suggestive waggling of said rear) “Hmm. A thorough examination is in order, indeed” (pulls Legolas deeper into the alcove out of camera range, to the sounds of Elven ecstasy and Dwarvish delight) End
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