Carandol the Novice

Hello to Anais, Minuial Nuwing and MGC. Thanks for your great reviews again.

Now to get Carandol into real trouble...


Carandol The Novice 2/?
Sequel to Carandol the Matchmaker
Author: Sebastian
Email: sebastian.s@btinternet.com
Archive: AdultFanFiction.net. OEAM, Anyone else, just let me know where it is.
Rating: NC-1eralerall
Pairing: Carandol (OMC)/Legolas, Thranduil/???, Elladan & Elrohir/Lindir & most of the Elves of Mirkwood.
Genre: Fictional Person Slash. Humour
Warnings: AU, sex, bad language, more sex…even worse language……..
Summary: Carandol has been sent to Mirkwood to improve his…er… skills. Can he survive the spiders, the orcs, and, more to the point, can he survive the Mirkwood Cadet Corps?!
Timeline: Third Age, before the Fellowship.
Disclaimer: I only own Carandol and his machinations. Tolkien’s estate owns everything else. No infringement of copyright is intended. I bow to the master. This offering is written purely for fun and no profit is being made. Sigh…


Translations:
Anghathel – iron broadsword
Filegluin – little blue bird
Ada – father (dad)

Chapter 2: The joys of toys and willies in the woods.

The next morning I’m feeling good. Thanks to Legolas I’ve had a better night’s sleep and I feel revived, at my peak and ready to take whatever the day throws at me.

However, if I don’t stop thinking about the prince my cock will also peek and could throw anywhere.

So, it is with a light heart (but slightly heavy balls) that I join my fellow cadets for our practise in unarmed combat, which, as the weather is clement, will be taken outside. There are two arenas for weapons and combat practise: one that looks like a sand pit for the cadets to play in, and the other, larger area for the trained soldiers to practise in.

Gildor and Glorfindel are already there and we line up in front of them.

“Cadets, this morning we are joined by Lord Glorfindel who will be helping me with your instruction. He’s an expert, so we are very fortunate that he’s…er…but I see we do not have a full complement.”

No, well Lindir’s just finishing his ‘three’-for-all with the twins, but I don’t what’s happened to…

“Where’s Anghathel?” Gildor asks.

“Sir?” says Filegluin.

“Yes, cadet?”

“He…er…hurt his bottom, sir,” says the young cadet, nervously.

“His what?” asks Gildor, puzzled.

“His bottom…Gildor…sir.” I look around at the cadets as they giggle.

“Yes, Filegluin, I heard you,” says Gildor. “And how did he do that?”

“It was an accident…sir.”

“Spit it out, cadet. We’re all agog.”

Filegluin nibbles at his lip and looks down at the sand.

“Cadet! I am waiting,” commands Gildor and the young elf jumps.

“He lost his balls, sir.”

“Balls? Both of them?”

“Five of them…”

“Five?!”

“Up his bottom…”

Filegluin goes red as a plum and Glorfindel bursts out laughing.

“The string broke…sir,” the cadet finishes lamely.

“I gather he’s in the infirmary then?” asks our Captain and the blushing elf nods.

“They had to…”

“Yes, yes, I can imagine what they had to do…” says Gildor, and shudders.

“He’s alright now, though, but a bit sore…sir.” Filegluin looks relieved at last, and peers up at the rest of the troop and grins.

At that moment Lindir arrives.

“Ah, nice of you to join us, cadet,” says Gildor and looks at Lindir as he joins the ranks. “I apologise for interfering with your personal training.” he says, drily.

Lindir yawns.

“Sorry…Gildor…er… Captain,” he says and nods in greeting to the rest of us. “Lower passage was a bit bunged up with…”

“Balls?”

“No, really, sir!” Lindir looks totally confused.

Gildor sighs heavily, and Lindir tries again.

“Thranduil is taking a delivery of wine this morning, and…”

“Very well, cadet, fall in. You will partner Filegluin, Lindir, as Anghathel is otherwise detained. Carandol, you will spar with Glorfindel.”

Spar…? I’ll spend most of my time with my face in the dirt…

So what’s new…

Oh well, perhaps I’ll be able to have a chat with him in between being thrown around.

We spread out around the arena and as Filegluin passes me I catch his arm.

“Who shoved the balls up him then?” I ask, curious.

Filegluin goes red again.

“You didn’t?!”

“Well, he’d been a bit of a prick, so I did it last night, after you and Legolas…er… How was I supposed to know he’d yank at them so hard.” Then he giggles. “He must have fiddled with them quite a bit first, though, to break the ties.”

Mmmm… gives a new meaning to the concept of ‘worry beads’ I suppose.

* * *

Glorfindel is waiting for me on the far side of the arena and as I arrive he removes his tunic and faces me.

“Strip, Carandol,” he says perfunctorily, and I remember a different elf saying something similar last night.

