CowboyPirates
folder
Lord of the Rings Movies › General › Lord of the Ring Stars
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,422
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Lord of the Rings Movies › General › Lord of the Ring Stars
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,422
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is work of fiction! I do not know the celebrity(ies) I am writing about, and I do not profit from these writings.
CowboyPirates
Ugh, what's the routine? This isn't real, but it barely resembles anyone real anywho so I don't think that matters. I've been drinking. Obviously. When I thought up the idea of CowboyPirate slash (while sober) I immediately thought "That's the stupidest fucking idea I've ever heard of" (which is a quote from Hercules Returns).
Oh yeah, beta-ed by Kerry~Aja. although I find myself rereading this the next day and correcting mistakes she didn't notice. So, huh. But thanks Kerry for not letting me use 'searching the cave for hidden treasure'. Although I just used it then! ;-)
Oops, I also intended to give credit to www.talklikeapirate.com. If they read this they probably wouldn't want me to credit them.
Please flame me.
*****
The cowboys climbed up the frame of the corral and counted how many head of cattle they’d mustered. The younger cowboy heard a far-off noise and shielded his eyes against the sun to scan the horizon.
“Someone’s coming, Strider,” he said.
Strider looked where Manc was indicating. “Is it Indians?”
“Dunno, let’s ride out and meet ‘em!” They jumped onto their horses and rode out across the desert plain.
*****
Black Bloom peered through his telescope and saw the two figures approaching. “Arr, the scurvy landlubbers have spotted us! Pull to starboard, Scotty!”
Scotty Boyd shouted to the coachman to turn starboard. The coachman, not being familiar with seafaring, turned port and received a slap with the flat of Scotty’s blade before realising his mistake.
Bloom lost his footing and almost tumbled off the roof of the stagecoach, but managed to catch a hold with his fingertips. “Ye dastardly dog! I’ll turn ye over to the navy at the next port!”
The stagecoach ran over a rabbit hole and the rear axle snapped, sending all occupants flying. The horses’ harness broke and they ran away free as the coach tumbled over and over, stopping only when it splintered to pieces.
“Arr, the Jolly Roger has ne’er seen such disgrace!” Scotty cursed.
Bloom staggered to his feet and tried to brush off the desert dust. “S’just as well Sir Bean ain’t free to witness this disgrace!”
“T’would ne’er ha’ thought the brigs would provide a man peace,” Scotty agreed.
“Now, wo’ oo’ our attackers?” Bloom and Scotty looked up just as the cowboys circled around behind them. “Th’ land lubbers can’t even sail in a straight line!”
The pirates drew their swords and waited impatiently for the cowboys to pass close enough by to exchange words.
“Want-em pow-wow with red men!” Strider called out, still riding wide circles around the pirates.
“I don’t think they’re Indians, Strider,” Manc said. The swords were a bit of a giveaway.
“Arr, and who might you land lubbers be? Are you from the Governor of these islands?” Bloom cried out, turning and turning to address the leader, tripping over the torn tails of his coat in the process. “Curses!” he shouted as he went arse over tit once more.
“Hey, Strider,” Manc said in aside to his companion, “I think they’re pirates.”
“You yellow Englishman, there’s no pirates in the Wild West! Pirates sailed in ships in the Caribbean over a hundred years ago!” Strider knew there was something wrong about having an English cowboy. The desert sun was making him hallucinate.
Scotty sheathed his sword and drew his pistol. Nodding at Bloom to cover his ears, he fired a single shot in the air. When the echo faded, Scotty asked the cowboys, “D’ye know where a man can get some rum in this port?”
*****
The saloon was suddenly silent as the doors swung open to reveal the silhouettes of two men with elaborate hats. After a suitable dramatic pause they stepped through the doorway and approached the bar.
Moments later two cowboys slipped inconspicuously through the doors and sat in a secluded corner, hoping the weirdos with swords wouldn’t draw too much attention to themselves.
The hatted men approached the bar. “Rum,” the shorter one demanded. “And be sure there be no weevils in it. Savvy?”
The bartender gave them a surly look and turned to find a bottle of rum among all the whiskey on the shelf. The two men turned and surveyed the room, not flinching under the sneers of the dusty cowfolk.
“What’cher lookin’ at?” Bloom demanded of the room. People muttered and looked back down at their whiskeys and beers.
