claudia603 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
claudia603) wrote2010-07-08 11:12 am
claudia603) wrote2010-07-08 11:12 am
All right, Moit, lilybaggins, and tree, the kink you've been waiting for!
Title: A Steward's Heir
Rating: Adult
Pairing(s): Frodo/Faramir, Frodo/others (nothing in this chapter)
Summary: All the women in Gondor are barren due to a curse from Mordor...it is discovered that male halflings can bear the seed of men...Denethor is desperate that Boromir and Faramir continue their line...
Warning(s): Unapologetic kink, AUness, lack of adherence to canon, crazy plottishness, some possible triggers for non-con (although nonsexual in this chapter), eventual mpreg
On a rare balmy day in late fall, Frodo sat under a tree, chewing on an apple and reading an adventure tale. He had not had such a lazy day since Bilbo had left him Master of Bag End. On a whim, he had sent Sam home, put aside his papers, grabbed an apple, and had decided to go on a walk to find a perfect tree to sit under to read.
He was on the last few bites of the apple when the clearing suddenly filled with soldiers of Men. He remembered that the apple had been sour because the sour taste remained in his throat for many hours to come and it would be years before he could munch on a sour apple without gagging.
“Hoy, there’s one!” a rough voice shouted. Frodo jumped to his feet, dropping his book, staring in shock at the large Men in silver and black uniforms, carrying weapons larger than he. He took off in a run but almost immediately he slammed into what felt like a stone wall but was in fact another armored soldier. He bounced backwards onto his backside. He could not breathe, and the terror crushed his chest so that his whole body felt numb and useless.
Bilbo had warned him that Big People could be trouble, and that sometimes hobbits in the Southfarthing had faced trouble with them.
A long sword, impossibly long, was pointed at Frodo’s throat and he could not move even if he had found the strength.
“See if he’s one of them,” the man who appeared to be their leader barked. “Quickly! No slaying of halflings unless absolutely necessary. Only if one poses a deadly threat to you. I fear if they catch wind of an invasion they might organize and try to fight and we shall have no choice.”
“What do you want?” Frodo managed breathlessly. “I’ve nothing on me!” Now he could see that the soldiers bore the sign of the White Tree of Gondor. Gondor was supposed to be a country filled with noble men, men who fought to keep the rest of the lands safe from the darkness to the East.
Nobody answered Frodo, but he was pulled up so that he was leaning against a soldier who sat behind him, and his hands were yanked behind him and bound by rope. Another man pulled down his trousers, ripping the suspenders off.
Frodo cried out in fresh terror as his trousers were pulled over his hips and off. He struggled, kicking and flailing. His foot made contact with one of the soldiers, right in his nose, and the soldier fell back, cursing and holding a bloody nose.
“Hold him down, hold him down! Fie, this halfling is strong!”
“Stay still or it will not end well for you!” another soldier yelled in Frodo’s ear. Two other soldiers yanked his bare legs apart, holding them stable to the ground. Frodo’s inner thighs ached from his legs being stretched apart so violently.
He was now naked from his waist down. Bilbo and Gandalf had both talked about the greed of Men, how noble and good they were at times but how ruthless they could be at others. But never had it entered his mind that their tastes were this wicked, that they craved flesh badly enough to take it by force from a male hobbit.
A cold breeze chilled his bare skin, and he trembled.
The man who appeared their leader knelt in front of him. He poured water over his hands, rubbing them together, washing them. He knelt between Frodo’s legs, looking at Frodo’s private area as if he were a doctor.
“I want you to try to stay calm,” he said to Frodo. “I’m going to try not to hurt you, but I must look inside you. The calmer you are, the less this will hurt. Do you understand?”
Frodo’s breath hitched in his chest. “What are you looking for?”
“Either you’ll have it or you won’t. If you don’t, we’ll leave you in peace. If you do, you will know well what we seek in time. I am called Mablung.”
Frodo trembled but he relaxed a little. It appeared that these men did not intend to rape or slay him at least. His thighs trembled from the strain of being stretched so far apart.
A hard hand probed deep inside him. Frodo cried out in surprised pain.
“Relax,” Mablung commanded. His eyes were gray and hard. His fingers probed deeper. Frodo tried to relax but he bucked against the men holding him down. “It will hurt less if you relax. I’m not going to hurt you and this will be over in a moment.” Suddenly he offered a broad smile to his companions. “We have one.” He withdrew his hand. “Put his trousers back on.”
“Shall we take him, then?” one of them asked.
Take him? Frodo tried to control his breathing, tried to stay calm, but had they just said they would take him? Where? For what means? What had they been looking for that they had found in him?
