Sevends ods of Passion

Oh yay! One whole review! hehehe ;)


WARNING! NC-17 material ahead. Remember Alana is NOT really a child. But Frodo thinks she is. She is a GROWN woman trapped in a child’s body. So she has a mind of an adult, and her adult mind may think about stuff that know real child would ever think of (wink, wink).

We do NOT condone the act of spanking children anyway. But this takes place in old times in the Shire where they might use such type of discipline.

Note: My Co author HyperHenry is in the Hosiptal donating a kidney for her brother. So after chapter 4, it may be a while before we update. Keep her in your prayers and lets hope her brother comes out healthy as well! Okay for those people actually reading this story, enjoy. Read and review. Even flames welcome. HyperHenry just loves reading flames LOL.




Chapter 3: Of Swords and Mandrake

Two hours she had stood in the corridor intently listening to the soft breathing of her master and foster father. Two hours of stiffness and shivers and soundless yawning.
At some point her perseverance had been rewarded as the breathing had become deeper bordering to a gentle snore. Frodo was sleeping. Yet she had to wait just a bit more before she could safely tiptoe past his bedroom, through the study, nick his blade and start practicing in the garden. The sleep was deepest about 15 minutes later, she knew. She would have to wait for that.
However, despite her stubbornness she was still a very small child and standing still like this in the darkness and the cool night air was not easy for her. She had started shivering.
And she was still shivering when she stiffly staggered through the corridor, wincing every time she stepped on a treacherously creaking flooring plank. She rubbed her behind. She could still feel the touch and smack of his hands from the last time she had been punished. She would like to avoid that it happened again. Yet she had to practice. It was crucial for her impending confrontation with Juggernaut which was bound to happen at some point. He must know by now that Behal had not killed her.
And then he would come looking for her.

As the blade Sting was successfully retrieved, Alana breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded out through the veranda door to the vast Bag End garden that Sam so lovingloomeoomed.
She took a minute to stop and inhale the fresh nocturnal air and allowed herself a small grunt a pleasure as the night chill made it down her throat and into her young lungs.
What a splendid kick. The coolness reminded her of her mountains.
However, as her eyes traveled round the garden, the comparison between Bag End and her home was at an end.
Bag End garden was a luscious medley of various sorts of plants, trees and colorful flowers. It was neatly groomed and artfully arranged with matching colors to match each other and the estate, all of which had closed their blooms for the night, silently and patiently waiting for dawn to shed its rejuvenating and awakening light. Then they would grow just a few inches more and open their rich beauty for everyone to admire and enjoy. The majestic trees would protect them by their impressive shades, and the plants would allow them to lean against their sturdy stems.
Cooperation. Living for and from each other.

Nature was nothing like this in the mountains. There it was every man for himself. If two trees stood closely together, the stronger would prevail and the weaker perish. The Sun had a difficult time distributing its life-giving rays to all, and so Nature had to make a choice. Soil was scant too. Whatever nourishment the plants could draw from the meager ground would sustain only few. The strongest.
And so the luxurious greens, the fruitful flowers, the rich scent and the plentitude of species often overwhelmed Alana when she went for walks in the garden. Frodo had noticed she wasn't running around playing with loud infantile squeals like other children, but rather reaching out to touch this – to her – miracle of life en masse. It worried him somewhat, and Alana tried to ease his concern by running around now and then. However, her playing did not have the same zest and intense happiness that one would expect from someone so young. And Frodo noticed.
Still… during her many walks and 'running', the mountain daughter managed to get to know the garden very thoroughly.

Alana stepped straight to the tall oak that stood in the far northern corner of the garden. There were shades there that would make her invisible – but also make it difficult for her to see what she aimed at. She would start here with some simple exercises and continue with some hacking movements when the moon moved.

Sting, though much smaller than Peacemaker, was heavy even for a skilled swordsman like herself. Of course, it may have played a smalrt trt that she was now less than half the size she used to be. She looked down at her puny kiddie arms and pouted. Well, that needed some work, she admitted. But she had plenty of nights in the time to come.
In the beginning her movements were somewhat awkward. She winced when she unintentionally hacked off a couple of twigs, her mind already racing how to explain this to Sam. Still, her arm became gradually stronger and her coordination slowly better as the nights passed.
Of course, she couldn't keep it up in the long run. Sam would notice those 'trimmings' she had been making.

And she was quite right.
One night she was caught red-handed, Sting in hand, hacked twigs at feet and with a steaming Frodo behind her, accompanied by a glumly looking Sam.
"Thank you, Sam," Frodo said through gritted teeth, "now, if you will excuse me, I need to have a word with my daughter."
Sam turned and left, looking awfully sorry that he had had to tell his master about the cut and hacked branches and twigs. Alana remained behind, sword still in her hand. A hand that was remarkably still as was the rest of her body.
Her mind raced. She really didn't want a whooping like the last time; she had enjoyed that way too much. Perhaps if she showed him how practiced she had become, he might forgive her. So she swung the sword into 'presentation' position and offered it to him, hilt first. He took it. Unimpressed.

