Title: What DIDN'T Happen In Lord of The Rings. (chapter3)
Type: Whorefic, (slashfic/threesome in later chapters)
Rating: PG13
Storyline : The Company runs into an ex-prostitute and uses her to satisfy
their desires.
Chapter summary: Chapter 6. The seduction of Aragorn.
Note: Arwen is the Arwen of book verse.
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Chapter 6- Aragorn.
For most of the evening, Aragorn steered clear of both Legolas and Boromir. Every time he went past them, or threw a glance in their direction, they would turn to look at him, anxiously awaiting his decision. Curse it all. He wasn't competent enough to make decisions for them. He could hardly trust himself to make decisions concerning none other but himself. Seeing them both turn to him so readily for guidance was slightly unnerving, bearing in mind that Legolas, prince of Mirkwood was an elf who had lived far longer than he and that as captain of Gondor, Boromir had had far more practical experience leading his people.
"Why do you avoid us, Aragorn?" he heard somebody whisper. Turning around, he saw Boromir standing troubled before him. "Do you fear to make the wrong decision?" he asked gently. When he nodded, Boromir shrugged. "The way I see it, if both Elrond and Gandalf-may the gods rest his soul-see you fit to lead the Company, then who am I to disagree. I said it at then, and I shall say it again. If such is the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."
"You love your country," Aragorn stated.
"Aye, that I do. With all my heart."
"I love this land," Aragorn said simply. "Your loyalty and allegiance is to the land that Gondor may claim as its own. But as for me, my allegiance is to all of Middle Earth. Understand that, Boromir, so that you might not be so quick to judge my loyalties."
"Never would I dream of questioning your loyalties."
"Indeed." Aragorn replied wearily, hearing Boromir sink back into the painful formality from before the hunting. Once he returned to lay claim to the throne, he would have to hold court, where the slightest misplaced word might affect the well being of the entire country, but if anything, he was thankful that a mere ranger need not watch his words the way a future king should.
"I will not question you," Boromir whispered, his voice strained as he hesitated, summoning up the courage to continue. "I will not question you.my brother." he whispered. "Not anymore."
Aragorn looked up into those large, honest eyes and nodded. Though arrogant and rash, Boromir was an honourable man, incapable of outright deceit. No doubt that simple pledge meant more to him than a declaration of loyalty, something Aragorn felt he would never hear from the lips of this proud man.
Aragorn held his eyes for a moment, then released him from his gaze. Fumbling around his belt, he drew out a small bag of weed to refill his pipe. When he was done, he quietly passed it to Boromir, who lit up his own pipe. Together, the two men smoked in companionable silence, watching the sun as it sunk gently below the horizon.
All about the camp, the company bustled around, helping themselves to multiple helpings of roast deer, and though the memory of Arwen was always fresh in his mind, Aragorn found that the silhouette of Boromir's wench-for that was what he now thought of her as-arrested his vision.
"You know, she doesn't belong to me, Aragorn," Boromir smiled, as if reading his thoughts.
"It certainly seems like someone is a bit more perceptive than he usually is," Aragorn said, raising an eyebrow.
"Come, Aragorn. It isn't that hard to guess what you're thinking. We are men after all," Boromir said, taking a deep drag from his pipe. Aragorn shrugged. Without realising it, his hand reached up to finger the pendant that his beloved had given him.
"Is it wrong, Boromir?" he sighed at last, "for a man to want a woman when his own seems too far out of his reach?"
Boromir shrugged. "I'm not one for philosophy myself," he said, "But then again, you are practically betrothed to a woman you have courted for years, and I have yet to taste that experience." He sighed. "I don't know, Aragorn. I have never been much good at such things. All I know is that her presence brings me comfort of some sort, even if it is just the shallow comfort of being in the company of one who hails from the same lands as I do."
As if the very speaking of her were a summoning, the wench left her place near the fire and moved slowly towards them. "That's a fine catch you got us," she grinned, holding out a plate of the freshly roasted meat.
Beside him, Boromir grinned. "I'm glad you like it, wench."
"Oh, I do. I do. I like it a lot. Its much more than I expected," she replied with a playful wink. "Come now," she said, turning to Aragorn. "Doesn't your friend want any?" she said cheekily, offering him the plate.
