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Azof and the Farmer's Wife	By : kspence Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 9835 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: 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.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter 10. Month of Maying
On a bright, blustery day, with a sky full of top-heavy stacks of clean, white clouds, Azof and the farmer’s wife set out to search for mushrooms. Almost a fortnight had passed since the Orc’s accident. His recovery had been uneventful, if slow to begin with but he was a resilient creature, and obviously came from an extremely hardy type of stock. To Julienne’s astonishment - and chagrin – her patient had been on his feet and staggering round her bedroom within a few days of his return, and had been tottering outside, making circuits of the cottage garden for the past week. This was however the first occasion on which he’d ventured any further from the farmhouse.
Julienne had had misgivings about his accompanying her. Azof’s injuries were not yet fully healed and troubled him much more, she suspected, than he was prepared to admit. But, lately he’d been pacing the house like a caged beast and on soft, springtime evenings would linger by the low wall that demarcated the borders of her property, his gaze drawn to the hilly horizon above and the urge to wander clearly upon him.
The Orc held her hand as they made their way up through the rough, steeply sloping pasture that lay between Julienne’s cottage and the edge of the hanger-wood. After a while they steeped in under cover of the trees.
“This fungus you’re looking for,” Azof said. “It’s the sort what gets you ‘igh?”
“It’s just for eating,” Julienne told him. “They call them ‘mousseron’ where I come from. Never could find out what the name for them is round here. No-one wants ‘em. But they always come up at this time, in the same place, every year.”
Azof gave her a puzzled look. “You’re funny like that, ain’t you? For bothering wiv’ stuff what no-one else would want.”
Julienne only smiled at him by way of reply.   “It’s just over the top, here.” Crossing the crest of the wooded slope they came to an open area, flatter than the steep inclines they’d been climbing, but where the trees grew more thinly as their position high on the flank of hillside left them exposed to the prevailing winds.
In the clearing low-blowing breezy gusts were chasing between the tree-trunks through the wood, flattening great swathes of soft, succulent wild hyacinths and bristle-edged wood-sedge leaves close to the ground and glossy. Sunshine, streaming down through the leafless canopy danced off the smooth leaf surfaces, filling the woodland glade with a dazzling, glancing sheen of reflected light and from the masses of bluebells, now in full bloom, drifted wafts of faint yet heady fragrance.   In amongst the stands of lush foliage and bluish-purple flowers, Julienne spied the flattened, buff-coloured top of the first of the spring mushroom season. She hurried towards it with a happy cry.
Behind her, Azof was reeling a step or two back. “Bright out ‘ere, innit? Sun’s in me eyes - an’ that sweet smell! Kind a’ makes me feel - dizzy. Here, Jules! You wanna sit down for a bit?”
Julienne grinned at him over her shoulder. Where there was one mousseron, there would be others nearby. “You go on,” she said. “I’ll only be a minute.”
“Huh.” Rubbing his forehead, Azof blinked his eyes rapidly but made no move to leave; just stayed where he was, watching, as the farmer’s wife bent over and foraged for mushrooms, her back to him and her rump, periodically, up in the air.
“Ohhh!” he exclaimed a moment later, in a different, deeply sighing, groaning, tone. Julienne looked round again to see that the Orc had quietly closed the distance between them, had come up right behind her, and was standing very, very close.
Quickly wrapping his arms around her waist, Azof planted a soft, lingering kiss onto her upraised bottom; as they straightened up together and Julienne turned towards him, pressed the length of his body against her; dropped his head onto her shoulder and strained their bodies together, hip to hip.
The change of mood came too suddenly and left Julienne feeling bewildered - all at sea. As Azof clutched her she couldn’t think of a thing to do but pat at him, comfortingly.
After a moment of this the Orc drew back. He stood and stared down at her, a certain, residual heat in his gaze. Wide-eyed and breathless, actually, he did look a little dizzy.
“Jules?” he began, “how you feeling? All this sunshine – or somethink’s – going straight to my ‘ead.” He laced his fingers through hers down by Julienne’s side, brought their joined hands up and spent a long moment nuzzling her knuckles with his nose and his lips.   “Here, Jules. Wanna – you wanna lie down wiv’ me a minute?”
“All right,” Julienne heard herself say.
The Orc’s face lit up then with a sweet, incredulous little smile that looked completely at odds given the rest of his – otherwise, overall low-level brutish – countenance. He led the farmer’s wife by the hand through the wood, towards a sheltered spot in the lee of a rocky outcrop. As they sat down together on a dry carpet of last year’s beech leaves, his intentions seemed obvious.