In his mind Frodo knew that the kid was much better at wielding the sword than he had ever been. He was a hobbit, and hobbits were no good with swords. This child, however, with her background in the fierce and rough mountains knew everything about swordsmanship – and obviously had worked one before despite her young age. But that was no excuse for sneaking out in the middle of the night and use her father's weapon. Frodo was so angry he didn't know what to say. Instead he just grabbed the sword with one hand and her wit with the other, hauling both of them back to the house. Alana didn't object. In fact, her own father had reacted much the same way when she once had snuck out with Peacemaker. Mountain people didn't spank their children; they just kept them away from their ponies and weapons and favorite rock places for weeks as punishment. For a proud mountain child that was much worse than being spanked. So her father had dragged her ass into the castle and kept her away from her pony and weapons for a whole month, forcing her instead to do needlepoint and dishwashing. It had been degrading and humiliating, and she had hated every minute of it. She had never snuck out with her father's sword again.
Now, however, she just might sneak out with Sting again.

*

When Frodo managed to drag his naughty little girl through the rounded front doorway, he yanked her over to a corner in the living room and forced her to face the wall. “Don’t you dare move from this spot, Alana, until I say its okay to,” Frodo addressed her angrily, and by the tone of his voice, Alana knew he meant business. And just by his speech and mannerisms, she knew she was in deep trouble. And it made her little body sweat with anticipation. More guilty, unnatural thoughts raced through her head. Oh lawd. She tried to block them out.

Alana heard him rustling about behind her, and she turned her head a tiny bit, trying to get a peek at what he was doing. Frodo had pulled a chest out from one of the closets. The same chest he had first kept the ring ‘secret and safe’ in all those years ago. He flung it open and laid Sting inside, then slammed it shut and locked it, placing the key in his pocket. Her keen eyes saw him do this, but when he looked in her direction, she quickly took her attention back to the wall and stuck her nose in the corner.

She heard his soft footsteps hastily coming towards her again. When she felt him standing over her, she started to quiver. She shut her eyes nervously, trying to wash away the improper thoughts that invaded her brain. She tried to block out the arousing anticipation by filling her head with unappealing images. She thought of two four-hundred-pound men, wrestling in the mud. That was unattractive. Two deformed orcs making love. Very unappealing. This wasn’t going to be enough though. “Turn around and look at me, Alana,” Frodo commanded. She slowly, and reluctantly, turned around to face him once again, trying with all her might to hide her arousal.

She was already blushing furiously, and Frodo mistook it for shame and fear. His own face was flushed with rage and disappointment that she disobeyed him. He crossed his arms and stared her down with his stern, piercing blue eyes. For some reason, watching his handsome face contort into such a look of fury and authority, brought her sexual urges to the top. Perhaps her mountain upbringing had caused her to like it rough? Oh, Elbereth forgive her. There she went again. Not thoughts she should consider when she was stuck in this body.

“WHY did you do that, Alana? After I specifically told you I’d never let you use it? And don’t you give me any lip about you being a sword fighter, little one. I will not tolerate any usage of weapons on my property, certainly not from children, and especially from you.” Frodo’s usually soft, gentle voice was now commanding and forceful as it always was when he was highly upset. He brought one hand gaingainst the wall, and placed the other on his hip, as if pinning her against the corner. When he acted this way, it made her feel even smaller. Right now, it was as if this docile hobbit had grown into a proud, lordly figure and she had shrunk. Unusual for her to take a liking to something like this, and she was usually in denial. But now it was quite obvious to her that he was driving her mad.

“Young lady,” Frodo spoke firmly, his eyes narrowed as he glared down at his reckless human daughter. “You will answer me when I ask you a question.” She fidgeted in place anoughought her arms behind her back, then couldn’t stop herself from grinning up at him sheepishly. Frodo raised an eyebrow. Was she actually smiling at him during a time like this?! He gritted his teeth. “Do you find something amusing, little girl?”

Alana cleared her throat and wiped the smile off her face. “No, daddy,” she forced.

“What caused you to do such a thing, Alana? Do you have that little respect for me? Stealing my sword, and sneaking out in the middle of the night to play within tin the pitch dark? Do you know how dangerous that is?!” Frodo’s voice boomed in her ears and she winced. He was obviously very upset. She knew how he felt about the usage of weapons. He was highly against anything violent. Everything violent, that is, except for spanking.

Alana stared up at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to say. She took a deep breath. “Well, daddy. I didn’t really steal it. Just borrowed it.” She blushed harder and couldn’t stop her lips from curving into another goofy smile. Frodo eyed her, un-amused. “It was just…all shiny, and pretty and I couldn’t help it. Heh, heh.”

Frodo nearly growled in his throat and hit the wall with his hand, causing her to jump a bit. “I don’t think you realize how serious this is, young lady.” He seemed to be leaning down on her closer. He was clearly trying to intimidate her. “You could have hurt yourself. Or wandered off in the dark and got lost. Or been abducted by some stranger. Or even eaten by wolves. There are many dangerous animals that wander around at night, Alana.”