"Oh he does," Boromir grinned back at her. "He was just thinking of it."
The wench threw back her head and laughed, and Aragorn had to admit there was something wild and untamed about her that he found irresistibly exiting. She was a woman of the earth, a savage almost from living her days alone in the wilderness, her beauty so unlike that of his delicate Arwen.
"Is the man shy then?" she said smilingly as she settled down comfortably in Boromir's lap. She lay a hand on Boromir's chest and looked up to be kissed, and Boromir willingly obliged.
"Nay, he's not shy. He has a woman waiting for him, that's all," Boromir replied by way of explanation. The wench nodded her head in understanding and for awhile, Aragorn was left to himself while the couple busied themselves in each other's arms.
Aragorn shuddered though. They had talked about him so freely it was as if he wasn't there at all, discussing his love life as if he were a piece of chopped liver to be passed around. How barbaric, he thought, but even as he thought it, he knew that deep in his heart, a secret part of him was thrilled by the savagery.
He looked up to see the wench eyeballing him, but she quickly turned away when she saw that he had noticed her. His curiosity thoroughly aroused, Aragorn bent his head, pretending to be busy filling his pipe, all the while watching her from the corner of his eye. True enough, the moment she thought he was not looking, she turned her gaze back to him. After a time, he saw her leaning forward, her head bent inches away from Boromir as they murmured softly to each other. At length, Boromir smiled and stood up, and reaching for the now empty plate, made his way back to the campfire and proceeded to carve out more of the roast deer.
Left alone, Aragorn turned to look at the wench and was startled by just how violently his body reacted to her presence. She was nothing more than a dark silhouette, her face barely visible from the dancing flames of the campfire and her tangled flyaway hair gleamed reddish as it reflected the amber light of the flames.
She grinned at him, and he thought he could catch the gleam of whitish teeth in the darkness. Aragorn felt his breath catch as she moved nearer to him. He could almost feel the smell of her sex as she sat beside him, a warm, aromatic bundle wrapped in little more than an elven cloak. When she leaned into him, he did not move away.
"Ah, not so shy after all then," she whispered. "Don't worry, Aragorn. Boromir wouldn't mind."
"And how can you be so sure?"
"I don't belong to him," she said simply.
Aragorn sat back, slightly stunned. Wasn't that the selfsame words Boromir had used to describe her? Was it a common occurrence in the world of man then, to pass their women around?
"I'm not his woman, Aragorn," she said again, rightly guessing his thoughts. "Men aren't exactly in the habit of sharing their women, but look at it this way. I'm not his in the first place. I'm not his to share even if he wanted to."
"How can you not care?"
"If you have lived the life I had, you would not care either."
"How can he not care then?"
"He knows that I don't. oh Aragorn, don't tell me you still don't understand!" she sighed wearily. "Look at me. Just think back. Do you remember what Boromir calls me? Wench. Yes, wench. And do you know why? Because I am. And don't lie and tell me that all this is new to you, I know you were eavesdropping last night."
"One last question," he whispered. "Why?"
The wench stopped for awhile, frowning a little as she considered the question. "I suppose its because I'm lonely," she said at last. "I'm not bound by society anymore, I lost all my allusions long ago, I've been living on my own since, I'm lonely and I'm hungry for seed." She said all that so matter-of-factly that Aragorn was shocked. The wench saw his semi- horrified look and chuckled.
"Is that so hard to imagine, Aragorn? I have not seen a single soul all the time I've lived here. And I live alone. This could well be the only chance I'll ever get to have another child."
"Does Boromir know about it?"
"Perhaps," she said. "Perhaps not. But he guesses it most like. He isn't that dumb, you know."
"Don't you care about him at all then?" Aragorn pressed.
"We've only just met yesterday," she shrugged. "I suppose I do, in my own way. I'll probably miss him when you all go away."
"So. last night, it was just a base pursuit of pleasure then?" Aragorn frowned. This didn't feel right. It didn't feel right at all.
"I suppose so, yes. For him, the pursuit of pleasure.and for me too. And that I hope to beget a child."
