Title: My Hairy Prisoner

Author: BittenBuggy

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Suggestive dialogue/crude humour

Awards: MEFA Barliman Butterbur Award in the Romance-Humour Catagory

A/N: This was written for a challenge on another site roughly a year ago. However - I refuse to post the entire thing at once, I find that gaudy and overwhelming... and it reduces my time on the main page doesnt it? ;) J/K - Love to my Open Scrolls girls for stimulating the muse.

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"Hail our victory!" Legolas groaned as another round of ale was passed among the men. They all reeked, and the beer was not helping. With his face buried in his hand, he tried to block out the offending stench.

"Come now, elf. You cannot be drunk already!" He grunted when Gimli clapped him on the back...hard.

"I do not drink such vile things." Gimli snorted loudly and leaned over.

"It would do you good. This is a celebration!" Legolas tried not to loose all the lembas he had eaten earlier when the inebriated Gimli’s breath wafted into his nose. He leaned back discreetly, only to find himself wedged between two other men. They were packed tightly on the ship, and one barely had enough room to breath, much less upchuck lembas. He disengaged himself carefully from the rangers, not wanting to be any close to them than was necessary.

"I think I shall go up on deck for a bit of air." Legolas said, to no one in particular. But Gimli was the only one listening.

"Ah, good idea. I hear that’s where they’ve put the extra ale!" Legolas clutched his stomach, his perfect pale skin turning a deep green. Gimli snorted again, this time in amusement. "See elf, now you are a Greenleaf!"

"A plague on Dwarves and–" Another wave of nausea overcame him and he sprinted from the dining hall as fast as he could. Once safe from the malodor, he sighed in relief. Well, thanks to Gimli and the blasted ale, the upper decks were off limits. He supposed down below would have to suffice.

He walked carefully, for he found that sudden movement only served to upset him further. He got a queer look from one of the Rangers when he wandered into one of the rooms in the lower deck. But he immediately regretted it. It was filled with the smell of smoke and sweat. He blinked once, twice, before he could even see through the haze. He could see the outline of several men, sitting around with long pipes in their mouths, puffing away happily. "By the Valar, if you all insist on killing yourselves, just jump overboard, and be done with it!" Several of the men laughed and Legolas wished he hadn’t yelled like that.

"Looking a little stressed, Greenleaf. A good smoke will fix you right up." More laugher... Halbarad.... Legolas was too sick to seethe. But later, there would be much seething. Yes...later, Legolas thought as he staggered out of the room. He went down further, where he could no longer hear the laughter of the infuriating-pipe-smoking-ale-drinking-idiots. He tried to open several of the doors alone the hallway, but with no success. Perfect!

With a sigh of frustrated defeat, he leaned back against one of the doors, intending to slump gracefully to the ground. Well, at least as gracefully as one could slump. But to his utter surprise, he felt himself falling backwards. His arms flailed and he landed on his back with the loudest thud he could ever remember himself making. Groaning, because the sudden movement had caused all the vomit to rise in his throat, he just lay there, hoping someone would find him and kill him.

After a time, the fog in his brain dulled and he could hear snickering. If that was Halbarad, coming to torture him, he would take the bloody pipe right out of his mouth and shove it up his–

"Are you just going to lay there?" The voice was gruff, but still defiantly female. Surprised for about the third time that night, he rolled onto his side. Resisting the urge to let the contents of his stomach spill onto the wooden floor panels, he raised his gaze. His eyes widened in sheer shock.

On the wall stood a woman, dressed like a warrior of the Haradrim. She wore a metal vest with no sleeves and a pleated black kilt. He could clearly see that her hands were bound behind her back. She was a prisoner!

"You dare to address me?" He managed when the churning in his stomach had subsided.

"This is my room. It is you that should be fearing to address me, barging like some crazed animal." The look on her face was very smug and not the least bit intimidated. Then she had the audacity to laugh. Laugh. He rolled onto his back, it was always him. It always had to be him.

"I am the Prince of Mirkwood." He said, hoping his voice sounded stronger to her ears than his.

"You don’t look like a prince. In fact, at this moment you look remarkably like the green doormat at the entrance to my home. Only this is not my home, this is my room and I would very much appreciate it if you scrapped your dirty self from it and left." Now if there was one thing an elf didn’t tolerate, it was being called dirty.

