Orc in Ithilien

It was well after midnight by the time Faramir was able to return to his tent. The day had been long and trying, and there had been a gruesome occurrence earlier that afternoon that he had had particular difficulty in dealing with. The Rohirrim guardsmen who were accompanying him, ostensibly for his and his wife’s protection while they were travelling were looking to Eowyn more and more for their orders – taking them from Eowyn exclusively, if truth be told. Worn out from the events of the day, or perhaps for some other reason, Faramir’s usually sharp reactions failed him and as he stood in the open doorway, it was a moment before he realised there was someone already there.

“Well met, your Highness.”

Faramir’s heart leapt into his mouth. Of course he knew the voice. He’d been hearing it in his dreams often enough. Shagrat was lazing back in a canvas chair as he waited for the Prince, sitting there exactly as if he owned the place.

“What are you doing here, Shagrat? And how did you find my tent?”

Shagrat snorted. “Wasn’t too difficult. One Orc looks very much like another, and you’ve got enough of us in your camp, although I grant you, not so many outside of that natty little stockade. What’re you up to, Goldilocks? Bit cold for camping, I’d have thought. Tidying up the countryside, is that it?”

Faramir hurried further into the tent, carefully closing the door-flaps after him. He asked Shagrat what he meant.

“What d’you mean by it Goldilocks, that you’re rounding up Orcs! How could you? You, of all people! After everything we’ve done, and been to each other, you and me.” Suddenly he stopped, and when he continued, it was in a cold, quiet voice that alarmed Faramir much more than any yelling or bluster from him at that point would have done. “But then, I keep forgetting. As you’ve said before, how could I ever have imagined there was anything between us?”

Reeling with shock, Faramir sat down heavily on his camp-bed, shaking his head.

“I still wouldn’t have expected it, Goldilocks - anyone else maybe, but not from you,” Shagrat said softly. He was silent for a few seconds. “Missus keeping well? She been after you to rout us lot out?”

Faramir began stammering that no, he and his wife hadn’t -

Hearing Faramir speaking of Eowyn was for some reason to Shagrat, like a red rag to a bull. Leaping to his feet, the Orc knocked him down and jumped on him. “What happened with Dokuz?” he snarled.

Sprawling back against the cushions of his camp-bed, Faramir looked blank for a moment. “You meant the Orc this afternoon, that –“

“Yes, the Orc this afternoon who ended up in bits all over your camp, hacked to death by those stinking straw-heads. What about Dokuz, Goldilocks! You could’ve stopped that. Should’ve. He’d not done anything to you.”

Horrified that Shagrat had witnessed Dokuz’s fate, and wondering for how long the Orc had been watching his camp, Faramir began apologising at once. Dokuz had marched into Faramir’s compound earlier in the day, demanding payment for information, and when this had not been forthcoming, he had very unwisely pointed his weapon at a group of overly blade-happy Rohirrim who had reacted with quite unnecessary force. Eowyn’s countrymen were increasingly behaving like a law unto themselves, and Faramir had been powerless to prevent or to halt their assault on the Uruk once it had begun. Having dispatched one Orc, their reasoning was that they should begin killing the others as well, and as Shagrat had noted, Faramir had lately come into possession of quite a motley collection of his Mordain compatriots. The Prince had managed eventually to dissuade them, but it had been a near thing – he knew he was hanging onto his command by the skin of his teeth.

“Shagrat, I’m so sorry,” Faramir said. “The Orc, Dokuz - he was a friend of yours?”

The Uruk, enraged, grabbed a double handful of Faramir’s shirt-front and shook him back and forth, telling him that no, he couldn’t stand the bleeder, that that bastard Dokuz had been anything but a friend to him, but that wasn’t the point, it was that -

Suddenly he stopped short. Proximity to Shagrat had had a wholly inappropriate, but very predictable effect on Faramir, and as Shagrat crouched over, shaking him, each movement had been bringing Faramir’s jutting erection into contact with the Orc’s upper thigh, a thing that in his anger Shagrat had not initially noticed. Faramir closed his eyes. For a moment there, he though he might have been getting away with it. Try as he might, he had not been able to control his reaction to the sight of the enraged Orc. It was as if the twenty-odd years between this moment, and the time when he had been Shagrat’s prisoner in Mordor had been wiped out, and his feelings were being experienced once again with all the intensity of his youth.

And Shagrat, far from begin the wretched, half-broken creature that Faramir had rescued out of pity had once again become the fierce and uncompromising Uruk Captain of Faramir’s memory, an entity who in one form or another had been fuelling his darkest and most private fantasies for the past two decades. It was no wonder he had not been able to control himself.

