Posted in Fiction

Dirty and armed to the teeth

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

It was far past noon and Mentha had been walking all morning. She didn’t even pause for a lunch break but kept walking while eating. Now her legs began to feel heavy and she wiped her forehead and took another sip of water.

Mentha was determined to see the elf again. The fact that she didn’t even knew his name was painful, a reminder that maybe she wasn’t so close to him as she wanted to be. He was ever present in her mind and thoughts. Everything reminded her of him, the sky was the colour of his eyes, a fern would look like one she had been staring at while afraid to look into his eyes. It was stupid and too sugar-sweet, and she couldn’t help it. She was exactly as awful as the silly girls back home, she used to roll her eyes when they talked about crushes and now she was just as bad. Maybe even worse.

Thinking about him all the time, made her feel connected to him, and it felt weird to consider, that maybe he had forgotten all about her. Or maybe he entertained the other beautiful elves with the story of how he had to save a plump and foolish hobbit from something as mundane as humans. And the tall blond elves would all laugh. And one of them, exceptionally stunning, would lean in and- No! There was no point driving herself crazy like that.

Mentha had no idea where to find him, so her only plan was to go through the places where she had been with him. But last time she hadn’t paid attention to where she was going, neither before nor after meeting him. She knew it had been far away, so she had set out with quick feet early that morning.

She had just decided to take a break, when she heard a voice. Before she could decide on what to do, she had thrown herself into the nearest bush, where she lay on the ground panting and listening. Slowly she picked up the voice again and located it to her right and luckily, not too close. Now what? Carefully and alert she crept closer and soon she heard more voices, until she was hiding in a thicket surrounding a campsite.

Around a camp fire sat a group of nasty looking human bandits. They were scarred, dirty and armed to the teeth. Their deep voices were harsh and though clearly a group, they were not fond of one another. Two of them sounded like they where about to solve things with their fists. Or weapons.

“Beat it, Hank.” Said a tall and bearded bandit to another who was smaller and exceptional mean looking.

“Don’t tell me what to do, cheater.” Hank raised his chest to look bigger.

“Oh yeah? What’ya gonna do about it?” asked the first and poked Hanks chest.

“Move. That. Finger…” warned Hank while his hand unnoticed slid closer to his dagger.

A balled and muscular bandit rose from the other side of the camp fire and gave Hank and his friend a stern look.

“Knock it off. Both of you. Keep that dagger where it is, Hank.”

The two bandits gave each other a final stare before parting, but Mentha was sure it wouldn’t last for long.
She had just decided to silently crawl away and get as far away from these dangerous people as possible, when something growled into her ear. She froze and felt goose bumps all over her body as she slowly turned her head and was face to face with a giant mad dog.

“What is it, bastard? Another rabbit?”

‘Shit’, Mentha thought. ‘Shit shit shit shit.’

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