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Intentions (NC-17) Print

Written by RubyElf

18 March 2012 | 26062 words

Title: Intentions
Author: RubyElf
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Faramir & Legolas

Thranduil arrives unexpectedly, Arwen solves everybody’s problems before dinner, Eomer is looking for his elf, hobbits are unhappy, Boromir is annoyed, and apparently Gandalf has shown up with some plans for Legolas and Faramir that perhaps he should have asked them about first.

[ all pages ]

Intentions – Part 13

Arwen had intended to make her way home and enjoy a quiet evening. However, as she walked down the hall, odd noises from the level below caught her attention. She cocked her head, listening with an elf’s excellent hearing; neither of the voices belonged to her husband, and neither to Boromir or Faramir, and definitely not to hobbits. Curious, she ducked out onto one of the small balconies that overlooked the streets and gardens below and looked down.

In the fading light, elven eyes had no trouble making out the two figures below, both naked, one slender and pale, the other sturdy and sun-browned. Éomer’s enthusiasm did lead him into odd positions, she thought to herself, in more ways than one. The stone bench could not be comfortable on bare knees, but the man didn’t seem concerned, and Berendir didn’t seem to be protesting the fact that he was stretched out on the cold stone, Éomer’s leather belt wrapped entirely around the bench and binding his hands above his head. At least he didn’t have to worry about his ass being cold, since Éomer had that gripped in his powerful hands, raised to a convenient angle, and was assisted by the elf’s long legs hooked over his shoulders, heels digging into Éomer’s back. The gasps and muttered curses were apparently an attempt to keep quiet, but Éomer was growling as his hands tightened, fingers pressing deep marks into the pale skin he was clutching, and Berendir had started to arch up off the bench, making eager but not very coherent demands.

Arwen tucked herself into a corner of the balcony, not intending to disturb the show with her presence. This wasn’t a form of entertainment she was accustomed to enjoying; while it wasn’t even slightly difficult to look in on her husband and his Steward, who were both unsubtle and impatient, Faramir and Legolas maintained almost impeccable privacy, so her opportunities for minor voyeurism were limited.

“Are you convinced yet?” Éomer demanded.

Berendir’s response was not a word in any language Arwen was familiar with, but considering Berendir’s slim body and the impressive girth of the cock that was steadily pounding into it, Arwen wasn’t sure a coherent response could be expected.

“I didn’t hear you,” Éomer said, drawing back slightly and grinning. “No good answering in elfish… I don’t speak a word of it.”

Berendir apparently didn’t need any words in any language to answer him, as he had managed to tear his hands free of the belt; in an instant one was clutching frantically at Éomer’s thigh and the other was reaching for his own cock, desperately hard and neglected against Éomer’s abdomen.

“Cheating!” Éomer exclaimed, but his hands were occupied, and in another moment the elf was gasping as he covered Éomer’s stomach with the evidence of his satisfaction.

Before Éomer could respond, though, Arwen heard sharp footsteps, then a turning handle. Glancing at the gate, she noticed with some alarm that Éomer had failed to properly latch it. Éomer realized this too, but only when he found himself staring at a stunned and red-faced King of Mirkwood.

“What is this?” he demanded.

Éomer glanced down at Berendir, whose legs were still draped over the man’s shoulders and who was currently shifting his ass in a way that made it extremely difficult for Éomer to think of any sort of appropriate response to the irate elf king. For a moment he considered attempting to make some sort of excuse explaining why this wasn’t what Thranduil thought it was; under the circumstances, though, it was fairly clear that this was exactly what Thranduil thought it was, so there didn’t seem to be much point in denying it.

“Berendir!” Thranduil demanded.

Berendir tipped his head back to look up at his father. “Yes?”

“What in the name of the Valar do you think you’re doing?”

Berendir glanced up at Éomer. “I thought it was fairly obvious.”

