Happiness is a warm feather bed
Feb. 15th, 2005 07:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brainofckAnother random piece.
And fair warning. Not at all pleased with this. I think it is bad!fic, though not the worst I've ever read. I wrote it and posted it more as an exercise in writing and posting than because I think it's particularly readable. Needs to be extensively rewritten or trashed entirely.
Title/Chapter: Warm
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
muck_a_luck, posting in brainofck
Pairing: Richard Sharpe/Elessar Telcontar
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Summary: Mr. Sharpe has a difficult morning in the fog and
Content/warnings: Crossover. Violence.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: No infringement on anybody's copyright intended. Fan fic worries some authors, because they find that they get a note from a fan or see something posted and it parallels something they were planning to write and their publishers flinch and they lose a whole storyline. Well, my sincere and abject apologies to Mr. Cornwell or any representative or asignee of the Tolkien estate who was considering a Sharpe/Middle Earth crossover novel. I swear by all that's holy that I will not claim any copyright in your publication. Dude.
Archive rights: Absolutely none. My journals only:muck_a_luck and brainofck
Further Disclaimer: This is an unannounced WIP. Beware bad!fic and rough drafts
Special glaring to:uisgich, who started this with some bath!slut!porn one boring afternoon while I was working, pretended she wanted to write with me, then dropped it in my lap. *glares*
Richard was adrift in the night in a warm, timeless sea, calm and peaceful and perfect. He felt the he could float happily in this sweet, dark place for a long time yet.
But some one was gently waking him. Fingers twisting and twining in his hair, lips murmuring against his ear. A voice like warm honey. Richard sighed, and shifted.
And woke up with a start. His eyes flew open as he realized where he was and who it was and what had happened and what the hell was going on here?! He struggled to sit and found himself tangled in downy quilts and mired in the softness of the feather bolster.
The man caught him and pressed him back easily. Richard was strangly weak, and he didn't care for that at all. "What's wrong with me?" he demanded. His tongue felt thick and the words were slurred. The man was clearly alarmed and trying to calm him. Richard finally stopped struggling and the man quickly let him go and sat back on the stool by the bed. He offered Richard a cup of what appeared to be some sort of tea.
Richard scowled at it. He vaguely remembered other, similar cups, and he suddenly suspected that the tea was the reason his head felt so muzzy and he couldn't seem to find the strength to sit. But before he could refuse it, a light knock came at the door. The man looked surprised, and moved quickly to answer it.
The creature who entered was almost a man, but not quite. His ears were oddly shaped, his long, blond hair, his skin, his eyes, in fact his very being seemed to glow with a light that couldn't be explained by the lamps and fireplace that lit the dark room. The man seemed pleased to see their visitor, and they embraced like old friends. The man spoke quickly and urgently and suddenly Richard found himself the focus of their visitor's disconcerting stare.
"Who is he?" Legolas asked, the shock of seeing a long dead comrade come to life again cracking his usually calm demeanor.
"I haven't got the slightest idea," Aragorn replied. "I found him in the woods about three days ago. You'll find the wounds on his back."
The elf leaned over the strange man in the bed. He touched his shoulder gently, urging him to roll so that Legolas could examine the wounds. Aragorn said they were not healing properly, which was certainly worrying. Most elves of Legolas' aquaintance would defer to Aragorn in these matters.
The man was clearly suspicious. He didn't move to let Legolas examine him, and the elf decided not to push the issue. He smelled the tea Aragorn had brewed. The man would be asleep again within the hour. Soon enough.
But then Legolas smelled something else. He turned a searching look on his old friend.
"Aragorn. He smells of you."
Aragorn blushed, and looked away. Aragorn blushing! There was something no one would believe in Rivendell! The man in the bed was watching them both now with a great deal of suspicion. Legolas shook his head in exasperation.
"He's not Boromir. Aragorn, you've taken advantage of this stranger. He doesn't trust us and I'll wager you all the gold in my purse that you won't get any more of that horrible brew into him without a fight." Legolas laughed, a little ironically. "Of course, I'd think you would have know better. Boromir in that bed would have been exactly the same!"
