Title: What DIDN'T Happen In Lord of The Rings.
Type: Whorefic, (slashfic/threesome in later chapters).
AU which hovers somewhere in between book and movie verse. The characters
are generally movie-versy, while everything else is something of an AU book
Rating: PG13 for this chapter, but NC16 for future chapters. For anyone
who's just in it for the sex, skip straight to chapter 3. It's written such
that ch 3 can stand alone as a PWP fic without the 'drama' factor of the
WDHI Storyline: The Company runs into an ex-prostitute and uses her to
satisfy their desires.
Pairing: Wench/Boromir, Wench/Aragorn, Wench/as many pple as I ken possibly
squeeze in in the future chapters.
Graphic description of Wench/Boromir and Wench/Aragorn/Boromir and
Aragorn/Boromir in future chapters...
Chapter summary: Chapter 1, Intro of non-cannon.
Note from the writer:
I got the idea of a threesome after reading some bad RPS and found it
really blah that the readers generally see the story from the Mary Sue's
point of view. It is also an attempt to subvert the 'Non-cannons-which-shag-
cannons-therefore-mary-sue' stereotype. The wench-bitch in this story is
not a Mary-Sue. Let me repeat, the wench-bitch in the story IS NOT A MARY-
SUE. She does not use the Fellowship: the Fellowship uses her. She is an
attempt to prove that it is possible to have a non-sue character who gets
away with sue-ish stuff. Whether the attempt succeeds or not is a different
thing altogether, and up to you to decide. Although it was meant to be a
PWP type fic, the story is quickly (and independently- not my doing! I
promise!) developing plot. Read at your own risk.
Nightfall. Just about the hundred millionth nightfall since they left
Rivendell. At least it wasn't so bad in Rivendell, or Lothlorien for that
matter. At least there were them elf women. Gods, they'll never let you
touch them but at least they were there. And they were pretty, even if most
of them had less curves than a blasted plank of wood. At least a man could
look at them.
Not that Boromir ever looked at them, mind. Especially not through cracks
in the door. Especially not when they were in their bedchambers. Especially
not then. No, Boromir would never do that, would he? No, no.
Because Boromir was a gentleman. "Oh, right," he snorted sarcastically. As
if he didn't peep. Curse it, he wanted women! And by the looks of it, so
did the rest of the Company. Look at them; they were getting all strung up
and restless. Tempers were simmering everywhere, people getting jittery,
and.ah yes, there were the classic symptoms. It was nice to know he wasn't
the only one. Yea gods, how in the world was he supposed to act all big and
manly and Son-of-Gondor-ish if he hadn't had a screw in aeons!
Okay, so maybe not aeons. It couldn't have been that long, no matter how
much felt like. They hadn't been in the Company all that long. But ye Gods,
it felt like an eternity.
You know, it wouldn't be so bad if there were something to watch. If there
was anything he enjoyed other than a good shag, it was sneaking a peek on
someone else getting shagged. Spared you the trouble of finding your own
bitch, really. And you won't have to worry about all that cuddling
nonsense. Or the fake compliments. Let someone else play the fawning
courtier, he always said. That sort of emotional sentimentality made him
But out here there was nobody to watch! Not even the entertainment of a
warrior's comfort! Boromir rolled his eyes in exasperation. Now why
wouldn't the Halflings do something naughty once in a while? He was cursed
sure that it happened a lot in the Shire. He's heard about it before,
hadn't he.something about a "c" word. Started with "c", couldn't really
place his finger on it. "carrot"? Boromir never really got that one. What
was so interesting about carrots? I mean, you dug it up, you broke it in
two, you ate it, end of story. Not like it even tasted good or anything.
C-word, c-word. Ah, that's it! "Curse"! The Brandybuck Curse! Or something
to that effect. And he was practically certain it has something to do with
being kinky with other males. Or was that females? No, it was a male thing,
that much he was certain. Ah, shit. Well, there was a Brandybuck, wasn't
there, and a perfectly kinky one at that. Why wasn't anything happening? Ye
Gods, he could just die of boredom.