Shagrat dropped Faramir abruptly and stood up. Faramir’s breeches were tented up over his groin and were damp with moisture where the head of his erection was straining against the cloth. They both stared at it in silence.

“So that’s the way it is, is it?” Shagrat said eventually. “That’s what you’ve been after all this time, a bit of rough treatment? You should’ve said. I wouldn’t wasted so much time pussy-footing around, trying to do things different.”

Forcing out a laugh to cover his nervousness, Faramir asked him what he knew about pussy-footing around and doing things differently.

The Orc stared at him for a moment. “It didn’t come naturally, and that’s a fact,” he said at last. “Wanted to make the effort though, for you - more fool me.”

“Well then, your Highness,” Shagrat continued. “This all seems strangely familiar, don’t it? So here we are again. Now everyone knows where they stand we’d better get on, eh?” He leaned back and unhurriedly began unfastening his belt, and then the ties that held his leggings closed.

Faramir watched him wide-eyed, his throat gone dry.

“Roll over on your front, all right?” Shagrat said.

His companion looked blank.

“You’ve been expecting this long enough, haven’t you? Since about the first minute you saw me, I should say – so I suppose you’ve had this coming a long time. If you really want it, you’d best get over on your front. Hands and knees or head down in your bed-roll, it’s all one to me. Get on your front though. I’m not rodgering you if I have to look at you while I’m about it.”

“But you haven’t the faintest idea about doing that,” Faramir protested, realising in dismay that his voice was pitched about an octave higher than usual. “You told me so when we were in the Tower. In Cirith Ungol.”

“Did I?” said Shagrat. “Did I say that. The thing is, Goldilocks, a lot’s happened since Cirith Ungol.”

“A – a lot?”

“Mm-hm,” Shagrat confirmed. “A lot of things happened after you went. After you left me for dead, or as good as, down in those barracks. And it didn’t look good, I can tell you. There I was, arresting patrol cut to pieces all around and no Tark prisoner. What d’you think might’ve happened to me afterwards, in that sort of situation, Goldilocks?”

Faramir stammered that he didn’t know, he couldn’t say.

“And that is probably because you’ve never asked,” Shagrat told him, conversationally. “Funny that.”

Clearing his throat, Faramir began asking: “Shagrat, what happened to you after I –“

“I don’t want to talk about it!” shrieked Shagrat, “not bloody now I don’t, not to you!”

“Keep your voice down,” Faramir hissed desperately, “someone will hear.”

Shagrat stopped short, staring at him, then gave a half-amused snort. “Really gagging for it aren’t we, your Highness?” he said. “Roll over then, Goldilocks. And you can take those britches down. Let’s be seeing your arse.”

With some trepidation Faramir complied, settling for an in-between position, half on his knees while at the same time leaning forwards on his elbows on the bed. The mountain air felt cold on his exposed buttocks. It was a very vulnerable position, and he felt absolutely ridiculous.

After a while he dared a backward glance over his shoulder at Shagrat. The Orc was standing back, watching him. His cock was out and in his hand, not hard as yet, Faramir was surprised to see, and as he stared and stared he fisted it with a number of long, casual strokes.

“Let me do that,” Faramir heard himself say.

“You stay where you are,” Shagrat replied shortly. Laboriously, he got to the floor and knelt down. It began to occur to Faramir that no matter what he claimed, it might have been a long time indeed since Shagrat had done anything like this.

“There might be some emollient in the cabinet over there,” he said, sounding slightly panicked. “For lubrication. I mean - we might want to use it.”

“I’ll just bet you would,” said Shagrat. “Won’t be needing that,” he continued in an odd, clipped voice, saying that it wasn’t what he had in mind tonight. For the first time Faramir felt a flicker of doubt and apprehension, which immediately increased because at that point Shagrat began inexpertly pawing at his buttocks. He jumped as the Orc’s fingertips grazed lightly over his arsehole and shivered as one finger, which was rapidly joined by another, pushed their way inside.

“Give us a minute,” Shagrat muttered, waggling them about. “I’ve not tried this left-handed before.” Faramir knelt where he was and waited, feeling acutely self-conscious.

“No?” asked Shagrat after a time. “Fair enough.”

