[MiSTing] A Brother, Captain, and King 1/11 [NC-17]
Kaitou Juliet
Original Story by Osiris Brackhaus
MiSTing by Dreelyn <dre...@aol.com>
and Juliet Youngren <jayo...@prairienet.org>
NOTE: The piece of fanfiction MiSTed in this story is rated NC-17.
[Bridge of the SoL. A computer is set up on the counter, with the
monitor facing away from us. Crow and Tom are intently reading something
from the screen.]
Tom: [reading] "Why, Steve," whispered Frank in awe, "without your
glasses, you're...beautiful!" "Thank you, Frank. I...I love you."
Crow: "I love you too," Frank replied. "I've loved you ever since the
first time you took out my spleen and fed it to rabid dingoes..."
Tom: This is boring. Skip to the good parts.
Crow: Okay, okay, hang on...Here we go: "'Kiss me, Frank!' screamed
Dr. Forrester. The wild-haired scientist tore off his lime-green
lab coat and gazed with smouldering lust at his assistant. Frank
caressed Dr. Forrester's well-muscled chest, running his hands
over the smooth expanse of bare flesh."
Tom: Well-muscled? Dr. Forrester? Please.
Crow: I'm just reading what's written.
Tom: Oh, well, do continue then.
[Joel enters and stands behind them as Crow continues to read.]
Crow: "Frank followed the caresses of his hands with kisses, as Dr.
Forrester trailed his own hands along Frank's broad, masculine
shoulders."
Tom: [snorts] Frank's got the physique of a marshmallow.
Crow: Well, he does have broad shoulders. And a broad chest. And a
broad stomach...and a broad behind....
Joel: All right, you two, that's enough.
Tom: But Joel, we were just getting to the good parts!
Joel: I thought you'd lost your taste for slash after that Lord of the
Rings story last week.
Tom: Yeah, but this is different. This is Frank and Dr. Forrester!
Joel: You're getting an unhealthy fascination with this stuff. I
think I've come up with something that will take care of this
little problem.
[He pulls a floppy disc out of his pocket and inserts it into the
computer.]
Crow: What's that?
Joel: It's my invention exchange for today. [Mads' light flashes] I
see Tom Bombadil and Fatty Bolger are calling. [Hits the
light]
[Deep 13. Dr. Forrester is standing beside a computer desk. Frank sits
at the desk, hypnotically staring at the screen.]
Frank: Steve, you *have* to read this one! I'm telling you, we both
look soooo good.
Dr. F: [to the camera] Greetings, Fellowship of the Satellite.
Inspired by last week's story....
[SoL]
Joel: How that could be inspiring is anyone's guess.
[Deep 13]
Dr. F: ...I've constructed a little computer program which will pave
the way for me to take over the world. I call it the
Slashifier.
[SoL]
Joel: Sounds...creepy. Dare I ask how it works?
[Deep 13]
Dr. F: You feed any old story or fanfic into it--say, Alexandre Dumas'
classic _The Three Musketeers_--and it automatically converts
the input into a slash story. Let's try it out.
[Dr. Forrester presses a key on the computer]
Frank: Awwww, Steve! I wasn't done yet!
Dr. F: Frank, you were born done. Just read the screen, please.
Frank: D'Artagnan arrived at the appointed place for his duel with the
Musketeer Porthos. "Forsooth," said Porthos, "Thou art as
handsome a man as I have ever before seen. I would fain rather
make love than war with thee..." Hey, this is pretty good!
[He continues reading, silently.]
[SoL]
Joel: Nothing like the bastardization of a classic to turn one's
stomach.
[Deep 13]
Dr. F: Exactly. I figure that with this, half the world will be glued
to their computers and the other half will be paralyzed with
nausea. In the resulting chaos, I'll step in and take over!
[SoL]
Joel: Well, I suppose it's time I revealed my invention, then. I was
noticing my bots were spending entirely too much time reading
this stuff on the internet, so I invented a de-slashifier, to
tone it all down.