One of the soldiers who had held his legs apart slid his trousers back on, one leg at a time, careful to keep his face out of range of potential kicks. He was kind enough to snap his suspenders back into place.
Frodo was pulled to his feet with his hands still bound behind him. His backside felt sore, violated, and his thighs trembled still from being stretched apart.
“This one is lovely,” Mablung said. “He’s nearly Elvish. I’m not sure who will get him, or maybe the brothers will share him.”
“None of the halflings so far have survived,” another Man added. “They’re too small for our babes.”
“The healers are getting more skilled. The last fellow nearly made it and this time the babe survived. None of the maid halflings were able to carry to term so our orders remain only male halflings.”
Frodo had no idea what they were talking about, but he was growing more and more frightened. “Where are you taking me?” he managed.
“To Gondor, my small friend.”
Frodo’s heart burst into panicked battering. “No!” He wrenched against the hard grip behind him. “No, you cannot take me! My friends are expecting me at home by nightfall!” That bit was a small lie, but he did not want these Men to know that nobody would notice him missing until at least the next morning when Sam came to do the gardening. He looked behind him, trying to appeal to any one of the soldiers. “Please! You must let me go!”
“By order of the Steward of Gondor, you will come with us,” Mablung said. “Enough or we will gag you.”
Frodo had no more strength to fight against his much larger and stronger captors. The more he twisted and thrashed, the harder they gripped and bound him. At last he relaxed, going completely limp. As it was, he would likely end up with terrible bruises. The men had horses waiting outside the wooded area and they had clearly come through the Shire off the main roads. Frodo was grateful for that small favor, for Pippin and Merry were traveling to Hobbiton by way of the main roads and he couldn’t bear it if either of them had to suffer through what he just had.
Eventually my friends will see that I’m missing, and they will beg for help from Gandalf, and Gandalf will find me.
The thought comforted Frodo enough to lift his heart just a little with hope. As far as he had learned, Gondor was a huge city of Men where a halfling would appear as a novelty, strange. Frodo knew from Gandalf’s tales that he had traveled there often. Gandalf would come eventually and he would rescue Frodo and bring him home. Frodo’s heart filled with trust and hope in the wizard.
“If you prove cooperative,” Mablung said to him. “We will unbind you later. If you try to escape, it will be worse for you.”
“Might you tell me what this is about?” Frodo asked. “Why are you taking me?”
“It is not our place to tell you anything,” the man said, although not unkindly. “Not yet.”
TBC
Rating: Adult
Pairing(s): Frodo/Faramir, Frodo/others (nothing in this chapter)
Summary: All the women in Gondor are barren due to a curse from Mordor...it is discovered that male halflings can bear the seed of men...Denethor is desperate that Boromir and Faramir continue their line...
Warning(s): Unapologetic kink, AUness, lack of adherence to canon, crazy plottishness, some possible triggers for non-con (although nonsexual in this chapter), eventual mpreg
On a rare balmy day in late fall, Frodo sat under a tree, chewing on an apple and reading an adventure tale. He had not had such a lazy day since Bilbo had left him Master of Bag End. On a whim, he had sent Sam home, put aside his papers, grabbed an apple, and had decided to go on a walk to find a perfect tree to sit under to read.
He was on the last few bites of the apple when the clearing suddenly filled with soldiers of Men. He remembered that the apple had been sour because the sour taste remained in his throat for many hours to come and it would be years before he could munch on a sour apple without gagging.
“Hoy, there’s one!” a rough voice shouted. Frodo jumped to his feet, dropping his book, staring in shock at the large Men in silver and black uniforms, carrying weapons larger than he. He took off in a run but almost immediately he slammed into what felt like a stone wall but was in fact another armored soldier. He bounced backwards onto his backside. He could not breathe, and the terror crushed his chest so that his whole body felt numb and useless.
Bilbo had warned him that Big People could be trouble, and that sometimes hobbits in the Southfarthing had faced trouble with them.
A long sword, impossibly long, was pointed at Frodo’s throat and he could not move even if he had found the strength.
“See if he’s one of them,” the man who appeared to be their leader barked. “Quickly! No slaying of halflings unless absolutely necessary. Only if one poses a deadly threat to you. I fear if they catch wind of an invasion they might organize and try to fight and we shall have no choice.”
“What do you want?” Frodo managed breathlessly. “I’ve nothing on me!” Now he could see that the soldiers bore the sign of the White Tree of Gondor. Gondor was supposed to be a country filled with noble men, men who fought to keep the rest of the lands safe from the darkness to the East.
Nobody answered Frodo, but he was pulled up so that he was leaning against a soldier who sat behind him, and his hands were yanked behind him and bound by rope. Another man pulled down his trousers, ripping the suspenders off.
