Iphegeneia

Hi! And cheers for all your kind reviews. :-)
This is for Oremis and your cousin:
Thanks for your concern. Yes, I'm all recovered from the nefrectomy – that was a fact already in chapter 4 – LOL. ;-).
The operation was in April, and I had a nice long recuperation period afterwards. I originally planned that I would write a lot in those two months, but there's something about having your belly cut in twain: It sorta makes sitting painful. :-(.
So… I never got round to *really* writing until now, during my summer holiday.
I can easily sit now – I have a fascinating scar across my stomach, but that's it, no pain and no discomfort – so I will do my very best to finish this story.
Many thanks for your encouragement.

HyperHenry

… and now for the continuation of the story:

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She was the first to wake up and therefore the one to have the grace of seeing her lover in his sated sleep. So much younger he looked when his features were relaxed. She watched how his chest heaved and fell in a calm breathing rhythm, nesting next to her in safety and comfort. Her glance travelled down. Smooth, sunburnt skin, strong muscles and visible sinews, finally relaxing. She loved his shoulders, the collar bone well defined, but not too protruding and… what was this?

Right by his left collar bone was a pale scar, not horribly large or ugly, but… scary somehow. It was almost whiter than snow, looked uncomfortably cold, and for some reason, she could tell it went deep. Ever so softly, she reached down and touched it; he jerked at first, and then fell calm and even appeared to smile just a little. How very odd. Not the smile – the jerking. She could tell it was long healed and old – how come he still reacted to it? Painful scar tissue?
Her eyes went further down his body and stopped by his right arm that was lying a bit awkwardly over her left side. Frodo had fallen asleep on her 'safe' side not to harm her scarred right side; apparently his very active right hand had wanted to touch her in his sleep, which had proven, of course, rather difficult from that position.
His right hand was the one missing a finger. She cocked her head and looked at it. War, he had said; she felt that there was more to that story than just that single word. No doubt, his shoulder scar would also be connected to the tale.

As her eyes explored the rest of him, she suddenly spotted the beginning of some seemingly long scars that ran from his side and continued down his back. They weren't very distinct, but they bore the unmistakeable mark of flogging. She had seen this once before when she had visited Saudi Arabia; a man had been flogged in public and others were about to follow, their backs already exposed. She had noticed that some of these backs had long scars already – they had been through the drill before.
Those scars were almost identical to Frodo's. A shiver ran through her. Evidently she wasn't the only one with scars in this house, she realised. Till now, everything had been about her. It was time to concentrate on others than herself, she knew.
Her gaze continued down to the Hobbit's furry feet. They were so incredibly cute. Coming from a body hair despising culture, it surprised her that this much hair could look so attractive.

The form close to her sighed deeply in pre-awakening and turned his body to half cover hers. His right arm fell down to nest comfortably between them, and his left was swung over her torso, automatically landing on her right breast. Good aim, even in his sleep, she giggled inwardly.
She nuzzled his curls. They were damp from last night's… activities and his nape was a bit flushed. She herself must look something like this, she decided, her body feeling somewhat sore, still not used to this much exercise. She gently stroked the hair aside, planning to kiss on the soft skin of his neck when she stopped, stunned.
Another scar!
*Jeez!*

This particular scar looked like an oversized bug bite. She shivered again. What kind of bugs did they have here, anyway?
Nevertheless, she just had to kiss it.
Her lips connected with the flushed nape like a summer's breeze, but it still, finally, brought him out of his sleep gradually.
She noticed his eye lashes flutter in slow motion; she waited with abated breath with the same immature fascination of that of a schoolgirl. He was about to wake up, and she didn't want to miss one second of it.
He mumbled, stretched lazily and lifted his head to greet her.