[He glances at the computer screen]
Joel: Looks like it's done installing. I'll just load in that little
opus of Gypsy's that the bots were reading earlier....
Bots: [looking at the screen, in unison] You ruined it!
Joel: This used to be a pretty steamy story about, uh, you and Frank.
Crow, would you read what's there now?
Crow: "Why Steve," said Frank, "I think you lost your glasses. Here
they are." "Thank you, Frank," answered the wild-haired
scientist. "Let's go on a picnic! I have potato salad and ham
sandwiches in the refrigerator."
Tom: See? Totally ruined.
[Gypsy enters]
Gypsy: [entering] What's ruined?
Tom: Your story! Look what Joel did to it!
[Gypsy reads over their shoulders.]
Gypsy: WHAT? Where's my deathless prose?
Tom: Joel killed it.
[Deep 13]
Dr. F: I could revive it, you know. But I think that'll have to wait
until after the next story I have for you Boobies. Remember
that little thing you read last week, about Aragorn and Boromir?
Well, I've got the companion piece for you today. It's called
"A Brother, Captain, and King" and I think you'll find it
contains all the slash your hearts could desire. Send them the
fanfic, Frank.
Frank: Just a sec, Steve. I'm almost done with the story....
Dr. F: NOW, Frank!
Frank: In a minute...
[Dr. Forrester sighs and presses the button himself.]
[SoL. Lights and sirens.]
Joel and Bots: WE GOT SLASH SIIIIIGN!
Gypsy: WHAT ABOUT MY STORY?!
[Door sequence. They enter the theater and sit down.]
> "A Brother, Captain and King"
Joel: So there are three main characters, I take it.
> by Osiris Brackhaus
Tom: The Brackhaus is next door to the Zorakhaus.
Joel: [sings] Well, she's a Brack-haus/she's mighty mighty/she's
letting it all hang out...
>
>
> His last words, as they were recorded for the books, were to 'his
> Brother, his Captain, his King'.
Crow: His *actual* last words were, "Oh, crap," but those others
sounded soooo much better...
Tom: See, it'd have been a lot cooler if his last words were "BY THE
POWER OF GONDOR...I...HAVE...THE...POWER!"
>
> All assumed that, with his last breath, the son of the steward of
> Gondor acknowledged my claim
Tom: [narrator] --to the Triple-E Mine!
Crow: So the narrator's a grizzled 1890s prospector?
> to the throne, acknowledged my heritage,
Tom: So this guy's distantly related to Thomas Jefferson, too?
> acknowledged me as who I am today.
Joel: Which is whom, exactly?
Tom: Yeah--is this the Brother, the Captain, or the King talking?
>
> But secretly I always knew in my heart that his last words were not
> meant for any future generation,
Crow: Like any future generation would listen to Bore-omir.
> but for me alone,
Tom: And just who *are* you?!
Joel: Let's assume it's Aragorn for now.
> to safeguard in my
> heart until the end of my own life.
Joel: [Aragorn] Which, Eru willing, may be blessedly soon.
>
> I saw it in his eyes, the day Boromir the Fair
Tom: Should "Fair" have a "y" at the end?
> died in my arms - I
> might have become his King one day,
Crow: Or his Queen...
> and was his captain then, but
> first and foremost for him I was the man
Joel: Watch out, Boromir! Aragorn's The Man!
> who, for one night, had been
> closer than a brother to him, both in mind, heart and body.
Joel: So *that's* how it is in that family...
Tom: No wonder Faramir ran off to Ithilien.
>
> For one night, we had joined as Lovers,
Crow: And what these men have joined, let no God tear asunder?
> and as such I will always
> remember him.
Tom: [narrator] Ol' "Quickshot" Boromir. Was he ever a disappointment.
Joel: [sings] I remember you-ooo-ooo/You're the one who tore my heart
in two...
>
> **********
Tom: [Sings] Stars, in your multitudes scarce to be counted...
Crow: Ten, actually.