I remove my tunic and stand, bare-chested and stare at him. My small pecs fade into insignificance next to his and my nipples stand to attention as if to get a better look.

I fold my arms across my chest.

“Shy, Carandol?” Glorfindel smirks.

“Hardly.”

“Then prepare yourself and form a defensive posture.”

I thought I was.

“Look, I don’t know much about this hand-to-hand stuff, Glorfindel.”

“Really? Word in the barracks says differently.”

Glorfindel straightens himself up. “Look, Carandol, the cadets must be ready to discharge their duty,” he says seriously.

Yeah, well, you spend a night with them… you’ll see how ready they are…

I take a deep breath, copy his stance and change the subject. “So, how are you, Glorfindel. I haven’t seen much of you lately.”

“Very well, Carandol.” And he says nothing more, but moves around me, ready to strike.

“Is that it?” I ask, following him with my eyes.

“Are we going to wrestle now, or continue talking?” he asks, then lunges at me.

“Ooof…shit…I’d rather talk,” I say, spitting out sand as I pick myself up.

“Come, Carandol, you need to practise,” he says and attacks.

“Ouch…bollocks!” I shout again, then he gives me his hand and hauls me up.

“Never touched ‘em,” Glorfindel smirks. “Now, concentrate! This is for your own protection,” he says and I land on the ground a third time.

“Bugger this, Glorfindel! Can’t you just give me some theory, or something?” I complain.

“I needed to see what you could do first, Carandol. Don’t you know how to take care of yourself?” he asks and looks at me in concern.

“Well, apart from a good shampoo, a honey based moisturiser and some expensive cologne…no.”

“Don’t joke, Carandol. Your life could depend on this one day.”

“I know, I’m sorry, my friend,” I say as I wipe away the sand that has stuck itself to my skin.

“Would you like me to give you some extra tuition?” he asks, “that is, after all, one of the reasons I’m here.”

“And the other?”

“Commercial intercourse.”

I snort. “Oh, alright, then.”

“Good. We’ll start now.”

Shit.

* * *

The troop spends most of the evening nursing its bruises and watching Anghathel as he keeps shifting his tender arse and eyeing the cadets suspiciously. He’s very well-built compared to most of the troop and it seems incongruous for this lovely, strong elf to be so wary. I walk over to him.

“How’s your bottom, then?” I ask, just to be sociable. Not my usual opening line, but it seems appropriate.

Anghathel looks at me apprehensively as I sit on his bed next to him. “Raw.”

“Whose beads were they, anyway?” I ask.

He groans. “Do all the cadets know?”

“Er… the cadets, the warriors, most of the palace, all of the infirmary staff, a few gardeners, three guard-dogs, the stable cat… ”

“Most of Mirkwood then?”

“Just about.”

“So, you know who did this to me then?” he asks.

“No,” and I manage to look him straight in the eye.

“Pity.”

“Why? You want some more?”

“Have you ever had these things in you?” he asks.

“No. Are they good, when they don’t break?”

“Let’s just say I woke up with a boner you could hang your cloak on and my arse was twitching like it was playing a flute.”

“Anything I’d know?” I say, and grin.

Anghathel looks at me scornfully.

I ignore him. “Perhaps the barrel song would be quite suitable:

Roll-roll-roll-roll,
roll-roll-rolling down the hole!
Heave ho! Splash plump!
Down they go, down they bump!

Down the swift dark stream you go…” *

“I get the idea, Carandol.” Anghathel is obviously not impressd by my singing and cringes noticeably.

“So, I suppose for an encore you started doing some fingering for a bit of vibrato?” I say and Anghathel coughs and then leans towards me.

“I pulled on them a bit but the knots scratched. So I thought I’d yank them out quickly when I spilled. Trouble was, I was spouting so hard as the string broke, that my muscles just clung onto them and then they disappeared. I wasn’t going to wait and see if they just shot out later,” he says, and I chuckle, uncomfortably.

As I mull over the capricious forces of nature, I look around the dormitory and see Lindir sitting cross-legged on his bunk tuning his lyre and I nod in his direction. “Lindir’s quite good at playing with his instruments too.” I say, and smirk.

“So I’ve heard, Carandol. I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on his pipe-organ,” he replies, then looks me up and down, “or yours, come to think of it.”

“No chance, Anghathel, mine are virginals.” I say and wink at him.

* * *

The next morning the cadets are joining forces with some of the big boys to ensure there are no further incursions of the spiders within a quarter of a mile around the palace caves. It feels good to be let loose into the wide world… though I’m not sure Mirkwood is ready for the cadets just yet.

We leave at dawn and are still riding through the thinnest and safest part of the forest when someone rides up beside me.

“Carandol, I haven’t seen much of you lately, but I know my brother Legolas has.”

Well, not quite everything, but enough to be going on with…

“Hello Serafir, what are you doing here?” I ask.

