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A Family Way	By : kspence Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 5843 -:- 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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2: Indecent proposal

Chard returned a while later and had the Uruk stand so he could look him over, which he did with an obviously critical eye. “S’pose that’ll ‘ave to do,” he muttered eventually, shaking his head. “Go on then - shift yerself!” With that he began ushering Shagrat upstairs into the main part of the building. It was an inn or a rooming house Chard had brought him to and at length they stopped on a brightly-lit upper story, three or more floors up. The late afternoon sun was streaming in through the overhead skylight and the Orc waited where he was, gazing dully at the dust-motes Chard was stirring as he hurried back and forth. The barely-literate oaf seemed to be counting room numbers and had to keep pausing to consult a scrap of paper he’d unfolded from his pocket. After pacing the whole length of the corridor up and down he eventually stopped at a doorway directly opposite the place Shagrat was standing.

“This is the one!” Chard hissed, knocking smartly on it.

The door opened at once, as if whoever was inside had been waiting for Chard’s arrival, and a figure dressed in long brown robes stepped through it. The person was also wearing a long, dark-brown head-dress stiff with intricate panels of embroidery, and was completely swathed from head-to-foot in flowing fabric, which also covered most of his face - although there was a slight space above the nose provided for him to see through. Through this gap a pair of dark eyes in a brown-skinned face frowned out at Chard and his charge. The eyes were very heavily made-up with kohl.

In the doorway behind this conservatively-dressed fellow were hovering two or three more, decked out in similar outfits. Thinking there was something familiar about the get-up, Shagrat sighed inwardly. It only looked to be a bunch of Haradrim, priest-caste or similar, that Chard had fallen in with. Not that the Orc had an especial axe to grind against the folk from that desert country, but he had even more distrust, and less time than usual for self-professed religious zealots.

The Haradrim, it seemed, was similarly unimpressed. “What this?” he said, peering over and flapping his hands at Shagrat. The fellow had a surprisingly high-pitched, sing-songy sounding voice.

“It’s what you bought and paid for, guv’nor,” Chard replied, in an overly hearty tone. “One Orc of the male persuasion, sound in wind and limb, services for rental of, fr’one night!” Chard was clearly rattled; Shagrat could hear it in his voice.   He was a stolid fellow, and as only one subject ever made him nervous it was easy enough to work out what was worrying him. “What you gentlemen will be payin’ for, I should say,” Chard blustered. “Full cash sum on delivery what we agreed, was’n’it?”

The customer made a noise of disgust in his throat. “That look half-dead,” he commented. “It awful.”

“Well Sir I’ll grant you,” Chard tutted, sucking on his teeth, “this ‘un’s none too sprightly, nor pretty in the face. But then, you don’t get many like it to the pound these days do yer? Terrible thin on the ground, these sorts a’ fellers, and your mate did specify, it was one like this and nuthin’ else what you was after. An,’ a‘course you realize we’re practic’ly on a sellers market, here. I‘ve ‘ad to pull no end of strings to get ‘im for you – ‘specially spruced up an’ on short notice like what you said.”

“Your Orc had a prior engagement?” A second person, robed and covered like the first had stepped out into the corridor and flung the door wide open. Sounding sceptical this one imperiously instructed Chard to “bring him in.”

Chard chivvied Shagrat into the room, moving quickly before his clients had a chance to change their minds.

“Now don’t you be fooled,” he advised them, “by his looking like somefink the cat drug in. Whatever yous ‘ave planned – and it’s none a’ my business so you’ll notice I ain’t asking for no particulars nor nuffink – given ‘arf a chance he’s likely ter try and scarper, as he ‘as done before, so it’ll be best fer everyone if you put a stop to his tricks outright by making sure ‘ee’s tied to somethink.” He scratched his bristly chin for a moment, deep in thought. The Haradrims’ chamber, though roomy enough was empty apart from a large iron bed-stead, and contained not a great deal else to which an Orc could readily be secured.