A moment later Faramir pitched forward onto his bed with surprise – and not a little disgust - as something hot, wet and flexible snaked its way around his bollocks and then began insinuating itself into his back passage. His dismay at the realisation that Shagrat was in a very real sense licking his arse rapidly changed into – something else. It was a unique sensation because he wasn’t just licking it. He was sucking on it, blowing hot breath on it, and his tongue – his long, flickering tongue was probing deeply in and out, and was reaching parts of Faramir it really hadn’t any business going anywhere near to. That the Uruk seemed completely without shame in this respect didn’t by this time surprise Faramir one bit, although his own response to Shagrat’s actions did. As far as Faramir was concerned, the Orc could have done whatever he liked with him and he wouldn’t have minded. In fact, he was coming round to the firmly-held opinion that he’d have absolutely loved it.

Shagrat worked on him in silence, using his fingers, lips and tongue as he kneaded and stroked, carefully stretching at the entrance to Faramir’s body. By the time he was finished, everything was sopping wet, filthy slick and slippery, and at last, butting against his arsehole – which was hanging open by the feel of it – was the head of Shagrat’s cock. It occurred to the Prince that he was about to have sexual intercourse with an Orc, a point from which there could certainly be no going back. Faramir, who was by now completely beyond any pretence of dignity rather wished he’d just get on with it. Because after the frenzied licking of his thighs and groin that had put Faramir beside himself, Shagrat’s approach to fucking proper was something quite different. He was terribly restrained about it, much more so than any human lover in Faramir’s experience had ever been, and he gave his partner as much time as he needed, more than that, really, to adjust. If, when it was actually happening his thoughts had been half-way coherent or anywhere near that, Faramir might have realised how much it was costing the Orc to handle him with such extreme delicacy. As it was however, after an impatient moment or two, he found himself simply shoving backwards onto Shagrat’s cock, and when the Uruk yelped out and swore under his breath, it was easy enough for Faramir to surmise that it had been an expression of rampant lust, instead of anything else.

Even then, he found his stroke soon enough. Faramir gasped as Shagrat drove his organ fully into him, almost climaxing from the thought of what he was doing to him as from this new sensation alone. The Orc had not laid so much as a claw on Faramir’s member as yet and as the Uruk thrust steadily in and out behind him, surreptitiously he began snaking his hand down to rest between his legs.

“No you don’t,” growled Shagrat, “I ruddy bloody wouldn’t.” He prised Faramir’s clutching hand away from his private parts and slapped it down beside his head. He held on to it by the wrist and put his weight down, pinning it in place. Faramir groaned aloud into his bedroll. Much as he was relishing being fucked by Shagrat he wasn’t likely to come from it, not quite like this. Not that he wasn’t ready; he was so aroused and hard that with the littlest bit of friction, if the Orc had let him touch his aching cock – even for a moment – he was sure that was all it would have taken. Groaning out with frustration, Faramir bucked his hips once or twice, straining into thin air in the futile hope that it would bring him some relief. At once the Uruk’s left hand, mercifully, was grabbing at his groin, holding and pressing in – exactly, precisely – the right place. Through the blood rushing in his ears and the strangled shout that rose in his throat Farmir thought he heard Shagrat saying something to him which when he looked back on it seemed a little incongruous –

“Go on then, your Highness. Have this one on me.”

But at the time, through the rising waves of ecstasy that Shagrat had brought him to he thought very little of it. After a while he dimly felt the Orc disengage himself, and wipe down his loins and buttocks perfunctorily. Then he threw a blanket over Faramir’s back.

Finally the realisation that all was not well began to seep through to Faramirs pleasure-addled consciousness. Something was most definitely not right because Shagrat was no longer resting behind him. He was pulling himself up – getting to his feet – and making ready to leave.

Where was he going? Faramir asked foolishly, to which Shagrat muttered something inaudible. He tottered a couple of steps away before sitting down abruptly again. The Orc’s back was turned to him and he seemed to be making extraordinarily heavy weather of re-fastening his breeches. Faramir reached over to turn him round and Shagrat shook him off immediately, telling him to keep his hands to himself.

“Great merciful heavens,” Faramir blurted, catching a glimpse of what was giving the Uruk such trouble. His member had not gone down as yet and seemed to Faramir’s experienced eye to be quite a lot bigger than it should have been, even in its most erect state.

“Wait,” Faramir said desperately, “wait. Look. I can’t leave you in that condition. We can carry on, we will, we’ll carry on till you – till you finish off.”

Shagrat replied tightly that that wasn’t likely to be happening any time soon, and claimed the swelling would in all probability die down of its own accord. “I won’t be pissing straight for a bit, that’s all,” he said.

Clambering over beside him Faramir murmured another suggestion, which unfortunately provoked an even worse reaction from the Orc. Shagrat pushed him away roughly, with a dangerous look in his eye and said it was a tempting offer, but there was no way he was going to be falling for that one.

