claudia603 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
claudia603) wrote2003-05-04 04:22 pm
claudia603) wrote2003-05-04 04:22 pm
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omg wtf, where do these things come from? (*innocent grin*)
Title: Bree Games 1/?
Author: Claudia
Pairing: F/A, F/everyone else
Rating: NC17
Summary: There are some roads Frodo should never have taken…
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from them.
Story notes: More fluff… This is probably my ultimate in Frodo filth. Prostitution, graphic sex, other crimes to Tolkien, mpreg? Heh. Not yet, but I’m open to it. I mean, I’m RILLY going to Tolkien Hell for this one.
WARNINGS: probably Frodo is ooc just by merit of what he does :-) ah, well. Not to be taken seriously.
Why am I writing this when I have finals and millions of other fics to finish? I dunno. I don’t feel like concentrating on my serious real fics at the moment.
Bree Games 1
Frodo did not know what had gotten into him the first time he sold himself for coins in Bree. He only knew now that he was in quite a fix because the good villagers of Bree were fed up with the whores and ruffians and other ill-reputed folk. They had actually commissioned the hated and distrusted Rangers to help them by posing as ruffians willing to rob old women and folk willing to pay for a night of pleasure. Frodo had unknowingly propositioned a Ranger by the name of Strider, and now he was in this Ranger’s custody awaiting trial.
Strider had asked him how a decent gentlehobbit from the quiet Shire had gotten himself into such an embarrassing position. Frodo would not talk to Strider, but he privately blamed Bilbo. Frodo had originally gone to Bree in hopes of finding information about Bilbo since Gandalf had been rather secretive about it.
Frodo had been sitting in old Butterbur’s inn, sipping ale and feeling small and uncomfortable, when a Man sat beside him. Frodo found that odd because the Men and Hobbits of Bree kept to their own kinds. There weren’t many Hobbits in Bree, and there were actually only about three in Butterbur’s inn that evening. They had not invited Frodo to sit with them, and Frodo thought it was most uncouth of them, a sure sign that hobbits of the Shire were much more refined.
“You from the Shire?” the Man asked. Frodo bristled. He hated it when people could perceive that he was out of place.
“No,” he said sullenly.
“Could have fooled me.” He touched Frodo’s cheek. “You’re a pretty little thing.”
Frodo inched away, feeling trapped. Bilbo had warned him of strange dangers in the world Outside, but Frodo had never dreamed of this. “Please leave me be.”
“You sure?” A large hand slid over Frodo’s bottom, making the hobbit squirm. “I’ve got a room upstairs. We could have some fun. I’d pay you a pretty price.”
Frodo gave him as disgusted a look as possible. “No thank you.” He could not believe that man had just treated him like he was…like he was a common whore! Frodo swallowed in revulsion. “Please leave me alone.”
“Have it yer way then,” the Man said with a chuckle, moving away. “But if you change your mind, I’ll be around.”
It was getting late, and Frodo decided he should ask Butterbur about settling into one of the hobbit rooms. He reached in his breeches for his coins—and found none. His hand froze.
The Man had no doubt robbed him while feeling his bottom! Frodo swallowed with rage. Well, now he had no way to pay for his ale and the huge meal he had consumed. He had already seen one Man get turned over to the lawmen this evening. He didn’t want to be the next victim. He hated to do it, but the only thing he could do was slip out as quietly as possible and find a place outdoors to sleep. When he got home, he could send Butterbur the money. He was an honest hobbit, after all.
Heart thudding, he slipped along the wall, headed for the door. Just as he was nearly out the door, Butterbur blocked his way.
“Hoy, there, Halfling. Aren’t you forgetting something.”
If Butterbur hadn’t been so fat, Frodo might have been able to slip past him, but as it was, he had no choice but to face up to what had happened. He began to tremble. He had never been in so helpless a position before.
“I am sorry,” Frodo said, his eyes filling with quick tears. “I have been robbed. A Man, he came to me—“
“You have no intention of paying me for my ale?” Butterbur’s voice was fierce as he gripped Frodo’s arm. Frodo covered his face with his hands. He could not bear looking into the innkeeper’s face. Nothing like this had ever happened to him.