“Ada won’t allow me to visit the barracks so I thought I’d join you all on this little excursion.”

“It’s not exactly a picnic, you know.”

“Don’t tell me about my own spiders, Carandol. I was probably slicing their legs off while you were just toddling on yours.” She sniffs and raises her head proudly.

“Don’t they have dollies in Mirkwood, then?” I ask.

She gives me a withering look. “I’m just saying, I grew up in these woods and I’m better at this than you cadets.”

And I suppose you cut your teeth on the black squirrels’ nuts! *

“A bit miffed aren’t you?” I ask, knowing she’s probably right but feeling somewhat offended.

“A bit. I thought you’d come and see me,” she says and goes coy on me.

“Forget the bashful maid bit, Serafir, it doesn’t suit you. In any case, your brother can reach a few of my parts you wouldn’t dream of wandering around in.”

“Mmmm… nothing like poking around in an elven grotto to round off the day,” a smooth voice says, “but I won’t be able to explore you until later.” I feel a hand on my leg and fingers rubbing up the inside of my thigh as Legolas moves his horse in on my right.

Your’re welcome in my pothole any timeeetieetie…!

“Cadets! To me.” Gildor’s command interrupts us and I have to rejoin the ranks.

“Later, my adorable Carandol,” he says and leans in to kiss me. There are a few whistles and cat-calls and I blush and feel my groin tighten as I join the others.

“This is not a ramble in the country, cadets,” says Gildor as we approach, and he looks straight at me. “We are not out here for pleasure. Although we may not be going into the most infested part of the forest, it’s still unpleasant. Stay alert, stay together and stay with me. Now, Carandol, how hard is that?”

Well, not rock solid yet, but give me a minute…

Our Captain continues. “The spiders in this area have a relatively small sting but enough to knock you out for a short while and leave you with a nasty headache and feeling very sick when you come to.”

Sounds like a few parties I’ve been to…

“Do not underestimate them if they attack in numbers, as it may mean one of the larger spiders is nearby.” Gildor continues. “Now, follow on in pairs. The soldiers will be flanking you.”

I’m glad he said flanking.

I look at the lines of formidable soldiers as they move in closer and understand why the king won’t allow his daughter anywhere near the barracks. I remember them as the debauched band of elves at the party in Imladris, yet these guys look as if they wouldn’t take any prisoners.

Suddenly a scout calls out. “Spiders!”

I hear rustling and we are being surrounded. There are spiders everywhere, about the size of large helmets, and though I understand these are small compared to some, they are still unnerving.

Glorfindel launches straight in and begins slicing through them three at a time, Gildor is clouting them with his shield and smashing them against the trees, and Legolas is shooting them faster than I can count. The cadets have dismounted and are in the centre of a ring of warriors. But even we manage to do some damage when several spiders break through the ranks of soldiers and we desperately try to eliminate them. Then I hear noises behind me.

“Carandol. Run!”

Its Filegluin, warning me, so I run, and run, then suddenly realise there is no-one running with me. I stop and look around. I can’t hear anything, no cadets, no fighting…no Legolas…

In my haste I must have run in the wrong direction. Oh, Elbereth, Which way? I run in what I think is the right general area but I’m panicking too much to think clearly and use my instincts, so I’m lost even more.

I stand still again. The air is close, and the forest is thicker and darker here. I’m just trying to listen for any sounds to help me when something digs into my neck and everything goes dim before I fall like a stone.

* * *

“Is it alive?”

“How should I know, Snotpik. Kick it and see.”

“Kick it yourself, Fartniff, if you’re so brave.”

As I’m coming d I d I can just hear the coarse voices arguing above me and register a really disgusting smell. Orcs.

Then I feel a kick in my ribs. Bloody hell. I groan, deeply.

“It’s a male. Probably one of their warriors,” says the one called Fartniff.

I hear them both backing away.

“Well, he ain’t dead then,” says Snotpik.

“Nah. But I bet he’ll have a fucking awful headache.”

“How’s that then, Fartniff.”

“He’s been bit. Look at his neck.”

So that’s what got me. Gods, I feel sick.

“So, where’s the spider?” asks Snotpik.

“Run off, most like. It couldn’t eat anything this size. It probably left this one for its mother.”

How thoughtful.

“We ought to tie him up.”

“Tie him up? What with, then, Snotpick, your trousers?”

“I’m not putting none of my clothes on a filthy elf, Fartniff.”

“Well we’d better think of something. He’ll come round in a minute, and then he’ll run for it.”

“Who’ll run for it?” says another voice, deeper and even more repellent.

“He will,” says Fartniff.

“He will…Sir…” says the new voice.

“Oh, all right…Captain Crapbung…Sir,” says Fartniff, begrudgingly.

“Very good. Right, what have we here, then.”

I feel a foot rolling me over and I open my eyes a little. Every part of my body hurts and I am still very weak.