"Look, you little vixen, I have absolutely no intention of staying here a moment longer than necessary."

"Then why aren’t you leaving?" Her voice told him she was very much enjoying his discomfort. But he was not about to let her know why exactly he wasn’t getting up.

"That is none of your concern." He stated firmly, his prone form still spread-eagled on the ground. Truth be told, he thought his entrails might come flying from his mouth if he sat up. "And I would much appreciate it if you remain silent!" For a moment, he heard no sound. A smug smile on his face, he knew he had won.

Then that retched, vexing laughter. "What is the bloody problem now!"

"I believe sire, that there is a cockroach in your hair." All trivial stomach ailments fled him in an instant as he jumped to his feet. Flailing wildly, he jumped up and down, cursing in a mixture of Elvish and Common Speech. He was an elf, and he loved nature, but he did not like nature in his hair. His head was tilted back and his hands threaded through the silken tresses wildly, trying to get the blasted bugger out. He could hear more laughter and he caught a glimpse of the dark figure, doubled over as far as her bonds would allow. He felt a wiggle around the side of his ear and shook his head violently, seeing the bug fly off across the room. Sighing in utter relief, he dropped himself onto the cot in the room.

He made an attempt to straighten his clothes, twisted as they were. But his beautiful hair he found totally unsalvageable. His comb was upstairs in his pack and Manwë be damned if he was going up there again. Whimpering miserably, he sat up again and tried to smooth it out but gave up in a matter of seconds. He heard more giggled and looked again into the corner where the prisoner was held. "Yes, of course, that was just hilarious." He glowered and then turned away, in search of more foul little creatures that might dare to disturb his satiny hair. In full blown spoiled-princely-pout mode, he opened and shut all the drawers in the room, vainly searching for anything that resembled a brush. "In my boot." The still amused voice came from the other side of the room.

"What?" Legolas asked irritably.

"A comb. There is one in the side of my boot." Oh Elbereth, he was in love! He pondered squealing in elation, but that was a bit overboard, even for him. Instead, he resigned himself to leaping across the room and kissing the surprised prisoner full on the mouth.

"You are quite possibly the most wonderful person in the world!" He babbled as he began rummaging through all her pockets. Triumph! He pulled the thick-toothed comb from her long boot and danced around with it for a moment, hugging it tightly to his chest before attacking the knots that had dared assault his beautiful tresses.

Interrupting his knot-war, a voice broke in. "Now, perhaps you could remove these chains?"

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TBC

Title: My Hairy Prisoner

Author: BittenBuggy

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Suggestive dialogue/crude humour

Awards: MEFA Barliman Butterbur Award in the Romance-Humour Catagory

A/N: This was written for a challenge on another site roughly a year ago. However - I refuse to post the entire thing at once, I find that gaudy and overwhelming... and it reduces my time on the main page doesnt it? ;) J/K - Love to my Open Scrolls girls for stimulating the muse.

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Legolas pondered her request for a moment. “Will you try to escape?”

“Eventually.” She answered simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “But I would probably not need to harm you.”

Legolas snorted, in a very unelf-like fashion. “Probably? My dear, you couldn’t harm me if I was the one in chains.” She simply laughed. He narrowed his eyes at her innocence. “You do not believe me?” More laughter. Frustrated, he stalked over, inches from her face. “Fine.” He reached into a drawer, which he had earlier hoped housed a comb, pulling out the little iron key. His reached behind her and they were forced very close. She grinned at him and the key almost slipped from his hand.

Once she was free, she turned him around and brought his hands behind his back. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, his voice stern.

“Giving you the chance to beat me of course. Did you not remember what you said?” A second too late, he realized he had made a big mistake and he heard the iron click around his wrists. She was smiling at him again, and he tested the bonds on his hands. His eyes focused on her as she began gathering up her cloak and weapons, which had lain on the opposite end of the room. For a moment he was actually afraid when she unsheathed the short sword to inspect it. But she quickly shoved it back into its scabbard and turned grabbed one of the tables. “Now what are you doing?”

“Barricading the door of course.”