“Now, now,” Butterbur said, his voice softening. “You know I don’t like to do this, not to a rare visitor from the Shire…there now, don’t shake so…I’m not going to hurt you.” Butterbur led Frodo to a bench and sat beside him, keeping a firm arm around him, tugging gently but unsuccessfully at Frodo’s hands that covered his face.
Frodo was truly frightened. He didn’t know what would happen if Butterbur called the lawmen in for him. He had never seen a jail before, and he could only imagine how cold and damp and full of miserable, hard criminals it would be. And nobody from home knew where he had gone. He had told Sam he was visiting at Brandy Hall.
“I don’t know what to do,” Frodo said, his voice cracking. He furiously wiped a few tears away before covering his face again in embarrassment. He was a gentlehobbit, come of age, and there was no excuse to weep in public, especially not in front of Men, who saw such expression of emotion as a weakness. “He took all I had…I can’t go to jail, Mr. Butterbur, it will kill me.”
Frodo hadn’t meant it literally, but Butterbur didn’t know enough about hobbits to understand that. The innkeeper rubbed Frodo’s back in a soothing manner. “There now, I can’t in good conscience do something that would kill you. Stop shaking, Halfling…I’m not an ogre, and I’m not going to call the lawmen. What you can do is work for me—wash cutlery, sweep the floor, take orders. You can sleep in one of the bottom rooms. I’ll pay you half a coin a day. When you make up your bill, which was eight coins, then you are free to go. Understand?”
Frodo nodded, relieved to have been let off the hook so easily. He dropped the hands from his face and smiled up at Butterbur through his tears. “Thank you, sir. Thank you kindly.”
TBC
Title: Bree Games 1/?
Author: Claudia
Pairing: F/A, F/everyone else
Rating: NC17
Summary: There are some roads Frodo should never have taken…
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from them.
Story notes: More fluff… This is probably my ultimate in Frodo filth. Prostitution, graphic sex, other crimes to Tolkien, mpreg? Heh. Not yet, but I’m open to it. I mean, I’m RILLY going to Tolkien Hell for this one.
WARNINGS: probably Frodo is ooc just by merit of what he does :-) ah, well. Not to be taken seriously.
Why am I writing this when I have finals and millions of other fics to finish? I dunno. I don’t feel like concentrating on my serious real fics at the moment.
Bree Games 1
Frodo did not know what had gotten into him the first time he sold himself for coins in Bree. He only knew now that he was in quite a fix because the good villagers of Bree were fed up with the whores and ruffians and other ill-reputed folk. They had actually commissioned the hated and distrusted Rangers to help them by posing as ruffians willing to rob old women and folk willing to pay for a night of pleasure. Frodo had unknowingly propositioned a Ranger by the name of Strider, and now he was in this Ranger’s custody awaiting trial.
Strider had asked him how a decent gentlehobbit from the quiet Shire had gotten himself into such an embarrassing position. Frodo would not talk to Strider, but he privately blamed Bilbo. Frodo had originally gone to Bree in hopes of finding information about Bilbo since Gandalf had been rather secretive about it.
Frodo had been sitting in old Butterbur’s inn, sipping ale and feeling small and uncomfortable, when a Man sat beside him. Frodo found that odd because the Men and Hobbits of Bree kept to their own kinds. There weren’t many Hobbits in Bree, and there were actually only about three in Butterbur’s inn that evening. They had not invited Frodo to sit with them, and Frodo thought it was most uncouth of them, a sure sign that hobbits of the Shire were much more refined.
“You from the Shire?” the Man asked. Frodo bristled. He hated it when people could perceive that he was out of place.
“No,” he said sullenly.
“Could have fooled me.” He touched Frodo’s cheek. “You’re a pretty little thing.”
Frodo inched away, feeling trapped. Bilbo had warned him of strange dangers in the world Outside, but Frodo had never dreamed of this. “Please leave me be.”
“You sure?” A large hand slid over Frodo’s bottom, making the hobbit squirm. “I’ve got a room upstairs. We could have some fun. I’d pay you a pretty price.”
Frodo gave him as disgusted a look as possible. “No thank you.” He could not believe that man had just treated him like he was…like he was a common whore! Frodo swallowed in revulsion. “Please leave me alone.”
“Have it yer way then,” the Man said with a chuckle, moving away. “But if you change your mind, I’ll be around.”
