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This story is rated «NC-17», and carries the warnings «Slash, and well, bestiality of a sort».
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Of Elves, Berries and Elven Horses (NC-17) Print

Written by Minx

02 November 2005 | 4159 words

Pairing: OC Elves/Faramir, Aragorn/Faramir
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: LOTR and all its characters belong to Tolkien. Most of the ideas in this fic belong to Heilt (refer to the note)
Warnings: Slash, and well, bestiality of a sort
Summary: Faramir is caught by elves from Ithilien as part of a Midsummer festival prank, and they have some requirements from him Long A/N:
Please do note the warnings.
This fic is a result of spending much time drooling at Heilt’s artwork. Heilt’s wonderful site is a must for any Faramir lover! Some time last year, she posted three extremely droolworthy slashy pictures. Those three pictures form some of the events in this fic. All three pictures are in her “backyard” the NC17 section. Since entry to this section is restricted by age requirements, she has requested that I do not put up direct links to the three pics, but only to her main site, from where in turn you can request permission to the backyard.
In order to access the restricted section, read these instructions to request permission.
The pic nos are (in order of their appearance in this fic) – 52, 40 and 56

Heilt, thank you for your amazing work. I know many of us on the board dreamt up many angsty plotlines to support those pics, but surprisingly, this time the angst muse didn’t cooperate with me. Liz, I know you had an angstier plan and I hope that you will be persuaded to write it:-)

As ever, many thanks to Iris for the excellent beta.

Archivist’s Note: Unfortunately, Heilt’s site is no longer online.

Onto the fic now –

Faramir knew why he’d been captured even before his captors told him he had nothing to fear from them. For the last few weeks Ithilien had been suffering their attentions. The elven settlement in Ithilien was celebrating the midsummer in a large way. It was the first real celebration after many years, so many old customs were being revived even as the entire woodland area was being decorated, and signing and dancing was being planned.

All of that was fine with the other settlers in Ithilien. It was the other part that wasn’t fine. The part where some bright elf had revived the old custom of setting challenges for the younger elves. As a result, one day washing would vanish off the lines in Emyn Arnen to be returned a day later though, or hunting expeditions would set off in search of more elusive animals or the largest trees in the forest would be readily climbed and dangled from, or in one famous case, a horse ‘borrowed’ from the royal stables in Minas Tirith. No one was safe from these pranksters, as most people saw them, not even the king. However, most indulged them as the pranks tended to be harmless. Faramir however thought the reason no one was spared was because most of the elves who indulged in these pranks seemed to look down upon men. He kept his thoughts to himself though. Aragorn for one wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment.

Clearly, he should not have come out alone in the woods. But Aragorn was to visit and Faramir had wanted to surprise his love by having his favourite venison stew prepared and he’d decided to hunt alone, secure in the fact that this part of Ithilien at least was free of Orcs and suchlike.

He’d been captured quite easily. They’d snuck up behind him and grabbed him by his arms, tied a cloth around his mouth, thrown a sack over his head and bound his hands and feet. He’d been tossed on to a horse and carried away for nearly an hour before they’d stopped. All the while he’d stayed quiet knowing the elves wouldn’t really harm him.

They pulled him off the horse onto the ground and then whipped off the sack. He looked at his captors and then round instinctively. There were two elves, one much taller than the other, both very beautiful. The place they were in was a small bower. The woods spread out in the distance and a small river flowed nearby. Stone benches and trellises adorned the small area, all covered with flowering vines. The horse he’d ridden on stood near the trees nibbling on the grass.

“This is perfect,” the smaller elf enthused, “Quiet and secluded enough for our needs!”

“This is not Aragorn!” the first elf hissed bewildered.

“No, but it’s that Steward of his, surely he will do just as well?” the second elf spoke up.

“And all the better, I should think. A king’s absence for even a few hours would be easily noticed! And this one I’m told has had the king’s seed inside of him often.” This from the first one, who was taller and had dark brown hair.

