When the Wizard’s Away…

They're not mine, I don't get any money from writing this so no harm done eh?
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Trudge….trudge…trudge…

It seemed a lifetime that they had been wandering through the wilds, keeping the relentless pace set by their aptly named guide. When the folk of Bree called him Strider, they weren’t kidding. His long legs ate up the miles without effort and his four Hobbit charges’ shorter legs had to work doubly hard to keep up most of the time. He drove them forward from the time the sun broke the horizon in the morning until well after the sun dipped below the trees at night. And through it all, he spoke very little and kept to himself.

Daily, hunger gnawed at them. It plagued them almost as tenaciously as the mud and muck that caked them from the bottoms of their hairy feet to the tips of their delicately pointed ears. For Hobbits, used to food in abundance, the meager fare they managed during the daily trek barely whet their substantial appetites. Although Strider’s skill with the bow kept them well provisioned when they stopped for the night, it was a long time between breakfast at first light and their nighttime meal.

At midday, a brief stop brought ease to their aching feet but not the grumbling in their bellies.

“Merry,” Pippin whispered, his voice barely a whimper, “I’m hungry…”

“I know, Pip, we all are.” Merry clapped him warmly on the shoulder. “Try not to think about it.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t get it out of my head,” Pippin whined.

Frodo smiled at his young cousin and nibbled the dry provender that Strider allowed them during these daily breaks. Although he too was tired and hungry his thoughts found purchase on another hazard of the road. He was smelly and dirty from head to toe. “What I wouldn’t give for a bath.”

“Mr. Frodo?” Sam questioned, only half hearing his master’s mutterings. “Did you say something?”

“Oh nothing, Sam,” Frodo sighed, “Except I was thinking how wonderful a nice hot bath would be right now.”

Sam only nodded in agreement, fiddling with his pack and re-securing a pan that had nearly come undone. “Aye, that it would, Mr. Frodo. I don’t suppose we’ll see one of them before Rivendell.”

“Time to get moving,” Strider toned, quietly, before Frodo could answer. If the Ranger heard their complaints, he made no indication as he hustled them to their feet, and drove them on their way.

‘No rest for the weary,’ Frodo thought with a sigh, ‘And no food either.’

“He’s heartless he is,” Sam muttered, steadying Frodo who stumbled at his side.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Sam,” Frodo said in the man’s defense. His eyes watched the Ranger’s lithe movement at the front of their little group. “I think he’s got more heart than he’d care to admit to. I believe that’s why he’s seems so sad.”

“You can’t be serious, Mr. Frodo.”

“But I am.” Frodo paused to reposition his pack straps and turned to face his gardener friend.

“I’ve watched him at night, Sam, when he’s been keeping guard,” Frodo admitted. “He sits and stares into the sky, watching the stars. Sometimes he sings. Sad sounding songs, though I don’t know the meaning of the words. But you can tell they are sad, just by the haunted look in his eyes. Sometimes he even watches us as we sleep.” Frodo paused, thoughtfully. “ I think he’s lonely. We cling together at night – you and I, Merry and Pippin – but out here he has no one – no comfort in the darkness. I think it’s sad.”

Sam shrugged, the pots on his pack rattling. “If you say so, Mr. Frodo.”

*****

“Enough for one day,” the Ranger stated, matter-of-factly.

Strider brought the little group to a halt, even though the sun still lay a ways above the horizon and there was light yet visible amongst the trees. He knew the four Halflings were exhausted and needed more rest than he had allowed them since leaving Bree. He critically surveyed the clearing they had entered and nodded in approval. It was sheltered and easily defensible. The low hanging trees made a small bower at the clearing’s back – an indent just large enough for the four small Hobbits to sleep in. Not quite a Hobbit hole but out of the wind at least. Strider smiled, a bare twitching of the corners of his mouth. Perfect.

“We camp here tonight.”

With small groans, the four Hobbits dropped their heavy packs and collapsed to the spongy ground. They didn’t dare to hope that the Ranger’s words were true. Could their march truly be done for the day? They were bone weary and more than ready to stop for the night, early or not.

“Set up camp and get the fire going. I’ll see what I can find for supper.” The Ranger dropped all his gear except bow, arrows and sword and headed off into the trees. “Don’t wander off. It may not be safe.”

The Hobbits watched him go and marveled at the energy he could manage after their long day’s march.

“Does he never tire?” Merry wondered, lying back on the ground. “He walks all day and keeps watch most of the night. I don’t know how he does it.”

“I don’t care how he does it, Merry, ” Pippin groaned, closing his sleepy eyes. “As long as he doesn’t expect us to do the same,

Frodo only smiled and began to gather some sticks while Sam busied himself making a fire.

*****

“There, Master Peregrin, was that enough of a meal to heal your aching belly?” Strider questioned as the young Hobbit groaned in pleasure – a plateful if bones the only remnant of a hearty meal, swiftly devoured.