“Where’ll you be wanting ‘im then?” Chard prompted.

The man indicated the bed, whereupon Chard, keeping a carefully neutral expression on his face shoved Shagrat onto it and instructed him to lie on his back. “Want ‘im stretched out, guv’nor?” he asked the Haradrim obsequiously.   He pulled the Uruk’s hands up over his head and fastened them, then secured his legs, one to each bed-post. Shagrat’s position was not especially uncomfortable and though he was tied fast, he would probably have been able to move his limbs a little way if he tried. He attempted nothing of the sort however. Included in the Orc’s ever-increasing collection of war- and post-war-wounds was an injury to his lower right leg. The bones there having been broken had failed to set straight, and the ankle was a stickily ongoing problem; one to which Shagrat could see no likely solution.

So the Uruk simply lay where he was, quiet and still, taking stock of the situation. Going from their voices his new overseers were two women and a man, the latter of whom was doubly as effete as the pair of his companions combined. The tallest in the group was the one who’d been giving orders out in the corridor and was apparently their leader. Chard, having taken his payment from this woman had exited post-haste, presumably to begin making inroads on spending it as swiftly as possible. After this the three Haradrim had reverted to speaking in their native tongue. They all had a lot to say about something or other and were currently in the middle of an extremely heated debate.

What they probably didn’t realize was that Shagrat understood some, and even spoke a little smattering of their lingo too. While he’d spent most of his military career in charge of guarding a remote mountain pass, in the years before he ensconced himself into that cushy little number he had seen as much varied and active service as the next Orc. One of his earlier tours of duty had been to a posting in the southern foothills of the Mountains of Shadow, part of the swathe of no-mans land that lay between Mordor proper, and the desert realms of Harad and Khand. The Orcish outpost he was stationed at wasn’t far from a caravan trail used by various bands of nomadic traders and in due course Shagrat had picked up the bare basics of a whole suit of desert languages from them. As it happened, the dialect these Haradrim were speaking had at one time been quite familiar to him, as the merchants from that tribe’s territory had been enthusiastic, if irregular visitors to the Orcs’ encampment.

“Rashanka, this is impossible. You must reconsider,” the second woman kept saying. It seemed that the man however, was trying either out of mischief or just plain spite to egg the tall one on – and she was clearly wavering - into doing….something unspecified…which the other woman seemed dead-set against. They went on yakking amongst themselves interminably and the Orc soon tired of listening. Shagrat’s day-to-day condition at this time was never very far from complete physical collapse and his few remaining bodily resources had been utterly expended by his earlier exertions. The monotonous drone of the Haradrims’ voices, the softness of the bed he was lying on and the dry heat up under the rafters in the attic bedroom all combined to lull him into a quick, uneasy sleep. The exhausted Uruk dozed carelessly for several minutes.

The light touch of a hand high on the inside of his upper thigh brought Shagrat awake in an instant. Under his shirt he was naked – tied in place and terribly vulnerable – and though he struggled on the bed in a frantic attempt to close his partly-spread legs, his bonds held and he could barely twist to one side. The Orc could feel his cock and balls trying to shrink further up into his body away from the person’s touch, as firmly, they prised his member out and pulled it straight, stretching the limp organ upright between their fingers and thumb. For a wild moment Shagrat wondered if he was finally to be emasculated; a punishment the Barker had threatened him with on several previous occasions after he had in some way overstepped his mark, but at that moment the was hard pressed to think of a single thing he’d done recently that would warrant such a fate.

Then there was a warm mouth at his groin, slowly circling and licking him. His member began to stiffen immediately and after a scant few seconds he was fully erect. The soft suction kept on as the mouth continued to expertly fellate him up and down; expecting punishment but encountering only intense, dizzying pleasure, the Uruk almost choked on it.