Faramir stared at the two ethereally beautiful creatures bending over him. He had always been fascinated by Elves, and had often been caught staring dreamily at Elven delegates visiting Aragorn’s court. It was a source of never-ending amusement for his king.

“We need three goblets of Númenorean seed, this one should do.”

Faramir stared up in confusion… had he heard correctly?

His gag was removed by the taller elf, who sneered a little at him, “Yes, you heard correctly. We need your seed. I don’t know why we bother with humans but if we must, we must. We thought of the king at first when we heard he was visiting, but you will be better. After all we mustn’t embarrass the king like this!”

“Seed!” Faramir sputtered in confusion latching onto the clearest word he heard.

“Yes, seed,” the elf smirked, “If you can help us it would be good. Otherwise, we’d have to help you.”

“Which is also quite good,” the smaller elf said calmly, “Which would you prefer? Will you give us your seed voluntarily?”

“No!” Faramir said alarmed. He had to be dreaming!

“Oh good!” the taller elf said gleefully, “We get additional counts for taking it from an unwilling participant! Your position as Steward and your lack of willingness will give us a good chance of winning the challenge!”

“Either you are insane,” Faramir said with a calmness he didn’t feel, “Or I am dreaming. Which one is it?”

“Oh dear, let’s just get on with it, shall we,” the shorter elf said, “Three goblets will take time, especially for a human. They’re not very strong, you know.”

“We’ll be nice to you,” he told Faramir, “But if you try to hurt us we can hurt you back. Humans are like that, we’ve heard.”

He sat by Faramir’s head and placed his hands on his shoulders, “Let’s undress him quickly, shall we?” The gag went on his mouth again but the bindings on his feet came off.

The taller elf quickly rapidly undid Faramir’s shirt bindings, ignoring his attempts to wriggle away from the hold that kept him down.

“I’d be surprised if this pretty one’s absence wouldn’t go noticed too,” the shorter elf said silkily, carding his fingers through Faramir’s hair, as he struggled against the bindings around his bare arms.

The Steward stared up at him, his heart thudding a little even as he told himself to stay calm.

The hands moved down his face, onto his naked chest, and finally rested on his lower abdomen. Faramir kicked out a leg in protest and was rewarded with a slap across his cheek.

“Typical human,” the taller elf said angrily, “Don’t try that again.

He then knelt in front of him and swiftly grabbing a small knife, slipped it under the waistband of his pants. He glanced up at Faramir and the smile that curled on his lips made the Steward’s stomach clench in nervousness. The knife continued to rest lightly on his skin under his pants, the steel felt cold against his clammy skin.

“Now let’s see you kick, little Steward,” the elf taunted, slipping the knife is some more and pressing it down lightly. Faramir stilled himself immediately, knowing the fear showed clearly on his face, and feeling ashamed about it.

And then in one swift motion the knife moved downwards, ripping the fabric. A few, sharp effective slashes ensured that the pants came off entirely, and a few more took care of his shirt, leaving the Steward completely naked and bound at the mercy of the two elves.
“Very pretty,” the elf said approvingly, and the slipping the knife into his belt, parted Faramir’s legs.

“Mmpf,” Faramir protested, wildly, as the cool hands came in contact with his inner thighs.

“Hush!” the elf admonished as he pushed the legs further apart.

“He’s scared,” the smaller elf spoke, amused.

“Don’t be scared, little one, it won’t hurt.”

One slender finger ran lightly over his entrance causing Faramir to rear up in fright. What were they doing? They couldn’t… no, they were elves… elves were not supposed not to be like that!

“Don’t try any tricks with me,” he was warned, “Remember if we don’t get it from you, we’ll take it from your beloved king!”

Faramir stopped struggling at the thought of Aragorn having to go through this humiliating experience. The elf leaned forward and began to fondle his erection. Despite himself, Faramir felt himself hardening under the swift ministrations.

“Not fast enough,” the other elf murmured, “Perhaps we should aid him a little,”

Faramir glanced at him warily. While his head was turned, the elf sitting between his legs, pushed a finger into him swiftly. Faramir grunted in surprise through his gag, and his eyes filled up with tears at the stab of pain the long finger was causing.