The Ranger tapped the ash out of his pipe and glanced around the circle of happy Halflings. They all were likewise sated from a bountiful feast and it showed in their happy faces. Although his hunting had failed to produce a large animal, Strider was able to bring in several smaller ones – enough to fill Sam’s stew pot to brimming. Some potatoes, fresh greens, mushrooms and berries had completed the fare – leaving the Halflings stuffed and content.

“It is indeed, Mr. Strider,” Pippin admitted with a sigh.

The man smiled – a rare treat which, Frodo couldn’t help but notice, brought a kind of softness to his rough and ragged features. “Good. ‘Tis nothing so sad to see as a starving Hobbit – except perhaps for a dirty and bedraggled one.”

The words were gentle but chiding and Strider smiled again while Frodo blushed. The Hobbit realized, as he had suspected all along, that even their quiet conversations weren’t safe from the Ranger’s sensitive ears.

“I’m sure you’re sick to death of our constant complaining, Strider,” Frodo admitted apologetically, “We really are quite grateful for your guidance…”

“No, Frodo, don’t apologize,” Strider laughed, a twinkle in his stormy eyes, “You are doing well all things considered. I’ve traveled with far more disagreeable companions in my long days. And ones with far less reason to complain than the four of you. But, enough of that…I have a surprise for you, for all of you.”

The Ranger rose from where he sat on his heals and beckoned the Hobbits to follow him. He pushed through the trees and out of the clearing holding back branches for the shorter Halflings. They followed diligently, as they had learned to do over the last handful of days since they’d left Bree. The Ranger was so sure of their obedience he felt no need to look back to see if they were there.

He led them a short way from the camping spot, over a small tumble of stones and down a gentle slope. As they walked on, curiosity seized the small group. Where was Strider leading them and what surprise did he have in store.

It was Frodo who first noticed the telltale sign of cattails and reeds, and a slight damp feeling to the evening air. All sure indications of fresh standing water.

“Oh, Strider, is it really?” Frodo gasped, realization sinking in. He grinned broadly at the thought…the Ranger had found them a place to bathe.

Strider spread his hands in defeat. “I’m afraid it isn’t hot, but it’s the best I could manage. I hope it will do.”

“Oh, Strider, it’s wonderful!” Frodo exclaimed, throwing his arms around the Ranger’s waist and giving him a generous squeeze. “Just wonderful!”

“It’s fed by an underground spring, so the water is cold but clean,” Strider explained, detaching himself from the Hobbit – conscious of Frodo’s hands on his back and warm cheek pressed against his belly. “I will keep guard while you wash. Oh, you might want this.” He tossed Frodo a paper wrapped packet he’d had tucked in his belt and turned with a sudden movement.

The Ranger wandered a few feet away from the pool, where a rock stood sentinel over the bathing spot. Climbing to a higher vantage point on the stone, Strider willed his heart to slow from it’s fast beating and he took a deep breath to quell the butterflies that had sprung to life in his stomach. He could still feel the tingle where the Hobbit had embraced him and the thought brought color to his tanned face. He didn’t know what had come over him these past few days traveling with the Halflings, but the Ranger didn’t like it. Lately he felt like a youth with no control over his emotions. He had a duty to Frodo and that duty didn’t allow for the stirrings that he couldn’t seem to help but feel. No, Strider didn’t like that one bit.

Frodo hesitated for only a moment, watching Strider’s sudden retreat with confusion, before shrugging his shoulders and shucking his travel-stained clothes. With a whoop he ran into the pool, his three companions following barely steps behind him.

The water was cold and the shock momentarily took Frodo’s breath away. Droplets tingled over his bare skin, and he had to admit that even though it was cold, the water felt good. He dipped his head under the surface and raised it with a shake and a quiet laugh.

The paper packet that Strider had given him turned out to hold what Frodo had suspected – a bar of soap. Rough though it was, the bar was softly scented, smelling of pine and spice and other odors that brought to mind the outdoors. As Frodo breathed the heady and wonderful scent, he found it familiar and somehow comforting. He inhaled the smell again, closing his eyes, and realized with a start where he’s smelled it before. It was the scent that had lingered on the sheets and blankets in the Ranger’s bed at Bree that night they’d stayed in his room, hiding from the Ringwraiths. It was the scent that he could smell under the other baser scents of sweat, smoke and musk that surrounded the dark-haired man. In spite of the cold water, the young Hobbit began to feel a pleasant stirring in his body at the thought of their roughly handsome guide.

He glanced to where Strider sat on guard and his heart leaped in surprise to see the Ranger’s gray eyes watching him. The man glanced swiftly away, but Frodo felt there could be no mistaking the hungry look…

The young Hobbit lathered his head with the soap and dipped it under the cold water again. He glanced under dripping lashes to where the Ranger sat, to find him watching the bathers once more. Frodo smiled a mischievous little grin and started rubbing the soap slowly and deliberately over his bare body, pausing almost imperceptibly over his groin and backside. He cautiously glanced again to where the Ranger sat and wanted to giggle. Strider was definitely watching him with interest.