He was bored. Bored! B-O-R-E-D! Why didn't that Elrond fellow send a woman
as well? Or why can't Aragorn take us another route? One that didn't wind
through the middle of nowhere? Maybe then they could stop by someplace,
knock back a pint or two and get themselves a woman each. Curse it!
But Aragorn was saying something, wasn't he? Just that Boromir wasn't
listening. Why did he have to go listen to that righteous prig anyhow? Not
like it'd make a difference if he ever objected to anything Lord High-And-
Gondor-And-Arnor had to say. Not if Master I-Just-Shoved-A-Cactus-Up-My-Ass
Elf had anything to do with it.
He had a mental image of the fair Legolas shoving a cactus up himself. It
wasn't a good idea. Pleasurable to imagine, yes, but good, no. Boromir
stifled a laugh.
Legolas frowned. "You will listen when Lord Aragorn speaks," the elf
reprimanded quietly. Boromir had a sudden urge to hit him. And perhaps
shove a cactus up the elf's annoyingly taught behind. If only they had a
cactus plant around here somewhere. He craned his neck to look around but
there was none in sight.
Aragorn looked wearily at Legolas and murmured something in Elvish. Curse
Aragorn too! Why did that prig always have to use that god-awful elvish
tongue as if the language of his own people was lacking! Hah! "He thinks
he's too good to use such the foul, base language of men," Boromir sneered,
just loud enough so it would be heard by Aragorn and Legolas. Aragorn
tactfully pretended not to have heard, but Legolas bristled at the insult.
Ah, is that protectiveness I see before me? Boromir thought gleefully.
Might they be messing about somewhere when the rest of the Company was
asleep? Perhaps there was some potential between these two after all.
Yea Gods, he was bored! He had to be, else such an insane idea would never
have crossed his mind! Bracing himself for the worst, Boromir forced
himself to pay attention. At least it would stop any more brilliantly
insane ideas with regards to the hind quarters of the Royal Pain of
".supplies..blah, blah blah.. third nightfall. make it.blah, blah, blah,"
Not even Aragorn's charisma could make him listen properly. Letting his
mind run wild, the Gondorian only caught brief snatches of it. "blah, blah,
blah." Boromir yawned.
Suddenly Aragorn stopped and sniffed the air, then looked at Legolas. The
Elf looked equally dumbfounded. "What the-" Boromir breathed, standing up.
Through the dense vegetation that grew along the riverside came the very
distinct strains of someone's singing. "What the-?" he repeated again. He
glanced at Merry. The hobbit was salivating, and Boromir trusted Hobbit
Sense enough to conclude that whoever was doing the singing must have been
cooking too. The voice was distinctly female, and by all the gods, she
sounded reasonably young as well.
Exchanging a look. Aragorn gestured to the others to stay behind while he
and the elf crept forward to 'investigate'. When they were not back yet
after a few seconds, Boromir went after them, closely followed by first
Gimli, then Pippin, then finally the rest of the hobbits.
Together they found Aragorn and Legolas crouched behind some bushes,
peering out into a clearing in a confused manner. The others took one look
at the woman in the clearing and wisely decided to do the same. She was
tending to a well-kept garden that grew around what looked like a passable
hut standing in the centre of the clearing. Beside the hut, a single oak
tree spread its branches. The Company exchanged a look. From where they
were, the Company could see that she was indeed rather young, fairly pretty
and very, very naked. It was an altogether pleasing sight, and Boromir felt
They waited for some minutes while she mucked around her plants, but when
it seemed clear that she was not about to clothe herself anytime soon,
Boromir stood tall, stepped out of his hiding place and cleared his throat.
Immediately her head jerked up. "Oh!" she cried. He had apparently given
her a bit of a start. Still looking more than a little stunned, she stood
up slowly and rested a hand between her ample breasts to calm herself from
her fright. Ye gods! he thought, his eyes fixed on her chest. His phallus
"What are you doing here?" she said quietly. Her voice was deep and rich.