“So tight,” the tall elf smirked, glancing up at Faramir’s frightened eyes, “Do you behave like this with your king? I’ve heard he’s well-endowed?”

He twisted the finger in painfully, while continuing to fondle Faramir’s balls roughly.

“Too slow!” the other elf hissed from over Faramir’s head, “We need three cups remember? And we haven’t even one yet? Are you sure he’s capable?”

“I’m sure he is… he’s just too tight, and dry… ,” the elf said disgustedly, pulling his finger out causing Faramir to whimper in pain, “ Wait… give me something to oil him with. The berries…”

Faramir watched apprehensively as a bunch of fat red berries were plucked from a plant nearby. He knew those berries – there were clumps of them growing all over his castle in Ithilien and in various gardens in Minas Tirith. They were used in making a medicinal oil. As a child, he had often watched the helpers in the Houses of healing pluck them. They were handed to the smirking elf, “There, it’ll be easier for you now, little Steward… Wonderful berries these… tell your king next time he tries to make love to you outdoors and forgets the oil… you had a very uncomfortable ride after your little romp a few weeks ago, didn’t you… oh yes we saw you, that’s where we got the idea to take the seed from one of you.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes were drawn to the mesmerising sight of the elf, biting lightly into one of the ripened berries and squeezing the whitish liquid that spurted out onto his fingers.

“No, wait,” the other elf said suddenly, “Do you remember what Halor said he’d tried once?”

“Oh yes! Let’s try Halor’s idea out.”

He threw away the squashed berry and picked another one from the bunch. He carefully rubbed it between his fingers and then pushed it into Faramir’s puckered entrance. Faramir started in surprise as the cold berry entered him…

The elf placed a hand on his lower belly to hold him in place and then wriggled it in, until it was almost entirely in with just the thick green stalk hanging out of Faramir’s body. Then he gripped Faramir’s erection and squeezed it tightly. Faramir moaned in pain, and clenched his buttocks. The movement caused the thin shell of the berry to crack and a cold, thick liquid spurted out inside Faramir, filling up inside him and trickling down his thighs spilling onto the grass. A scent akin to that of the medicinal oil wafted into Faramir’s nose.

“Perfect,” the elf said smiling, and shoved first one finger and then a second and third one into Faramir rapidly.

“You filthy little humans are so easy to play with,” he smirked as his fingers probed around until they found the little knot they were looking for, “He likes it!”

Faramir arched back in an automatic but unwanted movement as his pleasure spot was rubbed. The fingers around his erection began moving up and down rapidly, stroking him swiftly, even as he moaned loudly through the gag, his voice keening loudly until he felt his release spurt out. Something cold came in contact with his lower body and he might have flinched if he’d been able to.

He opened his eyes tiredly to find there was a goblet placed between his thighs to collect his release.

“There!” the elf said satisfied.

They left him lying there on the grass for a while after binding up his feet again as they transferred the contents from the goblet to a tin. He tried to do something about the bindings but they were still too tight, and he felt quite fatigued.

They returned to him a while later and tugged him to a corner of the bower where a trellis hung over a small stone fountain that no longer had any water in it. They pulled him up, undid his wrists and feet and the gag, and retied his hands to the wooden beams that hung above. The cup stood on the fountain basin in front of him.

The smaller elf stood behind him, clothed in his long silken robe. He came and stood behind Faramir and the Steward heard a rustling of clothing before he felt the elf’s fingers against his buttocks again and jerked forward with a soft moan.

“You like it don’t you?” the tall elf standing in front of him said, “You like being touched like this and being pleasured so. So why don’t you just help us as we ask?”

The smaller elf laughed softly, and parting his legs a little more pushed his finger in deeper before pushing in a second one and searching the passage, the way lubricated by the syrup from the berries. Faramir felt the fingers fill him, pushing harder and harder into him, the knuckles scraping his passage … it had been so long since he had been with Aragorn and since he’d been touched like this… he groaned loudly and closed his eyes pretending it was Aragorn behind him. The taller elf meanwhile wrapped his long fingers around his organ, stroking it, kneading it, rubbing it in rhythm with the fingers that kept pulsing into him.

