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For your sake Badur (NC-17) Print

Written by Nerey Camille

21 February 2013 | 19253 words

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Summary: If the only way to save someone you love was to torture them physically and wound them mentally, perhaps for ever… would you do it? Could you do it, even if you would? And if you did… how would you live with the knowledge of it afterwards?
A young Faramir has been ordered to spy on the Orcs in Ithilien. There he meets someone completely unexpected. As memories from a luminous past flood him, he has to strive hard to keep some light in the present… for Badur, but also for himself.

Pairings: OFC (Original Female Character).
Rating: NC-17 for explicit violence and sexual content.
Warnings: Angst, torture, OFC, pre-war of the Ring (book-verse). Strong language. Minor changes to the original plot.
Disclaimers and acknowledgements: No profit is being made. Tolkien owns Middle Earth and Faramir. Inspiration drawn from Riley’s Harry Potter fanfiction Pawn to Queen. Badur is the name of Aladdin’s bride in one version of the tale of Aladdin. Jahel is an invented name, inspired from the arabic female name “Jawl”, which means “to move freely”. Samar, the home of Badur’s family, is an invented city of Harad, built where the river Harnen cuts the great Harad road. The name is a play on Samarkand. The end of the fourth chapter subtly mirrors the end of the beautiful movie Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightley. The title of the last chapter, of course, is an homage to the immortal Star Wars saga.

Written for my challenge The only way.

Beta: first four chapters have been checked by Bell Witch, for which I am very grateful. I was too impatient to post the final chapter, when I finally finished it, so… no beta for that one (so far). All remaining mistakes in the story are mine.

Notes: This story is dear to me for several reasons, not least among them the fact that it deals with complex ethical choices and important things like trust, assertiveness, selflessness and freedom. I remember the plot was received with some interest, and I would be overjoyed to have your feedback on the story as well.


Chapter 1. The dream

Faramir shifted in his sleep. He was sitting in that horrible cavern again, swapping information with the chief of a band of hideous Orcs. He hated the foul creatures and loathed doing this job, not least because it required him to utter words that completely belied his true feelings. But the Steward’s orders were not to be disobeyed. They were disrupted by a strong noise come from the entrance of the cavern. A patrol of Orcs had just trooped in, groaning and yelling as if they had some cause for great excitement. Faramir looked at them warily (anything that pleased the Orcs could not be good for his own country, but he knew he had to be careful not to show his worry) and soon located the reason for the creatures’ gleeful mood. They had brought a captive.

He retreated back into the shadows and quickly drew his hood over his head; though this unfortunate creature had little chance of ever seeing the sun again, it was safer to remain unknown.

The Orcs brought their prize before their leader and Faramir could examine the prisoner at his leisure. It was a woman, much to his surprise; her face was bowed and hidden by a tangled mane of dark hair, but otherwise her attitude was proud and defiant. Her clothes were torn, and she sported some cuts and bruises, as if she had fought hard to free herself from her assailants; the rags that still clung to her body indicated she came from Harad, and the texture of her exposed skin showed she was young and from a fine family. All these elements reminded Faramir of Badur; affection rushed to his heart at the memory of his old love, and filled it with endless compassion for the poor girl before him. She was probably a Haradrim trying to escape Sauron’s rule, and it was hard upon her to have been caught now, when she was almost within reach of Gondor and safety.

At his side Ufthak, the Orcs’ leader, was examining his prisoner as he would a piece of meat. He extended one of his paws to forcefully lift her chin, then pulled her hair back roughly with the other. As the girl’s face was revealed, Faramir felt a cold shudder run down his spine. It could not be, but there it was, and there was nothing he could do about it. A cry of despair ripped his mind, never uttered, as he looked horrorstruck into the face of the woman he had just been thinking about.

“Trying to run away, are we?” sniggered Ufthak. “But you won’t run anywhere tonight, you won’t. Stuck here. Get your pretty face punched for trying to run away, yea.”

These words gave Faramir time and strength to recover. Danger had increased tenfold for him in the last few seconds, and he needed all of his wits about him to avoid doing anything that would betray his true allegiance. He observed the woman give Ufthak a cold, contemptuous look, not deigning to answer his taunting words. Her courage made him feel a tinge of pain. Badur was here, how he did not know, and it was of no consequence at the moment. The only thing that mattered was that she was going to be tortured, and murdered, before his eyes unless he did something to prevent it.

