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Not So Little After All	By : odogoddess Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 5132 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings book series and movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 1-Not So Little After All
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Not So Little After All

OdoGoddess (odogoddess@yahoo.com)

LOTR [R] Eowen/Merry

A/N: A moment from the movie struck me and I had to pen it.

DISCLAIMER: This non-profit material was produced out of love for Tolkien's universe and is not intended to infringe upon JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, Houghton Mifflin Company, nor any other holders of Lord of the Rings copyrights, in this or any other universe...

It had been a hard ride, as Theoden had predicted. Meriadoc Brandybuck doubted however that the king had meant it the way he thought of it.

All day Merry had been riding held in front of Eowen, who held an arm around him, ostensibly to hold him on the saddle but also to keep a grasp on the pommel of the saddle.

The thing was, the pommel was riding right against his crotch. And Eowen's thumb shifted and flexed as she rode, right against Merry's cock.

At first, he tried to distract himself. But he couldn't hold thoughts of the upcoming battle in his head from sunup to sundown. They rode with only a few stops, mostly for comfort, meaning to relieve their bladder and bowels. Food they ate twice, a good breakfast and again when they made camp. In between, some, like Merry, snacked on pemmican, dried meats, flat bread and fruit from their saddlepacks, and sipped at water from their waterbags. A few, like Eowen, also carried wine in a wineskin.

So for at least ten hours he'd been almost constantly stimulated. Not enough for him to achieve climax, something that would have shamed him no end, but in a stop and start manner that had him extremely frustrated by the time they broke camp.

The communal trench did not allow for enough privacy for the wanking session that Merry desperately needed. And he was sharing a tent with the Lady Eowen.

Flushed with heat, need and famished from the long hot ride, he found himself peeling off his leathers and splashing in a shallow pond along with several of the men.

It was something he would have done if he'd been in the company of his fellow hobbits, and he'd not stopped to consider it, but now he was the only hobbit in the region. And as he started to relax thanks to the cool, refreshing water, he realized the Rohirrim were all staring at him.

He flushed, suddenly self-conscious.

Among other hobbits, he was of average build. Among these men, he was a tiny man. This extended to his penis, which was plenty big enough for a hobbit. Glancing at the men nearest him, he noted they all were rather intimidating-looking down there.

He imagined he looked rather like a boy to these men. Swallowing his feelings, he pretended not to notice their gawking and slogged out of the water and picked up his clothes. Sluicing as much water off his skin as he could with hands, and shaking out his hair, he dressed and headed toward the tents, no longer feeling quite as refreshed.

He also did not feel so sexually frustrated, either; all thoughts of sex having dwindled with his embarassment.

After a good meal served to him by Eowen herself, two fire-roasted and skewered sausages and some kind of roasted root vegetable with a very sharp, spicy taste, he made a last visit to the communal trench and headed for the tent, hoping for a good long sleep.

As soon as he released the tent flap, he realized his error.

The tent was filled with her scent. She smelt of heather and grass and her own musky smell, mixed with their leathers and warm wool.

She also lay waiting to share the small square of blanket she'd lain down on the ground with him. He smiled tentatively.

"That's kind, my lady, but... I can sleep here in the corner."

"With our baggage? I hardly think so. Don't be silly and come here. There is plenty of room. And we can share warmth. The night will be chill."

Unable to muster an argument, Merry swallowed and headed over. He was about to slide in next to her when she arched a brow at him and said, "Were you intending on keeping your leathers on?"

"Oh!"

Without thinking, simply following the order in her voice, Merry took off his pants and jerkin. He could feel himself reddening as he quickly slid in next to her.

She threw the blankets over them and he let out a shaky breath, rigid and to his horror, feeling something else become rigid, too.

A stiff little lump was outlined in the dimness, beneath where his groin was. Merry turned away from Eowen and drew in a breath, swallowing down his feelings.

Maybe he would fall asleep quickly...

After silently naming his lineage back fifteen generations, he admitted to himself it wasn't likely. Nor did the feeling of Eowen's body behind his, the smell of her and her soft breath fluttering against his neck allow his rigidity to recede. If anything, his cock was as hard as it ever was.

Maybe, he thought, he could somehow relieve the situation without waking her.