The problem was that Shagrat was burdened by a most unfortunate affliction for a creature of his type. His weakness was only a vague fondness of being handled gently, but Orcs being Orcs he had experienced considerate treatment so infrequently as to be barely even aware of his own preference. Unwanted as this current sexual overture was he was finding it nigh-on impossible to resist, because if he’d been counting out the number of times he’d had this done to him properly in the past – and by ‘properly’ Shagrat meant there was to be absolutely no biting, scratching, or beating of his genitals allowed - he doubted he would even have needed to use the fingers on one, let alone both hands. This time, he would have liked to concentrate on enjoying the pleasant sensations for as long as they lasted, but past experience had if nothing else taught him that his luck was such that in this sort of situation things had a nasty tendency to all turn pear-shaped at very short notice. And true to form the next moment, they did.

Without warning the Orc’s talented admirer ceased his ministrations and plucked himself off him, his place at Shagrat’s bedside being taken by another of the Haradrim. It was difficult to tell as they were all dressed so much alike but this one, he reckoned, had to be one of the female members of their party. That was the last coherent thought the Orc had the luxury of entertaining for several minutes however, for at that point she quite literally jumped him.

The woman vaulted effortlessly onto the bed and positioned herself astride Shagrat, pinning him in place. The grip of her thighs and knees was terrific and as she sat down heavily on his lap, her intentions began to become horribly apparent: a moment or two of unseemly tussling about later and it was dreadfully clear - she was trying to copulate with him, but was going about things in an incredibly ham-fisted manner. She seemed to have so little idea of what to do in practice (or if she did, was so unwilling to do it) that he wondered whether - unlikely as the prospect seemed - he was perhaps dealing with some kind of deranged virgin.

Shagrat, in relation to his sexual preferences had always been a pragmatist. That he had never had much of an eye for the ladies was more of a comment on the sex biases prevalent in the Black Army during the time he’d served in Mordor than anything else. He’d been with females of his own kind now and again – often enough to know that he supposed he liked them tolerably well, and if his relations with the opposite sex had ever amounted to anything more than the occasional knee-trembler, quick and dirty up against a barrack-room wall, there was every chance that all other things being equal he might even have preferred them over any of the alternative partners who’d been available at the time: there was always the consideration at the very least that during coitus with an Orcess, one’s likelihood of being painfully sodomized - while never of course eliminated entirely - was quite significantly reduced.   And if this female was not young exactly, then she did seem fresh and clean and relatively untarnished (probably wishful thinking on Shagrat’s part, this, given that he could see so little of her) - a set of attributes that wouldn’t have made much difference to most Orcs one way or the other, but to which Shagrat had always been secretly and terribly partial. So it was a pity that the woman’s intimate advances had come as such a short sharp shock to him. This had taken a quite a bit out of the Uruk’s ability to cut metaphorical mustard at that point, the unfortunate result being that whenever she tried engage fully with him (and to give her her due, she was unstinting in her attempts) she was frustrated to find herself encountering nothing more than a certain amount of….bend.

Screeching with frustration, the woman lifted away from Shagrat then thumped down again on top of him, letting him feel her full weight crushing his stomach and chest for a moment.   The threat was unmistakeable as she snarled that he - “had better co-operate!” and it gave the Uruk a frightful scare when she landed on him, as for a dreadful moment he thought or imagined he could feel the bones in his rib-cage as well as his hips grinding themselves together.

“Please!” Shagrat exclaimed. Under the circumstances he was perfectly willing to beg. “I’m not well. And you - you’re not even my type!” His state of readiness for sex by this stage was if anything, regressing even further. Thoroughly unimpressed by Shagrat’s protests, the maiden simply gave him (rather appropriately for their situation) a withering look.

“Could you get your friend in again?” Shagrat suggested frantically.   The woman snorted and tossed her head.

“I can’t,” Shagrat blurted out at her, “I can’t do it like this. Maybe you could – you know, rub it. Touch my cock a bit.”

She just twisted round to glare at the unwilling appendage.