“Proud, eh? We’ll see what happens when we start playing with you. I’m sure Lord Herumor will be thrilled to watch the fun.”

Badur turned towards Faramir, and her gaze bore into his skull. Despite the protection of his hood it was difficult not to recoil before that look. It was full of hatred and scorn, mingled with a guarded curiosity; Faramir knew that she was wondering who he was, despising him for being a traitor to Gondor, and vowing to herself to remember his name in case she got out of her plight alive.

He returned her gaze coldly and appraisingly, pondering his options. As a Haradrim she had no value to the Orcs, for that country was already Sauron’s ally; if she had been from Gondor, they would have sent her to Mordor for interrogation. Therein lay his small chance of saving her.

“I am not sure I want to watch, Ufthak,” he said, with the shadow of a snigger. He watched for signs that she had recognized his voice, but either she had forgotten him or his voice had changed in the eight years elapsed since their parting, for she showed none. “You’ll damage her beyond repair pretty quick, and I hate to see a nice lass like that wasted.” He allowed his gaze to linger lasciviously on her and concluded: “You Orcs do not know how to have fun with a woman.”

That was true enough: Orcs could not experience sexual pleasure, though they had the physical apparatus for it. Ironically, it was Badur who had taught him her own theory about why Sauron would give them genitals, despite the fact that they were bred magically and there were no female Orcs. At least she would be spared that humiliation, though he doubted the alternatives were any better.

“Ooooh, you know that, do you? Then why don’t you show us how it is done?”

Damn! He had not bargained on this. Nay, there was no way he would rape Badur for them to gloat on it, fair Elbereth! He wasn’t even sure that he could physically do it, for one thing; the very thought made him feel sick. Before he could refuse, however, Ufthak was addressing the rest of his troop.

“What do you think, lads? We let our guest have his fun while we watch for a change. Won’t stop us from playing with her afterwards, either. And I bet she’ll be even in a better mood then, eh?”

Badur remained impassive at the cheering and roaring that followed these words (some of the Orcs were noisily demanding that she be handed to them right away), but Faramir saw her close her eyes briefly, as if hardening herself for what was coming.

“In fact,” he said, standing and slowly revolving around Badur in order to examine her critically from all angles, “I think she’s rather a beauty. Hardly a girl like you would expect to catch in these woods. I could use her, I need to unwind. I’d rather have this woman with me than go once a month to see the prostitutes in Cair Andros. I’ll buy her from you, if you are willing. But I want her hale.”

The Orcs roared angrily and surrounded Badur more closely, but Ufthak was silent, obviously tempted by the prospect of a fair amount of gold. He seemed to hesitate before the irritation of his soldiers, however.

“She can’t last long,” said Faramir, resuming his seat and dropping his voice so that only Ufthak could hear him. “You won’t get much fun from her. A male would serve you better, and you’re getting those often enough.” That was unfortunately true; he hoped he had managed to convey the implicit message that he had rendered enough services as a traitor to deserve a reward. “I will offer you a good price, Ufthak,” he added persuasively. “A very good price.” He reached for his neck and drew out a fine golden chain he had been wearing under his garments; to it was attached a small portrait, beautifully crafted in gold and precious stones; it had obviously an enormous value.

Ufthak looked at the jewel, then at his soldiers, dubiously, and Faramir decided that if his request was denied, he would take his chance and try to deliver her by force. The odds would be against him; there were more than twenty Orcs to fight, and even with Badur’s help there was only the slightest chance of survival. At this point, the leader’s harsh voice broke into Faramir’s grim thoughts.

“The lads’ll be unhappy if you carry their prize out,” he said immovably. “They don’t get much of a chance of amusement these days. Most of your boys manage to kill themselves before we take them…”

That’s because they know what they’re in for otherwise, thought Faramir bitterly.

“Of course, I wouldn’t mind giving her away if you could provide some male captives in exchange for her. I want to please you, myself.”