Alana couldn’t help but smirk at this. It was obvious that he was trying to scare her. Bag End was about as dangerous as a child’s playground. But of course, Frodo was an overly protective and concerned father. He was quite displeased with Alana’s carefree attitude towards this situation. And he was going to make that clear to her. “I can see by your attitude that you want me to spank your little bottom again.” Alana’s smile faded and she gulped. He knew how to make her feel like a naughty little girl. And it drove her wild. And also made her feel incredibly dirty. “Do you want a spanking, Alana?” Frodo asked her sternly.

Alana glared up at him blankly. In her mind she thought ‘yes and no.’ She grinded her teeth and forced her head to shake, indicating a ‘no.’ “Oh, but I think you do. This whole time I’ve been talking to you, you’ve just been begging me for one with your saucy attitude. I thought I wiped that clean from you, but apparently not. And I can see, young lady, that you don’t value your own life. What if you were eaten by a troll while I was sleeping? And you’d be outside so late that I wouldn’t be able to hear if you were in tro or or not?” Frodo spoke angrily.

Alana actually found this hilarious. Now he was threatening her with trolls? She couldn’t hold back from snickering. And this action infuriated Frodo. She was actually mocking him! He immediately grabbed her arm and hauled her to another room. He angrily hurried down the hallway and pulled the unusually calm child into the study, then slammed the door shut and locked it. He dragged her over to the couch, then sat himself down and forced her to stare directly into his eyes. He held both of her little arms tight, preparing for another struggle. This time, he would make sure they she wouldn’t even attempt to escape.

He held his face only nearly an inch from hers and was breathing heavily, trying to calm himself before he continued onto her punishment. Even when he was angry with her, she saw the love in his eyes. He onlyonly looking out for her well-being. “Alana,” he brought his voice nearly to a whisper. He wasn’t going to yell. He made it a point to get through to her without raising his voice too much. “I think you know you’ve been naughty. That was a very, very bad thing you did. Daddy is not happy with you. And I think you will agree with me that you need to be punished.”

Alana shivered at his touch and his stern voice. She knew what was coming next. And she fought with herself, trying to hold back from grinning goofily. Frodo sensed her uneasiness and once again mistook it for fear. His face softened. “I’m sorry, my little one. But I do this because I love you and wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Alana could never seem to control her mouth. And she didn’t know why. But she felt she should respond. “And spankings don’t count as hurting?” Frodo raised his eyebrows and Alana held back another smile. “Oops.”

“That does not compare to running off with your daddy's sword. You could have chopped your little fingers off,” said Frodo. “This conversation has ended.” With that he pulled her up on the couch next to him, and gently forced her to lie over his lap. Alana seemed to play this whole ordeal in slow motion in her mind. His lap felt so warm under her belly. And her pelvis. Warm and comfy. She mustn’t think such thoughts. *Think unappealing thoughts. Think about worms. Think about anything but this. Oh valor.* She told herself in her mind.

Frodo slowly pulled up her thin little night gown up over her waist. Alana nearly bit her tongue from grinding her teeth. Would he take her knickers down this time? Her own question was soon answered when she felt him slip his fingers into the waistband. She let out a gasp as he slowly and gently slid them down to her knees. He pressed down on the small of her back firmly with his other hand, and this caused her little body to quiver, for it was forcing her crotch to grind into his leg. Already being highly aroused, this didn’t help much. She cringed and held her hands under her chin, making sure they wouldn’t subconsciously try to reach back and try touching herself during her arousal. She was highly disgusted. This was both pleasure and torture at the same time.

Frodo took a moment to rub her little bottom and lecture her some more. But not a word he was saying sunk in her head. She was focused on the feeling of his warm gentle hand on her naked little rear. Her five-year-old behind where there were once womanly hips, shook under his touch. He let the first smack fall, and she had to force out an “OW” to keep herself from groaning. It did sting. Stung a lot. He smacked her again. He was spanking her pretty hard. He surely meant business. He let his hand fall fast and hard on her vulnerable little bottom, already causing her smooth cheeks to become reddened.

Perhaps she had a teeny bit of masochistic qualities. His slaps hurt and would probably cause any normal kid to start bawling. But with each slap on Alana’s behind, her feminine parts, though still under-developed, throbbed and ached, longing for release. Her breathing became heavier, and she caught herself from lifting her bottom in anticipation for his hand. She did not kick this time. But perhaps she should have? She hoped, prayed, that he wouldn’t notice her loud heavy breathing. She tried to whimper, and yelp, and jolt a little, trying with all her might to act like a normal kid.

When he felt her moving at all, he held her down harder which, unfortunately for Alana (or fortunately?) pressed her crotch down on his leg even harder. She held her little legs tightly together. It would really be bad if he spanked her into orgasm. Could five-year-olds have orgasms? “You will never, ever touch a sword again, Alana.” Frodo scolded. “Not while I am around. Unless you like having a sore bottom.”