“Of course,” he mimicked. Drat, he thought. Drat, drat, drat. She paid him no heed, dragging over pieces of furniture. Once she had sufficiently drug over everything that was not bolted to the floor, she brushed her hands together and then put them on her hips. After her inspection, she turned to Legolas for approval, who just rolled his eyes.

“Quite effective, don’t you think?” She asked.

“Oh yes, I’m sure no one will be able to get in now. Except of course if they use the hatch on the other side of the room.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. She blanched. As if on cue, the sound of footsteps and loud voices could be heard overhead. Legolas had a smug grin on his face as she looked around in terror. The sound of the hatch being unlocked seemed usually loud to them both.

Then suddenly, her eyes brightened and she raced over to the ladder. “Oh yessss...” She called, the wood probably muffling none of it. “That’s it! Oooo, harder!” For a moment, Legolas thought she was mad, then it dawned on him. His jaw dropped down to his ankles. “Mmmm, yes baby, that’s what I like...” There was a bit of silence from the other side, then great gales of laughter. Legolas’s eyes were bugging out of his head, he was utterly speechless.

The sound of retreating footsteps was heard above, and the men’s laughter stained Legolas pink, right to the pointed tips of his ears. She climbed off the ladder rungs and turned around to face him, smiling happily with herself. The elf was still in a mild state of shock. “What did you-“ His voice cracked in disbelief and he cleared his throat. “Surely you didn’t mean-“

”Of course I did.” She said with a shrug of her shoulders. She walked back over to the cot and plopped down, stretching her stout frame across the mattress. Legolas couldn’t help but notice that her kilt had ridden up a bit, exposing quite an expanse of leg. It was then that he wished for a candle. The moonlight coming through the small, circular window was veiled by a curtain, but was enough to let them move without bumping into things, but he could have sworn he saw hair on her legs.

He blinked, seeing if it would clear his vision. Then, realizing how stupid that was, tried a different tactic. “So what are you doing here?” His voice was carefully veiled in sweetness.

She looked at him curiously. “I thought that was quite obvious. I was caught.”

“Did you misunderstand on purpose, or are you just stupid?”

She grumbled something like “you twit” before tossing an arm over her eyes. “Could you light a candle?” Legolas asked, again using his sweet I-can-get-whatever-I-want-because-I-am-the-most-beautiful-thing-on-Eru’s-green-earth voice.

“No.”

“Uncover the window a bit?”

“No.”

“Get me something to eat?”

“No.”

“Get me something to drink?”

“No.”

“Say something besides no?”

“No.” Then she uncovered her eyes with a dramatic sigh of exasperation. “You are perhaps the most irritating person in the world!” Legolas couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Excuse me? I’m irritating? You are the one that put me in these confounded chains in the first place!”

“You should not have released me.”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll remember that next time I have a bloody Haradrim she-warrior chained in an otherwise unoccupied room on a blasted ship!”

“Good. Now if you will kindly shut up, I would like to get some proper sleep!”

“Proper sleep?!” Legolas said, baffled. “You are concerned about–“ *Wack* Legolas grunted as something hit him hard in the chest. Stunned for a moment, he looked around for the offending article. It lay on the ground, a few feet from him. “I’m sorry, did you just hit me with a boot?” His voice was calm, unusually curious. Nothing like that had ever happened to him.

“Yes.”

“You just hit the Prince of Mirkwood with a boot?”

“No, I just hit an unbearably annoying, egotistical, spoilt, bratty elf with a boot. And that particular elf better watch his words or he’ll find the next boot in a more unsavory location.” Stuptified, Legolas shut his mouth. He couldn’t believe someone was talking to him like this!

She had laid back once again, with her arm thrown haphazardly over her face and her other arm thrown wide so that it hung off the edge of the cot. A very ungraceful and distasteful position in his opinion. “So what do you plan to do with me now.”

“Well, I am in need of a new doormat.”

“I meant immediately.”

“Oh,” She answered simply. “If you don’t shut up and let me sleep, I’ll throw you out that little window.” He shifted uncomfortably, knowing that she would be one to make good on her threats. When he heard the even breathing that came from the opposite end of the room, a clever idea popped into his head.

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TBC