Author's note: Why? Because even I'm allowed a crack fic every once in a while.
Enjoy.
"And in other news, Japan will soon be hosting its first major Lord of the Rings Convention. At this very moment, hundreds of fans from Australia, New Zealand, and America are coming in to celebrate this event..."
Humming lightly to himself, Hiruma ran a loving hand over the muzzle of his Uzi. Wind snatched at his hair as he watched over the football field, his shadow stretching down from his perch upon the roof of their clubhouse. His teammates groaned as they ran sprints, and the blond's ears twitched as he caught their whispers of frustration.
"Man, why do we put up with this crap?" The Huh-Huh Brothers grumbled to each other as they passed the opposite end of the field.
"We should just quit! Damn those pictures anyway..."
Hiruma's teeth glinted in the sun as he grinned. They want to quit, do they?
Click
Aim.
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM!
"YAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Pleased with himself, he stood up on the metal roof and tossed the Uzis aside. "Next person I see slowing down..." Reaching behind his back, Hiruma pulled out his beloved AK-47.
"...GETS HIS HEAD BLOWN OFF!" Hiruma cackled madly, firing into the air. "MOVE YOUR ASSES!"
He grinned as his teammates started yelling, streaking across the field in their fear of getting shot. Ah, motivation.
Rustle.
"Ha..?" Pausing in his mental celebration, the blond glanced over his shoulder at the rustling trees behind him. He frowned lightly, narrowing his eyes at the shadows. What the hell was that? Nothing moved. "Tck."
Pretending to brush off the incident, Hiruma nonchalantly sat down and leaned his back against the sun-warmed roof. He smiled outwardly and lazily aimed at his team, but his hearing was trained towards the trees. The hair on his arms rose.
Someone's watching me.
Tightening his finger on the trigger, Hiruma grinned.
Just let the bastard try something! Ya-ha!
"Those ears..." whispered an awe-filled voice.
"That build..." Hushed excitement.
"That gun..." Nervous.
"He's magnificent!" Eyes glinting, the unseen man leaned forward and grinned. "I've never seen anyone so perfect before!"
Two junior high kids next to him rubbed their hands together in excitement. "If we can get him to join our tour—" one started.
"—We'll be the best group there!" the other finished.
Fingering his long—fake—beard, another man smiled. "Perhaps it's not such a bad thing after all that Zachary couldn't come. This boy will be a marvelous replacement." He chuckled, fingering a long, gnarled staff at his side. Another boy with a curly red wig nodded assent.
"Um, Gandalf, don't you think you're missing something?" The last member of their party shifted his large feet uneasily, fingering the gold ring hanging upon his chest. "The guy's shown two different types of guns in the last two minutes. Somehow, I don't think he's interested."
The other three hobbits glanced over at him. "Then we'll make him interested, Frodo!"
The first man swiped at his black hair and rubbed his scruffy chin, fingering the broken sword at his waist. He smiled. "Without a doubt, that boy will be ours."
Nodding in unison, the group turned back to the blond boy and watched avidly as he began cackling in earnest.
"We have found our Legolas."
Deciding that he had tormented his teammates enough for the afternoon—because if they started to suck any worse, he really would kill them off, and then he'd be back at a two-person team again—Hiruma called it a day. He leapt off the roof, slinging his AK-47 over his shoulder as he approached the panting, moaning players.
"That's it for today, you fucking losers."
Baring his teeth, he rested one hand upon his hip and fingered the trigger. "You'll all be here bright and early tomorrow morning...right?"
"Y-YES!" His team snapped to attention, wide eyes trained upon his gun.
"Good. Now LEAVE!" Cackling, he fired into the air. Within seconds, his teammates were gone, a cloud of dust left in their wake. Hiruma smiled. I love being able to do that.
He took a deep breath, looking out over his beloved field with a satisfied glint in his eyes. As much as he enjoyed terrorizing his team—all for good reasons, of course—he did, in his own small way, appreciate them. After all, if they weren't there, he wouldn't get to—
Footsteps. Right behind him.