“If you won’t touch it, you’ve got to let one of my hands go and I’ll give it a try myself,” Shagrat wheezed. The maiden – if she was a maiden, which seemed increasingly doubtful, given her brazen behaviour – just sat, a dead-weight over the base of his ribs. She was heftier than she looked and Shagrat, who had an old injury there, was beginning to have difficulty in drawing breath. Growing desperate, he insisted - “You can’t force it to stand up, I tell you – that won’t work. Don’t you know anything?”

The maid ignored him. Some other kind of approach surely called for. Shagrat had heard of the eloquence of the Elves of course – when it came to dealing with recalcitrant damsels, their persuasiveness was legendary. Flattery was the key to it from what he understood, and so changing tack, he gave it his best shot.

“Maybe you could take your top off,” he suggested. “If I had something to look at that might help. I bet you’ve got gorgeous tits.”

Unfortunately these honeyed words were met by nothing but a moment of frozen, stony silence. And then -

“You dare to insult me!” the maiden shrieked.

The crack of the woman’s fist against the side of Shagrat’s face stunned him, and he worked his jaw in silence, blinking up at her foolishly. She had hit him hard with a proper right hook and hadn’t pulled the punch. It had split his lips and knocked loose one of his side teeth.

“Get off!” Shagrat howled, jerking in his bonds as much as he was able and trying to throw her off. The pull on his injured ankle hurt him severely and worse than that, the woman didn’t budge an inch. The Uruk’s mouth was full of blood and as he spat it at her in disgust, the molar she’d dislodged came away entirely. “You broke my sodding tooth!” he wailed.

“They come back,” she said coolly. “Always they come back. Given time.”

One of the few – the very, very few – advantages of being an Orc was indeed a seemingly limitless succession of adult teeth. But Shagrat, being otherwise occupied in gingerly probing the new open space in his jaw with his tongue didn’t think to consider how the woman had come to be acquainted with such a little-known fact.

Shagrat’s attacker calmly instructed him to continue. She was glaring down at him, and humiliated by his helplessness the Orc twisted his face away, closing his eye. “What d’you want to do that with me for anyway?” he muttered.

“Let us say that you could – perhaps – be my type,” the maiden replied. When at last Shagrat looked back at her he saw that she had removed both her head-dress and the veil that had been covering the lower part of her face. She was still glaring down at him from under heavy, beetling brows, and looked nothing to write home about. She had an angular, bony face with a pronounced masculine jaw-line that, like a bulldog’s seemed to close a slight distance in front of her upper incisors - though for all that Shagrat could see the tips of a pair of very white, overly long eye-teeth protruding down over her jutting lower lip. This, together with her obvious strength and the slanted cast of her features all seemed oddly familiar to Shagrat, highly reminiscent of something he felt he ought to have easily recognised.   The woman had a good lot of hair - he’d give her that, and buried amongst the abundance of thick, dark and glossy tresses he glimpsed an elongated ear-tip which was drawn upwards into a delicate point. There was, the Uruk thought bewilderedly, something about her that was almost -

“Well bugger me,” Shagrat exclaimed, as finally he realized what kind of a person he was dealing with.

So she was swarthy enough all right, but not very much more than you’d expect from a Haradrim or maybe even one of those southern Tarks, so perhaps that way she’d been able to pass herself off as properly human all these years. Admittedly she was no oil-painting, but the truth was she didn’t look that far off normal for one of them, and what with the all-concealing get-up and her hoity-toity manner, that must have helped to cover it. But seen like this there was no hiding it; certainly not from one of her own type, and if Shagrat’s faculties had been working at anywhere near their full capacity he’d have been able to smell the fact of it for himself long before he’d first set eyes on her: this one was as Orcish they come. She was as Orcish as Shagrat, in part she was, at any rate.

“I have been unable to get with child,” the Orc-woman announced, “through the normal course, of lying aside a man of the Haradrim. Your kind it is said, are well known to be more – potent than human Men. If I should bed with one such as you, I will surely conceive.”