And fair warning. Not at all pleased with this. I think it is bad!fic, though not the worst I've ever read. I wrote it and posted it more as an exercise in writing and posting than because I think it's particularly readable. Needs to be extensively rewritten or trashed entirely.
Title/Chapter: Warm
Author:
muck_a_luck, posting in brainofckPairing: Richard Sharpe/Elessar Telcontar
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Summary: Mr. Sharpe has a difficult morning in the fog and
Content/warnings: Crossover. Violence.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: No infringement on anybody's copyright intended. Fan fic worries some authors, because they find that they get a note from a fan or see something posted and it parallels something they were planning to write and their publishers flinch and they lose a whole storyline. Well, my sincere and abject apologies to Mr. Cornwell or any representative or asignee of the Tolkien estate who was considering a Sharpe/Middle Earth crossover novel. I swear by all that's holy that I will not claim any copyright in your publication. Dude.
Archive rights: Absolutely none. My journals only:
muck_a_luck and brainofckFurther Disclaimer: This is an unannounced WIP. Beware bad!fic and rough drafts
Special glaring to:
uisgich, who started this with some bath!slut!porn one boring afternoon while I was working, pretended she wanted to write with me, then dropped it in my lap. *glares*Richard was adrift in the night in a warm, timeless sea, calm and peaceful and perfect. He felt the he could float happily in this sweet, dark place for a long time yet.
But some one was gently waking him. Fingers twisting and twining in his hair, lips murmuring against his ear. A voice like warm honey. Richard sighed, and shifted.
And woke up with a start. His eyes flew open as he realized where he was and who it was and what had happened and what the hell was going on here?! He struggled to sit and found himself tangled in downy quilts and mired in the softness of the feather bolster.
The man caught him and pressed him back easily. Richard was strangly weak, and he didn't care for that at all. "What's wrong with me?" he demanded. His tongue felt thick and the words were slurred. The man was clearly alarmed and trying to calm him. Richard finally stopped struggling and the man quickly let him go and sat back on the stool by the bed. He offered Richard a cup of what appeared to be some sort of tea.
Richard scowled at it. He vaguely remembered other, similar cups, and he suddenly suspected that the tea was the reason his head felt so muzzy and he couldn't seem to find the strength to sit. But before he could refuse it, a light knock came at the door. The man looked surprised, and moved quickly to answer it.
The creature who entered was almost a man, but not quite. His ears were oddly shaped, his long, blond hair, his skin, his eyes, in fact his very being seemed to glow with a light that couldn't be explained by the lamps and fireplace that lit the dark room. The man seemed pleased to see their visitor, and they embraced like old friends. The man spoke quickly and urgently and suddenly Richard found himself the focus of their visitor's disconcerting stare.
"Who is he?" Legolas asked, the shock of seeing a long dead comrade come to life again cracking his usually calm demeanor.
"I haven't got the slightest idea," Aragorn replied. "I found him in the woods about three days ago. You'll find the wounds on his back."
The elf leaned over the strange man in the bed. He touched his shoulder gently, urging him to roll so that Legolas could examine the wounds. Aragorn said they were not healing properly, which was certainly worrying. Most elves of Legolas' aquaintance would defer to Aragorn in these matters.
The man was clearly suspicious. He didn't move to let Legolas examine him, and the elf decided not to push the issue. He smelled the tea Aragorn had brewed. The man would be asleep again within the hour. Soon enough.
But then Legolas smelled something else. He turned a searching look on his old friend.
"Aragorn. He smells of you."
Aragorn blushed, and looked away. Aragorn blushing! There was something no one would believe in Rivendell! The man in the bed was watching them both now with a great deal of suspicion. Legolas shook his head in exasperation.
"He's not Boromir. Aragorn, you've taken advantage of this stranger. He doesn't trust us and I'll wager you all the gold in my purse that you won't get any more of that horrible brew into him without a fight." Legolas laughed, a little ironically. "Of course, I'd think you would have know better. Boromir in that bed would have been exactly the same!"