"Good morning," he beamed at her.
"Good morning."
"I love you."
Her eyebrows went up in silent enquiry. She didn't know the word, 'love'. Frodo put his hand on his own heart.
"I… love…"
And then on her heart. "… you."
She grinned happily at him.
"I love you and."
"Too! You love me too," Frodo laughed in delight. He lowered his lips on hers. She could feel his small nipples growing hard against her chest. Her host, caretaker and lover was getting aroused again.
"Frodo," she murmured between kisses, nuzzling his nape.
"Mmmm?"
"You tell these?" And she let her hand stroke his scars, trying to reach them all at once, but couldn't.
"All these?"

Frodo stiffened in the middle of a kiss and sighed. Naturally, she would be curious about 'those'. Just as he had been curioboutbout her wound. But he had tried for so long to bury the horror in his heart, and he didn't want her to feel it too.
"Frodo?"
"I don't want to scare you spitless, my lady," he sighed.
"Bad?"
"So bad," his voice was but a whisper.
"Then you must …. throw off," she grasped frantically. Frodo closed his eyes in pain. Yes, he must throw away the ill thoughts, the bad dreams, the terrible past. However, as long as he remembered, it would all still be a part of him; he couldn't change that.
"Frodo, I not scare," she insisted. "Believe me," he said wryly, "you will be."

Then he jumped out of the bed with a sudden movement. "Tell you what, my beauty. I'll fix us some breakfast, and then you'll get the first part of the story – after all," he turned in the doorframe, "you, if any, should understand."

*

In his whole life, Frodo Baggins had never wished so hard that he could draw. Telling the tale of the Ring proved harder than he could ever have imagined. From context she understood a lot of the new terms he had to use, but she didn't grasp the essential *meaning* of it all. And how could she? She was from a different world.
When he told her that there had been a ring that could enslave all people in his world, the mere concept just didn't make it through her first barriers of rationale and logic. When he tried to express to her how Gandalf had burned up and come back, she looked at him with deep scepticism – more related to her own comprehension of his words than to his testimony. Resurrection just didn't happen in her world.

Okay, so there were some grounds here that could never be common. Frodo finally decided to scoot over the magical parts and just assure her that there had been such a thing as a Ring of Power and Evil, that he had been stabbed, flogged, stung and bitten for it, and that the biting creature had finally fallen into a forge, thereby killing off both itself and the Ring.

And then there was he travelling to the Eternal Land of Elves to dwell and heal – outliving everyone else, practically. That one wasn't easy for herget get either.
He looked at her with a kind of apologetic smile. Well… simple… right? She cocked her head. And then she shrugged and took his head between her hands, locking eyes with him.

"Okay, so you went on a quest to save the world. You were stabbed by ghosts, bitten by an over-dimensioned bug, flogged by monsters, and you lost your finger to an awfully hungry freak. Finally you get to settle in this fair land. Sums it up, does it?"
Frodo blinked rapidly. He hadn't understood a word she was saying. But he understood the next. She leaned in and kissed his lips gently.

"I don't presume to understand the details, but I know you are a hero that knows a helluva lot more about self-sacrifice than I ever did. I love you, Frodo Baggins. May this Land watch over you and protect you. You've earned it."
Their lips joined again. This time deliciously slowly, their lips tasting each other, their tongues playing catch and their hot breaths mingling.
Frodo could taste the morning tea on her tongue. She had a touch of lemon in it, and it stung a bit on the tip of his tongue. She started sucking on his lower lip, licking it and gently nibbling it with her teeth. It was unbelievably arousing.

"You know, you should really have some breakfast," Frodo murmured into her mouth, "you only had tea – you need something more substantial."
"I need food? Okay."
To his surprise, she crept downwards, immobilising him with her hands. And then he almost jumped from shock. She had taken his member in her mouth!!!!
What was her inten…. >umaaah<
Oh!
That was what she was doing.

Frodo had never felt anything quite like this. His lovely lady's diligent lips were lapping him, sucking him, kissing him, teasing him, tormenting him… loving him. And soon, he feared, she would be tasting him. "AaaaaH!" he hissed, as he felt the waves inside of him rise and fall. He grabbed her head, his fingers stretching and fisting her hair convulsively.
She procrastinated the agony as long as possible, the hussy. She flicked her tongue right underneath the backside of his head, licking the pre-cum that began to work its way out, circled his shaft in a maddening way, only to suck in his entire length while playing with his testicles.