“You forget: I’ve been here before,” he continued, trying, then failing to get to his feet as he spoke. “I remember how it goes. The fits of royal vapouring I’d have to listen to afterwards, if my unclean Orcish cock was to wander the slightest bit near your High and Mightyness-es’ mouth! And I dread to think what would happen if a creature such as I am was to forget himself far enough to spill a little spunk in the heat of the moment, even while your lordship was doing his best to suck him off! You’d bend my ear long enough afterwards, saying it was me as made you do it, I know that for a fact. And then your precious bleedin’ honour’d have you try and kill me afterwards, most likely, for letting you have a go in the first place! Oh no. I know my bloody place, Goldilocks, you’ve made that clear often enough, and I won’t -”

He stopped at that moment because Faramir, if for no other reason than to test the oft-repeated assertion that actions speak louder than words, had begun kissing him. He could still taste himself faintly on the Orc’s tongue and lips and it ought to have been disgusting, repulsive; yet somehow on Shagrat it wasn’t. In fact it rather suited him, Faramir thought. The Uruk himself had other ideas and reared back from Faramir violently, shaking his head.

“What d’you think you’re doing?” he asked. “I’d stop that, if I were you. “It’s not as if you don’t know where I’ve been.”

But Faramir knew exactly how to get around Shagrat’s defences. The swollen head of the Orc’s member, feeling painfully hot against his lips, was soon in his mouth, and in due course the problem that was afflicting Shagrat had been relieved. The Uruk at his moment of orgasm was utterly silent as he always was at such times and on this occasion, so preternaturally still to boot that if he hadn’t felt the quick rush of acrid semen gushing through his fingers when Shagrat ejaculated, Faramir would have been hard-pressed to know whether he had reached his climax or not. Grabbing a fistful of the Prince’s hair in an iron-hard and inflexible grip, he had hauled Faramir’s head out of his lap just before his critical moment came, and all in all, it had taken a minimum of effort from the Prince. Faramir felt ashamed and sorry, as he had done in similar situations in the past that his companion seemed so easily pleased.

As things turned out though Shagrat was anything but. The talk had been driven out of him and he sat gloomily silent, frowning slightly and not responding to anything Faramir said to get him speaking again. He appeared to be waiting for something to happen, but what that was the Prince couldn’t say. So oppressive and uncomfortable was the silence between them that Faramir was almost relieved then, when a short while later there came a scratching at the door-panel of his tent.

Smiling thinly, Shagrat stood up. “Sorry about earlier Goldilocks,” he said hurriedly. “I got carried away, all right? Didn’t mean for that last to happen. Your charms got the better of me, as usual.”

It was Eowyn who was waiting at the door, and the Orc’s mouth stretched wide into something like a horrible grin – not far off from being a bare-toothed rictus, really, as he turned to greet her. Once again, it did not take the Lady long to realise what had been going on.

TBC


A/N: blimey, for people who have very kindly reviewed this increasingly, monstrously, long, LONG story thank you again for letting me know you're still reading!

Andrea – agh, as you see I’m afraid things’ve gone from bad to worse in many ways for Shagrat. I’m sure something will turn up eventually however...

nessSachiel – I’m astounded that you want even more chapters but am delighted to hear it. Three more, well that was a rough estimate, since I’m not certain how I’m going to end up resolving this. Side stories? OK then, no problem. I did have a couple of ideas that (given their subject material) probably would be better never seeing the light of day but since you mention it to hell with better judgement - consider them a work-in-progress!

Mary – ah, sorry, meant, but didn’t quite manage to post this much earlier than this. Thanks very much for the reviews, it’s really good to know you’re still bearing with the story. Another cliff-hanger this time though I’m afraid - but I should be posting the follow-up pretty soon.

Pip – I’m so flattered by your comments, thank you! It’s particularly nice when people write to say that against all the odds, they’re warming to the idea of Faramir and Shagrat. And I’m so glad you like the dialogue - it is very enjoyable to write.

Cimmer – great to hear you’re liking this, and the prequel too. I was wondering if people would just think that exactly those plot-line accessories you’ve mentioned were getting in the way of the slash relationship, so it’s a relief to know that they seem to be working out.

Dantanko – ah yes. Maybe I haven’t been lingering on important plot-line accessories quite enough (because they’ve been getting in the way of all the slash) in that case...

Danni – no, no, sorry! At this stage it had all been a dreadful misunderstanding, you see, about which Shagrat, being the pessimist he is, had automatically assumed the worst. Having said that he does completely put his foot in things in the next part however.