Title: Gríma's Big Night Out
Warnings: I'm just sick
Beta: My beta couldn't stop laughing long enough to give me any feed back, so you guys are on your own!
Disclaimer Gríma ain't mine - Thank God! Thank God! Hal-muse and Snape- baby, while resembling certain characters from certain books, are really unique beings of their own... okay so they are clones! Shoot me!
Feedback: Are you kidding? Hell yes!
Archiving: EC. NF. WOC, LAF, OEAM, anywhere else - let me know
Summary/Notes: Some moron entered me in a "Win a date with Gríma" contest and the only way to get out of it was to submit a short story on the premise that you - the writer and he - the original Slime Ball from Hell - were on a balcony together observing the sunset. This is my entry. (Oh, for those who don't know - Baraer is Elvish for "Fiery One."
The woman stood at the balcony, the cool breeze blowing through her hair. the scent of evening primrose on the air. She was aware of being watched, being stalked and she smiled inwardly, knowing he never allowed her out of his sight. The night showed promise and she was glad she had worn her black lace garters with matching bustier under her dress.
She was not aware of the slime ball approaching her from the opposite side.
"My dear." the voice dripped venom, oozed vomitous chills, "long have I watched you. Long have I desired to touch your pulse." Gríma's clammy hand slid sinuously over hers, which had now clenched the balcony railing.
Her eyes slid sideways, to the tortured dreamer. Whose nightmare had she walked into? She jerked her hands from under his and wiped them on her voluminous skirts.
"Excuse me? Gríma, have you gone blind? Hal-Muse will kill you!" She waved him off into the direction of the trees. "Go play with yourself. Leave me be!" She returned her attention to the beautiful sunset.
He was not to be deterred. "My love, my darling, please, I beseech thee..." His hand reached for her cheek...
"Gríma!" the words were ground out between gritted teeth. "Put on your glasses! I am NOT Eowyn!" Again, she jerked her hand from under his and attempted to step away from the slime ball. "She is dancing with Faramir and Legolas. You may go get in line!" She waved her hand towards the ballroom, in attempt to not only direct him, but to also shake his touch from her skin.
As if you actually had a chance! she thought to herself sarcastically. More of a chance with Eowyn than with her. I have Hal-Muse and Snape-baby! Like they would allow a third - especially THAT third - near her. Truthfully, the two volatile muses barely tolerated each other.
She found herself thrown against the wall, her body crushing the flowers, those lips sinking closer to her mouth. "Please, my love, I kno...ooof!" Gríma saw stars fly around his eyes, as her knee effectively buried itself in his teeeeeeeny tiny family jewels. She pushed him backwards and began to scream at the top of her lungs.
"Where the HELL are my muses who are supposed to keep me occupied?"
Very quickly, Hal-Muse, resplendent in black velvet and diamond ear cuffs ran to the balcony, 2 goblets of sweet berry wine in each hand. "My love, I went to fetch you a cool drink. You were accosted by this... this... this... reject of an Orc?"
"HE TOUCHED ME!!!"
"Well, that was not very smart!" Hal-Muse handed both goblets to his Baraer and stood over the jittery mass of jello. "I suppose I shall have to stand him in front of a tree and commence target practice."
At that moment, Gríma began to stammer, plead, and beg, in a loud and most unbecoming voice, for his worthless life. It was not a very pretty sight and the Woman giggled at his foolishness. They did not see the fourth party enter the balcony.
"SILENCE!" All looked at the dark visage, the tall, dark robed one that was the Potions Master, the immortal Snape-Baby. "I leave for 10 minutes to stir a cauldron and look at the chaoat eat ensues!" He turned his attention to the Woman. "What did this pathetic scrap do?"
"He tried to kiss me. YRCH!"
Snape-Baby turned angry black orbs towards Hal-Muse. "We had an agre..."
"Not Hal! Gríma!" She gestured angrily to the floor.
Snape- baby, focused his dark attention towards the still quivering mass of goo on the floor of the balcony.
Gríma wet his pants.
Snape-baby smiled an evil smile. "I have a potion brewing in the dungeon. I would love to try it out on him..."
"Noooo, please, mercy, I beg thee!"
Hal-Muse arched a delicate eyebrow. "Nay. I have promised to use him as target practice." He propped one leather booted foot on the sprawled Original Greaser.
Snape-Baby coiled inward, pulling himself nose to nose with the large, muscle bound Elf. "No, I need a guinea pig for this potion!"
"Potion-smotion! I say archery practice!"
"Either back down, Elf, or I will shove my wand stra up up your..."
"Hey! That is getting personal, you twit!"
The Elf and the Wizard were toe to toe, eye to eye, nose to nose.
"Just see if I have her take that potion that made her scream for you all night again."
"Hmmmm - that was a good potion!" The Elf sagely thought outloud. "But still... I was here first! What could be so wonderful about thotiootion you are brewing?"
Snape-baby looked around in a conspiratorial manner, smiling maliciously. "It will make him grow warts on his..." his finger pointed downward towards his crotch. "And whenever he gets... excited, little mouths will erupt from the warts and they will whistle Dixie!"
"NO!" Hal-Muse voice was incredulous and he laughed despite himself. "Perhaps, you could administer the potion, we force him to look at Play-Elf magazine and then I can use the WARTS for target practice..." The two Muses heads were together, conspiring gleefully with each other.
Gríma attempted to crawl from under the leather boot of the beautiful Elf. Just as he rolled away, another foot came down on him.
He looked into HER eyes, fear, returning full force.
"You hear what they have in store for you?" Gríma whimpered. "Did you hear what I did to that MOST unfortunate Dragon?" Gríma whimpered again. She looked at the two Muses, deep in conversation, planning, plotting....
It was why she loved them. They were soooo good at whatever they concocted. She returned her attention to the shaking moron at her feet. "I suspect it will be - oh at least - 5 minutes before they finish their planning. I suggest you high-tail it over that railing and run for your life." Gríma nodded his agreement. She reached down and grasped him by the chin, her fingers cruelly cutting into his pale, clammy flesh.
"Don't EVER come back!" She kissed the air above him and shoved him towards the railing...
Was this single fic worthy of getting me OUT of the date?
Unfortunately, no. Our list mum was particularly vexed at 3 people- of which I was one - for changing the piccie on our Haldir site to one of Grima while she was gone on vacation. Apparently, I bounced the bunny therefore -I was forced to go to the next round as one of the final three...
Notes? What is there to make note of??? Grima sees, Grima wants, Grima gets... absolutely nothing!