Smack! He lectured her in between spanks. His voice was so commanding. That didn’t help either. Why was she getting so aroused by this? Her bottom WAS sore. It did hurt when he spanked her. But it somehow, also sent a shock wave of a desire surge through her little body. It hurt and felt good at the same time. How in the heck was this possible? Her body started to quiver more, and she dug heils ils into the sofa. He would have to stop soon. For one, she was getting very sore, and for another, she just might have an orgasm over his lap. What in the heck would her foster father think then? Having a five-year-old child scream in ecstasy while he spanked her raw? That would be enough for him to decide that she needed some form of medication or therapy.

She knew she had to halt this, so she forced her eyes to water. By staying with Frodo, she was surely learning to be a pretty good actress. Perhaps she should try out for a play. However, she hadn’t tried crying yet. But eventually, she managed a few tears. She fake sniffled and scrunched her little face into a look of extreme discomfort. Now time to put on an act. “Please, daddy. Stop. It hurts so much. I’m sorry for being naughty. I’ll never do it again. Oh please stop.” She tried fake sobbing and let out a few sniffles. She nearly cringed at hearing her own whiney little girl voice.

“Are you ever going to do something like that again, Alana?” Frodo asked sternly. He gave her another gentle slap. She bit her lip, and forced herself not to moan.

“No, daddy,” she managed to squeeze out.

Frodo stopped and began to rub her burning bottom again. Gently rubbing back and fourth, so lightly that it nearly tickled. She loved and hated this. It was so humiliating, yet extremely arousing. And the feeling of his hand rubbing her well spanked bottom, felt so very good. Too good. “That’s my good girl. I only punish you out of love, dear. Please don’t ever scare me like that again, little one.” He spoke softly in between rubs. “If I catch you doing anything like that again, I’ll spank your little bottom even harder. And I know you wouldn’t want that.” Alana’s eyes widened, and she nearly smirked to herself.

He pulled her knickers up, then let her sit up and rub her bottom. Frodo held her close and wiped her forced tears away. He bought her look of pain and displeasure. She strained with all her might to give him an extremely hurt expression. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. He frowned and looked at her lovingly. He surely didn’t like hurting his little girl. But it seemed she needed it. “I’m sorry, baby. But if you’d just behave, then I wouldn’t have to punish you so harshly,” he soothed.

And here it came. He pulled her into another hug and rubbed her back. He did this as a sign of love and forgiveness. Which only filled Alana’s little head with more dirty thoughts. Her little hands clung to his shirt, and she gritted her teeth. He was so warm and cuddly. And she wanted him bad. And all he wanted to do was to love her platonically. Take care of her and nurture her.

He put her to bed after that and tucked her in tight, all the time Alana wishing desperately that she could sleep in his arms. Perhaps one of these nights she could make up some excuse about there being monsters in her closet? But of course, being next to him would only get her frustrated. She couldn’t do much about it. Just let him stroke her, rock her, hold her close as she took in his lovely ‘male’ scent. Oh lawd. She was cursed. This was heaven and hell in one.

Frodo kissed her good night. “Daddy loves you, Alana. And he’s here to take of of you. Remember that. Now be a good girl and go to sleep. I will not have you sneaking out of bed again. Good night, love.” With that he left the room, leaving poor Alana wide awake and frustrated.

*

Dawn was breaking. The beginning rays of light penetrated the blinds of her window, insisting on being seen. And Alana still hadn't been able to shut one eye. Her mind was racing and still wide awake no matter how many stupid sheeps she was counting. In fact, she had counted so many that she had run out of number designations. Was there such a thing as a fantasillion? She bit her lip, tasting her own desperate sweat. It tasted good. She quickly stuck out her tongue and lapped up more sweat from the surrounding skin around her mouth. Mmmm. Good.

Alana sighed. She knew exactly what would make her sleep the last few hours before she had to get up. Yet everything in her turned in disgust from doing it. Her mind might be that of an experienced grown-up, but her body was that of a five-year-old! She squeezed shut her eyelids in inner pain. Fuck it! She had always backed away from connecting sex with kids. Kids weren't ready for this kind of thing, and they shouldn't be forced or coerced! She had always felt strongly about that. She remembered one particular asshole that she had put more holes in when she had caught him in the act of raping a child. She saw to it that he never again would be able to take a child – or anyone else, for that matter.

However, this was she doing it to herself. She recalled that she had sometimes played with herself as a kid… in fact, she believed that she did discover her clitoris when she was eight!
Eight. But now she was only five.
No, she wasn't, she realized. She was 32!

A hand slid down to touch a most inner secret place. A center of intimacy was awakened. She gasped. It had been so long. Who was her last…? Oh, yes. Griy's son. He had been okay, but not terribly bright. She had had to do all the work. What she needed was a man – a man who knew what he was doing – a man to take charge. She needed…

Frodo!

She winced. Thinking of having sex with her foster parent. Of course, he wasn't really her foster father in her mind. She wasn't really a kid, so how could he be her caretaker? Well, he thought that he was, which is why she would never ever see anything else than protective feelings in his eyes. Shit! Crap! She would get Juggernaut for this!

Frodo.

Her hand continued to be busy even without her realizing it. But it never got wet down there. The 'function' just didn't apply to such a young age. She let go of her folds and released a heartfelt sigh. If touching didn't work for her…
…. then imagination might.