“Say you like it,” the smaller elf, whispered in his ears.

And he found himself nodding, “Y-y-es… please…”

He didn’t think he had ever before come with such intensity twice in such a short span of time. He did so now, moaning helplessly as the fingers wandered out of his passage and played ruthlessly with his nipples even as stronger hands milked ever drop of his release out of him onto the cold goblet below.

This time when they left him on the grass, to allow him some time before they collected the third goblet, they tied up his hands again. Faramir realised that the two elves were in a worse state than he was. Both looked extremely aroused and the hardness in their groins was unmistakable.

The taller elf laughed as Faramir’s gaze wandered down his body, “Don’t worry, little Steward, I don’t play with humans, but my friend and I will take care of our needs awhile so you may rest. You must not try to move, the horse will not let you.”

The horse stared back at Faramir out of solemn, intelligent eyes.

He watched dry-mouthed as the two elves removed their robes and slowly and tenderly made love to each other, the soft, muted sounds of their lovemaking as beautiful as the sight of their perfect bodies melding into each other in the late afternoon sunlight that filtered in through the canopy of leaves above them. Birds trilled around them, somewhere a river gurgled on and all around the smells of spring were in the air. It was so alike that day in the woods a few weeks earlier with Aragorn. They had not really forgotten the oil as the elf had said, Faramir had deliberately left it behind. Aragorn was to leave that day and Faramir had wanted their lovemaking to be hard so he could spend the next two nights as he had, in an empty bed, but still feeling their lovemaking.

The two elves came apart slowly but lay in each others arms and Faramir suddenly feeling strange at watching them as they might have watched him with Aragorn, quietly turned himself flat onto his back, spreading out his legs, feeling the grass tickle his bare skin and let his eyes drift shut.

The two elves were talking now, wondering how to make him come a third time, he realised and wondered if he should tell them to make love again. They had risen and moved towards their packs now. The taller elf was emphatically stating he had enough of touching the human, he was a human after all and he had enough of seeing the other elf touch him too! They were talking of herbs, and things, Faramir realised a little worriedly, and … he felt something wet and slobbering on his crotch.

He nearly shrieked when upon opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was the horse. It had wandered near him and now stood with its head bent low, nudging its cold, wet nose into his groin. It looked up as he screamed and bared its teeth and Faramir almost sobbed when he saw them. The two elves who had also turned to look at them burst out laughing.

“Oh hush, he doesn’t bite,” the smaller elf said in between gasps of laughter, “He’s just trying to help us, I think.”

“I always said he could understand everything I said,” the taller elf spoke happily, as the horse bent its head and nudged Faramir’s groin again, “He knows we need to arouse the human again and he’s decided to help us to spare us the distasteful task. Oh, my beauty, I’m going to give you a whole tub of apples for this. Thank you, my beloved steed.”

“Please help me,” Faramir cried unable to move. His hands were still tied, and though his legs were free how could he kick such a beautiful horse, but dear Eru, if it tried to – the horse stomped one hoof rather meaningfully and Faramir sobbed out again.

He just lay still and terrified, feeling the wet nose and mouth, the smooth surface of the teeth and shivered as his sensitive member was subjected to the sensation again and again. The two elves continued their conversation.

“Rather useful for you, love, when you go on long journeys, isn’t it?” the smaller one said, his eyes twinkling.

Much to his horror, Faramir did feel himself getting aroused by the sensation, try as he might to quell it. How, he wondered miserably, to take pleasure like this, in such a manner… but his body would not really listen…

“Oh, all right, that’s enough dear heart,” the taller elf told his horse, “I think we can handle it from here.”

And then the taller elf did just that skilfully manipulating Faramir’s half-erect shaft and soon they had a third goblet filled up.

“Thank you, my lord Steward,” the taller elf, said in a half-mocking tone and bowed to him. “We shall take you back to where we found you now and as a mark of our appreciation…” Here he held out to the dazed Steward a bunch of wild grasses with luscious red berries hanging from them.