“Who’s told you that?” Shagrat asked, with wonder in his voice.

The woman replied that it was a well-known fact.   “Orcs rut like dogs,” she stated, her tone matter-of-fact. “The spawn of Mordor multiply their number as flies upon dung.” Then with surprising candour, or as if to explain her conduct she added: “I have no other way.”

The spawn of Mordor goggled up at her, stunned; in disbelief.

“Will you agree to serve me?” the Orc-woman prompted. “It would go far better with you if you did.”

It was a straightforward decision for Shagrat: this, or spending another night in the stables – with another beating for insubordination from Chard most likely thrown in for his trouble.

“Go on then,” he decided, following a scant few seconds’ thought. “I suppose I could give it a shot. ‘But I won’t be able to do much if you keep sitting on me like that. I was caught in a fire and there’s been a bit of damage to my –“

The woman, Rashanka, obviously cared as little about the state of Shagrat’s health as she did about anything else he had to say. Ignoring him, she heaved off and sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, evidently waiting for the Orc to make the next move.

“How d’you want us to go at it, eh? Don’t suppose you’d fancy going under and having somebody on top, would you?” Shagrat said at length.

She didn’t reply.

“Same difference for doggy-style - down on all fours and me coming in from behind?”

More silence. He hadn’t thought there was much chance she’d go for that either.

“On our sides then, maybe? I’d rather not do it standing up seeing as my leg -”

“Ah-hah!” Rashanka cried. “You think to trick me into freeing you!”

“I just said not standing up, didn’t I?”

But for some reason that seemed to settle things. “We will perform – as is necessary, upright, upon our feet,” the woman said, as she began releasing Shagrat from his bonds. “Though I warn you, my manservant waits just beyond that door. If there should be the smallest sign that -“

“I won’t try anything,” the Orc interrupted bitterly. “Look at the state I’m in. You could knock all the stuffing out of me one-handed and not even have to break a sweat.”

Once he was free the woman got up, hiked her robes up around her waist and turning her back on Shagrat, opened her legs a little way and simply - presented to him, issuing an curt instruction for him to: “Begin!”

She was so dry that to do it he really had to push - literally screw himself in. The effort took a lot out of Shagrat but the Orc-woman, not even beginning to enter into the spirit of the thing snarled impatiently when he halted progress for a quick breather, then all but bit him as he stopped for a second time under the pretext of enquiring whether she was all right. By the time he was fully inside her he was trembling with exertion, light-headed and faint - but even so, once he was finally there it felt so – incredibly much better than he remembered! Her warmth and softness around him were a world away from painful constriction he remembered you’d get from fucking an arse - and there had always been a certain amount of pain for Shagrat, when he’d been called upon to provide someone with a servicing of that kind. Dizzy with pleasure, as well as the abrupt rush of blood away from his head, the Orc gave a quiet, satisfied groan, shut his eye and relaxed, resting his weight against her.

He might even have dropped off again for a minute like that, for the next thing he knew his chin was resting on the woman’s shoulder and his arms were hugging hold of her close around the waist. To his surprise Shagrat discovered that hard and tough and unyielding as Rashanka might have seemed to be in general, in certain selected areas of her body she was actually – quite marvellously - anything but. The Orc leaned into the comfortable voluptuousness of buttock that was pressed to his lower stomach and slid one hand up, trying for a fondle at a handful of breast.

At that Rashanka, who had already been squirming with annoyance throughout, screamed that she wasn’t to be manhandled in such a manner and almost jumped off him. If they accidentally disengaged at that point the probability of a further successful coupling that night seemed to Shagrat to be vanishingly remote, and so yelping in distress, he went with her. Together they executed a clumsy set of shuffling steps back and forth across the bedroom floor, coming to rest moments later against the foot of the bed.

“Be fair!” the Uruk cried. “You need to let me get a bit of – you know – leverage!”

