The Quest for the Rubber Chickens of Mikhai

‘The Quest for the Rubber Chickens of Mikhai’

  ‘Exit the Forest at Last? What's the Catch?’

 

 

 

 

 

Merry, Gimli and Èowyn lay flat on the ground, stock-still. The chicken
before all seven shifted restlessly from one foot to the other.

        “You folk are quite prone to
fainting easily. How queer.”

        Èomer growled low in his
throat.

        “Calm, noble Rohirrim. I
meant no offense, I was merely commenting on what I have observed.”

        “You've been watching us?”
Legolas burst out. If someone had been following them, surely he would have
heard. The idea of someone spying on him made him shudder. The Chicken turned
its beady black eyes in his direction.

        “Legolas, this is an enchanted
forest. Of course someone is going to be watching us. Don't you listen to the
fables? It's really common,” Pippin said from his spot beside Faramir's leg.

        “The Small One is wise in
the ways of magic. Has he been offered a job somewhere?”

        “I'm a soldier for Gondor,”
Pippin answered. The Chicken's face turned downcast on this news.

        “Quite a pity. You would
make a terrific Chicken.”

        “No kidding,” muttered Faramir.

        “You flatter me,” Pippin said
bashfully.

        The Chicken shook its wise
head. “I speak the truth.”

        “I see...” said Pippin, not
reallying ing anything at all. He looked up at Faramir for help, but the man
was avoiding his eye.

        A groaning sound came from the
right; Merry and Gimli were waking.

        “Merry!” Pip yelled running to
his friend. He helped Merry sit up and whispered something in his ear. The
other Hobbit looked round before his eyes settled on the Chicken.

        “You!” he shrieked jumping up.
“Get away from me!” he shut his eyes hard and scooted away from the front of
the Coop. “Don't touch me!” he rolled himself into a fetal position, shaking.

        “What's wrong with him?” Èomer
asked, a hint of worry noticeable.

 &n&nbs      “The forest is taking effect on
him. He is hallucinating.”

        “Merry! These Chickens are good
Chickens,” Pippin tried, gently touching the other Hobbit's cold, sweaty, face.

        “No! I said I don't like beef
stew!”

        He pulled his head back
instantly. “Really?”

        “AYE-AYE-AYE-AYE-AYE-AYE!”

        Merry's eyes rolled to the back
of his head and he began flicking his tongue out in rhythmic jolts and wiggles.

        Pippin went pale, turning to
the Chicken. “We've got to get him out of here.”

        The Chicken looked grave.

        “I am afraid you cannot. At least
not yet.”

        “Why?” Gimli, Legolas and Èomer
squealed, suddenly alarmed. Can't get out? What? That wasn't right!

        “Well, due to the defensive
spell placed on the forest, you must regain sanity before leaving.”

        “But what about Merry?” Pippin
cried. Tears began to stain the bottoms of his eyes a glassy, reflective white.

        “I cannot tell you what
would save Merriadoc,” the Chicken replied. “It is a personal reactito tto the enchantment of the forest, there is no definite cure.”

        “If Merry turns into a Chicken,
then I will with him!” Pippin declared in a new resolute voice.

        “Oh, shut up. You will not,”
grumbled Faramir. He looked at the Chicken with no fear or awe on his face, but
harsh determination and malice. “Let us out of here, asshole. And you're coming
with us.” Not a request, but a demand.

        Pippin threw a rock at the man.

        “Don't talk that way to the
Chicken!” Faramir turned to the small soldier. His eyes were a glowing green.

        “Don't talk that way to me, you
snot-nosed Hobbit!” (Pippin hastily wiped his nose)

        “Faramir! Show some of the
respect you give Aragorn to the Chicken! He is the one who has tried to protect
us in the forest! Stop acting like your father!”

        All Hell broke loose.

        Faramir lunged at Pippin, who
moved to the right so the man hit the wall of the Coop. He growled and turned,
searching for the insulting Hobbit. He was hiding behind Èomer. The captain
lunged again, trying to fake a right on said man. It almost worked, but at the
last second, the Rohirrim's arm swung out and caught him across the chest. Then
Èomer brought his other arm around to grasp Faramir's shoulder, pulling the
other man away from Pippin.