Frodo cried out in fresh terror as his trousers were pulled over his hips and off. He struggled, kicking and flailing. His foot made contact with one of the soldiers, right in his nose, and the soldier fell back, cursing and holding a bloody nose.
“Hold him down, hold him down! Fie, this halfling is strong!”
“Stay still or it will not end well for you!” another soldier yelled in Frodo’s ear. Two other soldiers yanked his bare legs apart, holding them stable to the ground. Frodo’s inner thighs ached from his legs being stretched apart so violently.
He was now naked from his waist down. Bilbo and Gandalf had both talked about the greed of Men, how noble and good they were at times but how ruthless they could be at others. But never had it entered his mind that their tastes were this wicked, that they craved flesh badly enough to take it by force from a male hobbit.
A cold breeze chilled his bare skin, and he trembled.
The man who appeared their leader knelt in front of him. He poured water over his hands, rubbing them together, washing them. He knelt between Frodo’s legs, looking at Frodo’s private area as if he were a doctor.
“I want you to try to stay calm,” he said to Frodo. “I’m going to try not to hurt you, but I must look inside you. The calmer you are, the less this will hurt. Do you understand?”
Frodo’s breath hitched in his chest. “What are you looking for?”
“Either you’ll have it or you won’t. If you don’t, we’ll leave you in peace. If you do, you will know well what we seek in time. I am called Mablung.”
Frodo trembled but he relaxed a little. It appeared that these men did not intend to rape or slay him at least. His thighs trembled from the strain of being stretched so far apart.
A hard hand probed deep inside him. Frodo cried out in surprised pain.
“Relax,” Mablung commanded. His eyes were gray and hard. His fingers probed deeper. Frodo tried to relax but he bucked against the men holding him down. “It will hurt less if you relax. I’m not going to hurt you and this will be over in a moment.” Suddenly he offered a broad smile to his companions. “We have one.” He withdrew his hand. “Put his trousers back on.”
“Shall we take him, then?” one of them asked.
Take him? Frodo tried to control his breathing, tried to stay calm, but had they just said they would take him? Where? For what means? What had they been looking for that they had found in him?
One of the soldiers who had held his legs apart slid his trousers back on, one leg at a time, careful to keep his face out of range of potential kicks. He was kind enough to snap his suspenders back into place.
Frodo was pulled to his feet with his hands still bound behind him. His backside felt sore, violated, and his thighs trembled still from being stretched apart.
“This one is lovely,” Mablung said. “He’s nearly Elvish. I’m not sure who will get him, or maybe the brothers will share him.”
“None of the halflings so far have survived,” another Man added. “They’re too small for our babes.”
“The healers are getting more skilled. The last fellow nearly made it and this time the babe survived. None of the maid halflings were able to carry to term so our orders remain only male halflings.”
Frodo had no idea what they were talking about, but he was growing more and more frightened. “Where are you taking me?” he managed.
“To Gondor, my small friend.”
Frodo’s heart burst into panicked battering. “No!” He wrenched against the hard grip behind him. “No, you cannot take me! My friends are expecting me at home by nightfall!” That bit was a small lie, but he did not want these Men to know that nobody would notice him missing until at least the next morning when Sam came to do the gardening. He looked behind him, trying to appeal to any one of the soldiers. “Please! You must let me go!”
“By order of the Steward of Gondor, you will come with us,” Mablung said. “Enough or we will gag you.”
Frodo had no more strength to fight against his much larger and stronger captors. The more he twisted and thrashed, the harder they gripped and bound him. At last he relaxed, going completely limp. As it was, he would likely end up with terrible bruises. The men had horses waiting outside the wooded area and they had clearly come through the Shire off the main roads. Frodo was grateful for that small favor, for Pippin and Merry were traveling to Hobbiton by way of the main roads and he couldn’t bear it if either of them had to suffer through what he just had.
Eventually my friends will see that I’m missing, and they will beg for help from Gandalf, and Gandalf will find me.
The thought comforted Frodo enough to lift his heart just a little with hope. As far as he had learned, Gondor was a huge city of Men where a halfling would appear as a novelty, strange. Frodo knew from Gandalf’s tales that he had traveled there often. Gandalf would come eventually and he would rescue Frodo and bring him home. Frodo’s heart filled with trust and hope in the wizard.
“If you prove cooperative,” Mablung said to him. “We will unbind you later. If you try to escape, it will be worse for you.”
“Might you tell me what this is about?” Frodo asked. “Why are you taking me?”
“It is not our place to tell you anything,” the man said, although not unkindly. “Not yet.”
TBC