Author’s note: the following is my very first RPS. It’s all a lie. Never 
happened, never will. It starts out mostly with just rude language and a touch 
of slash, but will simmer a while then come to a boil. I’m just learning this 
stuff. I’m trying to experiment and play with style a little. Hope you enjoy it.

Dedicatedto Alexa at Green Opals, the Sean Bean slash archive. You can find it 
here: http://greenopals.150m.com/index2.html
Archive: Hell, yeah, spread it around like peanut butter, just drop me an e mail
first. You can do that at islandwight@yahoo.com

The lyrics are alas not of my making, but those of a master, Don McLean, from 
the song, “Chain Lightening.”


Chain Lightning

By Don McLean

Sometimes when I'm thinking that love's not around
My heart begins sinking; I don't hear a sound,
And the world is in blackness, no light shines on me,
I suffer no blindness, no one can I see,
Then a flash from the heavens, like a loud jagged wire,
And the silence is broken, and the night is on fire.

It's like chain lightning, this love that I feel.
Who knows where it strikes or when it will hit,
How long it will last, or when it will quit.


Sword Dance

by Ghost In The Mist


This was the scene: the scene that launched a thousand slashfics, as Billy 
recalled, blushing furiously even sitting here alone in his apartment. The 
sword-practice scene with Sean Bean, where Pippin had tackled a much larger 
Boromir, then launched a tickle-attack.

And all he could think of was Sean’s chiseled features and a twinkle in his eyes
that seemed somehow secret, as if this tall and incredibly handsome man had some
little secret, kept only for himself, like a selfish child. Like a selfish child
that kept a bit of chocolate tucked away, unwilling to share it with his mates.

It had been so cold that day. Even now, when Billy thought about it, he could 
shiver. He could shiver, but not from the memory of how cold he had been, but 
how warm. Feeling all warm, Billy blushed, all alone, sat drumming his fingers 
on his table beside his uneaten bowl of porridge, blushed remembering how cold 
he had been, then how warm.

He’d stood there shivering in the cold wind, slowly turning blue between takes 
when he felt a large hand settle on his shoulder. He cast his eyes about, 
cataloging who was where; only Sean was missing. ‘Lige, Sean Astin, Orli and Dom
were huddled together, Viggo, John and Ian were off to his left in an animated 
discussion. Had to be Sean Bean.

“You’re freezing, little hobbit.” Came the unctuous voice behind him, sounding 
rather jovial. Unctuous? Where the bloody hell had that thought come from? 
Recalling that moment, Billy blushed, sitting all alone with his damned cold 
porridge. Sitting all alone thinking of Sean and feeling all warm. 

Billy had looked over his shoulder. Yep, Sean Bean, looking at him as if he had 
some sweet tidbit stashed away all for himself. Why is he looking at me like 
that? Billy had thought.

Billy had stood still as a stone, feeling Sean standing behind him, unable to 
respond, feeling a sudden case of vertigo.

“Such a little thing,” Sean had said again, once more jovially. “It’s your body 
mass, little hobbit; the smaller you are, the easier you lose body heat.”

“I, um, well…” Fuck. Just fucking great, just fucking lovely. Such fucking witty
repartee. 

And then it happened. Sean took off his Boromir-cloak and wrapped it around 
Billy and circled him with those powerful arms and Billy’s heart did a sword 
dance in his chest and he felt all flushed and warm and cozy and time had slowed
to a crawl. Time had slowed to more than a crawl; time was fucking stuck on 
pause like a fucking bad DVD player and the fucking vertigo got much, much worse
when Sean turned him around and again circled him with those arms. And Billy had
looked into those green eyes and Sean had looked into Billy’s green eyes and it 
was all green eyes and warm, strong arms and that secret, amused look on Sean’s
damnably handsome face and fuck he smelled so good, and then Billy had fucking 
squeaked, squeaked like the fucking little hobbit he was and his knees were like
fucking water and why? Why was this happening? What was he supposed to do now?

And then it was time for another shoot, the sword practice scene, the one that 
had launched a thousand slashfics, and Billy was watching his tiny double 
tumbling on top of Sean, and Billy’s heart started doing a sword dance again, 
doing a sword dance because he wondered, he wondered what it would be like to be
that double just now, if that was him, Billy, tumbling, tumbling on top of Sean
and then Sean’s muscular arm looping around Billy and the feeling, like a mild 
electrical shock, and Sean looking at Billy and smiling at Billy and laughing 
his deep, wonderful, warm laugh, and even as cold as Billy is without the 
Boromir-cloak and Sean’s wonderfully strong arms around him, even shivering with
the cold, when Sean pulls him down for the tickling scene, Billy feels suddenly 
very, very warm, and his heart is doing the sword dance again and Sean has that
secret look again and man, suddenly Billy wondered why he was having this 
fucking little imaginary fucking sexual fucking hiccup and fuck but Billy was so
warm he was fucking sweating and what the fuck was fucking wrong with him?

Billy sat alone at his table in his apartment, and he was warm, very warm, he 
was sweating but he was alone and it was cold, so fucking cold, colder than his
uneaten porridge, and his heart was doing a sword dance.