"I didn't know you wanted to beget a child," Boromir said, overhearing. He sat down calmly beside her and kissed her hungrily. When he finally broke the kiss, he chuckled and continued cheekily, "else I would have tried harder." The wench laughed and snuggled into him, and Boromir cradled her adoringly. "Why do you want a baby?" he asked in a sing-song manner.
"Because I'm lonely," she said, pouting.
"Then come with me," he chanted.
"I don't want to!" she said, continuing the playacting game. "You stay here with me."
"Can't! I'm needed at home."
"I don't want to go to Gondor," she said sulkily.
"Why?"
"Because my husband's murderer lives there."
"I thought you said he was your betrothed."
"He was."
"Ah."
And to Aragorn's surprised, both of them burst into helpless giggles, laughing and swatting each other like children at play. Still chuckling soundly, Boromir caught her and wrestled her down, and together they kissed passionately.
Aragorn turned his face away, embarrassed by such an outward display of intimacy. "Does Aragorn want a go?" her playful voice floated through the air. Aragorn looked up, shocked. They were exactly in the same position as before, the wench soundly pinned under Boromir's greater bulk, their faces so close it was almost touching. If not for the name, Aragorn would never have thought she was addressing him, for her eyes were fixed on Boromir.
"Well, what if I don't want Aragorn to have a go?" Boromir said, grinning.
"Well, that doesn't change anything, does it?" she replied cheekily. "I don't care if Boromir doesn't want Aragorn to have a go. Boromir cant do anything about it," she laughed and rolled her head in Aragorn's direction, even as Boromir settled down on top of her and lay his head on her bosom.
"So how about it, Aragorn," he said. "Have you made up your mind yet or are you still unsure? Either way, you had better decide quickly before I lay my claim tonight."
All against his will, Aragorn felt his mouth moving, replying to the question.
"Sure. I suppose one night wont hurt."
Wordlessly, Aragorn let her take him by the hand and lead him into the dimness of her hut. He could very vaguely make out Boromir's silhouette against the red glow of the campfire and imagined the other man seething quietly away, trying his best to hide his indignation from the rest of the Company. That Boromir might truly be unaffected was a thought Aragron never even allowed himself to consider.
Let inside the hut for the first time, Aragron felt a surge of excitement. He was about to see her private living quarters, and the ranger part of him wondered what he would find. The insides of her home however, was a bit of a letdown. It was the shabbiest, most impersonalized living space he had ever laid eyes on. The entire hut was little more than one large room, with nothing more than a wobbly table, inexpertly crafted from bits of sticks, and a handful of rags, held together by a threadbare cloth to form a makeshift mattress. Scattered messily around were three or four pieces of rabbit skins, probably the only meat she had ever had since the house was built.
The wench sat down, crossed legged on the bare wooden floor, and feeling it was expected of him, Aragorn settled down beside him. He felt profoundly uneasy. As if sensing his discomfort, the wench shrugged genially. "Boromir mentioned you have a woman," she whispered, her voice piercing the awkward silence that hung heavy upon them. Aragon nodded. "Tell me about her," she smiled.
Aragorn jerked his head up, shocked at her brazenness. Tell her about Arwen? Now? Wouldn't it unpleasant for her to hear him declare his love for someone else just before their lovemaking?
Seeing the confusion on his face, the wench laughed. "You're such a romantic, Aragorn!" she said, laughing gaily. "Alright then, do as you please. You can tell me about her, or you may not tell me about her, I couldn't care less either way. I was just giving you an avenue to talk," she smiled. "And you do look to me like someone badly in need of a nice long talk."
Aragorn shook his head and sighed, and looking up at her, returned her warm smile. "And perhaps I am," he replied. "Alright then. Fire away."
"I've seen you finger the jewel. Did she give it to you?"
"Yes," he said simply.
"It's pretty."
"Yes, it is, isn't it. My thanks."
"Have you known her long?"
"Yes."
The wench looked up and sighed in exasperation. "Why do you keep answering me in short sentences," she demanded. "It's horribly rude of you. I was just trying to be nice. I'm not snooping, or anything. Ye gods, its becoming more of an interrogation session than a normal conversation!"
"My apologies," he said. "I'm not good at conversations."
