When Muses Attack!

~~~

“Are you going to speak to me or not, cupcake?” I sigh, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. It’s been a long week and he’s been rather sullen lately.

He snorts. “Are you going to listen?” He asks in his disdainful tone.

“I’ve been listening and you refuse to talk, you hateful old thing!” I spit back at him.

I dunno what’s gotten into him lately. Originally I thought he was mad at me for who knows what but that usually doesn’t last this long.

Then I thought maybe he was worried about Steve coming over (he was although he refused to admit it – I can tell by the way he was skulking around and hovering near the door when I’d come home.) but that threat has passed and he’s still acting weird – more weird than usual.

We’re at an impasse now and it’s really started to irk me. He won’t tell me anything. He’s just dragging this out one bit at a time. It’s enough to make me wanna pull my hair out – or his!

Finally, he gives me a hint and throws a book - “The Fellowship of The Ring” - at me.

“Read,” he commands and points to two chapters.

I obey. I don’t get it. I read it again. And again and again. I still don’t get it so I just start writing. Gradually he joins me but remains silent. This battle of wills is starting to wear on me. Work has been nothing but a battle of wills and fighting him is more than I can take. I think I need another vacation.

“What in the hell do you want from me anyway?” I moan in exasperation after writing only ½ of a chapter in three hours and not liking it at all. I can’t do it without him and he’s not helping.

With that Cheshire cat grin that I know means trouble he leans over to inform me, “I want you.”

I groan and close my eyes. “Is that what this is about? I told you – I don’t mix business with pleasure. You don’t get your meat where you make your bread – all that good stuff. Maybe when we’re done,” I lie. “Just give me the story, dude, ok?”

“’You don’t get your meat where you make your bread,’” he repeats, his mouth not quite understanding the words. “What does this mean?”

“It means you don’t shit where you eat,” I explain. He frowns. I sigh.

“We’ve got a good thing, yes? You, me and this story, this is good, yes?” I ask trying a different tactic.

He nods in agreement.

“So why would I want to fuck it up? Why would you?”

“Why do you think that giving yourself to me would ‘fuck up’ the story?” He asks smoothly.

I gasp in horror at him. “You said ‘fuck!’” I say. “You shouldn’t say things like that!”

“You say it. You say it quite often,” he points out.

“Yeah, but I’m allowed to say it,” I reason. “You don’t even know what it means.”

“It means to fornicate without feeling,” he says smugly.

I grunt. He’s been surfing again. He’s too smart for his own good sometimes I think. One of these days I’m going to ask him to figure out the exact value of pi down to the very last decimal place. Let’s see how far he gets with THAT one! HA!

“OK. But I don’t want to hear you say it again,” I scowl and shake my finger at him threateningly.

“Are you going to answer the question or not?” He grins wickedly at me returning to the original subject.

“Because it will. I will get too emotionally fu – uh - messed up and won’t be able to see the story or you objectively anymore,” I reply. It’s the truth. It’s one of my dreaded outcomes. I cannot have that happen!

“You cannot do that now,” he counters. “You feel sorry for me. You think the pain of leaving will be too much for me.” He frowns distastefully at this thought.

“I’d rather feel sorry for you than have the hots for you,” I say warily.

“Why?” He presses, moving closer so I can feel his body heat. “Why do you dally with those others when you could have me?”

I refuse to look at him. “Because when this is done you will leave. You said so yourself. So why would I want to do it knowing what’s gonna happen? At least they will be around.”

“Why did Annowe give herself to me then?” He purrs, goading me.

“Because she really wanted you on some level that she wasn’t even aware of,” I answer. “Besides, she didn’t know you were leaving until after the two of you had already been together without Legolas,” I remind him.

He considers this for a minute. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He is still watching me but he’s thinking. He’s trying to outwit me – not too hard considering I’m unarmed most of the time.

“Yes, but why did she continue to have me after that? And bond with me?” He urges.

“I dunno! Probably because you drove her nuts – just like you’re doing to me – and she’d do just about anything to shut you up!” I inform him.

He smiles but I cut him off before he can add his comment.

“Me, on the other hand, I would have choked your ass long before THAT and been done with you,” I say with a snort.

His smug smile turns into a dark scowl. “You wish to strangle me then?”

I give him the “well, duh!” look. “You’re just now coming to realize the murderous rage you’ve instilled in me by jerking me around?” I ask sarcastically. How oblivious can he be?

“Perhaps I could help you release your frustrations,” he offers silkily moving to smell my neck.

I shy away from him. “You gonna hold still while I choke you then? That would be a big help!” I reply.

He sighs heavily and sits back in his chair. “Why do you hate me?” He frowns.

“Because you won’t talk to me! You used to talk to me all the time and now you won’t. All you do is try to get into my pants and I want this damned story!” I yell at him.

“Why?” He asks.

I eye him suspiciously. Is he just trying to push me over the edge of my sanity? “Why do I want this story?” I ask in confusion.

He nods. “Why is it so important to you now?”

“Because it’s good,” I admit. “I like it. Lots of other people like it as well and I can’t just quit writing it because you won’t talk to me anymore. I wanna know what happens. THEY wanna know what happens. It’s not right to leave us hanging.”

“Then perhaps you should give me what I want,” he reasons, reaching out to stroke my thigh.

Oh, how I wish I could just wrap my grubby fingers around that alabaster throat of his and squeeze until his face turned smurf blue!

“Are you implying that you won’t talk to me unless I give myself to you?” I growl. Oh, he is so going to get it! “That I ‘take one for the team’?”

“No,” he says simply. “I am telling you that unless you help me I will not help you.”

“But this is your fucking story!” I shout, leaping up from my chair to glare at him.

“Not anymore, Mel. Now you want to finish it just as badly as I do,” he answers coldly. “And I can wait. I have a very long time to wait.”

“You – you,” I sputter searching for just the right insult. “Fucking bastard” just isn’t harsh enough.

“You son of a dwarf!” I hiss.

That did it. He stands up slowly, drawing himself up to his full height so he towers over me but I’m not going to retreat. He can’t hurt me. He cannot bridge that gap between realities. All he can do is glare and snarl and threaten which he does. It’s a Mexican standoff and neither of us is going to budge an inch.

“You should reconsider your situation,” he advises savagely after cursing me in several tongues. I may not know the language but I'd know that tone anywhere!

I don’t trust my voice enough to answer so I just bare my teeth at him. UP at him is more like it.

In the blink of an eye he is gone and I sigh heavily, collapsing onto the couch. I don’t know if he will return or not. If he does he won’t talk and if he doesn’t . . . well, I don’t know what I’ll do then. I bury my face in a pillow and scream in frustration.

~~~