Deep and rich and firm. "You're not here to hurt me, are you?" she asked
suspiciously, then noticing the other faces still half hidden in the
shrubbery, turned and shook her fist at them. "Get up!" she bellowed
angrily. "Get up, all of you! Come out and show your faces! How dare you
hide from me in my own garden!" she cried. The others stepped out and
fidgeted uncomfortably. Most of them had never faced a naked angry woman
Boromir hid a smile. She still seemed perfectly oblivious to her state of
undress. How nice. "Begging your pardon, my lady," he said, still amused,
"you must forgive us. The little ones have hardly seen much of the world
and." at this he shrugged and gave a polite cough then waited for her to
catch his drift. And catch it she did.
"Oh!" she whispered as the realisation dawned. Her hand flew to her mouth
as she looked down at herself in dismay. "Oh, I am so sorry," she
stammered, backing towards her hut. "Oh dear.oh.. Give me a moment." She
slipped into her hut, and slamming the door behind her, began a desperate
search for something to wear.
Outside, Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli looked at each other and shrugged. The
more bashful of the hobbits avoided eye contact. Legolas stared grimly into
the distance, his mouth fixed in a thin set line. Boromir guessed the elf
did not approve. Or perhaps, he wondered, perhaps Legolas was so cold
because. Boromir glanced down, but even if there were any telltale bulge on
the elf, it was hidden beneath the thick folds of his garments.
Perhaps Legolas really didn't approve.
The door opened some ways, just enough for her to stick her head out while
keeping the rest of herself hidden. "Ahh.would. I mean.oh dear.." she
faltered, an agonized look playing upon her features. Boromir grinned
widely and strode up to her hut, proudly unclasping his cloak.
"There, is that enough?" he said, handing her the garment. Up close, he
could make out the silhouette of her body against the dim interior. He
wondered how it would be like to touch her.
"Do you need the pin?" he asked, partly out of concern and partly to keep
her at the door just a little bit longer.
"No, I think I can manage," she replied and firmly shut herself in.
Shrugging a little, he fastened the pin to his blue surcoat. It was a
pretty pin, and he didn't want to misplace it. Besides, it was a memento.
Boromir was never big on mementos, but a memento from Lothlorien was not so
He looked up as the door opened and she stepped out with nothing but his
cloak on. But Boromir was a large man, and she was a small woman, and she
somehow managed to wrap it around her twice- once around her body and
another around her shoulders- so that now she was decently if not queerly
And now, finally the rest of the Company came up. She grinned at them.
"What are you doing here?" she said.
"We were going to ask you the very same." Aragorn replied. "There are no
human settlements for miles around."
"So if you know that, why are you here?"
"We were passing through," he stated gravely.
"Nobody passes through. I've lived here for years and I've never seen a
single soul. Not since. my. my son died."
"Your son?" Aragorn was shocked. "What are you?" he breathed.
Almost too fast for him to react, the woman swung a punch at him. As it
was, he caught her wrist just inches away from his face but it just
incensed her further. She struck out at him again, but this time, Boromir
"Hush," he crooned even as he pinned both her arms firmly behind her back.
She struggled wildly. "Hush, my companion meant to ask if you were elf or
human or maybe of some other race we do not yet know about."
"Hush now," he continued when she was calmer. "He was raised by the elves.
He knows not our reality. He does not understand." By then she was still,
and Boromir relaxed his grip. When she made no move to break out, he
released his hold completely.
But now Frodo was puzzled. "It doesn't make sense!" he cried. Boromir held
a finger to his lips and shook his head disapprovingly, but the hobbit
ignored him. "How old are you?"
"I have no idea how old I am," she replied with a bitter shrug. "Once I
came here time lost all meaning." She sighed softly and glanced at Boromir,
the only other person who hailed from the world of Man. When she did
continue, she spoke haltingly. "I was thirteen when I met. somebody. We
meant to be married, but there was a war and he was made to fight. And I
didn't dare face anybody. I wasn't his widow. We weren't married. So I went
away." She looked up and gave a hollow laugh. "And if you still don't
understand, ask your friend here to explain."