"You blasted well aren't," she retorted, grinning playfully. Without another word, she stood up and moved over to kneel in front of him, and Aragorn felt his heart skip a beat, and when she rested a hand on his cheek, Aragorn allowed her to guide his face upwards to meet hers in a kiss.
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Chapter 6- Aragorn.
For most of the evening, Aragorn steered clear of both Legolas and Boromir. Every time he went past them, or threw a glance in their direction, they would turn to look at him, anxiously awaiting his decision. Curse it all. He wasn't competent enough to make decisions for them. He could hardly trust himself to make decisions concerning none other but himself. Seeing them both turn to him so readily for guidance was slightly unnerving, bearing in mind that Legolas, prince of Mirkwood was an elf who had lived far longer than he and that as captain of Gondor, Boromir had had far more practical experience leading his people.
"Why do you avoid us, Aragorn?" he heard somebody whisper. Turning around, he saw Boromir standing troubled before him. "Do you fear to make the wrong decision?" he asked gently. When he nodded, Boromir shrugged. "The way I see it, if both Elrond and Gandalf-may the gods rest his soul-see you fit to lead the Company, then who am I to disagree. I said it at then, and I shall say it again. If such is the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."
"You love your country," Aragorn stated.
"Aye, that I do. With all my heart."
"I love this land," Aragorn said simply. "Your loyalty and allegiance is to the land that Gondor may claim as its own. But as for me, my allegiance is to all of Middle Earth. Understand that, Boromir, so that you might not be so quick to judge my loyalties."
"Never would I dream of questioning your loyalties."
"Indeed." Aragorn replied wearily, hearing Boromir sink back into the painful formality from before the hunting. Once he returned to lay claim to the throne, he would have to hold court, where the slightest misplaced word might affect the well being of the entire country, but if anything, he was thankful that a mere ranger need not watch his words the way a future king should.
"I will not question you," Boromir whispered, his voice strained as he hesitated, summoning up the courage to continue. "I will not question you.my brother." he whispered. "Not anymore."
Aragorn looked up into those large, honest eyes and nodded. Though arrogant and rash, Boromir was an honourable man, incapable of outright deceit. No doubt that simple pledge meant more to him than a declaration of loyalty, something Aragorn felt he would never hear from the lips of this proud man.
Aragorn held his eyes for a moment, then released him from his gaze. Fumbling around his belt, he drew out a small bag of weed to refill his pipe. When he was done, he quietly passed it to Boromir, who lit up his own pipe. Together, the two men smoked in companionable silence, watching the sun as it sunk gently below the horizon.
All about the camp, the company bustled around, helping themselves to multiple helpings of roast deer, and though the memory of Arwen was always fresh in his mind, Aragorn found that the silhouette of Boromir's wench-for that was what he now thought of her as-arrested his vision.
"You know, she doesn't belong to me, Aragorn," Boromir smiled, as if reading his thoughts.
"It certainly seems like someone is a bit more perceptive than he usually is," Aragorn said, raising an eyebrow.
"Come, Aragorn. It isn't that hard to guess what you're thinking. We are men after all," Boromir said, taking a deep drag from his pipe. Aragorn shrugged. Without realising it, his hand reached up to finger the pendant that his beloved had given him.
"Is it wrong, Boromir?" he sighed at last, "for a man to want a woman when his own seems too far out of his reach?"
Boromir shrugged. "I'm not one for philosophy myself," he said, "But then again, you are practically betrothed to a woman you have courted for years, and I have yet to taste that experience." He sighed. "I don't know, Aragorn. I have never been much good at such things. All I know is that her presence brings me comfort of some sort, even if it is just the shallow comfort of being in the company of one who hails from the same lands as I do."
As if the very speaking of her were a summoning, the wench left her place near the fire and moved slowly towards them. "That's a fine catch you got us," she grinned, holding out a plate of the freshly roasted meat.
Beside him, Boromir grinned. "I'm glad you like it, wench."
"Oh, I do. I do. I like it a lot. Its much more than I expected," she replied with a playful wink. "Come now," she said, turning to Aragorn. "Doesn't your friend want any?" she said cheekily, offering him the plate.
"Oh he does," Boromir grinned back at her. "He was just thinking of it."
