Author: Romanticized Missile Fire PM
"This is MY forest. The next time you set foot in these woods I will shove my sword all the way up your ass." 1st Person Ulfger. Oh, the connotations of that statement from Peter; but what did the son of the Horned One think? One-shot-crap-drabble.Rated: Fiction T - English - Ulfger & Peter - Words: 847 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Published: 07-10-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7167812
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Okay... the usual stuff to say: I don't own these guys or the book, Brom does. And I'm sure Brom NEVER thought of that line in my sort of way. Never. Hehehe, lies. Anywho! I'll be updating my other story later if my Like a Drug readers read this. ^_^ This just struck me at random whilst cleaning today. It's not good, but I don't care. It was random inspiration. DON'T JUDGE ME. And this site needs a bit of this pairing anyway; it's in the staaaaaars~!
At first, when he had spoken such vulgar words, I hadn't understood the complete meaning. I wouldn't let the little scamp get anywhere near my ass with any blade whether I entered 'his forest' or not… that disgusting promise be damned. At first, I had wanted to pick up my own sword again, and cut off his pretentious little head. It was obviously much heftier, and I was obviously more skilled with all weapons, but the children surrounding him cowed my temporary anger.
I remember, too, looking over my shoulder with a pitiful glare when he had kicked me. A demeaning position to look back from, yes, but the look in his eyes had been worth the sad glower aimed at him; his triumphant scowl had melted into a blankness even I couldn't read. Those brilliant golden eyes had broken away from my hateful gaze and flushed face to momentarily assess just how below him I was. Which was in more than one way at that moment.
He said nothing, but began to smile at something obviously close behind me as I scrambled in a not very masculine manner to my feet. My clothing no longer mattered, and neither did my sword. I just wished to leave that place, leave those devil children, and leave that disgusting little half-breed faerie boy. I motioned to my elven squad, and they melted into the trees as I limped my way away from the devil boy and his human minions.
Jeers, cat-calls, and numerous organic items pelted me as I stumbled as fast as I could in the direction of the Lady's Wood. The feeling of running without clothing was increasingly uncomfortable, but it was even worse when I finally realized that those sounds and pelting were following me as I limped away. When I had almost reached Goggie Creek, the sounds suddenly stopped. I turned, morbidly curious of what had come of the demon boy and the others.
Nobody was there. I turned fully around, scanning the trees. Still nothing. Looking down at myself, I was disgusted by the mud, leaves, and other things I couldn't pinpoint plastered to my legs and speckled across my stomach and buttocks. The feeling of being watched came over me as I attempted to brush away the debris, and it intensified as I reached behind me to flick more off my ass. But nothing came out of the underbrush, the trees, or the slight shadows.
When I returned back to my home again, I bathed. It was the most obvious sort of thing to do, I suppose, when one is covered in mud and other shit. But as I was soaking (feeling very feminine and weak for enjoying it so much), the meaning behind Peter's words. Behind his appalling promise.
Up my ass.
All. The. Way.
I smiled, leaning back in the water, luxuriating more in the warmth and silky texture of it. The scent of lavender and the woods caressed my senses. I smiled as one hand trailed up from the water to touch the scar where an ear had been years before; the little demon boy would pay for that. And for making me strip before him, to be humiliated in front of him. To be threatened… even if it wasn't a conventional threat.
In a week or two I was going to pay the Lady's little Peterbird a visit. He was going to see what came from threatening the son of the Horned One… let him fight to see whose sword was going up whose ass. Either way, I doubted he would be very disappointed, either way the duel ended.
Even if I was wrong about his words and that blank stare he gave me when I was kneeling with my ass towards him and his demon children, Peter had to know about at least on word in the English language he loved so much. It was a common word in the 'real' world of humans and other xenophobes. And really, it was a very good word… especially for my cause now.
Short, sweet, to the point, and SO left open for anyone to do the raunchy part (the meeting) for me. I just get too giggly thinking about it, so I know writing it wouldn't be good. Just let me know if you will... I'll want the link. Thanks for reading this itty-bitty POS, and I hope you review. :) Toodles!