rc45 | Mission: Fun in Buckland

Title: Fun in Buckland
Author: Rohan Scout
Original Rating: NC17
Sporked by

tea_fiend
Sporking rated, um, mature? Trojie is in bed and Pads is bad at ratings, so let's just say we cut out the more graphic bits of the original PWP, and advise discretion.

Bright was the morning, and light our heroes' hearts, as they tramped down the lane towards Crickhollow.

'Are you sure we're going the right way?' Agent Trojanhorse asked in a surprisingly calm voice.

'Yep. No explicit location stated so they'll be somewhere canonical,' Agent Paddlebrains replied, equally serene. They walked in silence for a while, enjoying the beautiful spring morning. Birds were singing, and in the distance, hobbit children could be heard at play.

'I could get used to missions like this,' Trojie said, angling her face to catch the sun. Pads nodded.

'It's a definite improvement on our usual surroundings. Not a cartoon, for one thing.'

'Hey, I quite like that cartoon.'

'Still never seen it,' Pads shrugged. 'Never going to be able to either, not now.'

'You should eat more Bleeprin,' Trojie suggested, perhaps unwisely. 'Look, hoofprints.'

'Told you we were on the right track,' Pads said, a trifle smugly.

'I don't think Arwen is though,' Trojie complained as they followed the tracks towards the Old Forest.

'Of course she isn't. She seems to be under the impression that Rosie Cotton is the king of Gondor.'

'I'm not quite sure what she's meant to be doing up here in the first place. Check the Words, will you?'

Pads pulled a single sheet of paper from her pocket, scattering rizlas in the process.

'And pick those up. No contaminating the continuum.'

'They're biodegradable.'

'They're also anachronistic. Hobbits smoke pipes.'

'So do I,' Pads said, pulling one such item from her pocket and waving it triumphantly. Seeing Trojie's glare, she deflated slightly, and turned her attention to the Words.

Arwen needed a break from the elven world, she needed space� and some
fun.

'Did she?'

'Apparently.'

'But... that makes no sense. She's an Elf, why would she need space from
Elves?'

'Because otherwise the chances of her meeting a female hobbit are slim to nil.'

'I'm not convinced she needs to be meeting any hobbits at all. She waited Glod knows how many years for Aragorn, I hardly think she's going to suddenly forget about him and become a Pervy Hobbit Fancier.'

'And even if she did, if she needs a break from the Elves then she must be living in Rivendell, and there's always--'

'Don't say it!'

'--Bilbo.'

Both Agents shuddered. There was a brief silence, as the images played across both their minds.

'Pass the Bleeprin,' Trojie said eventually. Pads did so, and then continued to read the Words.

She had met Rosie through her connection with the hobbits from the fellowship.

'Hang on. This suddenly makes even less sense. The Fellowship's already happened?'

'Looks like it. So she ought to be queening it up in Gondor.'

'Or at the very least, if she's taken a trip north, she ought to be with Aragorn.'

'She should,' Pads agreed. 'They come north in 1436 S.R. Rosie's daughter becomes a maid of honour for Arwen.'

'So,' Trojie said, as they reached the horses, who were tethered to a tree and looking unhappy about it, 'Rosie is at this point in fact pregnant with her tenth child.'

'Yep.'

'Pregnant or not,' Trojie said, glaring at one of the horses, 'there's no way a hobbit could ride this thing. It's bigger than Absinthe, and Rosie's three foot tall.'

'That'll be a charge for bad biology then.'

'As well as total time warping.'

'Noted,' Pads said, and sniffed, her nose high in the air. 'They're over this way.'

The Old Forest was quiet. Too quiet, the Agents thought, as they followed a trail which, in defiance of canon, appeared perfectly happy to stay in the same place and not lead travellers astray at all. It was mightily suspicious. Ring or no ring, evil lurked under those trees: malevolent; filled with hatred for all that walked free; and also for all that was currently sitting on a convenient patch of moss under a tree. The Agents eyed Arwen and Rosie Cotton disdainfully.

'They're being a bit boring,' Trojie announced after a few minutes, in which the characters had done nothing but sit silently. The NLoC obviously heard her, because at that point, Rosie turned to her left to look at Arwen, and Pads choked on her pipe.

'I told you that stuff will kill you one day,' Trojie chided, giving her partner a hearty thump on the back.

'It's not that,' Pads protested, when she was able to speak again. 'It's that.' And she pointed, to where Arwen's hand appeared to be disappearing up Rosie Cotton's skirt. As Trojie watched and Pads covered her own eyes defensively, Arwen's tongue crept out and licked her lips suggestively.

'Oh dear,' Trojie said, shaking her head.

'Oh my eyes,' Pads replied, staring at the Words in a determined effort to ignore what was going on in front of her.

'Don't you long for a woman, someone who knows how to please you?' Arwen asked.

'You know,' Trojie said conversationally, 'compared to that, your efforts at wooing me have been brilliantly subtle.'

'That's because I'm not under the influence of an evil Author Wraith. I woo you with my own skill, not that of a thirteen year old who's never so much as kissed anyone.'

'Point. And yet, amazingly, Rosie seems to be falling for this ploy.'

'Probably because Arwen has her fingers somewhere Eru and Tolkien never intended anyone's but Sam's to be.'