Julienne felt a faint stab of nervousness - and irritation. Through the first nights following his injury when Azof had lain, to all intents and purposes insensible in her bed, she had seen more than enough evidence that his....recent physical affliction was well behind him.   She’d found him hard between his legs on several occasions – once, when she’d been innocently drying the fever-sweat from his body, her attentions had called up a swift erection – and had fled the room as still sleeping, the Orc had begun working himself with his own hands.
It was with mixed feelings that the farmer’s wife viewed these developments.   Given his newly invigorated condition she supposed the Orc’s lovemaking would be bound to take a much more conventional (and also, based on all previous experience, far less satisfactory) course. But, trying to put such unworthy considerations out of mind, she set her jaw, lay down on her back and drew up her skirts slightly, in what she intended as being an unmistakably inviting manner.
Azof just looked at her. “Nah, nah, nah,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself, ain’t you? We can’t just up an’ ‘ave at it, just like that!”
Julienne propped herself up on her elbows, narrowing her eyes irritably. “’Have at what?’”
Azof grimaced. “Have at – you know –at it!” He said earnestly, beginning to become flustered. “Get down to business. Take a roll in the hay!   Play – play ‘ide the sausage’ - I dunno! I bet you get what I’m talking about.”
Though Julienne pressed her lips shut, a quick snort of amusement managed to escape out through her nose. Sitting up again she laughed then, till she cried. “Hide the sausage! Azof! Oh no!”
“At least it’s made you crack your face,” Azof retorted, regarding her from under one arched eyebrow. “That way you was looking at me before. Like a bulldog sucking a wasp!”
With that the Orc clambered backwards and made himself comfortable. Sitting down at the wide base of a tree, he leant against it and stretched his legs out in front of him.
“Come ‘ere, Jules,” he said reaching for her, beckoning, and drew her down by her waist. “Why don’t you sit on me lap.” He pressed his lips to her cheek, stroking her face and huffing damply into her ear. “Better now, eh? Comfier like this, innit?” He paused for a minute, as if taking stock.
“It’s been a while for you, doing this, yeah?” Azof said. “Been a long time for me, too. Tell the truth, I ain’t really done anythink like this before.”
As he spoke he’d been busily working one hand up under her skirt, pinching and squeezing a path round her bottom then along the inside of her thigh. Julienne raised herself slightly, making room for him and his fingers went, unerringly, to the opening of her body; began circling and rubbing and dipping in, spreading the moisture from inside with his fingertips - moving and slipping in and out until she was thoroughly slick with it. The touch of his hands was reassuringly familiar, at least, and as he quickened his pace, Julienne closed her eyes and moaned.
With quick, jerky movements, Azof was struggling to unfasten his breeches. This took longer than it should’ve, for his hands were unsteady and in his haste his claws caught in the buttons and snagged at the fabric repeatedly.
“He’s gone a bit – floppy,” the Orc admitted at last, his tone anxious and defensive.   “All this should-I, shouldn’t-I, business. You, lying there, lookin’ like you wanted to kill me - an’ then the ‘assle, wiv’ me flies! Maybe,” he suggested plaintively, “you could see your way to ‘elping me out a minute? The way you done that time.”
Shifting over and straddling him, Julienne complied. He was still more than halfway-hard and the heat and the feel of the firming flesh against her provided a new type of sensation. She soon found, as she slipped herself back and forth along the length of him that without much effort from this position she was able to bring the head of Azof’s burgeoning erection and the pleasure-point at the front of her sex into regular and satisfying contact.
Azof, with his eyes closed and his head pressing back against the tree, did his best to help her slide back and forth. He was never one to hold much of himself in reserve and at this point was shuddering and uttering soft, breathless groans as she moved on him – almost like a woman, it suddenly occurred to Julienne, whose husband had always maintained a stoically grim expression and pained sort of silence throughout any proceedings of this sort. In spite of all their previous experience together, Azof’s open, eager responses came as an exciting, if pleasantly shocking delight and each fresh look she took at him brought with it a strange stab of desire, centred low, down beneath her belly.
Soon she realized that Azof was watching her in turn.
“What c’her looking at.”
It wasn’t easy, from where she was sitting to reach him, but the farmer’s wife achieved it with a minimum of shifting and kissed all over his face and his neck, frantically.
Azof uttered an amused-sounding grunt. “You like looking at me? Like seeing me like this, seeing what you’ve done to me, do yer? Yeah?”
