Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

From My Hand Only	By : gillianinoz Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2142 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-From My Hand Only
- 1
Warnings: This is a slash story and it has aspects of slave-slash, non-con, and even furry slash and is most definitely NC-17. If you don't know what these are please find out before reading! If you find out and still hate the story, please keep it to yourself.

From My Hand Only.

By Gillian

"What is it? What's the commotion?"

"In the last cart, my lord," Dellin said, his face sour with disgust. "These foul creatures have some kind of captive."

Faramir frowned at the man. "Is he alive? Has a healer been called? Why are you all standing around?" He pushed the gawking men aside and looked into the cart, reeling back in disgust at the foul smell. "What filth is this?"

A creature lay in the cart, covered with all manner of disgusting effluvia. Orc dung was a common enough scent to trackers, but there was also rotting fruit and meat to contend with. If he hadn't been warned Faramir might have thought he was looking at a cart of rubbish, and no more.

The creature stirred and the men moved back as more of the putrid stench wafted out.

"Enough gawking!" the captain said impatiently. "Someone's alive in there, are you all so gutless you can't stand a little smell?"

He hauled himself onto the wagon, pressing his sleeve to his face. Glad of his thick gloves he grabbed at what he perceived to be shoulder and hefted the form of tof teap.eap. It was small and surprisingly light.

"Is it a child?" one of the men exclaimed, and suddenly they all stepped forward and helped the captain manhandle the slight form to the ground.

"A stretcher!" Dellin called, and wincing at the whole process Faramir jumped down from the cart and stood swaying.

"Faramir!" Boromir's voice cut across the clearing and men all around stood a little straighter. The older of the stewards sons was much loved and respected, but he had a sharper tongue and a harder fist than the younger.

"You're supposed to be resting, little brother. What brings you out of your tent?"

"I heard this commotion." Faramir indicated the small filthy form, still barely recognizable as human under the layers of filth and grime.

"What on earth is it?" Boromir exclaimed. "Is it a child? You! Take the stretcher to the healer's tent. See if he can bring it back to life. I don't envy him the task."

The brothers turned and surveyed the cart, noses wrinkling. "What on earth were they keeping him alive for?"

"And what crime could he have committed that they should treat him so?" Faramir wondered. "Orcs either kill or eat their prey. Captives are rare, this far from their home."

"Ah, but we're not sure how far we are from their home," Boromir said, taking his brother's arm and walking him away from the putrid cart. "I've found some odd markings on their helm and shields. I'm thinking I might take a party of men and track them back along their trail."

"We might find out more about their captive," Faramir said thoughtfully.

"Not we, brother," Boromir said firmly. "You're supposed to be resting, and rest you will, if I have to tie you down. Take six men and ride on to the summer house. And stay there until the healer says you may do otherwise."

"It was just a fever," Faramir protested.

Boromir turned to face his brother, grasping his forearms and shaking him lightly. "We almost lost you! You're weak and tired, and you know it."

Faramir's mobile mouth turned down.

"Do this for me, brother, hmm? Take a rest, get well. I need you by my side, not in your tomb."

"What of the captive then? Will we take him with us?"

"If he lives," Boromir shrugged. "Get the men to clean out that cart, and once he's been cleaned off too he can ride in it." Boromir frowned back at the old wooden vehicle thoughtfully. "If he survives I'd be interested to know where he's from, and why they kept him alive. I do not like surprises, Faramir. I like my enemy predictable."

Faramir watched his brother stride away bellowing orders and he sighed a little enviously at such energy. He was more tired than he liked to admit, and the thought of a few weeks in their old summer house was tempting. Not since he was a boy had he had such a break.

He walked to the healers tent and stopped short when he saw the small form laying on the stretcher outside. Had he died then, the poor captive? How tragic to have known rescue only to meet his end so soon after. But as he approached the captain realized the figure was moving, stirring on the rough pallet.

Heart in his mouth, trying to ignore the stench, Faramir knelt by the body, trying to see through the grime to the child beneath. There was a low keening sound and then suddenly eyes snapped open in the dirt encrusted face and Faramir sat back on his heels in stunned shock. Two of the finest blue eyes he had ever seen focused fiercely on him for a moment, then faded and fluttered closed.

It happened so quickly Faramir almost thought he had imagined it. Reaching out with his still filthy gloves he stroked back matted hair, revealing a pale golden swath of skin, still dirty but clearer now.