        “You know he doesn't understand
most of what he says,”

        “Let's put an end to this
madness, starting with him! It's been driving me to the point of insanity even
when we first started out on this quest! Now my wife has discarded me, I can't
get that cursed Chicken-chant out of my head, my breath smells like ass, and
I'm falling in love with a man! All because of THAT!” he jabbed a finger at the
fluffy, rather innocent looking Chicken.

 p;&np;      “You've...fallen for a man?”
Èomer asked, breathless.

        “Fallen...for...a--No! Mistake.
I've umm...” he looked around desperately for an alibi. “Fallen for this
groundhog!” Faramir picked up the newly discovered rodent that was now digging
away at its hole in a terrified frenzy (I would be too...).

        “C'mere you,” Faramir
practically screamed. He picked it up by its thick neck and kissed it full on
the face. Both he and the groundhog yelped.

        Èomer blinked, his jaw agape,
with slight tears in his eyes. Pippin smiled successfully at Faramir's supposed
new soul mate.

        Inwardly Faramir cringed at the
huge lie he just told. Plus the fact that he had just kissed a groundhog.

        Sadly, he threw the creature to
the ground. “Ok, not my soul-mate. Wrong person, my bad.” Pippin cracked up and
the Chicken looked smug. Èomer seemed to collapsed in unidentified relief.

        The Chicken coughed.

        “If you'll turn your
attention back to me...yes, that's better. Now, the most I can do for you now,
are to let you out of that Coop. After that you are free to wander the forest.
Remember, you cannot leave until sanity has been regained. And, I would not
wander alone.”

        Èowyn sat up at the mention of ‘let
you out’. “We can leave?” she asked excitedly.

        Yellow-Bird swiveled his head
to eye her. “Had you not fainted, you would have heard the conversation
following. I shall not explain it again.”

        The blonde eyed him hungrily.
“Why you little-“ the magic burst to life in her. "Hot, sexy pile of
feathers!” she ran to the front of the Coop and kneeled before him. “My King!”

        “Well, it seems like she's over
Aragorn,” Legolas muttered to Gimli out of the corner of his mouth. The Dwarf
nodded his agreement.

        "Err, yeah..."
Yellow-Bird muttered nervously, backing away. "Fellighran...let...these
Men...out..." he gulped.

        The Coop disappeared instantly,
without a word of command. Heads turned in every direction, looking around and
taking in their surroundings. Merry, Faramir and Pippin were still on the
ground however, and they looked like they were going to move anytime soon,
especially since Merry was still mumbling to himself.

        Èomer's sister took this
opportunity to run after the Chicken with open arms. He squawked loudly and
took off, flapping feebly in the other direction. The Cawona had disappeared
sometime in the mess.

        “Well...uh...what now?” Pippin
asked, scratching the back of his head. Èomer looked at him helplessly.

        “I think the best we can do is
to get these two somewhere else, sleep then decide what to do in the morning.
What about you, Faramir?” the Gondorian didn't answer. He stared after the spot
where his ex-wife had disappeared to...after the Chicken. “Faramir?”

        The Rohirrim walked over and
put his hand on Faramir's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

       &;“Wh;“What do you think?” was the
spat answer. Èomeghedghed.

        “C'mon. We must find a somewhat
safe spot to camp. The Halflings are worse off than we,” he offered his hand,
which was gratefully, but somewhat reluctantly taken. Faramir made a point of
avoiding the other's eyes. Once up, he stormed over to the plaherehere Merry
lay curled up, picked him off the ground and flung him over his shoulder,
before walking off in some random direction. Èomer stared after him somewhat
sadly.

        “You love him, don't you?”
Pippin asked quietly, plucking himself up, brushing off his behind. Èomer
sighed.

        “Yes, I do. I don't know why.
Something about his mysterious ways, his brooding moods and his stunning beauty
draw me to him. It's like a tug of Elven rope that refuses to let go,” he
explained, choosing his words carefully. Pippin nodded in complete
understanding.

        “Then let's go after them, so
we don't-“

        “Are you two coming or not?”
Faramir yelled from somewhere to their left. Both sighed again and started
after him.

        It was pitch black when they
found a spot that Pippin declared was safe enough for them to rest without
worry. (They think he still had a snail concealed somewhere in his clothes)

        Faramir set Merry down gently,
covering the little Hobbit with his long sleeved tunic. The cool night air did
not bother him one bit. Casually, Pippin went ad cod collecting bits of wood,
and started a small, but warming fire. Then he lay down beside his Hobbit-buddy
and went to sleep.

