Posted in Fiction

A big tasty bite of hobbit

A fanfic about an adventurous hobbit and her elf rescuer.
First: A hobbit in trouble

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Mentha tried to get her hands free but the robes were tight and secure. Around her was the entire group of bandits gathered, together with their enormous drooling dog.

“I think it’s a hobbit, Gordon!”

The big balled bandit who clearly was some sort of leader smacked the other bandit in the face with the back of his huge hand.

“I know it’s a hobbit, you moron!”

Mentha was tired of stupid smelling humans who tied her up.

“Let me go!” she yelled and wriggled in the robes.

The chief bandit, Gordon, stepped forward and kneeled to get closer. With an eerie sound he drew his long wicked dagger, which had seen a lot of action according to the deep notches in the blade.

“I don’t think so, hobbit.” He made the last word sound like an insult. “You see, this ugly fello’, Bastard, is very hungry. And while I don’t think hobbit would taste good in a stew, I don’t think Bastard would mind.”

The other bandits laughed, and Bastard licked its mouth.

“I can cook!” she said desperately as Gordon got to his feet again. “I bet I can make you stew that would make you weep! You wouldn’t have to waste time on starting a fire, cooking or cleaning. I could do those things for you and you would have more time doing- doing whatever it is you sort are doing.”

Gordon paused and considered her offer.

“We are capable of making our own food,” he answered slowly.

“It tastes like crap!” One of the bandits shouted.

“Hey, I did what I could with that supposedly rabbit you brought back!” another yelled.

The chief bandit grabbed Mentha at her shirt and pulled her up to his eye level, squinting his mean eyes, leaving her feet dangle in the air above the ground,

“And then you slit our throats while we sleep, is that it, hobbit?”

“What?! No! Of course not, why would I-“

“Eat her, Bastard!”

Gordon threw her to the ground and the big dog leaped to get a big tasty bite of hobbit. It was stopped mid air by an arrow piercing its chest, it was dead before it hit the ground.

“What was that?!” Gordon yelled and drew his sword while the rest of the bandits sprang to their feet, drew their weapons and ran around like headless chickens. “Silence!”

The bandits stopped, everyone on guard, listening and looking for the unseen attacker. Another arrow flew from the forest and killed a bandit, the rest of them charged the spot to attack the hidden archer. But the archer was fast and soon another arrow flew through the campsite from another angle, taking a bandit out. Then from another spot.

“There are too many of them!” Hank the bandit yelled. Only he, Gordon and two other bandits remained.

Gordon spun around and headed straight towards Mentha with a determined look on his face. She tried to crawl away, but with her hands tied it wasn’t much of a race before he was at her. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet.

And then he entered. Like a tornado of blond hair and slim blades he entered the campsite and attacked the last three bandits.

Gordon held a blade to Mentha’s throat.

“Stop! Or I’ll kill this hobbit!”

The elf froze and three dead bodies dropped to the ground. There was only Gordon with his hostage left.

“Let her go,” the elf demanded and Mentha’s heart jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Stay where you are!” Gordon shouted and almost managed to keep the panic out of his voice.

The elf began to approach, Gordon pressed the blade close to her skin.

“Stop!” Gordon screamed. “Drop your weapons.”

“Let her go!” The elf shouted as he simply let go of his blades while still approaching.

Gordon was clearly in panic and wanted to get as far away from the raging and fast approaching elf as possible. He pushed Mentha forward and ran off as fast as he could, the elf flung a knife after him and Mentha heard the loud thud when the body hit the ground. She stumbled forward, her hands still tied at the back, whimpering. The elf stepped forward and caught her before she could fall.

“Mentha!” He yelled and held her out from him. “I told you the woods were dangerous, why would you come back?”

Then he saw her tears and the blood on her throat from the superficial wound the dagger had made.

“Oh, you are hurt!” He held her close and she buried her face in his chest and cried. He kissed her hair. “Mentha, what are you doing out here? You could have been killed, you silly hobbit.” He made the last word sound like a loving nickname.

“I was looking for you,” she cried into his shirt. “I didn’t know where to find you.”

“Let me cut those robes. There you go. And what about that cut? Look up. It’s not that bad.” He hugged her again and now she could hug him back. She grabbed his clothes and pulled him as close a possible, never wanted to let him go ever again.

“Why were you looking for me?” He whispered, sounding fragile. She managed to lift her head from his chest and looked up at him smiling.

“I never got your name.”

His lips curled. And then he giggled. A short, almost non existing giggle. But it happened.

“Mentha Greenleaf. I’m Erendiel Palathiël. I’m sorry I was late today.”

And then he kissed her.


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