The wench threw back her head and laughed, and Aragorn had to admit there was something wild and untamed about her that he found irresistibly exiting. She was a woman of the earth, a savage almost from living her days alone in the wilderness, her beauty so unlike that of his delicate Arwen.
"Is the man shy then?" she said smilingly as she settled down comfortably in Boromir's lap. She lay a hand on Boromir's chest and looked up to be kissed, and Boromir willingly obliged.
"Nay, he's not shy. He has a woman waiting for him, that's all," Boromir replied by way of explanation. The wench nodded her head in understanding and for awhile, Aragorn was left to himself while the couple busied themselves in each other's arms.
Aragorn shuddered though. They had talked about him so freely it was as if he wasn't there at all, discussing his love life as if he were a piece of chopped liver to be passed around. How barbaric, he thought, but even as he thought it, he knew that deep in his heart, a secret part of him was thrilled by the savagery.
He looked up to see the wench eyeballing him, but she quickly turned away when she saw that he had noticed her. His curiosity thoroughly aroused, Aragorn bent his head, pretending to be busy filling his pipe, all the while watching her from the corner of his eye. True enough, the moment she thought he was not looking, she turned her gaze back to him. After a time, he saw her leaning forward, her head bent inches away from Boromir as they murmured softly to each other. At length, Boromir smiled and stood up, and reaching for the now empty plate, made his way back to the campfire and proceeded to carve out more of the roast deer.
Left alone, Aragorn turned to look at the wench and was startled by just how violently his body reacted to her presence. She was nothing more than a dark silhouette, her face barely visible from the dancing flames of the campfire and her tangled flyaway hair gleamed reddish as it reflected the amber light of the flames.
She grinned at him, and he thought he could catch the gleam of whitish teeth in the darkness. Aragorn felt his breath catch as she moved nearer to him. He could almost feel the smell of her sex as she sat beside him, a warm, aromatic bundle wrapped in little more than an elven cloak. When she leaned into him, he did not move away.
"Ah, not so shy after all then," she whispered. "Don't worry, Aragorn. Boromir wouldn't mind."
"And how can you be so sure?"
"I don't belong to him," she said simply.
Aragorn sat back, slightly stunned. Wasn't that the selfsame words Boromir had used to describe her? Was it a common occurrence in the world of man then, to pass their women around?
"I'm not his woman, Aragorn," she said again, rightly guessing his thoughts. "Men aren't exactly in the habit of sharing their women, but look at it this way. I'm not his in the first place. I'm not his to share even if he wanted to."
"How can you not care?"
"If you have lived the life I had, you would not care either."
"How can he not care then?"
"He knows that I don't. oh Aragorn, don't tell me you still don't understand!" she sighed wearily. "Look at me. Just think back. Do you remember what Boromir calls me? Wench. Yes, wench. And do you know why? Because I am. And don't lie and tell me that all this is new to you, I know you were eavesdropping last night."
"One last question," he whispered. "Why?"
The wench stopped for awhile, frowning a little as she considered the question. "I suppose its because I'm lonely," she said at last. "I'm not bound by society anymore, I lost all my allusions long ago, I've been living on my own since, I'm lonely and I'm hungry for seed." She said all that so matter-of-factly that Aragorn was shocked. The wench saw his semi- horrified look and chuckled.
"Is that so hard to imagine, Aragorn? I have not seen a single soul all the time I've lived here. And I live alone. This could well be the only chance I'll ever get to have another child."
"Does Boromir know about it?"
"Perhaps," she said. "Perhaps not. But he guesses it most like. He isn't that dumb, you know."
"Don't you care about him at all then?" Aragorn pressed.
"We've only just met yesterday," she shrugged. "I suppose I do, in my own way. I'll probably miss him when you all go away."
"So. last night, it was just a base pursuit of pleasure then?" Aragorn frowned. This didn't feel right. It didn't feel right at all.
"I suppose so, yes. For him, the pursuit of pleasure.and for me too. And that I hope to beget a child."
"I didn't know you wanted to beget a child," Boromir said, overhearing. He sat down calmly beside her and kissed her hungrily. When he finally broke the kiss, he chuckled and continued cheekily, "else I would have tried harder." The wench laughed and snuggled into him, and Boromir cradled her adoringly. "Why do you want a baby?" he asked in a sing-song manner.
