Are you gonna take me home tonight?
Ah down beside that red firelight
Are you gonna let it all hang out?
Fat bottomed girls
You make the rockin’ world go round.
The woman stood on a small stage, smoke filling the crowded pub. She stood, weight rested on her left leg, while her right jutted out saucily. The shoulders of her blue dress were slightly off shoulder and the trailing lengths of her skirt had been tucked into her belt, exposing a good deal of that leg thrust so sweetly in front of her. And while that leg got the men’s attention, it was her voice, her song, that kept them enthralled.
“My thing is my own
And I keep it so still
All the young lasses can do what they will.”
The cheers roared.
“More! More, sweet Bronwyn!”
Boos and hisses rose as she stepped down from the platform.
“One more, give us just one more!”
“Don’t leave yet! The night is young!”
She laughed, her shoulders rocking in merriment. “Nay! The morning is young! Gentlemen! ‘Tis nigh three in the morning! Allow a girl her beauty sleep!” She slid the guitar on its strap to her back and staged a theatrical yawn.
She was grabbed by sweaty palms, a man with much ale on his breath whispered in her ear. “Give us a kiss, lovely!” She swatted his hands away laughing… eyes searching for her love, her protector… and managed to pull herself from the greasy grip.
“Bejin! You brute!” she playfully teased. “Your wife would have your head and mine if she even thought you had such things in your noggin! Besides,” she rattled the large bowl she had picked up from the corner of the stage, ‘I’ve not seen you put one piece of appreciation in my tip bowl.” She leered at the grizzled face. “Come on, you! Show me the money!” Her thumb stroked her fingertips in an age- to- come mannerism. Her eyes, while merry, continued to peruse the crowd.
Where was her husband?
As she made her way through the crowd, money was shoved into her bowl, pleadings for just one more song. Rolf, the bartender caught her eye and motioned her towards him. He was a beefy man, and he took no guff from anyone
“Aye, ‘an yer good t’night.” His fingers, the size of sausages, were drying glasses and putting them behind the bar. “Biggest crowd we’ve seen in a decade. Me wife saved you a spot ‘o dinner and ye’ve company in the kitchens.”
Maybe Haldir and his brothers were there. She made her way back to the kitchens.
He wasn’t there. She was quite perturbed. The bowl of stew was still steaming and the smell made her stomach growl.
“Maddie! Maddie! Have you seen my husband? His brothers? Heridil?” It worried her. They never left her alone; never allowed her out of their sight. Especially after the incident with Thranduil…
“Bronwyn? Bronwyn?” She felt a tugging at her skirt. She looked down…
“Merry! Pippin!” She stooped to hug them both. “Ah! Look at you! I haven’t seen you since…”
“You married that big, ugly Elf!” Merry punched her jovially in the arm.
“And mean too!” Pippin still harbored fear of Haldir from when they had first met him and she had thrown up on Orophin’s boots. He had not taken kindly to the way the March Warden had treated the little warrior who had had a hand in saving their lives in the Mines of Moira. He could not understand how she could have fallen in love with the brute, much less have married him.
“Bronwyn.” Maddie came out of the stockroom, arms loaded with onions. She was twice the size of her husband and twice as able to clear a room of brawlers. She had a soft spot, though for Bronwyn and her entourage of Elves.
Of course, for a week, Bronwyn had kept their business booming…
“Why din’t y’take yer dinnar and wee friends to the privite dinin’ rum? Ye c’n have some privacy.”
“And you can clean your kitchens without us under foot!” Bronwyn laughed. In her eight months of traveling, Bronwyn had met Maddie’s type many times over. Maddie gave both Hobbits large plates – less leftovers, well, with THESE Hobbits – NO leftovers – and they made their way to the private dining room in the back of the pub.
It was quiet there and the threesome sat down to eat.
“Merry? Pip? Have you seen that big, mean, ugly Elf I am married to?
Pippin’s mouth was full, but that didn’t stop him from talking. “No. I saw him and his brothers heading down the road an hour ago. Heard him say they were goin’ to check the woods for spiders.”
Merry nodded his head in agreement. “Said you hate spiders, so they were going into the woods to kill any out there.”
“That’s weird. I don’t remember any woods around here.” Bronwyn took another bite. “Have you seen Heridil?”
“I saw him goin’ down the road. Said The Happy Baron had a new magician on stage he wanted to see. Asked us to keep an eye on you!”
They left her? In the not-so-capable hands of Merry and Pip? Bronwyn’s head reeled. They left her here alone? On a Saturday night? With it crowded? With a bunch of drunks? With Merry and Pip?
Oh, Haldir was going to get his pointed ears wrung thoroughly tonight! He was going to be sleeping his spider-happy ass on the floor!
“Have you finished your bowl?” Pippin’s eyes were bright. “We have something if you have!”
She turned her full attention to the baby-faced Hobbit. “And what, pray tell, do you have to show me?” Her eyebrows lifted in merriment.
“We’ve got pipe weed from the Shire.” Merry’s voice whispered in her ear. “Thought we might… share!”
“Oh-ho! You would share Shire pipe weed with me?” She had heard of unheralded perfections of the weed from Frodo’s home. She thought it was a rumored myth. “And what have I done to merit such an honor?”