        That left Èomer and Faramir
awake.

        The sound of night birds echoed
through a permanent wind that blew thick at the bottom of the forest. It
swirled devilishly around the two men who sat across from one another in the
fire, enticing the want for soft caresses, kisses of heat and longing, and the
feverish feeling of being so dangerously close to that other person.

        That fever reflected in Èomer's
eyes as he stared across the whipping flames at Faramir.

        “It is so calm,” Faramir
breathed, his eyes closed as he turned his head to let the chilly breeze cool
his fire-heated face. “Like an Elven song.”

        “Nay, to me it is anything but
calming,” replied Èomer. “It awakens me, it brings me to see my soul with
clarity now.”

        “What do you mean?”

        “I believe I have found the one
that I am bound to by soul,” Èomer said with a boldness that he did not feel.
He stared into Faramir's icy eyes.

        Faramir blinked. “Èomer, I
believe you're getting a boner.”

        “What? Oh, no, that snail's
still there.” He reached down into his pants, grimaced, and pulled out the
snail that must have came off of Pippin. He stared at it in wonder before
throwing it to the floor and squashing it with a satisfying splat. “And I
thought I was getting that genital disease.”

        “Maybe you are. It still looks
pretty swollen.”

        “Let's forget about that.
Faramir, the feeling I get with you is indescribable. It has been a love that I
have tried to quench since the time I first met you. But it has only grown
since then. The forest has brought it out to practically an unbearable burden.
Unless I hear the same from you.”

        The Gondorian was silent at
these soft words; he sat there staring into the storm cloud eyes of the
Rohirrim. Èomer looked away, his mind already set on taking the rejection. He
breathed in heavily and got up from the ground, walking in the opposite
direction from where his true love sat. His guard was down, tears were glinting
in his eyes, and his loins weren't easing the pain.

        Suddenly, he felt a small hand
on his wrist, pulling him around. He only had seconds to glimpse the ginger
colored hair of the man he had poured his heart to, before he was shoved
roughly against a tree, chapped lips delectably covering his own.

        “You,” Faramir said against his
lips, “are to be the love of my life.” Then he delved into Èomer's mouth with a
sudden urgency, ripping open the loose ties of his shirt and gliding his hands
over the man's rock- hard pecs.

        Èomer tilted his head back and
accepted the passionate embrace, pulling himself into Faramir more closely so
they were comforted by each other's heat in the biting cold. He reached down to
Faramir's slim waist and grasped it, enjoying the feeling of the solid weight
of his manhood against Èomer's own.

        Now Faramir's mouth was
plunging down the side of his neck. He playfully nibbled Èomer's collarbone,
eliciting a deeper, more gravelly moan from the back of his throat.

        Èomer was clearly enjoying the
attention his muscled chest was getting. The wavering heat pouring from off
both their bodies, and clashing; mixing together before dissipating.

        Then, Faramir was at his navel,
brushing a hand against his lower stomach. The Rohirrim spasmed slightly and
snorted in laughter. Faramir paused and looked up, quirking an eyebrow.

        “Is someone slightly ticklish?”
he taunted, jabbing his fingers lightly on the spot. This time, Eomer giggled,
folding at the stomach.

        “D-don't...do that!” he
squeaked, sending Faramir into bouts of laughter.

        “Looks like I've found your
weak spot," he chuckled. "Shall we see if I can find another?” he
whispered seductively in the other's ear. Èomer shivered considerably and
moaned at thouthought of what this man could do to him.

        The Rohirrim recovered quickly,
however and was now able to look Faramir in the eye. “Most certainly, but it
should probably be taken away from the campsite. Don't want to scar any
innocent Hobbit minds, do we?” he grinned, the devil winds fierce within him.

        “Innocent? I think not.”
Faramir pointed to the other side of the fire, where Merry and Pippin's
silhouette could clearly be seen. It seemed Pippis has having fun raping the
now-awake and alert Merry. But then again, there didn't seem to be much protest
from the receiving side.

        “Still...” Èomer said, trying
to keep his face straight. The image of two Hobbits having sex was too funny.