“A pretty one, eh?” asks Captain Crapbung.

“If you like that sort of thing, I suppose,” says Snotpik.

“Oh, yes…” the Captain says, and wipes his crusty excuse for a mouth, then rubs at the grimy rags covering his groin. “Nothing like a pretty elf after supper…”

I suppose I should be grateful I’m not going to be served as the supper… but I won’t be when he forces me to serve him instead.

“Get some rope from the camp, Fartniff, while Snotpik and I guard him.”

He pulls out his sword and presses it to my neck.

“You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you elf?” Crapbung asks and I can just manage to shake my head a little.

“Good, ‘cos I wouldn’t wan’t to harm that pretty face of yours. Not before I’ve had a taste of you.”

He leans in closer and his foul breath makes me want to vomit.
I flinch.

“And I’ll make sure you enjoy it,” he says with a hideous grin on his face.

“Maybe if I puke on you you’ll be a bit more appetising,” I say, foolishly.

Crapbung gives me a nasty backhander and I black out.

When I come to again, I’m upright with my arms stretched above me and tied to an overhanging branch of a tree.

Snotpik and Fartniff are walking around me poking at my body and I can see several orcs in the camp, eating something that looks raw and sickening. Occasioanlly one of the orcs looks up and leers at me with sharp yellow teeth.

“Give him some water, Snotpik,” says the Captain.

Snotpik comes over and throws a large metal container of dirty water over me. I shriek from the shock of it but try to catch some drops on my parched tongue.

“He’s got a lovely little pink tongue,” says Snotpik, smirking at my discomfort, “I’d like to feel that wiggling in my…”

“Ugh, get away from me, you stinking bag of puss,” I say, in disgust.

“Ooooh!” chorus Snotpik and Fartniff in unison.

“That’s not very sociable, is it?” says Fartniff and I’m treated to another swipe across the face, but when I taste the drops this time, it’s the blood oozing from my nose.

“I think its about time for the evening’s entertainment fellas,” says the Captain and comes towards me, chewing a bit of what looks like gristle and spitting it out on the ground.

“Give us a kiss.”

“No,” I squeal and quickly turn my head away.

He laughs. Then just as he gets closer I do something really stupid: I kick out at him and crush his balls. He topples backwards in agony and then there are two scimitars held at my throat.

“You fucking slime,” says the Captain, as he stands crookedly and punches me in the stomach.

Then he pulls out a knife and I think this is it, but he rips open my leggings and pulls them down to my ankles.

“Look at this pretty little willie, lads,” he says derisively, then flicks a claw across it.

I recoil at the sudden sharp pain and look down at my tender cock which shrivels even more. That’s it, keep your head down and stay out of trouble.

He returns to the rest of his troop and takes a large flagon of some drink and downs it in one go. Then he sits with them and leaves me hanging and exposed and thoroughly humiliated.

It is almost dusk by the time he returns and he stands in front of me and opens his disgusting pants and pulls out a hefty, dark, wart-covered, greasy-looking prick and runs his hand up and down it lovingly.

“And this is why they call me…Crapbung.” There are hoots of cackling laughter from the troop and I just stare at it in terror.

“Get him down,” he says to two of the orc minions.

“What for?” says one.

“’Cos I ain’t takin’ him like this,” states the Captain. “Put him over that boulder.”

“Why? You can do him here,” says another.

Crapbung slashes him across the face.

“You stupid piece of shit. Don’t you know anything. I want to play with this one for a while. If I fuck him and he doesn’t enjoy it, he’ll probably die, and I don’t know how quick that’ll be. If he’s lying across that boulder, the friction will do it. He won’t be able to stop himself.” Then he laughs, an evil rasping sound that makes my skin crawl.

“Well, if you leave him here I can suck him off. He’ll come then,” says Snotpik, and I look at the thick, slimy tongue wiping over a dripping mouth and his dagger-like teeth and I start to sweat in fear.

“You ain’t laying a finger on my prize. Now take him down!”

Two orcs come over to me and untie me from the tree but leave my hands bound together, while another two help them to drag me across the clearing.

I’m thrown over the large mossy boulder, my boots and leggings are ripped off and my legs are roughly pulled apart. An Orc holds each ankle while my hands are held securely on the other side of the rock.

I feel thick, rough fingers with long talons explore my arse and stretch my cheeks wide apart. Then something thicker and heavier is placed above my crack and begins to descend towards my little opening, and I hold my breath and tremble violently as I say a quiet prayer…

For fuck’s sake, Elbereth…get me out of here!

TBC…


Notes:

The song Carandol quotes from is “Barrels For Laketown” from the “Hobbit” by Tolkien, of course.

Black squirrels, as well as spiders, infested the forests of Mirkwood, and they were probably just as cute and cuddly as the Orcs that ate them!

Sebastian