That night, the Company camped outside the hut, and for the first time in
days had much more to eat than elven lembas. The lady had given the hobbits
leave to take anything they wanted from her garden, provided they cooked a
portion for her as well, and needless to say, they plundered it for all it
Dinner that night was a joyous affair. Their plates piled high with
potatoes, carrots, turnips, peas, tomatoes, mushrooms and various other
fruits and vegetables, they had fresh water from a well, and just when they
thought they were done, their host produced a huge pot of jam, and though
there was not enough bread to go around, Merry, Pippin and Boromir wasted
no time in plunging their fists into it, laughing and joking as they licked
the sticky sweetness off their hands. And while Legolas said nothing, the
remainder yelled out for the three to pass the jam around.
As they sat by the fire afterwards, contented and well fed, a drowsy
thought returned to Boromir. He looked around lazily. As usual, Sam was
curled up at Frodo's feet. Merry and Pippin lay side by side, both
watching the stars and laughingly pointing out 'cherry pie-like' and
'mushroom bake-ish' constellations. Legolas and Gimli sat together, an
unlikely couple while Aragorn fingered his pendant and gazed into the
Boromir turned to his right and smiled indolently at the woman beside him,
and suddenly shy, she lowered her eyes and reddened. Emboldened, by her
unexpected timidness, he leaned over to whisper into her ear, and though
she flinched when his lips brushed against her skin, she wore a smile
beneath her blush.
"Tell me about yourself," he purred, and was gratified to see the hairs on
her bare arms rise. Women loved to talk about themselves, that much he
knew, and for a man to ask a question like that was the utmost form of
flattery. It showed his concern, and his sincerity. Except that for
Boromir, it was a calculated move towards his own gratification. Her
response was exactly what he had hoped to see.
"What do you want to know?" she whispered back, smiling happily.
"Tell me about you. Tell me about your past."
The woman paused, and Boromir could have kicked himself. He had forgotten
that she had wanted to forget her past, not remember it. He glanced at her,
hoping that she would not withdraw into herself, and was gratified to see
that she had not.
"When I found out he was dead, I didn't know what to do," she said quietly.
"I was already with child. He knew. We were to be married, but he was
called away. I left my village, but on the way I had no money. So I sold
myself into prostitution."
Boromir glanced up and was surprised to see Aragorn listening intently. How
long had he been eavesdropping on their conversation? Boromir wondered.
When Aragorn looked his way, could see an almost playful look in the other
man's eyes. Probably long enough for him to know my intentions, he
But the object of his attentions seemed oblivious to the look the two men
had shared. She continued talking as if in a daze. "I had no money. What
else could I do?" she said as she sat, head bent and shoulders drooping,
wrapping her arms closely around herself as if she were a child. Boromir
got up wordlessly, rummaged around his things for his fur cloak and draped
it around her shoulders. She smiled gratefully and snuggled up to him, much
to his delight.
So she was a prostitute before, eh? Well, that was good news. She saw him
looking at her like that and smiled warily knowing his thoughts full well
without being told. "You're right, I suppose. Once a whore, always a
whore," she laughed bitterly.
Boromir's smile grew playful. "I don't suppose you'd like to be my whore?"
The woman grinned. "I do charge, don't you know."
Boromir shrugged and patted his money pouch. "And I can pay, don't you
"Oh come now! Look around you!" she cried teasingly, gesturing at the trees
and bushed. "What use would I have of coin? Can you see any shops, or
taverns, or marketplaces?" she laughed, then looked straight at him. "I
want food," she said quietly.
"I don't have food."
"Then hunt. It's been a long time since I've tasted red meat."