"Child?" he murmured. "Hold on, child."

Blazing anger lit him and he sprang to his feet, sweeping open the flap on the healers tent. Men lay inside, wounded in their recent encounter with the party of orcs. The healer was bent over one of them, drawing back a fine needle threaded with thin twine.

"Why is the captive outside?" Faramir demanded hotly. "Why does he remain untreated?"

"I have our own men to treat first, my lord," the healer said imperturbably. He continued his fine line of stitches while his patient bit his lip and stared at the ceiling. "I cannot risk infection to these men, and that creature is covered in filth."

"That creature is a child, healer, and a captive of the orc. If a child of mine was found in such a state I'd hope someone would show some mercy on him!"

The healer sighed and looked up. "My lord, do not doubt my mercy or my pity. But I must deal with those I know I can save. There is only one of me! I have not forgotten the poor captive, but for now I do not have the time."

Not mollified by this reasonable excuse Faramir clenched his fists. "Help is yours if you ask for it," he said pointedly. "I will send you help. For now I will take the captive myself and try to clean him up. If you can find the time later come to my tent to treat him."

Now even sure himself why he was so angry about this, Faramir strode back out of the tent and over to the small body. The child hadn't moved, but the smell and filth were still there and just for a moment Faramir thought better of it. Why should he concern himself with this? He would send some men to wash the captive, the healer would do what he could when he had time. This was not his concern.

But the memory of fierce blue eyes haunted him, and with a curse he knelt and once more gathered the limp body in his arms. Avoiding prying eyes he left the camp by a longer route and carried the child to the nearby ford of the Lefnui, where they had ambushed the orcs crossing the river heading north east, probably back their lair in the White Mountains.

Men were piling orc carcasses for burning but Faramir ignored them and carried his small burden down a little further, wasting no time and wading out into the sluggish current. He cared not for his own garments, figuring rightly that they would be better for the dunking after being in contact with the pitiful figure.

Kneeling in the current he lowered the child in, feeling the flinch through its body at the cool water. But it was not too chill at thise ofe of the year, so the shock was not so great.

Getting them both thoroughly soaked, the captain sat the still limp body on his knee and shrugged off his jerkin, carelessly bunching it up and using it as a rough scrubber. Slowly days or weeks of grime swirled away in the water, finally revealing a face, a neck, a body clothed in tattered and hopelessly stained clothes.

His knife carefully cut away the rags and Faramir threw them behind him for later examination.

Now he could see it was a male body he held, but he could also see some mysteries here that needed answers. Soaking and scrubbing as gently as he could at the hair revealed the first shock, delicate but very definitely pointed ears.

"Are you an elf child then?" Faramir murmured.

Cutting the last of the lower garments away revealed the second mystery. Small his charge might be, but this was no child. His genitals were modest, and mercifully unharmed by his cruel treatment, but they were those of an adult.

"But an adult what?" Faramir wondered, rinsing his filthy jerkin and trying to scrub some more. But the cloth was too dirty, so he threw it behind him with the captive's rags and pulled his shirt off next. The softer fabric made a better cloth, and finally great swathes of skin were revealed, bruised in places, scraped and torn in others. There were old bruises and new and Faramir wondered with pity how long this creature had been a prisoner of the orcs.

"Why did they keep you alive, little one?" He gently tilted back the creatures head and rinsed the hair again and again, wishing for soap. No matter, he would have a real bath drawn for him, with warm water and gentle soap. At least now no one would turn from him in disgust. Strange he was, but no longer repellent.

And then the final mystery as Faramir lay the cleaner head back against his breast and washed down grimy legs. Large feet, covered with matted hair.

"What on earth are you?"

"Faramir?" called an exasperated voice from the bank and turning to look over his shoulder the captain saw his brother standing at the waters edge, fists on his hips, frown on his brow.

"Only look, brother, at what I have uncovered!" Faramir called eagerly.

"Save me!" Boromir exclaimed, casting his eyes to the sky. "A few days out of his sickbed and he's cavorting in the river like a fool. Do you want to kill yourself?"

"The water's fine," Faramir dismissed. He lifted the creature in his arms and waded to the bank, wincing at the drag of water in his boots. "Only look, brother, at this!"

He lay the creature down and swept back the long hair, curving it back gently over the pointed ears.