His heart was now beating so hard that he was afraid it was about to leave his chest. Hardly knowing what he was doing, his abdomen had taken its own life, slamming into her mouth, clutching her hair while she was squeezing his strong, shapely little buttocks.
Finally he drove down his cock into her throat as long as he could and spurted out his seed which she hastily swallowed, gulping every pearly drop thirstily.

When he fell onto the bed next to her, his lips quivering and legs slightly twitching, she kissed him and let him taste a bit of himself on her wet lips and now salty tongue. He found it unpleasant at first; but then he felt her playing with his… rectum… and… he quite liked that.
Malou heard and felt him moan into her mouth. God, that was so incredibly arousing. Excitement flowed through her veins, numbing her soreness from the night's activities, and her southern mould started throbbing again.
"Please," she whined, hardly letting go of his sweet lips, "I need you." And she guided his head downwards.

Frodo instantly started to lick her little nub of joy that was already so very wet. Remembering what she had just done to him, he drove his thumb into her anus and rubbed the inner side of her backdoor, slowly stimulating the natural lubricant to flow. He briefly wondered if there would be place enough… no; the Hobbit nearly flushed from there mere thought of it. That wasn't done, he was sure.

On the other hand; this lady seemed so wonderfully free and uninhibited. He probed deeper, eager to feel a response.
She arched and purred like a kitten, murmuring "yes, please… in there."
"In there?" he asked, rubbing harder, wanting to make sure.
"Yes!" she nearly yelled, "now, now, now!!"

Frodo moved down a floor to lick her brown rose bud. Not that it needed it. Her butter hole was already slick and dripping with anticipation. The entrance was narrow and the ring muscle very tight. Instinctively he knew it would be nice – oh, so nice to be in there.
Malou was thrashing on the sheets, unable to control herself anymore despite the warning sting from her scar. Normally she didn't like it in the arse, but this wonderful little man would be just the right size. To help him figure out how to do it, she turned and lifted her behind, spreading wide to accommodate him. Frodo nearly lost his breath at the sight of the irresistible invitation.

Again, Nature took over and the Hobbit positioned himself, poking with his head first, then grabbing her hips and gently easing himself in.

Ooooooo – but she was tight. Ah! Frodo groaned in both pleasure and pain. So did she. She had been right. He was just right for this.
Once Frodo was in to the hilt, he reached down to stimulate her clit. It was throbbing so hard that his touch almost made her jump. Once his finger had landed on it, however, she couldn't resist rubbing her against it in impatient arousal. He started to move within her. Aaaaah – this was, indeed, so lovely tight; she was squeezing him beyond belief, and it was blowing his mind.

Malou quickly got wetter inside her rectum, his pre-cum helping to oil the way. His clever finger so busy with her joy button was getting faster and more rhythmic, just like his cock. It was driving her insane. She started to move back to meet his thrusts, and their joint rocking soon sent both of them violently over the edge, Frodo clutching her back with one hand and dancing between her folds with the other. His ejaculation filled up her entrails to the point that she almost lost feeling of him. The Hobbit twisted in and out of her a couple of more times, emptying himself completely and then collapsed on top of her, still his finger on her clit as if he was afraid that its shaking might cause it to come loose.

But she had more in her. Desperate to reach total satisfaction, she rolled over, reached down to do herself again with shivering hands. Frodo lay beside her, panting and gasping, in utter wonder at this horny woman. Feeling awfully inspired, he grabbed his own penis and quickly rubbed himself to a quick erection. Malou thought that the word 'quickie' got a new meaning. Never had she re-reached a climax this fast. They watched each other with hooded eyes as they both jerked themselves off to another explosive orgasm.
Then they kissed with wet lips and eager tongues, snuggled close, each sweaty and spent…
… and fell asleep.

*

TBC