After several fruitless and fruitlessly stealthy moments spent trying to extricate his arm, his cock, and all without waking Eowen, he sighed heavily, more frustrated than before.

He toyed with the idea of just heading out of the tent as if going to use the toilet trench and perhaps finding a quiet place to spend his seed in the darkness. It seemed like the best solution.

Before he could actually sit up, though, a calm and slightly amused voice made him start.

"I do know of Rohirrim's needs, Master Meriadoc."

"Lady?"

"*All* their needs."

He turned toward her and nearly yelped as he felt her warm, strong hand slide onto his belly and down...

"Lady!"

"Hush, Merry. There's no need to waken the Rohirrim." She smiled down at him, a rather earthy expression on her face as she added, "Nor is there cause to interrupt them, either. No doubt some are tending to this very need."

With that, her warm, strong, and to Merry's way of thinking, *long* hand, continued toward its goal.

Since he had freed his erection earlier, there was nothing between her skin and his and he bit back a moan as her palm pressed his stiff shaft down against his lower belly.

The moan found voice as her fingers slid along the base of his erection and felt the texture of his lightly-haired scrotum.

"Easy," she whispered against his ear.

"Lady," he whispered back, helpless from his actions. He wanted to thrust, wanted to...

Her fingers circled his cock, grasped it like the pommel and began to gently but firmly rub in a twisting motion. Her hand was large enough that it completely covered his cock, base to tip. To his delight, she pressed down from time to time against his scrotum.

He felt a slight surge and shook his head, ashamed. His cock tended to drool a bit the more excited he got. He knew some hobbit women did not find this very aesthetically pleasing, and he hoped he hadn't offended the sweet lady.

"Easy," she whispered again. "It's all right, Merry. It's nothing I don't know of. Nothing to be ashamed of. It's just a bit of moisture to ease the way, as we say in Rohan."

He nodded, too excited for speech requiring more than her name or some wordless cries. He longed to touch her, but didn't dare. Despite her actions, she seemed somehow... unsullied and he had no wish to sully her. She was a lady; she could do to him what she wished, but he did not feel he had the right to touch her unless she requested it.

He needed climax *now*, but her hand did not provide enough friction. He had fought the urge, but finally gave in and moved his hips.

As soon as he began to thrust, Eowen's grasp tightened and her fist began to tug on him.

A brief, choked-off cry signalled the beginning of his orgasm.

Sheer pleasure flooded him, stemming from his testicles and up his spine and flowing back out, out through his rock hard erection spasming in her grip.

He trembled, feeling the last bit of his essence trickle down onto her hand.

Merry lay, gasping for breath and not knowing what to say at his unexpected gift. It was almost overwhelming, his pleasure, gratitude and shame all in one.

Eowen said nothing, merely wiping her hand on a bit of straw and smiling slightly.

Finally his breathing slowed and he found voice, not daring to look her in the eye.

"My lady..."

"Say naught."

He turned then to look at her. She shook her head.

"'Tis nothing to be said. 'Tis a thing that needed to be done, 'tis needed by all men betimes. And for all your stature, you are very much a man, Sir Merry. Not so little after all."

She smiled and he blushed. She continued, "We women of Rohan are not taught to shy from a man's needs. Nor from our own, come to that."

"Lady?"

"Perhaps one of these nights..." she trailed off, a dreamy look in her eyes, but then she shook her head again. "Or not. It matters not. What matters is you were in need and I eased your way. Did I not?"

"Aye, my lady," he said shyly, respectfullly.

She smiled at this and leaned over to kiss him gently on the brow.

"Then sleep now, Merry. We ride early."

His head was full of too many concepts to voice, too many questions to ask. Finally, Merry asked none of them. He nodded and turned his head to rest it against her shoulder.

"Sleep well, my dearest lady," he whispered.

"Do thou, too, Master Meriadoc," she sighed.

Free of all pressures, mind blank of all but the sudden deep need for sleep, Merry closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless oblivion.

~ FINIS ~

9 July 2004. The characters are JRR Tolkien's. The situations they're in are the author's.

Not meant to infringe on any legal holders of Lord of the Rings copyright.

feedback always appreciated.

Author's Addendum: To Mada - thank you so much for your comments. I'm glad you enjoyed the concept and the story!
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Not So Little After All