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b2mem2015-03-01 01:44 pm
huinare.livejournal.com) wrote in b2mem2015-03-01 01:44 pm
"The Day We Met Master Salizidûd" by Huinárë
B2MeM Challenge: ’Teleporno the Telerin elf, Shagrat the orc and Groín the dwarf have THE WORST NAMES imaginable. Do they form a support group, or organize an orgy--or does one devolve into the other? Any rating and any scenario that gets these three into the same room (or maybe pen pals would be more canon-compliant?) would be a perfect fill for this.’ - Zopyrus
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Crack
Rating: I’d say Teens, some with less crass sensibilities might say Adults
Warnings: Strong language, intimations of heinous sexual content (nothing “onscreen”). (ETA - beverage warning. Righto.)
Characters: Celeborn, Gróin, Shagrat, OCs
Pairings: n/a
Creators' Notes (optional): I can’t…
Summary: An Elf, a Dwarf, and an Orc commiserate over a failed business deal.
Teleporno, leaning with his hands on the counter and giving the barmaid his best I-am-the-lord-of-an-actual-realm look, repeated more forcefully, “Tell me, where is Salizidûd, for I much desire to speak with him.”
“The only visitors he takes on weekends are performers or clients.”
“But–I demand to be reimbursed.”
“Sorry?” yawned the barmaid, glancing up at the ceiling with mild interest as a muffled shriek of “Look at the size of that thing!” emanated from the room above.
“I traveled all the way here with this Salizidûd character after he told me he had an interesting and profitable proposition for me–”
“So he propositioned you.”
“He told me he had a proposition for me.”
“Mm-hm. And then you found out what it was and didn’t want a thing to do with it, eh.”
“Exactly,” said Teleporno, very much on his dignity, “and now I should like to be reimbursed for the time I spent on the road getting here. I even bought the man his supper that one time, and–”
“Sorry, mate, that’d be your own problem. Maybe you should’ve asked Master Salizidûd what his proposition was before traveling four weeks with him.”
“I think this is illegal,” decided Teleporno.
“This is Rhudaur, mate, what can you do?” shrugged the barmaid. “Best I can do is give you a pint on the house, and then you and your constipated-sounding voice need to hit the road.”
“Me and my–the nerve!” fumed Teleporno, but so rarely in Middle-earth had he been faced with such a lack of reverence that he simply did not know how to deal with it. He sputtered helplessly, then grabbed the tankard and stalked over to a table by the hearth. “May I sit here,” he stated to the other occupant, sitting.
The Dwarf at the table looked up with a glower. “Actually, if that was supposed to be a question, I didn’t answer in the aff–”
“I cannot believe it,” Teleporno announced. “The nerve of that Salizidûd character!”
“You too?” The Dwarf forgot his rancor, saying with feeling in the singular solidarity of the mutually offended, “Perfectly heinous fellow, that one. Convinced me to let my family go on ahead of me to visit Erebor while I stayed here to help out with his very profitable business for a time, and then–well. My condolences.” He shuddered, then added more cheerfully, “Gróin, at your service.” He paused and clarified, “Not that sort of service.”
Teleporno and Gróin both took long draughts of their ale.
In the room above, laughter and jeering arose, punctuated by an indignant snarl of, “Aw no, that ain’t right! Now you’ve gone too far!” There came a scramble, the sound of chairs being knocked over, a slamming door, and running feet clunking down the stairs.
A wild-eyed shirtless Orc burst in, clutching his wrinkled garment to his chest, and made a beeline for the table by the hearth. “Bloody hell, have you maggots seen what they do up there? I mean, an Orc’s gotta have his standards, right, and I ain’t having no part o’ this.” He sat between the Elf and the Dwarf with a huff, helping himself to one of the tankards. “Sure you lads won’t mind if I have a bit to drink. Name’s Shagrat.”
“A pleasure. By which I mean, a completely innocent and mundane pleasure. I am Teleporno.”
“Gróin-at-your-service-but-not-in-that-way.”
The odd trio sat in companionable silence, united in their contempt for Master Salizidûd.
From the room above, a dinnerbell sounded, followed by a few wolf whistles, the scrape of chairs being moved, and a bellow of “By all the gods!”
Teleporno blanched. “To think that character wished for me to go into that room. Do you know what happened?” He waved his tankard about for emphasis as his woeful narrative unfolded. “So he says to me: ‘Do you like blondes?’ and naturally I am like: ‘I sure do.’ And then he goes: ‘How would you like to go into this room, crawl around on a table and act like a dog while a bunch of blondes take shepherd’s pie and–’ Well, you see that it would simply not behoove my lordliness to go on, but you get the idea, I am sure.”
“Funny,” said Gróin, “earlier today he was asking me if I’d be amenable to wearing a blond wig and doing unheard-of things with pies.”
“You don’t even wanna know what he just now wanted me to do,” said Shagrat. He paused. “But don’t worry, I saved the poor little blighter.” A small, pointy snout, whiskers quivering, poked out of the wrinkled bundle of his shirt. “D’aww,” said Shagrat. “I named him Khamûl Jr. Don’t you go telling Big Khamûl that, though, or I’ll gut ya. Here, Khamûl Jr, I bet you want some ale!”
“Another thing Salizidûd told me,” resumed the Elf as the Orc tried dotingly to pour some ale into the rodent’s mouth, “was that he thought I was perfect for his business because I had something very special.”
“He told me the same,” said the Dwarf.
“And me,” said the Orc. “So what do you lads think it is that we all have in common? I mean, not much, so far’s what I can tell.”
Teleporno, Gróin, and Shagrat considered this. The mystery was beyond the power of their combined intellects to crack. They shrugged and ordered another round.