“Hey, Frodo,” Pippin complained, “Don’t hog the soap.”

“All right Pippin,” Frodo acquiesced, breaking off a piece of the bar and passing the rest to his cousin. ontiontinued to soap his body slowly, allowing his hands to linger over his belly and bottom while watching the Ranger under his long lashes.

“Frodo, what are you doing?” Merry hissed in the barest of whispers, sliding up beside his kinsman and breathing heavily in his ear. “You’re making me all hot. And Sam is probably about ready to die.”

“Looks like you’re not the only one,” Frodo barely mouthed, turning his face away from Strider’s direction before breaking into a grin. He gripped Merry’s hand and steered him closer to where Sam and Pippin were rinsing soap from their hair.

“Mr. Frodo, what are you doing?” Sam began, his face flushed – having noticed his companion’s teasing show, but Frodo quickly shushed him.

“Sam, Pippin…” Frodo whispered drawing them closer. “Look.”

He motioned discreetly to where Strider sat still watching them. The three looked carefully in the Ranger’s direction noting his relentless gaze.

“I have an idea,” Frodo admitted, “On how to break the ice with our silent Ranger guide…”

In a few moments, Frodo had them all laughing merrily.

*****

Strider could hear the Hobbits giggling and whispering quietly amongst themselves but their words were borne away from him by the gentle breeze that had begun to blow. He wanted to look away from where they frolicked in the water – first splashing playfully then purposefully soaping each other’s backs – but he couldn’t force his eyes away. He could feel warmth flare in his belly, and below, and swallowed against the lump in his throat. Frodo had been right about one thing the other day on the road. He was lonely, more than they could ever imagine. It drove him mad when he could hear their quiet sounds at night, sounds that he knew were the product of their intimacy. Yet he knew, no matter what his desire might be, he couldn’t allow his guard to be lowered for even a moment. Not until he’d safely guided the Ring-bearer to Rivendell. Only he seemed to realize how dangerous their journey really was.

He allowed his mind wandered briefly, deep in thought, as he rested his arms on his drawn-up knees and continued to watch his little charges as they played in the water. He could feel loneliness ache in his heart keeping time with the nagging throb between his legs. It was going to be a long and uncomfortable night, but perhaps, when the Hobbits were asleep, a quick dip in the icy pool wouldn’t be such a bad idea…

“Strider…” It was Frodo crying out in alarm, a sound which snapped the Ranger from his thoughts and swiftly to his feet. “Strider!”

The Ranger leaped effortlessly from the rock and ran the short distance to the pool. Sam, Pippin and Merry had left the water and were on the shore standing helplessly. They all watched Frodo who stood stock still in the water, his eyes wide.

“Help…my foot…” Frodo pleaded, his blue eyes wide and frightened.

Strider plunged into the water and reached for the dark-haired Hobbit. His hands gripped the Halfling’s small naked body below the arms and lifted him out out effort from the water. Frodo’s legs encircled the Ranger’s waist and he wrapped his arms around Strider’s strong neck laying his head of wet ringlets on the man’s shoulder. He trembled in the cool air and snuggled into Strider’s chest. The Ranger cradled him carefully and waded to the shore from the pool.

“Frodo, what happened…are you all right?” The Ranger’s look was concerned as he laid the Hobbit on the ground. He took the Hobbit’s foot gently into his hands and looked it over carefully. “I don’t see any bruising…no cuts….”

Frodo blushed, gently wriggling his furry toes in the man’s grasp. He glanced up into his rescuer’s face with a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. The Hobbit laughed softly at Strider’s confusion.

“You’re not hurt…then why?”

“To get you closer, Strider…” Frodo admitted, leaning easily back on his arms, his naked body glistening with water. “To get your guard down,”

“But why?”

“For this…” Frodo whispered.

The three other Hobbits pounced on the Ranger with childlike laughs, catching him by surprise and tumbling him to his back on the spongy ground. For a second, Strider tensed and frowned. Pippin and Merry were giggling as they lay across his arms, while Sam draped himself over both of the man’s legs. Frodo chuckled deeply in his throat and crawled past Sam to lean his naked body on Strider’s chest. Of course the Ranger could have easily fought his way free but confusion and just a little curiosity stayed his course. He glanced at Frodo his face a mask of questions.

“Caught you.” Frodo laughed, his small, nimble hands toying with the lacing on the man’s tunic. “Caught you looking…”

“I don’t…” Strider started but Frodo hushed him with a finger to his lips.

“Shhhh…you don’t need to deny, or explain.” Frodo shushed. “We don’t mind, in fa’d s’d say we’re a little flattered that you were interested in taking a peek.”

Strider could feel the warmth of four bodies touching him. “Frodo, I…” He couldn’t stop his face from flushing at the thought while his heart pounded like thunder in his ears. “Please. Don’t.”