“Hmm,” Éomer agreed. “It’s true; there are a limited number activities you could engage in with my cock in your ass.”

Arwen had to cover her mouth to stifle the gasping giggle that nearly escaped her. Thranduil’s face turned a shade of red that she wasn’t sure most elves were capable of, and his body tensed in fury.

“This is a disgrace!” he sputtered.

Éomer raised his eyebrows. Berendir laughed.

“You think this is a disgrace? You should see the things Legolas lets his mortal do to him!”

Thranduil, with nothing else to say, turned and stormed out of the garden, slamming the gate behind him.

“You should lock that properly this time,” Berendir observed.

“I’m busy,” Éomer muttered, jerking the elf’s hips back into their proper position and resuming his work, leaving Berendir with little thought to protest.

Fortunately for them, Arwen stepped out into the hall and politely suggested to one of the upper level guards, those already chosen for loyalty and discretion, that he might happen to make a short patrol of the halls around the garden and make sure that no one attempted to disturb anything that might be going on inside.

“Not that what might be going on inside is our concern,” she said.

“Of course not,” the guard agreed. “I know absolutely nothing about what King Éomer is doing to that elf.”

“What elf?” Arwen asked, raising an eyebrow.

“As I said, my Lady, I know nothing about any elf. Or King Éomer. Haven’t seen either of them all evening.”

She nodded approvingly, and waited until he had gone on his way before stepping back onto the balcony. It seemed the rumors she’d heard about the Horse Lord’s stamina had some truth to them, and Berendir didn’t seem to object.

The hobbits, of course, knew exactly when Boromir made his way back to his rooms late in the evening, seeing as how they had been sitting in his room, playing draughts in front of the fire and waiting for him to return. The fact that it took the man several minutes to notice the hobbits, along with his rather uncoordinated attempts to get his boots off, gave them a fairly good guess as to what he’d been up to for the last few hours.

“Come and sit,” Merry said, taking the man’s hand and leading him to his chair. He slumped back, watching with a gloomy expression as the hobbits tugged his boots off before stepping back to look at him.

“What have you been up to?” Pippin asked, his own misery abruptly forgotten with an unhappy and rather drunk Boromir to tend to.

“Having a few drinks,” the man muttered.

“Alone, I’m sure,” Merry chided.

“Alone?” Boromir said, chuckling humorlessly. “Of course. Aragorn’s busy attempting to be a diplomat… seems that realizing he’s going to be a father has got it into his head that he’s supposed to be working a bit harder on being a proper king, too. And of course, has to be making all sorts of appearances with Arwen, now that the word is out… everybody wants to see the royal family.”

At the tone in his voice at the word “family”, Merry glanced at Pippin before turning back to Boromir.

“Of course they do. And Faramir’s rather occupied with Legolas, is he?”

“Occupied with him?” Boromir snorted. “I’d say so. Gandalf intends to conduct the ceremony tomorrow morning to officially bind them in the eyes of the Valar.”

“Officially… you mean, like they’ll be married?” Pippin asked, wide-eyed.

“Something like that,” Boromir said, “although I don’t suspect there will be a public reception. Means the same thing, though. Same thing as if he’d taken a wife. They belong to each other.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Merry said, crossing his arms. “And you don’t belong to anyone, do you?”

Pippin glared at him, appalled. “Of course he belongs to someone! He belongs to us, you daft Brandybuck!”

Boromir raised an eyebrow and glanced down at Pippin, who suddenly looked at the floor and shuffled his feet.

“Well, I mean, if you want to belong to us,” he said hesitantly.

“We’d be quite happy to belong to you,” Merry added. “If you’d ask us, that is.”

Pippin looked hopeful as Boromir studied the two of them with an unreadable expression.

“You two belong to each other.”

“We’ve always belonged to each other,” Merry said impatiently.

“And you’ll be off to the Shire together,” the man muttered.