Bloom and Manc carried four mugs of rum to the cowboys in the corner. “Can ye believe this cost a whole doubloon?” Manc said. “Scurvy dog of a landlord.”
When they were seated, Manc asked them in an excited whisper, “You’re pirates, aren’t you?”
“A’course we’re pirates!” Bloom cried out loud. “The most afeared in the Caribbean. The names of Black Bloom and Scotty Boyd strike fear in the heart of the Royal Navy.”
“Look chumps,” Strider said before Manc could ask more, “There are no pirates. This is 1880-something (AN: probably) and pirates were wiped out by the British fleet (AN: um...) hundreds of years ago. This is the Wild West, not the high seas! You’re crazy Brits who’ve lost their way and have been affected by the heat.”
Bloom’s eyes glittered wickedly. Scotty said, “Crazy, aye. Plumb raving, this ‘un is. Best not mention it again.”
Manc noticed the way Bloom’s fingers caressed the hilt of his sword. Less fear-in-heart-striking and more warm-in-pants-stirring. “Pirates. Huh.”
Black Bloom lip curled in what would almost be a cruel sneer if he weren’t so damned good-looking. “Yer an Englishman. What are ye doing with this bilge rat?”
“I don’t think that’s important to the plot,” Manc said. Strider was agape at being called a bilge rat.
“Avast, Scotty!" Bloom said to his mate. "Here’s some sport for ye. Ne’er thought we’d find a countryman in this strange port.”
“A right Englishman, aye,” Scotty said. “C’mere me beauty, come show me what an English boy’s good for.”
Manc eagerly got to his feet and followed Scotty through the saloon and upstairs.
Strider, still without power of speech, stared until Manc was out of sight. He turned back to his unsavoury companion and returned the pirate’s sneer.
“What of ye, land lubber?” Bloom asked. “Do ye know the ways of the British?”
Strider gulped.
“Arr, so yer not so much of a bawdy wench as the Manc. Well, I like me meat fresh, if ye get me drift.”
Strider opened and closed his mouth a few times but made no noise.
Bloom gulped down his rum. “Best get that in yer, cowboy. Yer gonna need it by the time Black Bloom’s done with ye.”
Strider did what he was told.
*****
Not much later, in an upstairs boudoir (AN: the type you see in Wild West films) Bloom was unbuttoning the cowboy’s shirt with one hand and fingering his sheathed sword (AN: the literal sword, pervert) with the other.
“Yer a bit long in the tooth fer this to be yer first time with a captain,” Bloom said.
“This is the Wild West,” Strider choked out. “The men are men and the women are paid by the hour.”
The hand that had finished with the buttons slid the leather strap out of Strider’s belt buckle. Strider’s trousers fell to his ankles. “Take ‘em off,” Bloom said, “but leave yer cowboy boots on.”
*****
In the next boudoir Scotty and Manc were having hot dirty CowboyPirate seks, oh yes indeedy. Mmm. Just picture that.
*****
Black Bloom had cast aside his own attire (apart from his elaborate hat) and surveyed the cowboy spread out on the bed in front of him. Hmm, didn’t need a telescope to chart this course.
*****
Scotty and Manc hung out their boudoir (AN: I’m getting sick of that word) window smoking and wondering what was taking Bloom and Strider so fucking long. (AN: Yes, get on with it!) (AN: Oh okay! You’re such a fucking bully.)
*****
Strider was wondering what was taking so long, or at least he was until he felt Bloom’s tongue go somewhere he had to pay the saloon broads a lot of money to go.
*****
Sheriff Woody walked into the saloon and hailed the bartender. “What’s this I hiah about a disturbance?” Woody asked.
“Two English toffers, real queer-like, upstairs with some cowboys,” the barkeeper said.
Sheriff Woody fired a shot into the air. He liked doing that. He didn’t care much about the mess he made what with splinters and all coz it wasn’t his place, and anyways he was the law in this town.
The pirates rushed out of the saloon bedrooms, dressed only in their elaborate hats and their lovers' leather chaps.
"Git yer yellow asses down hiah and faht lahk men!" Sheriff Woody challenged the pirates.
“Ye scruvy bilge rat,” Bloom cursed. “Veevs was just getting to the good bit!”
(AN: No, I wasn’t. But I can take a break and youse can all go have an orgy in the meantime.)
Scotty looked across at Bloom, who shrugged, and then called down to Sheriff Woody, “What says ye? Will ye come upstairs and join me and the Manc? We’ll see to it that Strider gets his jolly rogering without any more disturbances.”