"An elf?" Boromir exclaimed. "An elf child?"

"Look again," Faramir indicated the slack genitals. "No child this. But these tell a newer story." And he lifted one foot and touched a finger to the wet curls that adorned it.

Boromir shook his head warily. "This is not natural," he said slowly. "Some woodland creature, cursed perhaps. It might explain why even orcs would not eat him."

"If he was cursed they wouldn't have taken him captive," Faramir dismissed.

"Or it could explain why they didn't kill him," Boromir went on. He stood and backed away a few steps. "Put it down, brother and leave it where it lays."

Faramir frowned. "Are you mad? He's ill and injured. If I leave him here he'll die."

"Or its kin might come and get it," Boromir suggested. "Either way I do not want that cursed creature in my camp."

"You are too superstitious," Faramir said in exasperation. "Look at it, Boromir! It's small and injured. I wouldn't leave a dog out here to die in such conditions, I will not leave this creature."

"You-" Boromir bit off his words and Faramir stood and faced him squarely. Anyone else would have obeyed his orders without question, and it was somewhat a sore point between the brothers that Faramir had a mind of his own. Before the men he was ever the obedient brother, but alone he could and would argue his case.

"I thought you were riding after the orcs trail?" Faramir said coolly.

"I came to tell you we are leaving within the hour. I expected to find you resting as I order... asked you to do."

"I will rest while the men strike our tents," Faramir informed him. "And I will ride to Saerthondost with the men you leave me. I will even take the healer with me, as you... asked."

"Your stubbornness will be the death of you," Boromir said roughly. "Fine, keep your little pet, if it suits you. Do not blame me if it wakes up and casts a spell on you. But at least cover it and its freakish feet from the eyes of the men! I do not want superstitious fears sweeping the camp!"

Biting his tongue on the retort that Boromir was the most superstitious man he knew, Faramir held out his hand.

"What?" the older brother said.

"Your cloak? To wrap him in."

Boromir clenched his jaw but undid his cloak and wrenched it off. "Keep it," he said shortly. "I will help myself to yours before I go." He turned on his heel and marched away and Faramir allowed himself a smile.

"Well, my pet, it seems you belong to me now."

888

Boromir and his men rode out at midday, leaving Faramir with six able bodied men and the healer. Faramir watched them leave from his own horse, raising a hand in good bye. He saw Boromir shake his head, then laugh wryly before he raised his own hand in return and wheeled his horse away to the north west.

Laughing under his breath Faramir called over his shoulder.

"Dellin?"

The old guardsman carried the small, still unconscious bundle and lifted him easily up to his captain. Faramir sat him sideways on his lap and clasped one arm around him firmly.

"Captain, are you sure you can manage it?" Dellin said in concern. "It can ride with me."

"I'm fine," Faramir dismissed impatiently.

"Or on the healers wagons with the wounded, he has room."

"Move out!" he called, ignoring the sergeant. He turned his horse south west. "I want to reach Saerthondost by nightfall."

Still looking unhappy Dellin mounted his horse and fell in line. Faramir figured he'd probably been ordered by Boromir to look after him.

Hard luck on him, Faramir thought.

The ride was long and Faramir would have rather kissed his father than admit how much it took out of him. By the time they reached the summer house on the outskirts of the old trading town he was almost drooping. But he gathered his strength and handed his charge down to Dellin before shakily dismounting.

"I'll carry it," Dellin said stubbornly and Faramir didn't argue, he let the older man lead the way into the house.

It was well lit and warmed, prepared for their coming by servants sent ahead when the decision had been made for him to convalesce here. If they had been closer to home he would have been stuck in the Houses of Healing, and Faramir had to admit he was happy that his fever had come on him while he was on business with his brother along the Bay, here on the western most borders of Gondor.

He loved this house, and remembered it from his childhood. His father had sent him here for a while after his mother had died, and again in his early teens. Although he had missed his brother, just getting away from the oppressive feel of the palace had been a relief.

"Where do you want it?" Dellin said, nodding with distaste at the matted hair just visible above the cloak.

"Take him to my room," Faramir ordered, and led the way.

He told Dellin to lay the creature on the low couch and then waited until the door closed before collapsing on a chair. He pressed a shaking hand to his brow, feeling the damp sweat there. Maybe he would climb straight into bed, and not wait for a meal.