It was getting late, and Frodo decided he should ask Butterbur about settling into one of the hobbit rooms. He reached in his breeches for his coins—and found none. His hand froze.
The Man had no doubt robbed him while feeling his bottom! Frodo swallowed with rage. Well, now he had no way to pay for his ale and the huge meal he had consumed. He had already seen one Man get turned over to the lawmen this evening. He didn’t want to be the next victim. He hated to do it, but the only thing he could do was slip out as quietly as possible and find a place outdoors to sleep. When he got home, he could send Butterbur the money. He was an honest hobbit, after all.
Heart thudding, he slipped along the wall, headed for the door. Just as he was nearly out the door, Butterbur blocked his way.
“Hoy, there, Halfling. Aren’t you forgetting something.”
If Butterbur hadn’t been so fat, Frodo might have been able to slip past him, but as it was, he had no choice but to face up to what had happened. He began to tremble. He had never been in so helpless a position before.
“I am sorry,” Frodo said, his eyes filling with quick tears. “I have been robbed. A Man, he came to me—“
“You have no intention of paying me for my ale?” Butterbur’s voice was fierce as he gripped Frodo’s arm. Frodo covered his face with his hands. He could not bear looking into the innkeeper’s face. Nothing like this had ever happened to him.
“Now, now,” Butterbur said, his voice softening. “You know I don’t like to do this, not to a rare visitor from the Shire…there now, don’t shake so…I’m not going to hurt you.” Butterbur led Frodo to a bench and sat beside him, keeping a firm arm around him, tugging gently but unsuccessfully at Frodo’s hands that covered his face.
Frodo was truly frightened. He didn’t know what would happen if Butterbur called the lawmen in for him. He had never seen a jail before, and he could only imagine how cold and damp and full of miserable, hard criminals it would be. And nobody from home knew where he had gone. He had told Sam he was visiting at Brandy Hall.
“I don’t know what to do,” Frodo said, his voice cracking. He furiously wiped a few tears away before covering his face again in embarrassment. He was a gentlehobbit, come of age, and there was no excuse to weep in public, especially not in front of Men, who saw such expression of emotion as a weakness. “He took all I had…I can’t go to jail, Mr. Butterbur, it will kill me.”
Frodo hadn’t meant it literally, but Butterbur didn’t know enough about hobbits to understand that. The innkeeper rubbed Frodo’s back in a soothing manner. “There now, I can’t in good conscience do something that would kill you. Stop shaking, Halfling…I’m not an ogre, and I’m not going to call the lawmen. What you can do is work for me—wash cutlery, sweep the floor, take orders. You can sleep in one of the bottom rooms. I’ll pay you half a coin a day. When you make up your bill, which was eight coins, then you are free to go. Understand?”
Frodo nodded, relieved to have been let off the hook so easily. He dropped the hands from his face and smiled up at Butterbur through his tears. “Thank you, sir. Thank you kindly.”
TBC
*bad sick sick Maura*
Re: *bad sick sick Maura*
Ooooo
Sooo, if Frodo is to become a harlot, like you are hinting at with your warning, I am itching to know why Frodo becomes one when he already is going to pay everything off by working for Butterbur... Hmmmm
Yay, thank you! So many updates! :D
Re: Ooooo
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*AU. Poor Frodo is alone and pregnant in Bree (no, I have no idea who the father is . . . some ruffian he took up with unknowingly--maybe someone by the name of Vik). Gets in trouble, meets a ranger there. . . you get the idea . . . said ranger looks out for Frodo and adopts child . . . and yes, I'm totally warped . . .*
So, er, you can see why I read this and hooted. And I do like the first chapter by the way... oh yes. Poor hobbit! Is this a serious fic or is it going to be a parody-thing? It sounds fairly serious right now despite your warning ... I was hoping it was going to be serious. Great start!
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Well, it's serious in that it's not a parody, but I'm not going to take it terribly seriously in that I'm not going to spend a lot of time on each chapter, just gonna churn them out in short little pieces because well, I dunno. Not in the mood to take anything seriously right now. ha ha.
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Oh, my!
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I remember reading fantasy novels when I should have been studying for finals. Too bad I didn't write fanfic back then - but this was back in the Stone Age when the Web did not exist. Hooray for study-avoidance if it inspires more bunnies.
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