Sheriff Woody thought of the tall lonesome cowboy, probably nekkid on his hands and knees in one of the BOUDOIRS upstairs. “Yep, be right thair,” he called out as he ran up the stairs.
Oh yeah, beta-ed by Kerry~Aja. although I find myself rereading this the next day and correcting mistakes she didn't notice. So, huh. But thanks Kerry for not letting me use 'searching the cave for hidden treasure'. Although I just used it then! ;-)
Oops, I also intended to give credit to www.talklikeapirate.com. If they read this they probably wouldn't want me to credit them.
Please flame me.
*****
The cowboys climbed up the frame of the corral and counted how many head of cattle they’d mustered. The younger cowboy heard a far-off noise and shielded his eyes against the sun to scan the horizon.
“Someone’s coming, Strider,” he said.
Strider looked where Manc was indicating. “Is it Indians?”
“Dunno, let’s ride out and meet ‘em!” They jumped onto their horses and rode out across the desert plain.
*****
Black Bloom peered through his telescope and saw the two figures approaching. “Arr, the scurvy landlubbers have spotted us! Pull to starboard, Scotty!”
Scotty Boyd shouted to the coachman to turn starboard. The coachman, not being familiar with seafaring, turned port and received a slap with the flat of Scotty’s blade before realising his mistake.
Bloom lost his footing and almost tumbled off the roof of the stagecoach, but managed to catch a hold with his fingertips. “Ye dastardly dog! I’ll turn ye over to the navy at the next port!”
The stagecoach ran over a rabbit hole and the rear axle snapped, sending all occupants flying. The horses’ harness broke and they ran away free as the coach tumbled over and over, stopping only when it splintered to pieces.
“Arr, the Jolly Roger has ne’er seen such disgrace!” Scotty cursed.
Bloom staggered to his feet and tried to brush off the desert dust. “S’just as well Sir Bean ain’t free to witness this disgrace!”
“T’would ne’er ha’ thought the brigs would provide a man peace,” Scotty agreed.
“Now, wo’ oo’ our attackers?” Bloom and Scotty looked up just as the cowboys circled around behind them. “Th’ land lubbers can’t even sail in a straight line!”
The pirates drew their swords and waited impatiently for the cowboys to pass close enough by to exchange words.
“Want-em pow-wow with red men!” Strider called out, still riding wide circles around the pirates.
“I don’t think they’re Indians, Strider,” Manc said. The swords were a bit of a giveaway.
“Arr, and who might you land lubbers be? Are you from the Governor of these islands?” Bloom cried out, turning and turning to address the leader, tripping over the torn tails of his coat in the process. “Curses!” he shouted as he went arse over tit once more.
“Hey, Strider,” Manc said in aside to his companion, “I think they’re pirates.”
“You yellow Englishman, there’s no pirates in the Wild West! Pirates sailed in ships in the Caribbean over a hundred years ago!” Strider knew there was something wrong about having an English cowboy. The desert sun was making him hallucinate.
Scotty sheathed his sword and drew his pistol. Nodding at Bloom to cover his ears, he fired a single shot in the air. When the echo faded, Scotty asked the cowboys, “D’ye know where a man can get some rum in this port?”
*****
The saloon was suddenly silent as the doors swung open to reveal the silhouettes of two men with elaborate hats. After a suitable dramatic pause they stepped through the doorway and approached the bar.
Moments later two cowboys slipped inconspicuously through the doors and sat in a secluded corner, hoping the weirdos with swords wouldn’t draw too much attention to themselves.
The hatted men approached the bar. “Rum,” the shorter one demanded. “And be sure there be no weevils in it. Savvy?”
The bartender gave them a surly look and turned to find a bottle of rum among all the whiskey on the shelf. The two men turned and surveyed the room, not flinching under the sneers of the dusty cowfolk.
“What’cher lookin’ at?” Bloom demanded of the room. People muttered and looked back down at their whiskeys and beers.
Bloom and Manc carried four mugs of rum to the cowboys in the corner. “Can ye believe this cost a whole doubloon?” Manc said. “Scurvy dog of a landlord.”
When they were seated, Manc asked them in an excited whisper, “You’re pirates, aren’t you?”