Faramir was pulled onto the horse naked, though his clothes were made into a bundle that the shorter elf carried. The two elves walked with the horse. The jolting movement and the fatigue that he had been feeling for so long now combined to send him into a light doze so that he was quite startled when they suddenly seemed to arrive back at the clearing he’d been caught in and he was helped off the horse.

They untied him and returned his clothes to him and handed him the berries all in one swift motion.

He stared at them as they mounted the horse.

“You might want to wear those clothes,” the smaller elf said, “I think I hear a horse in the distance.”

“Oh,” he said.

“Thank you,” the taller elf said, “You were most generous.”

“You are most welcome,” Faramir found himself saying tiredly, as he hurriedly slipped on the shirt and examined the ripped pants.

“Sorry about those,” the taller elf said.

Faramir shrugged, and wrapped them around himself as best as he could, “Goodbye then,” he said politely, since after all they had true to their word not hurt him, and well pleasured him actually, rather differently from what he was used to of course, not that horse though, that was plain – … he sighed.

“Thank you for the berries,” he said.

“Don’t forget to use them,” the smaller one cried out as they turned the horse and raced off.

He slipped into the trees, wondering how to get back to his house. The sound of a horse had him jumping… he peeked out from behind a tree and started as he noticed who the rider was.

“Aragorn!” he cried out involuntarily, and then berated himself for not seeing if there were others around. He couldn’t be seen like this, or … well, he was Steward, he could do as he pleased…

Aragorn was alone, something that Faramir would have to speak to him about later. For now, Aragorn was alone, and rather horrified at Faramir’s state. He nearly fell off the horse in his hurry to get down.

“I came out looking for you. I guessed you’d be hunting here… but whatever … what has… Faramir, darling are you all right, have you been hurt?”

“No, I’m all right. Just tired,” Faramir said softly and let himself be drawn into the gentle embrace in the tiny clearing, thankful that they were alone there with nothing but the trees surrounding them, “Take me home please and I’ll tell you all.”

“And then what happened?” Aragorn asked as he moved his hands away from Faramir’s nipples, now reddened and hard from his ministrations and ran them over Faramir’s bare hips.

The Steward shrugged as he shifted his naked body a little, to allow Aragorn’s hands greater access, “And then I woke up,” he said calmly and spread his legs apart.

“You get interesting dreams,” Aragorn said contemplatively, and picked up one of the berries Faramir had given him, “I am glad you choose to share them with me. They give ride to – interesting ideas.”

“I’d rather it had been you in my dream than those elves,” Faramir said complainingly, “They were very beautiful though!”

“There is rarely an Elf you have not found beautiful, my love,” Aragorn replied teasingly, “I on the other hand am quite glad it was not me in that dream of yours. Pleasurable as it may have ultimately been, there are better ways to do that! And the horse!”

“Yes, I wonder why the horse,” Faramir said contemplatively, “The Elves I can understand. And the berries – I suddenly remembered of their ‘other’ uses when I came across those old medicinal recipes! But the horse -” he shuddered, “I cannot understand!”

“The Elves I understand too,” Aragorn said laughing a little, as he squeezed one berry gently and allowed the liquid inside to trickle onto his fingers, coating them with a slick oil, “They have ever attracted you.”

“Aye, they have, although in such a way only ever in my dreams.”

Aragorn nodded, “The horse,” he continued, as he picked up another berry, “Well, that is simple! We mustn’t use the stables again for a tryst!”

“Never again,” Faramir said fervently and spread his legs some more.

Aragorn nodded, smiling and then slowly inserted the berry into Faramir’s entrance, gently pushing it past the tight ring.

When they lay back later that night, exhausted but sated, Faramir almost asleep, Aragorn gently kissed him on his forehead, “May all your dreams be as wonderful,” he said smiling.


For those unable to access the pics:
The scenes that were depicted were – the sequence with the berry being inserted, the sequence in the bower with the elf standing behind Faramir and the sequence with the horse.

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

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