Closing her eyes again, she concentrated on conjuring up inward images of herself on the lap of Frodo. His sapphire eyes were looking at her with a fatherly glance that she quickly, and perhaps a bit frantically, adjusted into a hungry one instead. His slender, but firm hands would start massaging her cheeks, and his pinky might inadvertently brush over her feminine parts in a split second. She emitted a soft little moan. It was working!

She continued on with her naughty fantasies. She imagined him holding her firmly over his warm thighs, feeling a slight lump forming underneath his trousers. She imagined herself naked, but fully developed. Her long lost womanhood returning. Although she still appeared to be smaller than Frodo in her fantasies. She had never seen him when she was her adult height, so it was hard to picture him smaller than her. And she rather liked it this way anyway. She imagined feeling his warm, gentle hand rubbing back and fourth gently over her womanly hips.

Then he’d nearly tickle her, letting his slender fingers run gently over her cheeks as he held her down by the small of her back with his other hand. He’d lean down and whisper seductively in her ear. Well, somehow his seductive tone sounded like the strict fatherly tone he used when he was about to punish her. Of course, she couldn’t help getting aroused when he spoke with such authority. Only this time, she imagined him smiling a little as he addressed her sternly. “You’ve been very naughty, haven’t you Alana, my lovely one?”

He would rub his hand over her legs, and sometimes slip it in between them and stroke her inner thighs. She would then moan out a ‘yes’ as a response to his question.

He would lean down and nearly hiss in her ear, gently but firmly. “Indeed, I agree. I think you need me to correct this naughty behaviour of yours, don’t you, my luscious one?”

She would emit more soft groans as he rubbed her bottom in circles. Then gasp softly as he would slap her bottom gently. Slap. Rub. Slap. Rub. He would spank her gently in a steady pattern, all the while scolding her with his soft, alluring voice. Alana let out another small moan at these thoughts. She could feel her adult self getting wetter by the minute, and throbbing. Feeling the gentle impact of his smooth firm hand.

He would press her down harder on purpose, knowing all too well what it would do. She could feel herself grinding her swollen folds against his leg, as he pressed down harder as if forcing her womanhood to work its way into a climax. She could feel herself grinding her feminine area into his leg, perhaps causing the soft fabric of his trousers to become a little wet. She d fed feel him grin, and he would slap her a bit harder, playfully scolding her and sometimes whispering endearments. “My, my you are such a naughty little thing, aren’t you, beautiful one? You see now why daddy has to spank you?”

Alana smirked to herself. Even in her fantasies he used the word, daddy. She was becoming too accustomed to his nurturing fatherly ways and his constant baby talk. Although she made him sound a bit more gruff and less innocent when he referred to such things in her day dreaming. He would then guide her body over his male hood that throbbed under his garments and press her down firmly again, forcing her female hood to come in contact with his erect lump, and then he would continue to spank her gently, letting her feel his muscle twitching beneath her every time she moaned at his slaps.

Alana’s imagination began running wild, until she heard a loud bird chirping beside her window, only snapping her back to cruel reality and reminding her that she would have to get up for breakfast soon, and eat beside the man that dominated her current fantasies, whom she’d never be able to touch in that way.

She frowned and turned over on her stomach, grinding her tiny teeth. She somehow slipped back into fantasy. She might as well, since she knew she wasn’t going to get to sleep. She found herself against the wall again, an angry foster father standing over her, face stern, eyes piercing. This time, however, she imagined a gleam of playfulness shining within pup pupils. She was somehow re-enacting what had happened earlier that evening…well, now it was last night.

It started out with her remembering him scolding her, glaring down at her earnestly with an angry, disciplinary fatherly expression. Then she somehow got her mind to twist it around a little.

Frodo was pinning her up against the corner, licking his lips with arousal. Alana was an adult woman again, her dress clinging to her developed feminine form, causing Frodo to glare at her hungrily, undressing her with his eyes. She envisioned him grabbing both of her arms, forcing her back to press against the wall. He would then kiss her forcefully, yet gently, his tongue seeping its way into her mouth. His hands helping themselves to her garments that he somehow easily, and quite hastily, disposed of.

“Alana,” he’d whisper into her ear, “I’ve wanted you for a long time. You naughty little thing. now now I’m going to take what’s mine, my gorgeous little flower.” He’d pull her naked body into a locking embrace kissing her entire face, letting his hands run up and down her bare back, and stroke her exposed bottom. He would suck on her neck gently, sending goose bumps over her skin, then squeeze her bottom, lift her up in his arms and carry her to the study.

Once in the study, he would dispose of his own garments, unbuttoning his shirt first, then slipping it off his arms and tossing it aside, letting Alana get a full view of his upper torso. She, of course, hadn’t seen him without ces, es, so she would have to rely on her imagination. She imagined his skin being milky white, but beautiful, just like his elvish face. Perhaps he would have a tad bit of chest hair, brown as his curly head, or perhaps none at all. Maybe he would be smooth and naturally hairless just like the fair elves.