Frodo lowered his soft lips tosh tsh the Rangers throat and smiled at the sharp intake of breath his touch elicited. He let the tip of his tongue flick out to savor the salty taste of the man’s skin and nibbled along his bristled jaw line.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. We’re not.” He smiled and climbed to straddle the Ranger’s belly, his soft naked body pressing into Strider’s travel hardened one. “And you don’t have to be lonely, not while we’re here with you.”

The other three Hobbits nodded in agreement, watching the man with sincere eyes. “Let us help you, Mister Strider,” Sam asked, “You’ve certainly done so much for us already.”

Pippin nodded. “Let us show you how much we appreciate what you do.”

“I’m dirty.” Strider protested without conviction. He couldn’t stop his body from hardening in betrayal, a bulge pressing tightly against his, wet trousers, at the thought of the beautiful little Halflings.

“We can take care of that too,” Merry and Pippin both chimed in. “But you have to promise not to move! We want your word!”

“All right….all right…” Strider agreed with a chuckle. “You have me at a serious disadvantage.”

“Your word first,” Merry reminded sternly.

“You have my word, Master Meriadoc,” he promised. “I swear it.”

The two young Hobbits released the Ranger’s arms and after a quick conference, Pippin raced off toward camp while Merry retrieved the remains of the bar of soap they had dropped on the ground near the water.

“Well, don’t just lay there you two,” Merry chided of Frodo and Sam, “We can’t wash him with his clothes on…”

Frodo and Sam leaped into action, their deft hands working at the Ranger’s clothes. While Sam struggled to remove the man’s wet boots, Frodo turned his attention to Strider’s tunic. From where he sat on the man’s belly, he tugged the fabric out from under the Ranger’s belt and pulled it slowly from between his own legs. He eased his arms under the shirt, rubbing his fingertips and palms gently over the man’s hard muscled ribs, and slid them up to his chest.

He let his warm palms rest briefly on the Ranger’s nipples, which were already taut, then pinched each one gently between his thumb and forefinger. The man groaned deep in his throat and placed his hands over Frodo’s stopping him. Frodo laughed, a musical sound, and kissed the Ranger’s hands – one then the other. He continued to ease the shirt up and bade the man raise his body so the garment could be removed. He bent down to brush his cheek and lips against the soft down of hair that covered the man’s chest and breathed deeply of the masculine scent that lingered there.

“There, half way done…” he sighed, his breath warm on Strider’s flesh.

Feeling the man tremble beneath him, he glanced over his shoulder to where Sam was gently stroking the Ranger’s now bare feet. The gardener Hobbit smiled, his face flushed with excitement and amusement.

“Have you ever seen such cute little feet, Mister Frodo?” Sam questioned, eyes twinkling. “I’ve always wondered how men, arge rge as they are, can walk on such small feet – I mean small by Hobbit standards that is…meaning no offense, Mr. Strider.”

The Ranger couldn’t help but chuckle as Sam blushed. He had himself, recently marveled at the large size and hirsute nature of Hobbit feet. He couldn’t help but note their suitability for travel as the Halflings had covered terrain that was difficult for him even in boots. After having touched Frodo’s foot just moments before, feeling the leathery sole and softly furred top, he could see why they didn’t require a covering. They were remarkably well designed appens.
s.

Frodo nodded with a smile of his own, sliding from his perch across the man’s middle. “Yes they are nice Sam. Shall we see about the rest of him?”

The young Hobbit moved to his “captive’s” side and worked at the buckle on the Ranger’s belt. The clasp gave way with a clink, releasing his arsenal of weapons to lay on the ground. Frodo slid the belt from under the man’s hips, then carefully moved the weaponry to the side and out of the way. Releasing the man’s feet, Sam joined Frodo in unbuttoning the trousers with deft fingers. This done, both Hobbits worked at easing the wet garment from the man’s narrow hips, freeing his hardening manhood, at last, to the cool night air.

They both gaped for a split-second, amazed at the organ’s size – having never seen a man in this state before.

“Oh my,” Sam sighed, eyes widening and his own body responding in kind. “Nothing like his feet…”

Frodo recovered first, and he ded hed his eyes reluctantly from Strider’s erect shaft and busied his hands with removing the wet breeches from the leg on his side. Sam was a little more entranced by the Ranger’s near naked body and he couldn’t help but stare. Seeing that Sam made no attempt to continue Frodo freed the Ranger’s other leg as well and tossed the pants to join the tunic.

The Ranger’s cheeks colored ever so slightly – embarrassed at the gardener Hobbit’s reaction more than the fact that he was layinked ked under the gaze of these young Halflings. He was curious and resigned, his body betraying his need. He wanted to feel their small hands on him, wanted to touch their perfect, unspoiled bodies in return. He waited for them to lead the way. He was, after all, their captive.

Pippin carried one of Sam’s cooking pans, full of water, from the pool while Merry knelt beside the Ranger with soap and a cloth in hand. He dipped his rag in the water and lathered it well with soap. He took the Ranger’s arm and rubbed it gently covering every inch from fingertips to shoulder. He continued across the man’s chest, swirling circles through the fine covering of hair. Strider trembled at the touch, his nerves on fire, and groaned.