Merry had pulled out a rather impressive pipe – where had he hidden that? – and Pippin had pulled a large baggie from his pants pocket.
He also had an impressive bulge.
***Whoa! Whoa girlfriend! Do NOT go there! NONONONO! Married woman here! Happily married woman! We are discussing the pros and cons of pregnancy right now. Nononono! No Hobbit bulges!***
“Oh, we will discuss it later.” Merry took the baggie and put a generous amount of the weed in his pipe. He wafted the open pouch under her nose. “What do you think?”
I was just a skinny lad
Never knew no good from bad
But I knew life before I left my nursery – huh
Left alone with big fat Fanny
She was such a naughty nanny
heap big woman
you done made a big man outta me
She inhaled deeply. She knew that smell!
“Merry! I know this weed. Do you know what they call it back home?”
‘What!” Pippin cried. “They have Shire Weed in the future?”
“Aye! It’s quite… illegal!”
“No!” Both Hobbits sounded incredulous!
She nodded sagely. ‘Aye! It’s called… it’s called many things: happy weed, wacky weed, mary jane, pot, marijuana!” She thought back into her future when she was much younger. “I used to bong this stuff with alarming frequency!”
Ahs went up all around and Merry handed her his pipe. “Well then, you first!”
She looked at him out the side of her eye and grasped hold of the bowl. Merry struck the match and held the flame to the bowl while she inhaled.
Years of singing, of musical training had made her lungs and diaphragm quite powerful. She inhaled… and inhaled… and inhaled…
‘Hey!” Pippin cried! “Leave some for us!”
Her lungs were full, burning and she held the smoke in, feeling the sweet rush.
Now I got mortgages on the homes
I got stiffness in ma’ bones
Ain’t no beauty queens in this locality – I tell you
Oh, but I still get my pleasure
Still got my greatest treasure
heap big woman, you done made a bad boy out of me
now get this…
30 minutes later:
The room was full of smoke. Bronwyn had kicked off her shoes and the three were sitting on the table, swinging their legs over the side. The Hobbits were learning words they never knew existed.
“Dude!” Pippin’s head was on her shoulder, his fingers playing with lacings of her bodice. “Duuuude! Where is my car?” It was all he could say.
Merry had one hand around her waist, the other played with her curls. “Yo Dawg. What are ya doin’?”
Bronwyn was in a haze. The room had turned a lovely shade of purple and she was vaguely aware of hands, hands on her body. She had a nagging feeling that this should disturb her, but it didn’t. “Hey, buds, are ya hungry? I’m starving… no… I shouldn’t be starving. I don’t think I should be starving… Merry, Pippin? Wha- wha- whaddya think?” A cool breeze flicked her breast. She looked down to see that Pippin had untied her bodice and had loosed her breasts. He had his eye fixed on a pebbling nipple.
“Aye, dude, now thas a lovely sight.” His mouth descended on it, lavishing the rising bud with his tongue.
‘Uh…uh… Pippin, I don’t think…”
‘Thinkin’ hurts!” Merry breathed in her ear. One hand was at her other breast, the other pulling her skirt up. His tongue nibbled on her lobe, sending shock waves up her spine.
She arched into Merry’s hand or was it Pippin’s mouth? She felt herself being lowered backwards on the table. Her skirt had now been pulled up to her waist and short, thick fingers found her folds.
She was on fire.
In the far-reaches of mind, she reeled… this is wrong, this is not right, this cannot be happening... a shock wave, the stirrings of need, the need of more than tongues or fingers, and a sense that this was not right…
“Merry…Pippin… please. Haldir will kill…”
“Haldir should be here. But he’s not! He’s huntin’ spiders.” Merry’s tongue flicked her earlobe. She shuddered uncontrollably. Oh damn… this was sooo wrong! But it felt soooo good!. Merry’s mouth moved to the breast his hand had been fondling and Pip moved down… down…. down between her legs…
“See Bronwyn…” he whispered, his breath blowing on her mons, “Hobbits are good for more than pipe weed and drinking…” and with that his mouth descended on her. Her groan was yanked from her throat and her brain tried to argue with her rising orgasm.
This is wrong! This is wrong! This is…
“Wrong! This is…”
She sat up straight in the bed, her orgasm wracking through her body as she tried her damndest to squelch it. The babe in her belly jumped at the sudden movement and a comforting hand went around her waist.
“Bronwyn? Are you alright?” Haldir sat up, eyes full of concern. She had not slept well in the past few nights and he knew her time drew near. She was uncomfortable and wept at the smallest thing. “My daughter is fine?”
Bronwyn took a deep breath, trying to force the images from her mind. “Your SON is kicking the hell out of me and I cannot rest.” She leaned against the comforting chest of her husband. “I had a dream. I dreamt you left me in a pub to hunt spiders in the woods.” She did not dare tell him the rest. They lay back down and he gently spoke the sleeping words in her ear as she fell into slumber.
“Hrmph!” he whispered to her sleeping form, his hand gently caressing her bouncing belly. “No more pickles and ice cream for you!”
Fat Bottomed Girls
Freddie Mercury, Brian May