“What?” gasped Faramir. “I can’t! I’m already taking awful risks to help you. I can arrange for my men to get into an ambush, but how am I to guarantee that you capture them alive? Not that I wouldn’t agree if it could be done,” he added, reluctantly.

“Then I’m afraid I have to allow the lads some fun. You can get the girl after they’ve amused themselves a little.”

“You know full well they will be out of order once they start. I want that girl alive, Ufthak. Don’t force me to become angry or you’ll regret it.”

“You show them, then, you torture her. Maybe they’ll accept that. Can’t take all the fun from them,” replied the Orc leader stubbornly. “It’s them what took her; would have a mutiny on my hands.”

Faramir could very well believe that. The Orcs had retired a few paces to let their leader and the stranger talk, but they were guarding their prey as if ready to fight anyone who would deny it them. He thought quickly. Whatever his personal feelings, he would not sacrifice any of his men for this. He had been offered an alternative that no spy would refuse. It was that or fighting a losing fight against the Orcs, betraying his mission and ruining all his father’s strategies.

He knew he ought to be grateful for the chance of getting Badur and himself out of this hell, but it was with a sinking feeling that he steeled his voice to answer Ufthak.

“Very well. Go talk to them. But I warn you, Ufthak, I won’t damage her more than I can avoid.”



“Our guest is going to play with the prisoner for you,” roared Ufthak, as a circus ringmaster would announce his best artist, “he’s going to show us how they use women in Gondor.”

Faramir sighed inwardly. He soon noticed that the Orcs, though grudgingly, were ready to accept his offer; it took him a few more seconds to realize that they were eager to see how men “got fun” out of women. He had wondered before if he would be able to summon an erection under these strained circumstances; it seemed as if he was going to find out. His hand went down, casual and lazy, to stroke his genitals tentatively.

“Make her squeal, so we know she appreciates your treatment” said the Orc leader, in what struck Faramir as a rather threatening tone. The Orcs were settling around the cavern, ready to cheer and laugh; only two remained in the middle to hold the prisoner, and all eyes, except hers, were fixed on him.

It was then, while he sat watching her and idly fingering his sex, that he just knew he wouldn’t do it. He believed he was capable of it; that he had enough control over his mind and body to perform the deed that had been required of him. But he would not rape Badur, of all people; even if he had to torture her instead (something he would likely have had to do anyway), he would not commit the ultimate crime of twisting an act of love and trust into a degrading parody of itself.

He would have to replace humiliation with pain; there was nothing else for it. The Orcs were waiting for the show to start; he rose from his seat and came to stand three feet away from Badur. Their eyes met, and as he observed her the beginnings of a plan formed themselves in his mind…

“Strip her, and tie her to the ground, face up,” he ordered brusquely, still looking at her. Then he parted his lips in a lewd smile. “Let her legs be put apart and bent, and her arms tied above her head.”

The two Orcs advanced to execute his orders, but Badur unexpectedly sprang to action. Though her hands were bound, she pushed one of the guards with her shoulder and kicked the other, then turned fiercely to Faramir, her teeth bared.

The young man didn’t show his surprise. “What is it, girl?” he said in a cold, amused voice. “Is this meant to tell us that you’d rather preserve yourself for me? How touching. Very well, I will tie you down then.”

He saw fear and resolution in her eyes as she readied herself for his attack. He was a warrior; he stepped forward and brutally forced her down in one skillful move. Not that it was too difficult, he thought self-deprecatingly, to vanquish an opponent whose hands were tied behind her back.

He soon had her pinned to the ground, tied to four daggers buried to the hilt in the cavern’s soil. He proceeded then to rip her clothes off, none too gently. All the Orcs had now retreated to the walls of the cavern, leaving empty the space where Badur lay. They were already brimming with enthusiasm and yelled in a way that Faramir would have found disgusting, if he hadn’t had more pressing matters on his mind. He had first expected, when he gave the order to tie her down, that Badur would yield to his ministrations in the hope of leaving the cavern; she must realize that her chances of escaping were much higher once she was in open space and in the care of only one man. But her fierce resistance had shattered that assumption; whether because she hadn’t heard the agreement between him and Ufthak, or because she couldn’t bring herself to please her aggressors, it was plain she was not going to collaborate.