Alana noticed her hands reaching lower, and her mind found Frodo forcing her to lean over his desk that he did most of his writing on. There, he would playfully scold her again and run his hands up the back of her legs and bottom cheeks. Then he would brush his hand over her feminine lips lightly, sometimes gently tugging on her long lost pubic hair. He would give her another gentle spanking, slapping each cheek, one at a time, then rub them, letting the sting sink in. Then she would hear him slide his trousers off and toss them aside. As she envisioned this, her little heart began beating more rapidly, and her breathing even heavier.

She imagined him pulling out his erect male hood and squeezing it with one hand, while stroking Alana’s back with the other, whispering endearments and romantic sweet nothings as he slowly brought it close to her womanly hole. She closed her eyes tight, trying to keep the image strong in her mind. She could almost feel his hard member slowly entering her most secret area, as he brought his body over hers, his hot breath coming in contact with her ear.

He would bring his weight down on top of her, but not too much, careful not to crush her. She could feel his warmth, holding her, caressing her entire body, keeping her in place so she couldn’t move as he took her fully. His gifted hands would wander in any direction they wished, up and down her sides, down over her bottom, underneath her hips. His lips would come in contact with her nape, sucking possessively, his tongue gently brushing against her earlobes, causing he shu shudder under his heat penetrating body.

“Alana. So beautiful. My one true love. You’re mine,” he would whisper, as he held her arms and started moving his male organ in and out of her vagina at a steady pace, his abdomen slapping her lower buttocks in a rhythm. “Daddy loves you, Alana. My sweet, lusty little brat.” She somehow heard him slip in her fantasy.

Alana was now subconsciously groaning loudly without realizing it. She couldn’t help being a groaner. Every lover she had, had told her she was a loud one, and apparently she was even loud while masturbating. Her big mouth seemed to cause her nothing but trouble. The creaking of floor planks coming from the hall immediately halted her heated fantasy. She snatched her hands back up and hugged her pillow, then laid flat under her covers and remained completely still. Her little cheeks were flushed from arousal.

Frodo had woken up extremely thirsty, his mouth bone dry, and Alana prayed that he hadn’t heard her excited noises. He staggered down the hall way, and Alana caught a glimpse of his robed figure wearily passing her rounded door that was left open by a crack. Frodo had made it a point to leave it open a tad, making extra sure he could hear his baby if she was having a nightmare or some other dilemma.

She her her lip and dug her tiny soft nails into her pillow. Blast. What time wa? An? And how loud had she actually been moaning? She felt like knocking herself in the head. What an idiot she was. Thinking about her innocent and loving foster ‘daddy’ throwing her over his desk and erotically spanking her, then taking her forcefully. She was disgusted with herself, but couldn’t really control it.

She hoped he would pass by her door quickly again after he had satisfied his thirst, then return to his own bed. No such luck. He stopped and pushed her door open slowly. She immediately shut her eyes and tried pretending she was asleep. She picked up his soft footsteps coming towards her and then could feel him standing over her.

Frodo looked down at his little girl and could see the frustration in her face even if she appeared to be asleep. He frowned. Her little cheeks were reddened, and her expression uncomfortable. Frodo reached down and gently stroked her little head. Alana nearly jolted at his touch and couldn’t help but open her eyes a tad. Did he have to do this now? Just after she had conjured up an entire sexual fantasy involving him?

She opened her eyes slowly, trying to look as if he had just woken her up from a long sleep. Well, she WAS rather tired come to think of it. She hadn’t even slept all night. Frodo could see the bags under her eyes. He took everything about her into consideration. She let her weary eyes focus on his concerned gentle face. “Daddy?” she said quietly in a tired little voice.

“I could hear you making noises from my room, little one,” he whispered gently. “I thought I’d come into check on you. I didn’t mean to wake you up sweetie. I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

Alana stretched, and yawned. Her yawn was not fake. “I was just havin a nightmare, daddy.” She turned over then sat up on her bed and rubbed her little eyes.

Frodo sat down on her bed and started rubbing her nape. He brought his other hand over her cheek and gently turned her head a little, forcing her to look him in the face. His eyes were still a bit tired, his unruly brown hair running all over the place having just gotten out of bed. He stroked her cheek and looked at her lovingly. “Is it something you want to talk to daddy about, luvvie?”

Alana shook her head, her eye lids droopy from lack of sleep. It was obvious that her young body was not cut out for going through a night without sleeping. “I’m okay, daddy. Is it time for breakfast yet?”

Frodo smiled a little, then leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Not now, sweetie. You look very tired. You were out late last night. Little girls need their sleep. It’s not good for you to stay up so late, sweetie, and go out alone. It’s also dangerous. But daddy is not mad at you anymore. I hope you know that. Daddy loves you and will forgive you for anything. But you must be a good girl, so he won't have to spank you anymore.”

“Yes, daddy.” Alana spoke in a tiny, weary voice. Frodo brought a hand over her chest, that was so big compared to her that it nearly covered her entire chest. He gently forced her to lay back down, and she subconsciously rolled back over on her stomach and hugged her pillow.