But at this moment sounds began to come from the wrapped captive, low growling sounds that sent the hackles on Faramir's neck rising. His brother's words came back to haunt him and he clenched his hand around the hilt of his sword. Was this delicate little creature really some woodland monster?

The muffled sounds lowered in pitch and Faramir's hands dropped nervelessly from the sword as he recognized them aeninening sobs, low and pained.

"Oh, child," he breathed, pulling back the cloth. The creature had his hand to his ear and his eyes were closed in agony. Faramir bent over, the cloak dropping away and revealing the bruised and torn body. "It's all right," he said, trying to grasp him without doing further damage. "Calm down."

But the creature couldn't or wouldn't hear him, he rolled onto his side, still cupping his ear and beginning to moan, long low wails that made Faramir's blood curdle. He raced to the door and bellowed down the hall.

"Bring me the healer! Now!"

Not waiting to see who would obey he rushed back to his charge and tried to gather him in his arms, but the small creature fought him, one hand to his ear, the other grasping the first hands wrist, pressing so hard that his skin was turning white. "You're hurting yourself," Faramir panted, amazed at the strength still in the abused young thing.

"My lord?"

"Quickly," Faramir panted. "He's woken up but there's something wrong with his ear, I think. He's in agony!"

The healer opened his bag and pulled out a cloth and a bottle with steady hands. Pulling out the cork with his teeth he doused the cloth, holding it far from himself.

"Let him go, my lord," he ordered. "Step back!" he shouted when Faramir still tried to hold the flailing body.

Reluctantly the captain stepped back and with a deft movement the healer thrust the cloth over the creature's nose and mouth, holding it firmly while he bucked and moaned.

"Don't hurt him!"

"This will calm him," the healer assured him, and indeed within moments the small body relaxed and the head tilted to one side.

"Is he all right?"

"Fetch my bag." The healer gently grasped the creature's head and swept back the matted curls. He paused for a moment at the sight of the pointed ear, but quickly regained his composure and reached for his bag.

"I need you to shine a light for me," he said, pulling out an eye piece and holding it to his face.

Faramir obediently held the lamp and shone it as directed, his heart still pounding.

"What is it?" he finally burst out.

"A tick," the healer pronounced calmly. "Embedded in his ear drum. He must be in agony."

"Can you help him?"

"I can get it out, but there's no knowing how long it's been there, or how much poison he's been exposed to. I doubt I'll be able to save the hearing in this ear either way."

"Poor little thing," Faramir said shakily.

The healer cast him a sharp glance. "Pull up a chair, my lord," he said impatiently. "Or I will have two patients to deal with." He drew a bottle of fine oil from his case, and steadying the creature's head he poured it carefully into his ear hole.

Wincing, Faramir watched closely.

"I think you have a halfling here, my lord," the healer said conversationally, stopping the bottle and putting it back in his bag. He gestured to the large hairy feet, uncovered by the creature's struggles.

"A halfling," Faramir breathed. "Of course. I recall Mithrandir mentioning them. And they're supposed to have some realm way to the northwest."

"The direction our orcs came from," the healer agreed. He pulled out a pair of tweezers and plucked something from the oily surface of the halfling's ear. It was a huge tick, bloated and dead. The healer deposited it into a jar and stopped the lid.

"Will he live?"

"This will not kill him, although what it will have done to his mind is another matter. Tortured by agony, imprisoned by orcs..." The healer turned a straight look on the captain. "I would be surprised if his mind was not affected."

Faramir swallowed the lump in his throat. To have survived so much...

"Take some rest and food my lord," the healer counseled. "I will see to his other hurts, check for further injuries. It might be ther dam damage inside that I cannot heal. It might be better for him if there is."

No!" Faramir denied thickly. "While there is life there is yet hope. I will not give up on him."

The healer sighed and turned to his work and Faramir obeyed his orders, calling for food and a hot drink.

He felt somewhat better after both, and was ready for the healer's news when he rose from his patient.

"His other injuries are superficial," the healer pronounced. "He will live."

Faramir sighed gratefully. "Thank you." He nodded towards the sleeping creature. "Did the orcs violate him?"

The healer looked surprised at the blunt question. "I've never known orcs to rape," he said thoughtfully. "And there is no sign he's been violated, starved and beaten only I would guess. As to that he will need to eat, my lord, but when he does do not let him over feed."