A movement in the corner, and Aragorn stood before them. The ranger bowed
deeply. "My lady, you must allow us to thank you for your generosity at
dinner, and to apologise for the Company's intrusion. On the morrow,
Boromir and myself intend to go hunting, and whatever we snare will be
yours," he said, With another bow, excused himself from their circle, but
not before a quick glance told him that Boromir had gotten his point.
Alone again, Boromir turned his attention back to his whore. She still
leaned towards him, and he took it as a good sign. She looked youngish in
the firelight, not young but youngish, as if she had had to fight to
maintain whatever innocence and goodwill she had left, and he found it
strangely attractive. He reached his hand out and played with her hair.
"It's very dry, isn't it," he teased as he ran his hand through her hair.
"Almost feels like I'm playing with straw." Lazily, he let the coarse
strands slip through his fingers. She smiled and rolled her eyes heavenward
in a condescending manner, but Boromir could see that she was well pleased.
Shifting his weight so that he leaned closer towards her, he twirled a lock
of her hair and grinned, then slid his entire hand into her mop of hair, so
that her head now rested on his palm and lay his forehead teasingly against
her left temple. The wench gazed up and grinned, then looked away and laid
a hand on his chest.
He felt a strange thrill at the pressure from her hand through the thick
layers of mail and garment. How he longed to take that hand and guide it to
where he could feel her warmth! Or just to feel the pressure of her hand
run down his body. The chain mail suddenly felt heavy and suffocating and
he longed to be rid of it, if only for awhile.
"What's this?" she asked, curiously fingering the pin he had earlier
fastened to his surcoat. "Is it an emblem, or badge of sorts? It seems
everybody of your company has one."
"All of us were given elvish cloaks as a parting gift when we left Lorien,"
he said by way of explanation. "And the pins were, well, for the cloak, I
suppose," he shrugged.
"They're pretty," she said, then looked into his eyes and smiled, and
again, he felt a thrill run like electricity down his body. He brushed his
nose against her cheek, then nuzzled her along her chin and lower lip, but
before he could work his way upwards, she lay a cautionary finger on his
lips. He hesitated a little, for she had given him quite a pause, but when
he saw in her eyes that he had excited her, Boromir grew bolder.
Grinning slyly, he tilted his head so that it was now parallel to her
finger and kissed it lingeringly, then took her by the wrist and guided her
finger into his mouth, smirking at her surprise. And although, she jerked
her hand away, his actions had stunned her long enough. Grasping her head
securely with both hands, Boromir pinned her down and forced his mouth
For an instant, she froze, half reclined as Boromir's open mouth covered
her own, his warm, wet tongue licking against her tightly pursed lips,
slowly, tantalizingly teasing them open.
As soon as he was certain she would not draw back, he released her of his
hold and ran his hands down her neck and chest, savouring the feel of her
hot beneath his palms, loving the fact that where his hands went, they left
two scorching trails against her skin. Her fingers dug into his arms as she
fought to block off his assault, and Boromir grinned to feel her shudder as
molten fire ran through her veins and screamed in her ears, leaving her
weak and defenceless against her own mounting desire while he nibbled and
sucked at her lips. He knew she would not fight him for long. With a gasp,
she surrendered to his kiss, a gasp hungrily swallowed by Boromir as his
mouth devoured hers.
And there it was, at last. How long had be been killing for a shag? He
almost couldn't remember, it had been so long since his last one, before
his journey to Rivendell. "Inside?" he whispered teasingly, breaking the
kiss. She nodded, panting hard, and he would have crowed his victory if he
had not been so excited himself. As it was, he struggled wordlessly to his
But ye gods! It was such an effort to stand upright, let alone walk
someways to her hut. His body screamed out against every second of delay.
He was almost tempted to take her then and there, in full view of the rest
of the Company, but he knew it was impossible, that such behaviour on his
part was unacceptable. As it was, Boromir helped her to her feet a tad bit
impatiently, and led her back into her little hut, supporting her as she
leaned heavily into him.
~ End ~
notez: The Brandybuck Curse refers to a Bagenders inside joke. I'm a big
fan. Try it. Its great. www.bagenders.stormpages.com