Straightening his back, Hiruma released his empty magazine clip and rummaged in his pocket for a new one. He snapped it in place, a determined smirk settling on his outlandish face. His ears twitched.
"And what the fuck do you want?" he questioned in a low voice. The footsteps behind him came to a halt. Grin growing, Hiruma shifted his grip on his AK-47. "Bastards..."
Eyes wide, he spun about and aimed at the people behind him. "I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT HAPPENS TO PEOPLE WHO...huh?"
What...the FUCK...are they WEARING?
Hiruma found himself gawking as he took in the strange group before him. Three midgets with tremendous feet blinked up at him in awe, while the two men next to them simply grinned. Lifting an eyebrow, Hiruma set his gun back on his shoulder and scowled.
"What the fuck are you staring at?" he snarled. As if in a trance, they took a step forward.
"We're part of a tour for the Lord of the Rings Convention," the man in the beard explained as he crept forward. "Even though we have our hobbits, Aragorn, and myself, we're missing a very integral part of our group."
Having heard the news broadcast earlier that day, Hiruma scanned his mind for more information. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Four hobbits, a wizard, two king wanna-be's, and...an... Suspicion dawned upon him, and he deliberately lowered his gun to aim at them again. Hiruma took a half step back.
"And what do you want with me?" he demanded in a silky tone, letting his trademark I'm-going-to-kill-everyone-in-sight grin roll across his face. The group was unperturbed.
Aragorn spoke up next. "Our Boromir's back at the hotel, but we still need one...more...person."
The group inched closer. Chuckling, Hiruma tightened his grip on the trigger.
"That's too bad, because you're not going to find anyone he—"
"YOU HAVE TO BE OUR LEGOLAS!" one of the midgets hollered. His eyes shone with delight. "You look just like an elf already! All you need is—"
"I AM NOT AN ELF!"
Enraged, Hiruma set fire upon the group in front of him. They scattered, dodging bullets, but the idiot hobbit didn't shut up.
"But you look like one! Your ears are perfect!"
Fire danced in Hiruma's eyes. Leave...the ears...out of this! "Shut the fuck up!"
Another idiot midget joined him, rolling on the ground. "He's right! If we could just get you in a tunic—"
"Fuck you!" He took more careful aim at them, missing the cursed hobbit by inches.
"Some boots—"
"Fuck the boots!"
"And some tights, you'd be—"
"I WILL NOT WEAR FUCKING TIGHTS, AND I AM NOT A FUCKING ELF! FUCKING BASTARDS!"
Reason fleeing from his mind like a bat out of hell, Hiruma pulled out his rocket launcher. "FUCK YOU!"
He fired.
BOOM!
Reload.
BOOM!
Grenade launcher.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!
Scowling demonically, he waited as the smoke from his attacks dissipated. Fucking losers, calling me a fucking ELF. He smirked, putting the grenade launcher away and pulling out his favorite gun. That'll show them...
...No fucking way. His eyes grew wide when the smoke finally cleared...revealing the group in panting—but unharmed—condition. Despite himself, he took a step back. How'd they survive that?
"Haha!" One of the hobbits laughed at him. "You didn't know that our Gandalf can cast a spell shield of +6 blast protection? We don't D&D for nothing!"
"...Huh?" Confused, and mildly worried, Hiruma took aim with his AK-47. "Leave me the hell alone!"
They advanced on him, a glint that even he considered crazy in their eyes. "We need our Legolas!"
"Fuck off!" He fired with intent to strike, but the Lord of the Rings fans managed to keep coming closer to him. Feeling fear—and man, wasn't that an odd emotion—crawl up his spine, Hiruma balanced out his gunshots with the bombs he had lodged in his pocket. They kept coming for him, chanting "Legolas! Legolas!" as they advanced.