“Come on, the rest of you,” Pippin ordered, producing more cloths and dipping them in the pan, “There’s a lot of him to wash…”

Each Hobbit seized a piece and passed the soap around. Pippin took on the other side of the Ranger’s upper body rubbing his small hands over quivering muscles and taut belly, lingering teasingly over the belly button. Sam and Frodo in turn, attacked bare feet and legs, caressing them with gentle but firm strokes, each one in a leisurely race to be the first to reach the man’s now fully erect member. Their fingers stroked his thighs and swirled soap over every inch of flesh while carefully bypassing the one thing they both were eager to touch.

The Ranger’s body arched in pleasure as both Hobbits’ hands glided gently across his pelvis, reaching his organ at the same time. They both stroked it softly with soapy fingers one after the other, bringing tremors to the man’s body. The Ranger’s fingers dug into the grass at his sides and he moaned deep in his throat. He thought he would go mad with the touch of those eight soft hands os bos body.

“Roll over,” Merry commanded of the Ranger, when he deemed the front of him to be sufficiently soaped and rinsed. Strider complied a little reluctantly, rolling first to his side, then belly, as the four Hobbits attacked this untouched flesh with a renewed fervor.

Frodo stroked strong shoulders, running his small hands over them with practiced ease. The dark-haired Hobbit marveled at the ripple of muscles that bulged beneath the flesh of Strider’s back, thighs and buttocks – smiling when they quivered from his touch. Kneeling beside him, Sam stroked the Ranger lightly down the spine with one hand while his other softly cupped and caressed one firm butt cheek. Pippin nipped teasingly at the man’s ear, eliciting a sharp intake of breath, while running soapy fingers through the tangle of his dark hair. Merry having run for more water followed each of his fellows, rinsing soapy hair and flesh with gentle trickles. The water was cold but the chill could do nothing to cool the fire that the Ranger felt in his loins. He closed his eyes and shuddered, his body trembling from desire.

“Cold, Strider?” Frodo’s breath was warm in his ear as he spoke. He rubbed the Ranger’s ear and neck with gentle strokes, following the cloth with little kisses along his temple and cheek.

“Elbereth, Frodo, how could I be cold?” the Ranger questioned in a husky whisper.

Again, that musical laughter and Strider eased up onto one elbow, daring a look at the perfect little fellow who sat close by his head. Frodo put his hands on narrow hips and surveyed the freshly scrubbed Ranger before him. “You clean up well, Strider.”

He leaned forward and hovered a fraction of an inch from the man’s lips, his dark curls brushing Strider’s face and his blue eyes, for the moment, serious. “Thank you, for taking care of us in Bree.” He placed a soft but demanding kiss on the Ranger’s mouth, his tongue stroking the opening and flickering briefly inside to taste its depths, meeting the man’s tongue with a tentative caress. He placed his hands on Strider’s shoulders and let his body press forward, forcing the man once more onto his back in the grass.

“And protecting us from the Black Riders….” Sam continued, his work-callused hands stroking the Ranger’s hips and his full lips leaving burning kisses across the man’s taut belly.

“…and leading us to Rivendell in Gandalf’s place…” Merry added, brushing his brown curls across the man’s chest. His warm mouth searched out one of the man’s nipples, giving it a gentle bite before circling it gently with his tongue. His fingers stroked the soft hair on Strider’s chest, short nails tracing a trail down his ribcage.

“And making sure we have plenty to eat,” Pippin agreed, finding the other nipple and showing it equal attention, his eyes closed in pleasure.

The Ranger could resist no more. He had to touch them, to feel their soft skin in his hands, to feel their bodies pressed against his hot flesh. With a throaty growl, his strong arms circled around the two Hobbits he could reach – Merry and Pippin – pulling them close. He caressed their backs and sides gently with fingers made rough from years of hard work. Their small bodies were smooth, warm and alive with passion and the Ranger groaned with pleasure.

The two Hobbits squealed in surprise and delight. They eagerly pressed their bodies into the man’s sides, grinding their hips into his flesh. He could feel both their hard organs pressed against him and knew they were as excited as he was. Pippin moaned as the Ranger squeezed his firm round bottom. His wet mouth still suckled a hardened nipple and he whimpered softly. Merry pressed into Strider’s other side, thrusting and rubbing against him passionately his head thrown back, eyes closed.

While he gripped the two younger Hobbits tight against his body, Strider raised his head, his mouth seeking to possess the dark-haired one that leaned above him still devouring his lips with impassioned kisses. Frodo laughed into the man’s mouth, twining one of his hand’s fingers in the Ranger’s shaggy locks of dark hair while stroking the other hand’s soft fingertips down a rough and stubbled jaw. The gardener Hobbit was beyond the Ranger’s reach, kneeling as he was between his spread legs. Sam could not be forgotten though, as his callused hands caressed the inside of Strider’s thighs and his burning mouth kissed ever closer to the man’s pulsing shaft.