Frodo brought one elbow onto her bed, then leaned on his side. He startled Alana by bringing his other hand up under her night gown, and then he began to rub her back gently, and lovingly as an affectionate parent tying to get his little girl to go back to sleep.

This did not help after what she had just envisioned. She thought that maybe she should get rid of him before something else unnatural occurred to his eyes…or ears. “Daddy…?” she started.

“Shhhh.” Frodo quieted her. “Go to sleep, baby. You need your rest. Sleep now and daddy won't make you nap later. No more nightmares. Daddy is here. Sleep baby.” Alana nearly shivered as his warm hand gently stroked her smooth little back. But she closed her eyes and decided that perhaps she should at least attempt to get some sleep before breakfast. She found herself subconsciously scooting closer to her ‘daddy’ bringing her little body closer to his much bigger one, feeling his comforting heat.

Frodo continued the back rubbing for some time still, and exhaustion finally got the better of Alana, who very suddenly fell asleep as her face abruptly relaxed and her breath turned into a gentle snoring. Her father smiled lovingly at her.

Little gir
*
*

Thinking long and hard, even fierce Alana, daughter of Sardar and Ychela to the estate of the Seven Winds, saw the wisdom in joining the other children at school. The golden-eyed girl knew that Juggernaut would know of her survival and flight by now, and that he must be planning to hunt her down as soon as possible. Her trail had already been concealed by the light foot of an elf, but it needed more than that. It needed her to blend in completely. And she wouldn't do that by acting up like an unusually cross and temperamental kid. As much as she hated the idea, she would have to return to school … and suffer the teachers and the sniveling kids. Kids. Such a parody. She tolerated them, was kind to them, but she couldn't really stand kids. Never could. Perhaps this was why she so easily found she could do without a man and children when she grew up. Taking upon her the responsibility and leadership of the Seven Winds had felt natural and just. Her mother Ychela, bless her strong soul, had been a loving and courageous mother; but also she had felt more like a warrior than a babysitter.

This was partly why Alana found it so difficult to accept the nurturing behavior of her foster father. In general, mountain children were not brought up lihis:his: baby language and over-protection. They got plenty of love – the hard way. Both her parents had been generous with their bearhugs, their warm glances and their giving grins. But they had not been touchy-feely, 'aaawwwing' or condenscending, and Alana briefly wondered if this was indigenous to hobbits or if humans of the plains behaved similarly.

Strength was valued in Alana's birth land. And so swordsmanship and leadership were included in the curriculum and highly admired. However, also wisdom was a much respected asset and one of the reasons why Sardar and Ychela's daughter had been so valued as the Master of the estate. Her connection to her birth place was as strong as blood and the household she had shaped with her instinct and mind was finely tuned to her keen perception.

The rape and invasion of her castle, therefore, had been pure hell for Alana.
And for Frodo who had no idea what to do about a child stricken by sudden and inexplicable fear and horror.

It had come like lightening from a blue sky. Completely unexpected. Though having an uneasy night, Alana would never have guessed what was about to happen in the center of her heart. It felt like Juggernaut reaching in and shrinking her all over again.

Frodo had taken her to the Hollow Meadow south of the Shire, riding along on Strider, his favorite pony. He had noticed how his daughter had scrutinized and petted the mount very carefully – not in a squealingly childish way, but rather in a studious adult way. He frowned; what was she cooking in that adorable little head of hers? After these months as Alana's guardian, he had learned to feel apprehensive toward her silent mood rather than her temperamental mood.

"Alana, honey, what are you thinking of?"
The little girl with the long, straight raven black hair slowly came out of her reverie. She was sitting in front of Frodo with his arm around her – very tightly around her – very insufferably tightly around her – and that had made her focus on something else. The pony, Strider, appeared to be strong and steady. It could be an viable option for fleeing if the situation arose. Of course, she could hardly tell him the truth: Daddy, I'm feeling horny in your arms, so I'm concentrating on assessing your pony for a future escape.

Somehow… that didn't sound good in her own ears.
Soin –in – she would have to come up with something more believably childish.

"Um… how come some horsies got 'twisters' in their hair, daddy?"

Gawd, that sounded fake!
Perhaps she should have gone with the horny-line.

Frodo looked down and spotted the natural parting in Strider's mane. Oh, so that's what she meant. She was wondering why some of the pony's mane fell on one side of its neck and some of it on the other side.
Frodo started explaining in a quite natural and relaxed voice to Alana's immense surprise, and thankfully this explanation and the outcome of it diverted her attention enough for them to reach the meadow without her making a complete ass of herself.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Alana slid down from Strider's back with the help of Frodo's strong arm. She looked around her.

What a beautiful place!

Before her was the greenest meadow she had ever seen. It was neighbor to a very deep valley that swung its way among charming little hills and royal copper beeches, the grass dotted cheerfully with the glowing colours of autumn. The air was still so warm that she hadn't needed much of a cloak; however, her caring foster parent had brought one nonetheless. She had spread it on the blanket of grass and was about to sink down onto it with a deep satisfied grunt when she remembered that a normal girl of five would probably run around with lively and thrilled squeals, playing hide and seek and collect polychrome leaves in all sizes.