"Because I'm lonely," she said, pouting.
"Then come with me," he chanted.
"I don't want to!" she said, continuing the playacting game. "You stay here with me."
"Can't! I'm needed at home."
"I don't want to go to Gondor," she said sulkily.
"Why?"
"Because my husband's murderer lives there."
"I thought you said he was your betrothed."
"He was."
"Ah."
And to Aragorn's surprised, both of them burst into helpless giggles, laughing and swatting each other like children at play. Still chuckling soundly, Boromir caught her and wrestled her down, and together they kissed passionately.
Aragorn turned his face away, embarrassed by such an outward display of intimacy. "Does Aragorn want a go?" her playful voice floated through the air. Aragorn looked up, shocked. They were exactly in the same position as before, the wench soundly pinned under Boromir's greater bulk, their faces so close it was almost touching. If not for the name, Aragorn would never have thought she was addressing him, for her eyes were fixed on Boromir.
"Well, what if I don't want Aragorn to have a go?" Boromir said, grinning.
"Well, that doesn't change anything, does it?" she replied cheekily. "I don't care if Boromir doesn't want Aragorn to have a go. Boromir cant do anything about it," she laughed and rolled her head in Aragorn's direction, even as Boromir settled down on top of her and lay his head on her bosom.
"So how about it, Aragorn," he said. "Have you made up your mind yet or are you still unsure? Either way, you had better decide quickly before I lay my claim tonight."
All against his will, Aragorn felt his mouth moving, replying to the question.
"Sure. I suppose one night wont hurt."
Wordlessly, Aragorn let her take him by the hand and lead him into the dimness of her hut. He could very vaguely make out Boromir's silhouette against the red glow of the campfire and imagined the other man seething quietly away, trying his best to hide his indignation from the rest of the Company. That Boromir might truly be unaffected was a thought Aragron never even allowed himself to consider.
Let inside the hut for the first time, Aragron felt a surge of excitement. He was about to see her private living quarters, and the ranger part of him wondered what he would find. The insides of her home however, was a bit of a letdown. It was the shabbiest, most impersonalized living space he had ever laid eyes on. The entire hut was little more than one large room, with nothing more than a wobbly table, inexpertly crafted from bits of sticks, and a handful of rags, held together by a threadbare cloth to form a makeshift mattress. Scattered messily around were three or four pieces of rabbit skins, probably the only meat she had ever had since the house was built.
The wench sat down, crossed legged on the bare wooden floor, and feeling it was expected of him, Aragorn settled down beside him. He felt profoundly uneasy. As if sensing his discomfort, the wench shrugged genially. "Boromir mentioned you have a woman," she whispered, her voice piercing the awkward silence that hung heavy upon them. Aragon nodded. "Tell me about her," she smiled.
Aragorn jerked his head up, shocked at her brazenness. Tell her about Arwen? Now? Wouldn't it unpleasant for her to hear him declare his love for someone else just before their lovemaking?
Seeing the confusion on his face, the wench laughed. "You're such a romantic, Aragorn!" she said, laughing gaily. "Alright then, do as you please. You can tell me about her, or you may not tell me about her, I couldn't care less either way. I was just giving you an avenue to talk," she smiled. "And you do look to me like someone badly in need of a nice long talk."
Aragorn shook his head and sighed, and looking up at her, returned her warm smile. "And perhaps I am," he replied. "Alright then. Fire away."
"I've seen you finger the jewel. Did she give it to you?"
"Yes," he said simply.
"It's pretty."
"Yes, it is, isn't it. My thanks."
"Have you known her long?"
"Yes."
The wench looked up and sighed in exasperation. "Why do you keep answering me in short sentences," she demanded. "It's horribly rude of you. I was just trying to be nice. I'm not snooping, or anything. Ye gods, its becoming more of an interrogation session than a normal conversation!"
"My apologies," he said. "I'm not good at conversations."
"You blasted well aren't," she retorted, grinning playfully. Without another word, she stood up and moved over to kneel in front of him, and Aragorn felt his heart skip a beat, and when she rested a hand on his cheek, Aragorn allowed her to guide his face upwards to meet hers in a kiss.