The Ranger’s hands continued to cup two rounded bottoms, squeezing them with gentle pressure and stroking his strong fingers across the soft flesh. Moaning loudly, both Merry and Pippin ground their hips against him now, each one caught up in his own passion. Resting small hands on his chest, the two young Hobbits leaned together above him their mouths meeting in a shared kiss. Watching the two of them only made the fire in Strider’s belly burn hotter. Such beautiful, full lips they had. Delicious, like the lips that devoured his even now. He growled again, deep in his throat, an impassioned and wordless plea. They were torturing him, driving him mad with burning desire.

Frodo suddenly released the Ranger’s mouth, with a gasp – panting, in need of air. He twined his fingers tightly in the man’s hair, giving it a sharp tug and pulling the man’s head back down to the ground. “You seem to be having a dangerous effect on us, Master Ranger,” Frodo admitted breathlessly, glancing at Merry and Pippin who were now entwined across Strider’s chest. His eyes caught Sam’s and he nodded, smiling a knowing smile. “Very dangerous.”

Strider gasped – also breathless, his hand leaving Merry’s soft rump and reaching back to brush Frodo’s thigh. He lightly stroked the small, but perfect cock that stood partially erect before him. It quivered and hardened at his soft, almost tentative touch. “I am dangerous, Frodo. More than you may ever know.”

Frodo smiled, a twinkle in his blue eyes but did not reply. He took the man’s hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the fingertips then sucking on them, taking two of them deeply into his rosebud of a mouth. At the same time, the Ranger felt a strong wet hand grip his throbbing manhood and give it a firm stroking squeeze. He gasped as he felt soft full lips circle the head, sucking gently. He lifted his head and glanced down to where sandy-colored curls bent over his shaft, tickling his legs where they touched him. He watched as Sam ran his tongue over the head with practiced ease. The gardener took as much of the shaft into his mouth as he could, wrapping his hand around what remained. The Ranger groaned, arching his back and tossing his head from side to side.

Frodo giggled around the fingers in his mouth, knowing well that his faithful friend’s skills went far beyond the ones he plied in the gardens at Bag End. It thrilled him to watch the passion wash over Strider’s face. His own breath quickened and he trembled, sucking harder on the finger that slid so easily into his mouth. Strider groaned, the double sensation driving him wild.

Releasing the fingers from his mouth but still holding Strider’s hand and twining his fingers with the Ranger’s, Frodo bent down to tease the man’s ear with tongue and teeth. “Give in to it, Strider, let Sam take you. He’s wonderful, I know.”

The Ranger found it hard to concentrate on Frodo’s words as Pippin cried out, bucking against him, his own passion reaching a crescendo. Merry reached across the man’s belly to grasp Pippin’s thrusting member and with firm stokes he helped him to loose his seed across the Ranger’s body. Pippin squealed his head thrown back, skin glistening. He grabbed Merry by the hair to drag their mouths together, covering his lover’s face with kisses. Pippin collapsed backwards onto the grass, dragging Merry awkwardly with him. The young Hobbit sprawled briefly across the man’s chest.

For the moment the Ranger was forgotten in Pippin’s own spent passion and his desire to bring Merry along with him. He encouraged Merry to abandon the Ranger, spreading his legs in an invitation that the young Halfling could not refuse.

Strider could feel the brush of their sweaty bodies just next to his. He heard Pippin’s squeal of impassioned pain as Merry pulled up his hips and with a slow and careful thrust, entered him. Soon they moved together at the Ranger’s side, their soft moaning cries echoing in the quiet evening air. These new sounds of pleasure only served to increase Strider’s passion.

The Ranger’s chest, now free from Hobbit bodies, heaved with his panting. He dug the fingers of one hand into the grass at his side and groaned. Frodo, finding the way now cleared of kinsmen, moved from his seat beside the man’s head. He too was feeling the heat of the rampant passions around him and he wanted to feel the Ranger’s hard body writhing beneath him. He crawled down on hands and knees, depositing little kisses on the man as he went.

As he reached the Ranger’s middle, Frodo paused a moment to run his fingers through Sam’s sweaty curls. He tenderly touched his friend’s cheek, finally stopping to caress the gardener’s lips while they circled the Ranger’s organ. Sam released the head briefly, and sucked at Frodo’s fingertips, licking them with a soft warm tongue. Frodo smiled and bent to passionately kiss his companion. He could taste the Ranger on his companion’s lips and sucked at them greedily. He laughed as Strider groaned with need and parted with a sigh from the sandy-haired gardener. With his own sigh, Sam continued with his careful ministrations.

Frodo turned reluctantly from Sam, his eyes burning with desire. Raising up and slipping a leg over the Ranger, he straddled the man’s belly with his strong legs, his softly furred feet brushing against the man’s spread thighs. He laid full length against the man’s chest, and ground his hips against him with a moan, tossing his head back and shaking the mass of dark curls that framed his face.