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Crack
Rating: I’d say Teens, some with less crass sensibilities might say Adults
Warnings: Strong language, intimations of heinous sexual content (nothing “onscreen”). (ETA - beverage warning. Righto.)
Characters: Celeborn, Gróin, Shagrat, OCs
Pairings: n/a
Creators' Notes (optional): I can’t…
Summary: An Elf, a Dwarf, and an Orc commiserate over a failed business deal.
Teleporno, leaning with his hands on the counter and giving the barmaid his best I-am-the-lord-of-an-actual-realm look, repeated more forcefully, “Tell me, where is Salizidûd, for I much desire to speak with him.”
The barmaid was distressingly unimpressed. She also seemed to be somehow in league with the inn’s long-term guest, one Master Salizidûd. She yawned, fiddled with a dishtowel, and said, “Master Salizidûd is currently very busy in his room and not receiving visitors.”
Directly above them, shuffling feet were heard, followed by the crack of a whip, something that sounded suspiciously like a parrot reciting the Sindarin alphabet, and a few hoots and cheers. “Actually, it sounds like he has quite a few visitors at this very moment,” observed Teleporno.
“The only visitors he takes on weekends are performers or clients.”
“But–I demand to be reimbursed.”
“Sorry?” yawned the barmaid, glancing up at the ceiling with mild interest as a muffled shriek of “Look at the size of that thing!” emanated from the room above.
“I traveled all the way here with this Salizidûd character after he told me he had an interesting and profitable proposition for me–”
“So he propositioned you.”
“He told me he had a proposition for me.”
“Mm-hm. And then you found out what it was and didn’t want a thing to do with it, eh.”
“Exactly,” said Teleporno, very much on his dignity, “and now I should like to be reimbursed for the time I spent on the road getting here. I even bought the man his supper that one time, and–”
“Sorry, mate, that’d be your own problem. Maybe you should’ve asked Master Salizidûd what his proposition was before traveling four weeks with him.”
“I think this is illegal,” decided Teleporno.
“This is Rhudaur, mate, what can you do?” shrugged the barmaid. “Best I can do is give you a pint on the house, and then you and your constipated-sounding voice need to hit the road.”
“Me and my–the nerve!” fumed Teleporno, but so rarely in Middle-earth had he been faced with such a lack of reverence that he simply did not know how to deal with it. He sputtered helplessly, then grabbed the tankard and stalked over to a table by the hearth. “May I sit here,” he stated to the other occupant, sitting.
The Dwarf at the table looked up with a glower. “Actually, if that was supposed to be a question, I didn’t answer in the aff–”
“I cannot believe it,” Teleporno announced. “The nerve of that Salizidûd character!”
“You too?” The Dwarf forgot his rancor, saying with feeling in the singular solidarity of the mutually offended, “Perfectly heinous fellow, that one. Convinced me to let my family go on ahead of me to visit Erebor while I stayed here to help out with his very profitable business for a time, and then–well. My condolences.” He shuddered, then added more cheerfully, “Gróin, at your service.” He paused and clarified, “Not that sort of service.”
Teleporno and Gróin both took long draughts of their ale.
In the room above, laughter and jeering arose, punctuated by an indignant snarl of, “Aw no, that ain’t right! Now you’ve gone too far!” There came a scramble, the sound of chairs being knocked over, a slamming door, and running feet clunking down the stairs.
A wild-eyed shirtless Orc burst in, clutching his wrinkled garment to his chest, and made a beeline for the table by the hearth. “Bloody hell, have you maggots seen what they do up there? I mean, an Orc’s gotta have his standards, right, and I ain’t having no part o’ this.” He sat between the Elf and the Dwarf with a huff, helping himself to one of the tankards. “Sure you lads won’t mind if I have a bit to drink. Name’s Shagrat.”
“A pleasure. By which I mean, a completely innocent and mundane pleasure. I am Teleporno.”
“Gróin-at-your-service-but-not-in-that-way.”
The odd trio sat in companionable silence, united in their contempt for Master Salizidûd.
From the room above, a dinnerbell sounded, followed by a few wolf whistles, the scrape of chairs being moved, and a bellow of “By all the gods!”
Teleporno blanched. “To think that character wished for me to go into that room. Do you know what happened?” He waved his tankard about for emphasis as his woeful narrative unfolded. “So he says to me: ‘Do you like blondes?’ and naturally I am like: ‘I sure do.’ And then he goes: ‘How would you like to go into this room, crawl around on a table and act like a dog while a bunch of blondes take shepherd’s pie and–’ Well, you see that it would simply not behoove my lordliness to go on, but you get the idea, I am sure.”
“Funny,” said Gróin, “earlier today he was asking me if I’d be amenable to wearing a blond wig and doing unheard-of things with pies.”
“You don’t even wanna know what he just now wanted me to do,” said Shagrat. He paused. “But don’t worry, I saved the poor little blighter.” A small, pointy snout, whiskers quivering, poked out of the wrinkled bundle of his shirt. “D’aww,” said Shagrat. “I named him Khamûl Jr. Don’t you go telling Big Khamûl that, though, or I’ll gut ya. Here, Khamûl Jr, I bet you want some ale!”
“Another thing Salizidûd told me,” resumed the Elf as the Orc tried dotingly to pour some ale into the rodent’s mouth, “was that he thought I was perfect for his business because I had something very special.”
“He told me the same,” said the Dwarf.
“And me,” said the Orc. “So what do you lads think it is that we all have in common? I mean, not much, so far’s what I can tell.”
Teleporno, Gróin, and Shagrat considered this. The mystery was beyond the power of their combined intellects to crack. They shrugged and ordered another round.
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