        “Then we will go to the hot
springs,” was the answer. He put an arm around the other man's waist, rubbing
his hipbone with his thumb in circular motions. Èomer laid a less-aggressive
hand behind Faramir's neck and they walked on.

        By the time they got into the
spring, Èomer's pants and Faramir's entire outfit had been discarded to the
side. The Gondorian was delighted to find that the guy went commando (what else
could they go?) for most of the time, and as soon as they climbed into the
warm, clear water, he attacked the lower half of Èomer's body.

        He took the King's wealth into
his hands and could barely contain himself as his hand stroked the hardening
skin. There was no need for the receiving party to rise to attention, though,
and his body began to squirm in pleasure to Faramir's sensual touch. He
threaded his hands through the ginger locks of his lover and kissed him deeply,
bucking his hips to gain more friction.

        Faramir continued his
ministrations, kissing the Rohirrim back harshly, with quick nips. The other's
lips dripped out a bit of blood, which was sucked dry immediately.

        As the Gondorian sped up,
Èomer’s thrusts became rougher and more needy.

        Then, it was stopped.

        Èomer cracked open an eye and
looked down at Faramir, who was looking at him with dark blue, lust-filled
eyes. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

        “Please, Èomer, I need you. I
want you to take me, make me bleed, make me scream your name in pleasure and
pain.” The other man nodded, not quite grasping what had just been requested,
but pulled him over to the east bank anyway. Once there, he lifted Faramir out
of the water and laid him on the bank, climbing in between the other's legs.

        The other's manhood stood tall
and proud in the moonlight, just inviting Eomer's mouth to devour him whole. He
did so, making Faramir groan in surprise and ecstasy. He flicked his tongue
around and underneath the layer of skin that covered the head. He swallowed as
much as he could, willing his gag reflex to not react. Then he went back up,
teeth grazing the skin ever so lightly.

        Now it was Faramir's turn to
giggle. The feeling was tingly and erotic. It turned him on more, but before he
could think about any of it, Èomer pulled away, leaving him cold and horny.

        “On your knees.” he ordered in
his most Kingly voice. It was done so submissively, and teasingly. Faramir
turned too slow for Eomer's likiThe The wind kissed his face and newly exposed
ass sweetly. (New meaning to the phrase ‘kiss my ass’). Breathing heavily,
Èomer leaned over to Faramir's ear. “Prep or no?” said man could only shake his
head. "So be it."

        He grabbed the other's hips in
a death-grip and thrust in roughly. Faramir groaned in pain, but it was quickly
replaced by an enormous amount of pleasure as Èomer started jerking himself in
and out harshly, grinding heavily. The soothing night air-cooled their bodies a
bit, but both were still covered in a slick sheen of sweat.

        “H-harder. Please, Èomer. Make
mreamream your name!” Faramir all but shouted. His demand was granted with
equal passion, the King losing it all and pounding into his love with reckless
abandon. Boromir's brother moaned Èomer's name loudly, his hand moving toward
his own length. It was jerked away as the Rohirrim's strong, calloused hand
took over.

        They both were lost in a round
world of hazy passion, moaning each other's name loudly, and breathing heavily.
Faramir's climax came faster than expected, bathing the sand below him in the
sticky, white substance. His velvet inner walls clenched down on Èomer's own
manhood, squeezing and rubbing it, bringing him to the point of completion. He
shot his load into the Gondorian's tight passamoanmoaning his name loudly.

        Faramir collapsed to his
stomach, Èomer on top. It was a few minutes before Eomer pulled out and rolled
over, pulling his lover into a tight, possessive embrace. The King kissed the
top of Faramir's head, mumbling something incoherent before drifting off into
the bliss of sleep.

        “Yeah, I love you, too,”
Faramir whispered back, the words muffled by the arm covering his mouth. He,
too, was soon asleep.

       

 

 

 

 

“Jeez, it took 'em long enough, don't you think?”

        Yellow-bird turned to the woman
laying next to him, but she was sound asleep.

        “Humans...no stamina at all...”

//

Authors Notes: Ah! The plot thickens a bit! Faramir and Èomer are together,
Pippin and Merry are together. Èowyn ran off after the Chicken and...hey! What
happened to Gimli and Legolas? You'll find out in the next chapter...please
read and review!