"I am grateful for your help."

"I do my best, as always." The healer bowed and left the room.

Weariness overcame him, and Faramir pulled off his boots and collapsed on his bed, fully clothed.

888

When he awoke it was to sunshine, and a full bladder. Raising himself stiffly on one elbow Faramir's eyes went to the low couch, and then he stiffened in shock. It was empty.

"Halfling?" he called out, swinging his feet to the side of the bed and standing unsteadily. "Where are you?"

His eyes caught the green of his brother's cloak and Faramir frowned in distress when he saw the huddled form pressed in the corner behind a chair. Desperately needing to relieve himself he quickly pulled out a chamber pot and modestly turned his back. Then he straightened his sleep wrinkled clothes and turned back to the small form.

"It's all right," he said softly. He took a step forward but the figure whimpered and seemed to curl in on itself. Faramir crouched and peered at the huddled halfling, wondering what to do next.

"Can you understand me?" The small creature was shivering under the fine cloak and Faramir looked desperately around the room, seeking ideas. His eyes fell on the table, and the remains of his meal. He seized a shiny apple and picked up a knife, cutting a small wedge.

"You must be hungry, halfling," he murmured, moving a small clo closer. "Look what I have for you. Food." He crouched, now a few feet away. To his delight the messy curls shifted and a bright blue eye peered at him. So he hadn't imagined that eerie blue! It was as well that his brother hadn't seen it, he would have called eyes of such a color uncanny indeed.

"That's right," Faramir crooned. "No ugly orc here! Just your master, and a treat for you. Come, come try some?"

The blue eye gazed on the fruit and the tousled head lifted a bit more. Faramir sat back on his heels and held out the apple patiently. Finally a grubby hand extended, and taking care to make no sudden moves, Faramir pulled the fruit back.

"No, my halfling," he said firmly. "You must learn to obey your master's voice. Come to me, and you shall have your treat."

Faramir could hear the swallow of hunger from here, he could even hear the rumble of the concave belly, but he would not be swayed. He wanted his halfling to eat from his hand alone.

Finally small limbs uncurled and Faramir smiled encouragingly. The halfling sidled closer, hand still reaching, but Faramir gently pressed the fruit against closed lips, ignoring the sudden start back. He waited patiently and the halfling again leaned forward, perilous blue eyes fixed suspiciously on Faramir's grey ones. He cautiously opened his mouth, and triumphant, Faramir let him take the fruit.

Eyes half closed with pleasure the lingling chewed and swallowed, licking his lips hungrily. "More?" Faramir invited.

He rose and sat on the chair by the table, picking up the knife and slicing a few more small wedges, careful not to look at the frightened creature. He could hear him breathing, hear his stomach rumble, but Faramir didn't turn until he had the slices cut.

Then he slowly spun on his seat and held out his left arm invitingly. In his right hand he held the fruit.

"If you want it, come to your master," he coaxed, voice soft. "From my hand only will you eat. Come."

And the halfling came, levering himself painfully to his feet, head still tilted to one side as he favored his sore ear. He sidled over, trying to keep away from the inviting arm, eyes fixed on the fruit, stepping between Faramir's wide spread thighs.

"I will not hurt you," Faramir promised huskily. The halfling held out his hand again but Faramir shook his head. He offered the fruit to the bruised lips and the halfling opened his mouth and took it. He chewed hungrily and slowly Faramir laid his left arm around the thin body. In his right hand he offered more fruit, and finally the small creature relaxed against him and ate freely, chewing his prize then opening his mouth like a baby bird for the next morsel.

When the apple was gone Faramir called a halt. "You must not eat too much or you will sicken," he said to the disappointed face. "But here, honey mead. I think you will like this, they tell me it is good for those recovering from illness."

The mug seemed huge at the halfling's lips, but after a cautious sip the little creature gulped thirstily, grasping at the mug when Faramir pulled it away.

"No," the captain said firmly. The halfling's face followed the mug wistfully, a flush of pleasure on his cheeks. "Yes, you liked that, didn't you?" Faramir laughed huskily. He lifted his right hand and wiped a smear off of the firm chin. "Honey." Then he lifted his thumb to the fine lips and shivered as a little tongue licked it clean.