>
> When I first laid eyes upon him,
Crow: The disturbingness of that image works on soooo many levels.
> it was in the house of Elrond, in
> Rivendell, mere days before that fateful council
Joel: When they announced that Elrond had run off to the Grey Havens
with the marginal profits, leaving all the other elves without
retirement money.
Tom: "Elrond," Joel. Not "Enron." Remember?
> that in consequence
> should decide the fortune of all free people of Middlearth.
Joel: [Elrond] Gentlemen, we elves are going to be baking the cookies
from now on.
Tom: [Elrond] Finally, we have to choose...Coke or Pepsi?
> He arrived
> on his horse,
Crow: He really doesn't discriminate, does he?
> his shield clasped to his back, sword and horn
Tom: Pick a euphemism, any euphemism...
> at his
> sides. I didn't need to see his
Crow: Here we go...
> bracers
Crow: Awww...
> to identify him as one of the
> princes
Joel: Minces?
Crow: Nances?
Tom: Ponces?
> of Gondor, as his golden hair and proud features too easily
> betrayed him
Crow: I hate it when your body parts turn against you.
> as one of the Stewards line.
Tom: Those airline attendants always seem a little too pretty for my
tastes.
Crow: [Aragorn] Then he kept refilling my drink and bugging me to keep
my seat in an upright position.
>
> Even then, standing on one of the many balconies surrounding Elronds
> home, I envied him.
Joel: [Aragorn] Elrond always built better, more beautiful balconies
than I ever could!
Crow: [Aragorn] Wish *I* had a big horn like that.
Tom: A bad case of instrument envy.
>
> Not only had he the recognition of his people I was still to struggle
> for
Joel: I get this image of Aragorn standing on a balcony at Minas Tirith
saying, "I just have one question--who the hell are all you
people?"
> --his blood also had given him his broad frame,
Crow: Actually, that would be his bones, not his blood.
> wide shoulders and
> so striking and regal a face that I felt ill suited to take on the
> challenges the future still held for me.
Joel: So this guy with no name feels inadequate because he doesn't have
a good...face?
>
> I knew my envy to be foolish,
Joel: On the plus side, he already seems to have more sense than
Boromir.
> for though we might have looked to be of
> the same age,
Tom: [Aragorn] I actually was older, but no one could tell, because I
used Just For Men Gel!
> I knew him to haven seen only half of the summers I
> already had passed.
Crow: Y'all ain't seen anythin', yit!
> It was the blood of Numenor, still strong in my
> line, that gave me my slow age
Tom: And your slow brain, too?
> and with it, my fate to face.
Joel: See? His bad face will haunt him 'til the end of his days.
> Also I
> saw in his face the lines of a valiant and strong-hearted man,
Tom: They're called "veins."
> driven
Crow: ...crazy...
> to Rivendell by
Joel: Hoke Coburn!
> grave concern and worries for his people. He would be
> a worthy companion in the dark days to come, yet he was born and
> raised to lead,
Crow: Boromir the Seeing Eye Dog.
> and would all but easily step down
Tom: Watch that first step--it's a doozie.
> to help me to my
> throne.
Joel: [Boromir] Aragorn, you're 87 years old! You should be able to go
by yourself now!
>
> His fate wasn't any lighter than mine,
Crow: But Boromir's stronger, so it'll be easier to carry for him.
> only far less rewarding for him
> in any possible outcome.
Joel: Especially in any outcome in this story...
>
> Yet my envy stayed, like a thorn in my side, not painful,
Tom: So...*not* like a thorn in your side, then.
> yet a
> constant reminder of something amiss.
Crow: I'd say Boromir's something "a-miss", all right!
> I envied him for the ease with
> which he summoned up a
Joel: [Aragorn] Turkey sandwich, the delectable likes of which I had
never seen in all my days.
> posture of regality, giving orders like the
> prince he was
Tom: Little does Boromir know he's soon going to be the Warrior
Formerly Known as Prince.