Oh, dear – off to squeal. Alana did her best, but it rang artificial even in her own ears. As she ran along, she once in a while looked back at Frodo to see his reaction. He stood there with his charming and warm smile, a loving glint in his enormous and beautiful ice blue eyes and clearly enjoyed the spectable. Oh, good! He bought it!

When not so visible, Alana fell down to do some exercises to hone her little body. She hadn't had a chance to abduct Sting for quite a while – Frodo had been too observant – so she needed to find another way to train those baby muscles of hers.
However, Alana needed more than muscletone to beat Juggernaut. She needed something she suddenly came across in the midst of her 'playing'.

Mandrake.

*Remember the Sorceress' words: Vile to kill a Man, Mandrake to kill Vile!*
Mandrake was the bane of all demons. If a sword was dipped in or smeared with mandrake, it would take out any demon as long as skin was broken.
Now, were her tiny muscles strong enough to break Juggernaut's skin? It had been hard enough as an adult. Of course, Peacemaker wasn't an elven blade…

Alana was brutally ripped out of her musings by a gentle voice behind her.
"What have you got there, Alana luv?"
Surprise made her forget herself and two sharp warrior eyes peered right into Frodo's sapphire ones when she whipped round her little head. Frodo involuntarily backed a couple of inches, thoroughly pinned by the predator glance.
She was aware of it and concentrated inhumanly hard on 'deactivating' her glance. She forced round her head to look back approximately at where she had been directing her eyes when he found her. Eeerrmm…
"Mushrooms, daddy?"
She saw his eyes mellow and his stance relax. Situation diffused. She had to subject herself to harsh self-control not to let her relief show. Damn it! Time after time she had had to conclude that child bodies were considerably harder to control than adult bodies – not only in coordination, but also in body language. It didn't exactly simplify her task at hand.

"Where, honey?" Frodo asked and stooped.
"Right there, sir," she said silently, pointing at the root of a tree. She had no idea if there were mushrooms – she was taking an chance here, but there often were mushrooms growing in the shades of trees.
Frodo bent down and picked a very small mushroom.
"Not edible, this one, luvvie," he cautioned her. Then he straightened and took her hand.
"You wanna find some edible ones? I'll teach you how to see the difference!"

Was she supposed to be happy about this? She knew hobbits were absolutely potty about mushrooms – but would a human kid? Was she when she was young? She was frowning. And then Frodo was frowning. DAMN! She just didn't seem to be able to control those facial expressions. In Ghrône she had been famous for her control of her body, including expressions. How the hell could it be this different?

"What is it, little one?" Frodo asked in concern. He wanted this day to be enjoyable for her. He wanted her to find her childish joy and playfulness again. She sensed that and was struggling to find an appropriate answer…
… when she suddenly and totally unexpected broke down in a fit.

Burning sensations leaped through her body; she felt how she was penetrated again, how her flesh was burning, how she was beaten senseless and how the sword cut through her neck, severing it from her head from her body. A vision of red blonde hair that was flowing in the wind like some sick parody of a banner kept flashing through her eyes.
*LIHYMNA*

She screamed her name out soundlessly. Her servant, her friend, Lihymna. Alana felt how the girl was being raped, beaten to a pulp and decapitated.
… all by Behal/Juggernaut.

Alana fell to the grass, gritting her teeth and her entire body convulsed in shaking. The clattering of her teeth became louder and louder and the despondent screams of her household more and more creepily real. The surroundings ceased to exist. There was only pain and Alana. She wasn't even aware of her more than anxious, damn near desperate foster father, who was holding her in a firm but shiverish grip, crying 'what is it?' at her and rocking her senselessly to calm her down and comfort her.

And oh, the agony of it; the agony of losing someone dear without being able to do anything about it. The pain of being without; the pain of being alone. All revisited and experienced so many times.
When Alana finally became conscious about her surroundings, the sound of Frodo's silent sobbing reached her ears first.

"What is it,na hna honey – please tell me. Does it hurt? Where? Don't leave me! Stay with me; I'll ease your pain, I'll make it go away."
The hobbit was close to ranting while he was embracing her small body, holding it close to his own. "I'll protect you, little one. No one will ever harm you again. The Dark Lord will not get to you and the Ring will never control you again."

Alana's heavy breathing was subsiding. She was blinking in mild confusion. What the hell was he talking about? The Dark Lord and Ring reminded her of the introductory pages she had read in the Red Book. The book that he had written. Written himself…
… and then it came to her.

Frodo had experienced something horrible and he had written it down in the Red Book.
She would have to read that book! One way or the other. Just as she would have to practice with Sting. One way or the other. Just as she would have to find a way to fight and slay Juggernaut before he killed more of her friends. One way or the other.
Her burning eyes strayed to the mandrake that she was almost touching with her trembling cheek.

She must get hold of S, sm, smear it with mandrake, find Juggernaut and drive the blade deep, deep into his evil demon heart.

Simple!

*

Review! If not for me then for the woman in the hospital donating a kidney dammit! Hehehe.