He could feel the Ranger’s body rise and fall as Sam regained his rhythm. He could feel the gardeners head move, sucking and licking in steady strokes. Sam’s hair tickled the soles of Frodo’s feet, making him tremble. Frodo knew it wouldn’t be long now.

“Touch me, Strider,” he begged, rubbing his hard member against the man’s belly and reaching to grip the man’s shoulders.

The Ranger’s hands rose obediently to caress Frodo’s sides and run along his back, gripping the Hobbit’s narrow hips and pulling their bodies tightly together. Frodo gd, rd, rocking back and forth, pressing hard against the man below him. He guided one large hand to his chest, placing it over his own hardened nipple and encouraged the man’s touch. He cried out in delight as the man squeezed the little nub, then rubbed around it in gentle circles. Strider’s other hand, he placed between his legs rubbing his member against the man’s callused palm. Frodo in turn ran his fingertips over the man’s chest and arms, stroking his soft hair. He closed his eyes with growing pleasure and moaned.

With eyes closed, he felt the man tense and buck wildly under him, hips thrusting as Sam’s mouth coaxed him to completion. The gentle gardener moaned, sucking the man’s seed as it sprayed from him in a hot stream taking care to catch every drop that he could. Strider’s hands returned to Frodo’s hips, tightly gripping the small Hobbit that rode his belly, fingers tensing too tightly in the last throws of his passion. Frodo cried out softly in pain and pulled at the man’s strong hands with his own small ones. Immediately he felt the grip lessen, then fall away. He quickly placed a wet kiss in the middle of the Ranger’s chest, assuring him that no harm had been done.

Strider panted, his taut body relaxing ast,ast, the climax passing in gentle waves. He closed his eyes stroking Frodo’s thighs and hips, feeling the young Hobbit’s member still hard against his belly.

Frodo could sense Sam behind him, kneeling between the Ranger’s long legs and smiled, knowing that his own release wasn’t far away. He could hear the gardener’s panting breath and knew that Sam too was suffering from his own unfulfilled passion.

The young Hobbit smiled, a naughty little smile, and eased his hips from Strider’s caressing hands. He slid slowly down the Ranger’s body, eyes twinkling, and still straddling the prone man he positioned his hard cock over the Ranger’s spent one. With a toss of his head and quavering sigh, Frodo raised his rounded bottom in invitation to his gentle friend. Filled with love and his own throbbing need, Sam required no further encouragement.

Easing forward and wetting his thick fingers, Sam stroked Frodo’s crack with one hand while massaging his own member with the other. He led led the tight little hole with fingers made deft from practice, and inserted first one then two digits into the opening. Frodo sighed, his eyes closed. He alternately thrust against the man’s body below him and the fingers above, humming deep in his throat and thinking what a curious bed the Ranger made.

Sam stroked his fingers, in and out, touching Frodo deeply – massaging the opening to a body he knew almost as well as his own. Frodo’s body arched with a cry as Sam touched that one special spot, the one that filled his lover with indescribable pleasure. Again and again he stroked the dark-haired Hobbit, watching him writhe each time the fingers found their mark. He murmured softly, stroking until he was sure Frodo’s body was both relaxed and on fire. He wanted his Mister Frodo to be ready for him. Then, easing forward on his knees, he removed his fingers and positioned his own hard shaft at Frodo’s opening. Slowly he pushed himself gently but firmly in, gripping Frodo’s hips and holding him fast.

“Oh, Sam….my dear Sam…” Frodo sighed as he felt Sam enter him, his face flushed and mouth open.

Strider watched in fascination at the play of passion on the young Hobbit’s face as Sam slowly entered him then started thrusting into him with the greatest of care. Love shone there, plain and simple, sighing and moaning from those rosy lips. He could see the stout gardener pant with his own passion, running his hands up his lover’s back and down his hips, his touches, now for Frodo and Frodo alone. He showered kisses on Frodo’s shoulders and back, biting and nibbling the sweaty flesh. The Ranger knew that Sam’s first concern was FrodFrodo’s pleasure. His thrusts were slow, measured, designed to fit the needs of the beautiful Hobbit who moved beneath him – even though Strider knew the gardener had to be nearly bursting with his own desire, having received far less attention than the rest of them.

The man could feel Frodo’s cock thrust against him and knew it wouldn’t take much for his own passion to re-ignite. Yet he was enthralled with the gentle love which passed between these two Halflings. He raised his own hands to cradle Frodo’s face, stroking his cheek and lips with the fingertips of one hand while the other hand fought its way through the dark and sweaty curls that stuck to the Hobbit’s forehead. Frodo moaned, his blue eyes closed, and raised his hips to meet Sam’s thrusts his body shaking with nearing climax. Sam too, was nearing completion. Strider was sure the two of them would arrive there together as only veteran lovers could.

He was right. Strider saw the sandy-haired gardener grip Frodo’s hips tightly and drive deeply into him his face awash in pleasure while a groan escaped his full lips. Frodo too cried out, his hips grinding against Strider, seed streaming on him in a warm wash. Sam thrust a final time, hips spasming as he exploded, with a cry, inside his lover.