“If we go back to the Shire, we’ll never be together again,” Pippin said eyes large and green and pleading. “Then I won’t belong to anybody. I want to stay here, with you and Merry.”

“Then why don’t you?” Boromir inquired.

“Because you’ve never asked us to,” Pippin said. “I know we’re awful pests sometimes, and I know we eat too much and make the kitchen girls cross, but…”

“Of course I want you to stay here,” Boromir said.

Pippin looked up at him hopefully. “Do you?”

“Well, yes.”

Merry gave the man such a sharp look that even through the fog of a few drinks he felt the older hobbit’s demanding glare.

“All right,” he said wearily, “and the Valar help me if I regret it tomorrow, but yes, little ones, I want you to stay.”

“With you?” Pippin asked.

“Yes, Pippin. I want you both to stay here with me.”

Pippin squeaked in delight and launched himself into Boromir’s arms; the startled man moved just in time to catch the young hobbit as he hit him in the chest. Over Pippin’s curly head, he could see Merry watching him with a satisfied expression.

“We’ll be your family forever,” Pippin said, embracing him. “And we’ll never love anybody more than you… well, except each other.”

Merry chuckled and leaned on the arm of the chair. “I think he understands, Pip.”

“You do realize,” Boromir said, suddenly wary, “that this does not give you permission to take any sort of inappropriate liberties with me. Just because I love you doesn’t mean you’re allowed to…”

“Of course not,” Pippin said, the picture of green-eyed, child-faced innocence.

“Certainly not,” Merry agreed, smiling inscrutably. “We wouldn’t even consider it.”

Boromir rolled his eyes and opened his other arm, making room for Merry to climb up onto his lap. Pippin sighed contentedly and leaned against Boromir’s shoulder, smiling radiantly at his cousin.

“You men are awfully slow sometimes,” Merry said, shaking his head at Boromir.

“Hmm. We get there eventually. Now, be quiet, little ones. My head hurts.”

Pippin yawned and rested his head against Boromir. “Well, after a nap we’ll make you some willowbark tea.”

“With honey in it, even,” Merry added.

“Hmph. Aragorn never puts honey in it,” the man mumbled, eyes drifting closed.

Merry leaned over and kissed Pippin’s forehead. “I told you he needed us, Pip.”

“You’re not always right, you know.”

“Yes, but aren’t you glad I was right this time?”

“This time,” Pippin agreed, yawning again. “Go to sleep, Merry. We’ve got the finest bed in all of Gondor or anywhere else right here.”

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4 Comment(s)

Well, that was just great! I really enjoyed this.

— Ria    Monday 19 March 2012, 2:25    #

Heehee, Hobbits! XD I can almost hear their incessant chatter about each and everything. Of course they would pretend to be all timid and shy – and then make whispered remarks about the other party guests, loud enough everyone can hear.

The whole scenery seems like something that happened during lunch break on the Ring set. Like: somebody (most likely one of the hobbit actors) snatched a camera and then they were going to do their own version of The Secret life in Middle Earth. Thinking about it I´m absolutely positive there is a secret extra somewhere in a sinister corner of the DVD…

And I must say I find the idea of Arwen having fun with itching powder very pleasing – and perhaps she would as well. It must be so annoying to spend all your time being wise and serene, especially with all these lively halflings around. The longer I think about it the more I like the idea of stripping all these over-glamorous characters of their flawlessness – at least a tiny bit… >:)

A refreshing look at a lighter and funnier Middle Earth – I bet there are even such things as fart cushions (in Arwen´s drawer)! XDDD

— raven22372    Wednesday 21 March 2012, 16:23    #

hahaha, I have laughed nonstop at this end! hahah!

— Laivindur    Thursday 22 March 2012, 18:38    #

Oh, I just love Pippin!!! “Makes it up as he goes along!” hahaha

— Laivindur    Thursday 22 March 2012, 19:10    #

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For more of RubyElf’s work, visit her LiveJournal.