> - and though I knew myself to be a valiant leader,
> having proven myself in more battles than I would have liked -
Crow: [Aragorn] Deep inside, I was still the wussy little guy who
really wished he was an elf.
> knowing
> to be his liege yet seeing him act superior with such an ease irked me
> more than I would have had myself to believe.
Joel: Huh?
Crow: Excuse me?
Tom: Time to break out the Aragorn-to-English dictionary.
>
> *
>
> When I saw him again, it was in the night before that fateful council,
Joel: [Aragorn] The one where Elrond told us our stock portfolios had
gone to crap...
> when I sat near the statue where Elrond kept the shards of Narsil,
> reading.
Tom: Boy, that sword must really be something, if it can read, too.
Crow: Yeah, even while it's all broken and stuff.
> Boromir came along, probably wandering sleeplessly through
> Rivendell,
Joel: Great, he sleepwalks!
> when he beheld the mural facing the statue
Tom: [Boromir] Hmm, looks like one of those WPA jobs.
> and next, the
> pieces of the broken blade that once cut off the Ring off the hand of
> the enemy.
Crow: ...off the horse, off the field, off the green grass grew all
around, all around...
>
> Taking Narsils hiltpiece, he examined its still-keen edge
Tom: [Boromir, reading] Made...in...Taiwan....oh, no wonder it broke so
easily!
> in the
> never-fading starlight of Elronds home.
Joel: It's a wonder the elves get any sleep, with all that constant
starlight.
Tom: Rivendell's the proverbial "place where the sun don't shine."
> When he stood there, looking
> so much more like the human kings of old than I could ever imagine
> myself,
Crow: So Boromir looks like a Ringwraith?
> I came to realise that I admired him. Foolishly, yes,
Joel: That's the first intelligent thing anyone's said in this story.
> but
> fervently none the less,
Tom: So Aragorn's a mental slave to Boromir?
> and I despised him for making me feel so much
> like an ursurper of a throne that rightfully would have had belonged
> to him.
Tom: If the throne rightfully belonged to him, then you *are* a
usurper....
> I despised him for making me doubt every goal I set for myself
> in the last decades,
Joel: Boromir is the friendly drunk that convinced Aragorn to fall off
the AA wagon.
> despised him for making me feel inferior to a man
Crow: I guess that explains a lot about this whole relationship,
doesn't it?
> whom I would have to act superior to if ever I was to complete my
> quest.
Tom: Darned thing was doomed from the beginning, then.
>
> That he cut himself on Narsils shard mere moments after,
Joel: Proving he's a clumlsy idiot who can't even rule himself, let
alone Gondor...
Tom: [Aragorn] ...Cured me of that stupid admiration! What did I ever
see in that bearded schmuck anyway?
> that he
> beheld me with a gaze full of fear and spite and called the sword of
> Elendil 'just another broken heirloom', did nothing to raise him in my
> favours.
Crow: Nope, I believe that comes later in the story...
> No, the look in his eyes warned me that, though be he
> valiant, strong and regal and caring,
Joel: Arr, that he be!
> he also was short-tempered and
> full of doubt,
Crow: Sort of like a politician in reverse!
> and that he might prove vulnerable to
Tom: ...big, pointy orcish swords.
> the dangers of
> the dark days we probably would have to face together.
Joel: [Aragorn] Boromir always cowers like a frightened child during
solar eclipses.
>
> I knew I had to clear my mind,
Tom: That shouldn't be tough, as it's not very big.
> that I had to watch him with the
> untarnished eye of
Joel: --The Tiger! [He begins to sing] Rising up/Out on the
streets... [He trails off].
> a ruler, ever judging for the best of his people,
> uncaring for personal motives. Or personal feelings.
Tom: He is a rock.
Crow: He is an island.
Tom: And a rock feels no pain.
Crow: And an island never cries.
>
> I hated him for that, too.
>
> *
Joel: Hey, look! It's one of the ever-shining stars of Rivendell!
CONTINUED in part 2