“I do, Azof. Yeah.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” The Orc gave her a crooked grin. Then he said - “Jules. You – wanna put ‘im in?”
“All right,” Julienne moved to get off him but Azof kept her in place, holding her by the knees.
“Nah,” he said. “Better off where you are.”
“You want us to...have at it....like this?” Julienne exclaimed, momentarily confounded by his suggestion.   With her husband she’d been on her back every time, with him heaving and straining away between her legs.    It had always been like that, and it had never occurred to her that anything else might even be considered.
Azof was nodding, watching her through his eyelashes. “Yeah. Just like this.”
“Sorry, Jules,” he went on apologetically. “It’s not that I don’t wanna, but I ain’t up to doing nuffink strenuous just yet. The old one-two’s beyond me, at the minute. You ’ave got ‘im proper ‘ard, though, an’ I reckon I can keep like that for’s long’s you want. An’ you know I’m always happy to do you wiv’ me ‘ands, or me mouth, wiv’ ‘im on the outside or – or anything you want, really, an’ I will, if that’s the way you fancy it, but if you’re still up for any of the ovver – well. Looks like you’re just going to ‘ave ter – to take charge of fings, ain’t c’her?”
He looked hopeful, at the conclusion of this little speech, but also very much as if he was expecting to be sharply rebuffed and it was chiefly his lack of confidence – which in its way matched Julienne’s own, earlier nervousness, that decided it.
“I’m still up for some of the other, Azof,” Julienne said, still not quite sure how to go about this. A moment’s awkward experimentation, however, showed her that hands – guiding hands, either hers or Azof’s - would almost certainly be necessary. Wincing and chewing his lip, the Orc tried to hold himself up at the correct angle – and to her surprise, after that the farmer’s wife found no difficulty at all in engaging properly with him.
As she did so, Azof’s face slackened with an expression of absolute relief. “Oh, Jules,” he sighed, long arms hugging round her, tight. “Jules, that’s just right, ain’t it? Feels just right.”
Julienne couldn’t disagree but found that words, for the time being, were beyond her. For a moment all she could do was to drop her forehead to rest against Azof’s as she breathed deeply in and out, her eyes wide. Because with him it was different, and that came as quite a surprise.   After all, Julienne had lived as a married woman for many years, had not shirked her ‘wifely duties’ through any of it and so would’ve considered – beforehand, if she’d ever given the matter much thought – that she knew exactly what to expect. The sweetly intimate sensation and feeling of closeness to Azof were almost as unexpected as the overriding sense of – rightness, of the moment, that initially overwhelmed her. Following fast on the heels of that revelation however came another, less welcome realization; that what she and her husband had participated in (or put up with) during those early years of marriage had at best been an impersonal, mechanically gratifying act. The farmer’s wife stopped and held herself still, caught in a bewildering mixture of emotions: arousal, grief and regret.
“Jules?” Azof began, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. “Still – still all right wiv’ this, are yer?”
“Yes, I am, Azof,” the farmer’s wife said, collecting herself, and the Orc groaned aloud with pleasure as she began moving on him again. Azof’s hand searched for hers, fingers cold and shaking as they clutched hold and intertwined. “More than all right,” Julienne told him. “You?”
He couldn’t speak at that point and only nodded vigorously against her shoulder in reply. “Oh yeah. It’s nice. S’nice to think of you – being in charge of everythink. And everythink.”
“’Everythink’?” Julienne repeated. She had an idea what he might be talking about.
There was a long pause as they moved together, breathlessly. Then Azof said -
“Screwing me.   I like to think about my cock in your cunt and you screwing me, Jules, an’ I like thinking about you being on top.”
His choice of words might have been unfortunate, but when it came to expressing himself, delicate descriptions and dainty language had never been much of a feature of Azof’s repartee. And at least there was nothing mechanical, or impersonal where his sexual technique was concerned, even if elements of it shared more in common with a running commentary -
“You ain’t come yet, ‘ave yer, Jules?” he was asking. Having slipped one hand up the inside of her shirt he was alternately pinching her nipples and fondling away at her breasts, causing a wave of sensation that made Julienne throw her head back and shamelessly – squirm.
“Nah,” Azof observed appreciatively, “didn’t fink so. But you look like you’re close. And you know how I said I could last an’ last? Well, seems I might’ve been talking out of turn, there – showin’ off, really, ‘cause after seeing you like that? I think I am, too.”
“An’ I don’t wanna –“ he broke off for a minute, brow furrowed with concentration – “wanna beat c’her to the finish, do I?   ‘Cos this time, I want you to come wiv’ my cock still up inside yer, where he belongs.   In – you. Come on, Jules,” Azof groaned, almost pleading. “What do I ‘ave to do?”
