Title: What DIDN'T Happen In Lord of The Rings. (chapter3)
Type: Whorefic, (slashfic/threesome in later chapters)
Storyline : The Company runs into an ex-prostitute and uses her to satisfy
Chapter summary: Chapter 6. The seduction of Aragorn.
Note: Arwen is the Arwen of book verse.
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
"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
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
"Can't! I'm needed at home."
"I don't want to go to Gondor," she said sulkily.
"Because my husband's murderer lives there."
"I thought you said he was your betrothed."
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
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
All against his will, Aragorn felt his mouth moving, replying to the
"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
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
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
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.
"Yes, it is, isn't it. My thanks."
"Have you known her long?"
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