And that means she will resist to the last, and I’ll have to break her before the Orcs are content. It will not be an easy thing to do.

Badur lay naked and helpless before him. Resolutely putting out of his mind any thought that would hinder what he had to do, Faramir closed the distance between their bodies.



Thank the Valar, he had always been a good actor. No one would have believed, as he explored Badur’s anatomy in a way both lustful and rather sadistic, that he loathed every move he made. No sound of pain escaped her lips when he squeezed her flesh and dug his nails into soft skin. He snorted annoyedly.

“You’re trying to be valiant, hm? Trying to deprive us of fun? It seems like you need some proper teaching. And you will get it; I’m going to hurt you until you are yelling with pain, and then you’ll wish you’d started sooner.”

The Orcs egged him on and he kept his word. While abstaining from actually raping Badur, he inflicted on her as much pain and humiliation as he could without really wounding her. She bit her lips, her eyes went watery, but neither sound nor tear came out. Her eyes, though, regarded him with endless hate and for a split second he lost himself in them, absorbing along with her contempt and her hatred the full and indelible horror of his role.

Suddenly his expression changed. He looked at her closely, then knelt between her legs and searched for a black speck on her left inner thigh. When he found it he raised his head, laughed aloud, and drew his hood back, uncovering his features.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bitch from Samar!” he exclaimed. “Do you recognize me, whore?”

She looked at him for a full twenty seconds. Slowly her expression turned to incredulity and dismay. Faramir laughed again, satisfied.

“This whore,” he said sarcastically to the Orcs, “is the daughter of one of those clans that wanted to betray our Lord Sauron. I was sent by the Steward to make an alliance with her family… and under cover of that, I seduced her, lay with her, and in that way got from her all the secrets that allowed me to turn in her family to the Dark Lord, as rebels.”

She found her voice out of the depths of her horror.

“You can’t be a traitor… you… the Steward’s son…”

Of course, he had expected this to come out. His answer was ready.

“Nay, you silly, I am not the Steward’s son. That was only a lie meant to deceive you. Do you believe the ruler of Gondor would send his precious sons into Harad, a land full of his enemies? Nay, he sent me, one of his trusted captains,” he laughed evilly at the word, “as his son. You naive girl, you shouldn’t have believed everything a lover told you, should you? Then your sister would still be alive now, wouldn’t she?”

“She’s not dead, she can’t be, she was alive when I left…” said Badur imploringly.

“But I’d be much surprised if she still lives now,” declared Faramir. “The Dark Lord has enacted a law that no Haradrim is to leave the country without permission, and your family was already watched, wasn’t it? Thanks to me… “

“No,” she said, brokenly, “no.”

Faramir felt the satisfaction of a work well done, and for the first time in his life thanked the Valar that he was Denethor’s son; otherwise, undoubtedly he couldn’t have accomplished this, couldn’t have had it in him to find such terrible and efficient words. But now, ideas were flowing swiftly.

“Oh, yes,” he said, taking advantage of her weakness. “Girls that open their legs so easily to strangers are bound to be in trouble. That’s why in Gondor such girls are scorned. Of course I might have taught you that, seeing as you were so deluded with your freedom ideas, but you were so attractive… it was more sensible to humour your stupidity and enjoy your body…”

“No… no… you must be lying…”.

“Delightful country, Harad. Every girl ready to open her legs to a true man. I had many an occasion to test it, but I must say you were the most beautiful of all… and believe me,” he said, turning to the Orcs, “I pity you for not being able to enjoy these activities, for you would have liked to taste her. She is highly gifted at giving pleasure, this girl is. I expect it comes from practice. Doesn’t it, girl?”

She looked at him, wordless, disbelief and revulsion etched on her face.

“No use to deny it, I remember quite well how you loved men. Crept out every night to have passers-by take you in the street… would have paid for them, if I hadn’t been there. And you believed me when I praised your ways, when I indulged your stupid ideas…”

She unexpectedly flared up at this.

“You were sincere at the time. I am sure of it. I don’t know why you have changed, but I was no idiot. And you had a heart then, though now you are nothing but a beast.”

He choked with laughter, then looked at her amusedly.