"Why the hell can't I hit you!" The blond demon backed away, unused to such a strange turn of events.
"Bullets can't pierce Mithril!" the red-headed hobbit declared. Smiling, he held out a green tunic. "Put this on, will you?"
"No way in fucking hell!" He started to aim at the tunic, but a matching pair of tights waving in the air to his left drew his attention. Before he could shift his aim, Aragorn started advancing on him with a pair of boots in one hand and a bow—no arrows—in the other. Hiruma scowled.
"You'll leave me the fuck alone, you crazy American fuck-tards!" Grinning maniacally, he aimed again. "Go to hell!"
Click. Click.
I'm out of bullets? Growling, Hiruma backed up as he rummaged in his pockets for another magazine clip. His search came up empty. What the fuck! Since when do I run out of ammo?
Now he started to worry.
Continuing to burrow in his clothing for his misplaced bullets, Hiruma backed away from the nerds in front of him. Eventually, he came to a stop and glowered at them.
Ah...fuck.
Rubbing his sore shoulder, Sena tiredly made his way back home. Beside him, Monta let out a weary sigh.
"Man, Hiruma nearly killed us today!" Monta complained. "Energy drained MAX!"
Sena smiled weakly. "Well, that's just Hiruma-san." He sighed, staring at the ground. "I doubt he realizes how it feels to be the harassed like that..."
The running back trailed off as the ground beneath his feet began to rumble. Sharing a surprised look, he and Monta glanced behind them. A cloud of smoke appeared first, followed shortly by...
"LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! FUCKING AMERICAN ASSHOLES!"
...Hiruma...who appeared to be running for his life while tossing bombs and grenades over his shoulder. A herd of crazed Americans chased after him.
"BE OUR LEGOLAS!"
Boom!
"NO WAY IN FUCKING HELL!"
Boom!
"BUT YOU'RE A PERFECT ELF!"
Boom!
"I TOLD YOU EIGHTY FUCKING TIMES—I'M NOT A FUCKING ELF!"
Somehow, the boy managed to run backwards while firing a rocket launcher at them. The fans were not deterred, managing to briefly tackle him.
"YES, YOU ARE!"
Frozen in shock, Sena and Monta watched dumbly as Hiruma was chased back and forth in front of them. The first time he had passed, he wore nothing but his football uniform. The second time, they'd somehow managed to get a pair of green tights onto him. The third, he hopped past with a pair of boots that he attempted to remove while shooting over his shoulder.
The fourth time he passed, Hiruma had a tiny guy with huge feet on his back, hanging onto his ears.
"They don't come off! They don't come off!"
"GET THE FUCK OFF ME! LEAVE MY FUCKING EARS ALONE!"
"The ears are real! It's amazing!"
"FUCKING HOBBIT! YOUR FEET ARE AS BIG AS MY FUCKING HEAD! GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"
The fifth time Hiruma staggered past, two hobbits clung to his legs while a third hung from his neck, attempting to tug a tunic into place.
The sixth time, the wizard managed to trip Hiruma with his staff. The group converged on top of him, dragging him off despite his protests.
"LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! GET OFF ME!" As the blond disappeared into the distance, his shouts echoed in the late afternoon air.
"I'M NOT A FUCKING ELF!"
"I'm here at the convention, and I must say that Japan has had a marvelous turnout! Amazingly enough, one 'Fellowship' has managed to garner attention with a late addition to their group...a boy that somehow looks exactly like an elf without any prosthetics! Considering the sheer number of pictures taken of him, I suspect that he'll be gifted with the name Legolas for a loooong time to come! Let's have a word with the lucky fan!"
Five minutes later.
"In other news, the greatly anticipated Lord of the Rings Convention came to a startling halt when a mysterious explosion destroyed the main pavilion. Our own reporter was caught in the blast, soon after transmission was terminated. Police are investigating, though witnesses have mentioned hearing demonic laughter and a voice saying... 'Ya...Ha...'"