"Do you understand anything I say?" Faramir murmured, enjoying thel ofl of the sturdy body leaning back against his thigh. He tried to catch the halfling's eye but the little creature had his eyes fixed greedily on the table. The man caught the little pointed chin and swung it around, meeting the wide blue gaze. He knew a few words in other languages and tried them now, looking for some sign, some spark of response, but the gaze remained guileless and unaware. Curiously the halfling frowned at him, then his lips curved upwards into something close to a smile. Faramir felt his heart wring.

An expression of discomfort crossed the halflings face and his hand clutched at the cloak at his crotch. Remembering his own fierce urge to pee Faramir chuckled.

"Too much mead," he teased. He didn't want to use his brimming chamber pot, nor move from his comfortable hold on the halfling, standing between his spread legs, leaning back comfortably against his thigh. Instead he picked up an empty mug from the table and held it down low.

The halfling gazed down into it eagerly, then he glanced up at Faramir in disappointment to find it empty.

"You're to fill it, honey face," Faramir chuckled. "Here." He pulled at the cloak and the halfling gasped a little in dismay. His master tightened his hold gently. "Now, now," he soothed. "I won't hurt you. But you're still only half clean as it is, I'll not have you pissing yourself to boot. And not on my brother's cloak for that matter.
He
He pulled the cloak free and exposed the halfling's naked front, holding the mug low and hoping he'd get the message. But then some impulse overtook him, just as it had when he decided the creature would only eat from his hands. He reached around the narrow body and took a gentle hold of the modest cock, pointing it at the mug.

The halfling gasped and pressed back, but Faramir soothed him again, pressing his brow to the small creature's temple. "Shh, shh," he crooned. "Come, your bknowknows what to do."

And so it did. After a moment the halfling began to pee, nearly filling the mug before the flow stopped. Faramir released his cock and patted the small hip tenderly, flushed with his success.

"There," he said softly, pressing his lips to the damp temple. He drew the cloak around the halfling once more. "From my hand only," he murmured.

Great blue eyes looked up at him, a frown on the smooth brow.

"Can you understand anything I say?" Faramir wondered. "Do you know you are safe? You belong to me now, my honey, and I will take care of you."

But although the blue eyes gazed on him with wonder, no words passed his lips.

888

Faramir ordered more food and fresh clothes, telling the servant to also bring him the trunk he'd used last time it was here. He was sure there would be something in there to fit his pet.

Then he ordered a bath, and watched while it was filled with steaming water. The servants cast curious glances at the low couch, but the halfling was covered by a light blanket now, curled up so only his hair was visible.

While it filled Faramir munched absently at his breakfast, holding aside a few choice morsels for his pet. With a grin he uncovered a basket of honey cakes, an old favorite, and he covered them back carefully with the cloth. These would come in handy.

"Come, my honey," he coaxed, pulling back the light blanket. Blue eyes opened and blinked dazedly, fear stark in them for a moment. "Now, now," Faramir soothed, stroking one shoulder gently. "It's only your master, he will not harm you. Up you get."

The halfling sat and yawned, rubbing at his eyes like a child. He gazed with wonder at the steaming bath, but his eyes were drawn back to the table and Faramir chuckled.

"I see I'll be leading you around by your stomach," he said tenderly. He deliberately lifted the basket from the table and drew back tlothloth, breathing deeply at the sweet scent.

The halfling's eyes widened and he stood shakily, trying to see over the rim of the basket. Faramir pulled the cloth away and walked to the wooden tub, laying the basket on the table next to it, that already held soap and cloths and curved bottles. Then, without a look at his pet, he began to strip off his soiled and travel worn clothes.

Naked, he stepped into the tub and sat down with a sigh in the steaming water.

The halfling stood where he left him, cloak clutched around him, eyes wide.

Faramir held out a dripping hand.

"Come, honey," he invited.

A tousled head tilted to one side.

"Come," Faramir said more firmly. "You will obey your master's voice."

The halfling looked over at the table, then back to his master. Faramir casually lifted a cake out of the basket and broke it in two, catching the crumbles with his lips. "Mm," he sighed, biting into one half. He gazed back at his pet and again held out his arm.

"Come," he said softly. "I want you to come to me. Don't make me get out and carry you in."

A pink tongue darted out and licked those soft lips and Faramir smiled invitingly. With a few steps the halfling was by the tub, reaching out his hand. But then he stopped, lowered his hand and instead leaned forward, opening his mouth.