'I don't want to know, do I?' Trojie asked, eyeing Rosie's skirt, which was undulating as though a pair of ferrets were fighting under it.

'All you need to know is Rosie refers to her bits with 20th century slang,' Pads said, her eyes fixed on the Words. Trojie sighed.

'Charge for anachronism then. And for non-con, because I didn't hear Rosie agree to this. Did you?'

'Nope,' Pads said. 'Although apparently, Arwen knew that she wanted it because Rosie's cotton knickers were getting wet, and she could feel her--'

'Alright, alright, I get the idea.'

'Rosie's cotton knickers,' Pads repeated. 'You know, that's almost a joke.'

'Did hobbits even wear knickers?'

'Who knows? Tolkien was remarkably quiet on the subject.'

Arwen, however, was not being quiet. She instructed Rosie to lie down and, when the hobbit objected, she silenced her with a finger in the mouth.

'Why doesn't she just bite it off?' Trojie wondered.

'Because biting bits off is not generally considered sexy. Even in femmeslash.'

'Yes, but Rosie just protested, and Elves aren't really into rape.'

They sank back into silence for a while, watching the characters indulge their base desires. Both stripped, and much touching occurred. Neither Agent could think of anything sensible to say, until Rosie flipped Arwen on to her back.

'Forgive me for repeating myself, but Rosie is three foot tall.'

'And also not supposed to be doing any heavy lifting in her condition.'

'Baby Bilbo seems to be elsewhere, thank Glod. Doubt she'll do him any harm.'

'Even so. Hang on...' Pads, against all instinct, leaned closer.

'You'd better not be perving. I don't fancy picking up the pieces after you've been subjected to No Drool Videos.'

'I'm not perving.' Pads gave Trojie a look of withering scorn. 'I'm wondering why the hell Arwen has a fine line of hair pointing south from her belly button.'

'Really?' Trojie too leaned closer, the biologist within intrigued. 'So she does. How peculiar.'

'Perhaps she's a man.'

'Does that--' Trojie pointed a little lower on Arwen's nude body, '--look like a man to you?'

'I come from a gender-bending roleplay continuum. How should I know?'

Trojie gave Pads a sideways look. 'Are we going to have to have the birds and the bees talk when we're done here?'

'I know the basics!' Pads protested. 'I'm just used to a slightly more fluid version of gender.'

'So in your home continuum, women have penises?'

'Occasionally.'

'...I have no idea what to say to that.'

'Shall we get on with the exorcism then? I think they're about done, bar the exchange of soiled knickers.'

'Jolly good idea.' Pausing briefly for the obligatory Bag rummage, Trojie produced her exorcism kit, and stepped out from behind the convenient tree that had been concealing both herself and her partner. The characters, currently busy discovering frottage, took absolutely notice, at least until Trojie caught Rosie round the back of the head with a hardback copy of Return of the King. That got their attention well enough.

'Avaunt, femmeslash! Avaunt, spirit of the ignorant Author!'

'Yes, who really uses phrases like "a gush of elf cum"? I mean, honestly.' Pads puffed away industriously as her partner got into the swing of things. She used her pipe to light a few candles and place them surreptitiously, as Trojie leapt around the clearing with bell a-ringing in the style of one of the more mushroom-enthusiastic of ancient shamans.

'Avaunt, Pointlessness and Non-Con! Avaunt, Timeline Ignorance! Avaunt, Lying Author's Notes!'

'I didn't hold out great hopes when her Author's Note promised 'reasons',' Pads mused.

'We abdure thee and banish thee from this place, we conjure Canonicalness, with the Book of Canonical Accuracy, the Candles of Truth and the Bell of Frightening the Crap Out of People! We summon thee, Accurate Biology! Avaunt, Spirit of the Ignorant Author, for the Power of TOLKIEN compels you!'

As the Wraith coalesced out of the mists, its wailing voice protested, 'But PWP doesn't have to make sense!'

'Your Author's Note promised no PWP, anyway.'

'And PWP is never an excuse for poor biology,' Trojie declared, swatting at the dissipating Wraith with the book.

'Is there any excuse at all for poor biology in your book?' Pads asked, relighting her pipe and blowing a stream of smoke into the Wraith as it drifted apart.

'None whatsoever. Neuralyser, please.' Pads handed over the neuralyser, and knelt in front of the characters. Arwen looked nauseous and pale, and was doing her best to cover her nudity with her slender arms, not terribly successfully. Rosie, however, had collapsed back against the tree, and let out a groan as the canon reverted and her stomach began expanding.

Trojie knelt beside her partner, eyeing Rosie's belly critically, both Agents allowing Arwen as much privacy as they could to haul her rather daft clothing back on. When Rosie's expansion began to slow, and Arwen was dressed, Trojie put her sunglasses on, and nudged Pads to do the same.

'Ladies, please look here for a second.'

FLASH

'Rosie Gamgee, Arwen Undomiel, you are both straight and married. And neither of you should be here--'

The canon suddenly snapped back, leaving Trojie and Pads alone in the clearing.

'Excellent. That went well.'

'Sightseeing? Or home?'

Trojie made a pleading face. 'Rohan? Please?'

'If it wouldn't disturb you so much, I'd accuse you of being a pervy horse-fancier.'

FIN.