Impatiently, Rashanka prised his hands away from her waist and slapped them down on either side of the foot-board at the end of the bed. Shagrat braced himself against it thankfully.

“No – more – touching!” the woman grated out.

Under radically different circumstances Shagrat might have liked for there to be touching involved, for it had been a long time indeed since he had had any kind of sex with another person.   But for the present he contented himself with taking the strain in his arms against the bedpost while concentrating the rest of his efforts on trying not to pass out. He pushed with his hips mechanically, in and out, in and out.

Over her shoulder Rashanka snapped at him to - “hurry up.”

“But you said you wanted –“ the Uruk gasped, “and you’ve not nearly –“

“Quickly!” the half-Haradrim insisted, through gritted teeth.

At that the Orc drove himself into her once; twice; hard and then harder, and to her disgust Rashanka felt the quick rush of fluid that came as the brute reached his completion. The Uruk exclaimed in surprise and staggered as she shoved him back, pulled their bodies roughly apart and stepped aside, eyeing him with deepest loathing. She noted in distaste that even after his oddly restrained climax, the creature was still quivering head-to-foot and panting, presumably all in a palsy of unspent lust.

Shagrat covered his privates with his hands, cradling them like some hurt and injured thing and sat down carefully on the bed.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered. “I wasn’t much cop, I daresay, but you did say you wanted me to finish off. I can do much better next time though. I mean - probably.”

“Next time?” the woman’s tone, if it had been moving through icy tones before this had gone from being sharply frosty to - absolutely glacial. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t reckon that’ll have done the job, do you?” the Uruk replied. “Since you didn’t – well. D’you feel any different, yet?”

The woman shook her head. “What do you mean?”

“There’s shagging,” Shagrat explained, “and then there’s shagging.   They say you have to go at it differently if the lady wants to get a sprog.”

Rashanka looked sceptical. “’They say’?” she repeated. “How could you not know?”

“Only ever done the fist kind myself,” the Uruk replied, shortly. “And if you really want me to get you up the – to put you in a family way then we’re going to have to go at it properly. The thing is –“ Shagrat broke off, watching her warily. “There’s a good chance you mightn’t like it.”

“Explain!”

“I’m not saying I know a lot about these things myself,” Shagrat began cautiously, “but the way I heard it with starting a sprog if you get it right, you – the lady - generally knows straight off. That, just then – we barely got started, did we? I reckon it might take another go, or two, for things to - you know – to take.”

The woman’s lips were drawn and white with fury. “You lie!” she shouted.

“What’ve I got to lie for? It’s not like I even fancy yours, much!”

On hearing that Rashanka closed her mouth with an abrupt, audible snap, clearly feeling she’d just been dealt an insufferable affront. Giving the Orc the dirtiest of dirty looks, turned on her heel and strode out of the bed-chamber, practically slamming the door off its hinges behind her.

She was back a short while later and had a basin and jug full of hot water with her. Rashanka dumped the bowl and ewer down on the window sill, informing a thoroughly mystified Shagrat that – “our custom requires the body to be purified at such times. You too should follow suit.”

Daunted by the prospect of another impromptu washing, the Orc edged away from her, surreptitiously moving so as to keep the full width of the bedstead between them. “Would there be any chance of me getting bit of dinner or something?” he asked, trying for a change of subject with all the casualness he could muster.

“Your supervisor said nothing about that,” the woman retorted. “Keeping you well-fed is none of my concern!”

“But it’d help – help keep my - pecker up, I bet,” Shagrat said. “Way things are I expect you’d be glad enough if it comes to that, later on.”

The woman didn’t bother to answer and only grunted at him disdainfully. She headed once more for the door, leaving Shagrat alone again for so long that by the time a delegation from the Haradrim party finally arrived, he had all but given up on the prospect of anything to eat that night. For a moment the Orc thought it was Rashanka who had returned, outfitted in a fresh robe and veil, but a second look showed this woman to be much shorter, and of a far slighter build.

TBC
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A Family Way