“A heart! Indeed you are still as foolish as you were then. So I’ll explain it for you. You wonder what has changed? It’s very simple. When I stayed with you, I was in a place ruled by women, so I humoured them. Now, the Dark Lord rules… and Harad will become much more enjoyable, because we’ll be able to bed Haradrim women while at the same time showing them who the master is… as I am afraid you’ll have to learn, tonight…”

And with that he pinched her harder than ever yet… on her sex. She couldn’t help a cry of pain and surprise. Still, it was not loud enough.

“This whore likes my cock too much,” he told the Orcs, “I don’t reckon it would amuse you to see her moaning like the bitch she is. She’d better learn a harder lesson… now,” he said brutally, turning to her, “you shall discover what my true ideas are as far as men and women are concerned: men on top, and women down, to please them and be quiet.”

He looked at her with as much hate and contempt as he could summon, and he saw such incomprehension and grief in her eyes that he felt a stab of pity and remorse; he pushed it aside, becoming brutal to protect himself from emotion that would be deadly to both of them.

“You are afraid, aren’t you? Well, you’d better get used to it. You’re coming with me after tonight.”

“No, please… give me a quick death…” she muttered, likely to herself or to any Gods she believed in, rather than to him or the fascinated Orcs.

He watched her face intently. She was appalled by the thought that she would have to go with him, and he divined it was not for fear of his brutality (she must have expected much worse from the Orcs) but because he was an insufferable company to her now, because the thought of his treachery and his taunting was agony to her. A second later her face settled in resignation. She had abandoned fight, she was defeated.

Just in time, he managed to remember he was supposed to react in some way.

“How very ungrateful of you,” he said, coldly. “You shall learn to appreciate me… or to please me, at least. Now, yell.”

And with that he began to pinch every one of her most delicate regions, in an unpredictable order. She moved furiously to protect herself, but she was held down by the daggers, completely impotent. She started gasping in pain, and soon she was shrieking with every touch, and yelling for relief. And now Faramir could concentrate on the appreciative reactions of the Orcs.

It took a good while to appease them. The vision of suffering made Orcs very hungry, and soon they were eating and drinking, while Faramir occasionally pinched some spot of the almost-unconscious Badur. When he saw the chief was beginning to get sated, he turned to him.

“She won’t stand much more,” he said, “and I’d rather take her away while she’s unconscious. It will be more difficult for me to transport her if she resists. Besides, I’d better get going.”

Ufthak looked round at his Orcs and nodded.

“Fine, you can have her. But you’ll have to knock her out,” he said, sniggering evilly.

Faramir knew the Orcs expected the coup de grâce to be a mighty blow, of the sort that make a lot of noise. He sighed inwardly and approached Badur, who gave him a look of pain, as if she still couldn’t believe the man she had cherished could have turned into a monster. It turned his stomach upside-down, and made him wish he could avert his gaze from that harrowing expression. But it couldn’t be afforded. He looked her directly in the eyes as he let his fist fall upon her face. Badur fell limply on the floor, her mouth bleeding, and Faramir suddenly understood that this was the last time he would raise his hand to a defenceless person.

He was finally free to leave. He bowed low to Ufthak and handed him the precious chain that was to be Badur’s ransom. Swiftly he drew out the daggers, bound the unconscious woman’s hands and feet securely, and took his leave from the Orcs, carrying his captive on his back into the depths of the forest. Only then did his body that was drenched in sweat finally relax, and did his voice stiff with tears stop muttering, as the nightmare ended and allowed the son of Denethor to fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

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The following people read the story, enjoyed it, and would like to thank the author: Jason Johnson , Marietta

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About the Author


Nerey Camille

Welcome everybody!

Two things. First, all I have published here is at your disposal to enjoy, share, copy or modify freely. Just make sure to state where you took it from, and let me know you’re using it, because I’ll be thrilled to learn my work was worth your attention. Should you ever want to use it commercially or in some way not stated here, you’ll need specific permission.

And secondly, I do not write solely about Faramir, so if you’d like to see something else you’re welcome to visit my blog. There you’ll find some short stories, poems and quite a few more things, some of them in English, some in French or Spanish.

I hope you enjoy yourself reading and, as always, comments are very much appreciated.