Spent at last, both Hobbits collapsed, falling gently onto the Ranger’s body below them. Frodo’s head lay on the man’s belly, while the rest of him lay limply straddling the man’ss, as, and Sam he could feel draped across one muscled thigh. They were sweaty and panting, both exhausted. Sam’s warm cheek rested hotly on Strider’s hip and the man could feel the gardener’s breath touch him in ragged gasps. The Ranger stretched out his fingers to touch the soft curls that crowned Sam’s head. The gardener, in turn, gripped the man’s wrist with sweaty fingers and squeezed gently, acknowledging Strider’s caress. He planted a soft kiss on the man’s thigh and rested his cheek on the spot, exhaustion taking him at last.

They lay there some time all together, quietly, allowing the passion to pass in gentle waves. Merry and Pippin, both tired and sated as well, crawled over and snuggled close to the Ranger’s warm body. Their soft hands lay on him now, almost innocently, belying their earlier mischief. Strider smiled at the tousled heads, knowing now that there were more than naïve youths beneath those delicate faces.

The Ranger lay there quietly, feeling a peace in his mind and body that he hadn’t felt for some time. In his heart, he wanted the moment to last. But he knew the night was late and the new morning would come all too early as it was. The Hobbits needed sleep and were far too vulnerable in the open where they lay. Besides, with passion spent, the cool night air was beginning to bite and he knew that they would soon find the bare ground too chill to make a comfortable bed.

The Ranger sighed, a sound not missed by Frodo who looked at him questioningly.

“Everyone up,” the Ranger ordered, gently, ruffling first Merry’s hair, then Pippin’s. He winked at Frodo. “Come on Sam, Frodo…”

“Oh, Mister Strider, do we have to?” Pippin complained with a yawn. He wrapped his arm across the Ranger’s chest and buried his face in the man’s shoulder.

“You need rest, Master Hobbit,” Strider admitted, raising up on his elbows and detaching himself from the young Hobbit. “The dawn will come far too early as it is tomorrow.”

“Oh, you sure know how to ruin a good evening,” Merry admitted, sighing. Rubbing his arms against the gathering chill, he leaned against the Ranger’s chest once again where warm arms encircled him for a moment more.

“That I do, Master Meriadoc,” Strider agreed, rubbing Merry’s back before withdrawing from the pile of naked Hobbits. He quickly gained his own unsteady feet and in turn helped each Hobbit to do the same.

They all washed up once again, this tiuietuietly and without word or merriment. The water was really chill now and left them feeling more cold and tired than refreshed.

*****

At camp, Strider stoked up the dying fire and settled three of his four charges into their tree-sheltered bower, tucking them in with a gentleness he’d not shown them before this night. Frodo lingered at Strider’s side for awhile, staying until after the others had gone to sleep and quiet snores emanated from them. He sat beside the man, leaning gently into his side while a strong arm draped across his shoulders and held him absently. Strider was quiet, almost distant, and Frodo worried. He didn’t want to see the Ranger lonely and sad like before.

“Strider?” Frodo questioned, but didn’t know what to say when the man glanced down at him.

“It’s all right Frodo,” the Ranger assured, with a smile, touching the Hobbit’s cheek with his fingertips. “I’m just thinking of jourjourney we have yet to make. And I…” here the Ranger’s voice faltered, emotion causing the words to catch in his throat. He swallowed, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I wanted to thank you; you have no idea what tonight meant to me.”

“Just remember, you don’t need to feel alone, as long as we’re with you.” Frodo smiled, squeezing the man’s leg. “I’m here to help you, however I can. I know the others feel the same way, Strider.”

“It’s funny,” Strider mused, “Gandalf once told me that Hobbits had veracious appetites whether for food, good ale or smoking pipe weed. But I really had no idea how encompassing his description really was.”

Frodo only smiled a knowing smile and replied, “You can bet he did. Why do you think he enjoyed his visits to the Shire so much?”

Strider laughed softly and gave Frodo a gentle squeeze across the shoulders. “You’d better get some rest, Master Baggins, morning is closer than you think. Sleep well and I will keep watch over you.”

“Hmmmm…isn’t that what got you in trouble tonight in the first place?” Frodo mused a t a teasing smile.

“So it is Frodo,” Strider admitted. “Goodnight.”

Frodo reached up and lightly brushed the Ranger’s mouth in a gentle kiss. He felt a sighing breath escape the dark man and smiled. “Goodnight Strider.”

He rose and quietly wandered off to the trees and bed. Crawling into his warm bedroll, he found sleepiness overcoming him almost immediately. As he felt himself drifting off to sleep with Sam pressed warmly against his back, he glanced to where Strider sat on guard his pipe a tell tale glow in the darkness. Frodo couldn’t help but smile to himself with a little sense of satisfaction. Even in the darkness he could tell…the Ranger was watching him.

Fini.