“A’course we’re pirates!” Bloom cried out loud. “The most afeared in the Caribbean. The names of Black Bloom and Scotty Boyd strike fear in the heart of the Royal Navy.”
“Look chumps,” Strider said before Manc could ask more, “There are no pirates. This is 1880-something (AN: probably) and pirates were wiped out by the British fleet (AN: um...) hundreds of years ago. This is the Wild West, not the high seas! You’re crazy Brits who’ve lost their way and have been affected by the heat.”
Bloom’s eyes glittered wickedly. Scotty said, “Crazy, aye. Plumb raving, this ‘un is. Best not mention it again.”
Manc noticed the way Bloom’s fingers caressed the hilt of his sword. Less fear-in-heart-striking and more warm-in-pants-stirring. “Pirates. Huh.”
Black Bloom lip curled in what would almost be a cruel sneer if he weren’t so damned good-looking. “Yer an Englishman. What are ye doing with this bilge rat?”
“I don’t think that’s important to the plot,” Manc said. Strider was agape at being called a bilge rat.
“Avast, Scotty!" Bloom said to his mate. "Here’s some sport for ye. Ne’er thought we’d find a countryman in this strange port.”
“A right Englishman, aye,” Scotty said. “C’mere me beauty, come show me what an English boy’s good for.”
Manc eagerly got to his feet and followed Scotty through the saloon and upstairs.
Strider, still without power of speech, stared until Manc was out of sight. He turned back to his unsavoury companion and returned the pirate’s sneer.
“What of ye, land lubber?” Bloom asked. “Do ye know the ways of the British?”
Strider gulped.
“Arr, so yer not so much of a bawdy wench as the Manc. Well, I like me meat fresh, if ye get me drift.”
Strider opened and closed his mouth a few times but made no noise.
Bloom gulped down his rum. “Best get that in yer, cowboy. Yer gonna need it by the time Black Bloom’s done with ye.”
Strider did what he was told.
*****
Not much later, in an upstairs boudoir (AN: the type you see in Wild West films) Bloom was unbuttoning the cowboy’s shirt with one hand and fingering his sheathed sword (AN: the literal sword, pervert) with the other.
“Yer a bit long in the tooth fer this to be yer first time with a captain,” Bloom said.
“This is the Wild West,” Strider choked out. “The men are men and the women are paid by the hour.”
The hand that had finished with the buttons slid the leather strap out of Strider’s belt buckle. Strider’s trousers fell to his ankles. “Take ‘em off,” Bloom said, “but leave yer cowboy boots on.”
*****
In the next boudoir Scotty and Manc were having hot dirty CowboyPirate seks, oh yes indeedy. Mmm. Just picture that.
*****
Black Bloom had cast aside his own attire (apart from his elaborate hat) and surveyed the cowboy spread out on the bed in front of him. Hmm, didn’t need a telescope to chart this course.
*****
Scotty and Manc hung out their boudoir (AN: I’m getting sick of that word) window smoking and wondering what was taking Bloom and Strider so fucking long. (AN: Yes, get on with it!) (AN: Oh okay! You’re such a fucking bully.)
*****
Strider was wondering what was taking so long, or at least he was until he felt Bloom’s tongue go somewhere he had to pay the saloon broads a lot of money to go.
*****
Sheriff Woody walked into the saloon and hailed the bartender. “What’s this I hiah about a disturbance?” Woody asked.
“Two English toffers, real queer-like, upstairs with some cowboys,” the barkeeper said.
Sheriff Woody fired a shot into the air. He liked doing that. He didn’t care much about the mess he made what with splinters and all coz it wasn’t his place, and anyways he was the law in this town.
The pirates rushed out of the saloon bedrooms, dressed only in their elaborate hats and their lovers' leather chaps.
"Git yer yellow asses down hiah and faht lahk men!" Sheriff Woody challenged the pirates.
“Ye scruvy bilge rat,” Bloom cursed. “Veevs was just getting to the good bit!”
(AN: No, I wasn’t. But I can take a break and youse can all go have an orgy in the meantime.)
Scotty looked across at Bloom, who shrugged, and then called down to Sheriff Woody, “What says ye? Will ye come upstairs and join me and the Manc? We’ll see to it that Strider gets his jolly rogering without any more disturbances.”
Sheriff Woody thought of the tall lonesome cowboy, probably nekkid on his hands and knees in one of the BOUDOIRS upstairs. “Yep, be right thair,” he called out as he ran up the stairs.