serai

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So, the other day

claudia603 made a snorfly post about all the melodrama in Brinks Security ads - the menacing darkness, the evil fiend, the swooning victim. So what happens?

The night was quiet, the cool air rife with the smell of spring grass, as Frodo latched the kitchen window shut. Yawning, he took up his candle, and shielding the flame with one hand, turned to the door.

He paused for a moment. Somehow the shadows weren't right, past the kitchen table, near the back door...the dark too thick...there was movement...before Frodo could get away, the shadows took shape and burst towards him. He barely had time for one shriek before a rough hand clapped over his mouth and he was prisoned by strong arms.

Oh, what could he do? His assailant was far larger, far stronger and more lethal than he. Struggling, he kicked and tried to bite, but to no avail...hot breath burned his shoulder as the tried to push himself away...

The kitchen door burst open and Sam came hurtling through. "Here now!" he cried as he saw the struggling figures. He took one look about him and grabbed up his trusty skillet. "Unhand him, you fiend," Sam shouted, all bravery as the large, menacing figure turned its sharp gaze to fix on the stout hobbit, "or I'll - oh, sorry, my lord," he apologized, lowering the frying pan as King Elessar continued to stare at him.

My, this here's an awkward moment, thought Sam. He didn't know where to look - at Frodo's flushed face and rather annoyed eyes, at the king's cool amusement, at the way he was holding Mr. Frodo so...well, close, not to make too much of it. He gave up at last.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he muttered, though he wasn't sure to whom. The king nodded, his arm tightening and his unseen hand shifting a bit. Frodo closed his eyes and made a peculiar sound under the hand on his face, as Sam's receding voice muttered, "We should've brought back one of them Citadel guards..."

Go figure. *eyeroll*