He dragged the hand that had been playing over her chest in a slow sweep down Julienne’s body and in past the waistband of her skirt, fingers stroking and pressing urgently.
“This is the place, ain’t it?” he muttered, as he located the hard little bud of tissue for which he’d apparently been searching. Julienne went very still for a moment as the Orc simply held his thumb against her, not moving or applying pressure. Then she was bearing down on him, hard, as with a stuttering cry Azof pushed himself up and into her and they clung together, each one striving desperately for closer and closer contact. Julienne was vaguely aware that Orc was growling and gasping, his head mashed against her chest as pulses of intense pleasure, at first centred on the junction of their bodies and then washing through her head-to-foot began and steadily built.
It was a while later when the farmer’s wife opened her eyes to find that she was on her back on a blanket of beech leaves, Azof’s warm bulk lying beside, and partly draped over her.   She lay there for a moment, watching the bright buffeting breeze tossing tree branches back and forth against a backdrop of clear blue sky, until Azof began stirring self-consciously and rubbing his hands over his face.
Shifting off her, he snuffled his face into the space between Julienne’s shoulder and neck, making one of the low-pitched, rolling, resonant noises that, as she had come to recognize signified in him a state of utter satisfaction and contentment.   “I fink we were both out of it there, for a minute.”
The farmer’s wife felt far too relaxed even to reply.
Azof was running his index finger up and down her forearm, from elbow to fingertips, along the palm of her hand, one claw lingering at the pulse point in her left wrist. “So, Jules. Now we finally....done it. Prop’ly. Was I - reckon I, er, passed muster then, did I?”
“Not that I’m much of a one for post-match analysis or anythink,” he added, and if he was trying to be nonchalant, it was a pity he was stumbling over his words in his haste to speak quickly.
The experience was, and had been, very pleasantly different with Azof and Julienne smiled, regarding him fondly. “I don’t know why people want to be anywhere, or do anything else.”
“It was good, then, eh?”
The farmer’s wife nodded. “It was good, Azof, yes.” And at last that seemed to convince him, for he flopped over onto his back again, pulling Julienne after him and sighing, happily.
They collected themselves, again much later, and after that roamed up and down through the springtime wood, hand in hand and from time to time grinning at one another foolishly. Azof seemed – carefree, almost light-hearted, for once, and whatever vague preoccupation had been hanging over him for the past days and weeks was at least for the moment, gone. Julienne couldn’t blame him; felt giddy, excited and more than that, full of some sweet, swelling, yet completely unfamiliar emotion that she found herself at a loss to be able to define.
Late in the afternoon, after the sun had fallen behind the tall arm of the mountain, when only the last red-gold rays lit the highest branches of the trees, they came to a path that climbed up through the wood. Azof stopped abruptly and stood on the path with his head cocked - obviously listening, but to something still outside of Julienne’s range of hearing. After a moment, the farmer’s wife could hear it too – a far-off murmur of men’s voices approaching, carrying up from the valley below.
The change in the Orc’s bearing and behaviour was immediate. Hurriedly he shoved Julienne backwards off the track, under the cover of the overhanging trees.
“You stop here Jules, all right?” This was by no means delivered as anything like a polite request.
“Stay here,” Azof repeated, looking desperate. “Julienne! Please!”
The trail wound in a long, sweeping curve down the hill and from this point, Julienne was able to see much of the way ahead, so that when the first of the farmers – of course, it was farmers - walking ahead of his companions, rounded the corner and stepped into view he was still some way off. With only a pained, pleading look back over his shoulder at her, Azof lurched out from under the trees and ran pell-mell down the slope towards him.
Quickening his pace on seeing him, the man on the path hurried forward to meet Azof just under half way. A brief, whispered conversation took place, involving much arm-waving and gesturing backwards on Azof’s part; both man and Orc were too far away for Julienne to make out much of what they were saying but she could still detect the clear urgency in Azof’s tone.
Azof continued on downhill as the man, who Julienne now recognised as being Farmer Drew, her nearest neighbour, approached and then drew level with the place she was still standing, undecided, halfway under and out of the trees. He grimaced on seeing her but didn’t look surprised and then stood, staring at the farmer’s wife for a long moment, shaking his head.
“And what’s all this I’ve been hearing, Julienne?” he demanded. “What sort of nonsense’ve you been getting yourself into now?”
TBC.
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Azof and the Farmer's Wife