With a low triumphant laugh Faramir pressed the morsel of cake to his lips, watching the smile of pleasure, hearing the hitch in his breathing as long denied taste buds exploded into sensation.

"Nice, hmm? Want some more?" He lifted another cake out and the creature took an eager step toward it, but Faramir held it back. "In the tub," he said, gesturing with his free hand. The halfling quickly grasped the side, but Faramir stopped him and tugged the cloak free with a pleased laugh. He bit into the cake and pre the the rest to his pet's lips, then used both hands to lift him over the side.

Chewing and sighing at the warmth, his halfling stood in the water which reached his waist only.

"I guess you can't sit down," Faramir realized. He grasped narrow hips and pulled him back onto his lap, gasping as the small warm bottom pressed onto his hairy thigh. His honey had his mouth open again, and flooded with sensations, Faramir took another bite of a sweet cake and put the rest to the halfling's lips.

The water was warm, the creature was warmer, naked golden flesh pressed against his side, tousled head still tilted. Sudden desire overwhelmed Faramir and he breathed deeply as it swept him. He supposed it was hardly surprisingly that such a sensual situation would arouse him. It had been far too long since he had indulged in the pleasures of the flesh.

While his brother preferred arms and fighting, Faramir spent as much time as he could reading and studying when he wasn't in the wild. In between there were women, yes, but usually he found such encounters cold, and pointless. After the first flush of pleasure was gone he usually wished only to be alone. In these last years he could count on one hand the times need had driven him to take advantage when offered. And it had been a long time since the last one.

But still, to be aroused by this creature, this silent male creature, seemed strange indeed.

Unaware, his halfling licked his lips and tilted his head, mouth open. Faramir had the urge to press his own open mouth to that small vulnerable one, and he trembled. Was this right?

"Are you still hungry, honey?" he murmured, struggling against strange desires. It was one thing to pet the creature, to coddle it. Another entirely to feel this surge of desire. "You still need to bathe, my pet. Come, let me wash you, I promise I'll not hurt you."

He picked up a soft cloth and dampened it, then soaped it, feeling curious blue eyes on him. But the halfling didn't seem surprised when the cloth was applied gently to his face and neck, he only tilted his head obediently as it swished and wiped.

Only once did he pull away, when Faramir wiped too close to his left ear. "Still sore?" his master said gently. He grasped the pointed chin in his hand and tilted the small head, laying a soft kiss on the exotic point. "Your master will not hurt you."

And he wouldn't hurt him, Faramir thought, as he washed the rest of the small bruised body. He would cherish and care for him. But that didn't mean he couldn't take some pleasure himself. After all, this was pleasure, wasn't it? Stroking the golden skin, wiping away that last of the grime from his pet's ordeal?

And wasn't it plre tre to press morsels to those delicate lips? To hold that small flushed cock and help him piss? Wasn't that purely sensual buzz in his gut when those wide blue eyes gazed trustingly at him, wasn't that pleasure?

So why stop there?

"You're mine," Faramir whispered as he smoothed fragrant soap into wet curls, carefully tilting back his halfling's head so his eyes wouldn't sting. He curved his fingers over the fragile skull, then pressed a soft kiss to the exposed throat. "I can do whatever I want to you." He breathed the realization.

Faramir rinsed the hair thoroughly, delighting in the soft russet waves. It was long too, down to his shoulder blades. I will tie it back, he thought. Expose these beautiful ears. Taste them with my tongue.

The bath water was clouded when Faramir stood and hefted his slippery bundle. "Time to dry off."

The bath towels were huge and thick, and Faramir casually rubbed one over his upper limbs before wrapping it around his waist. Then he sat on the edge of his bed and pulled his towel wrapped bundle close. "All right, honey?" he said, exposing those bright blue eyes. There was a temper behind that placid face, Faramir mused, as the halfling pulled the towel off his head and shoved it away mutinously.

"Oh, no," Faramir said, pulling him back. "We need to dry you off, my honey. Then you shall have another cake, yes?"

He nodded at the basket and the storm behind blue eyes faded. "Yes? A cake? Be good then, and let me dry these curls."

He rubbed with pleasure at the russet mane, combing out tangles with his fingers, still taking care with the sore ear. "Can you hear me from this ear?" Faramir wondered sadly. "I know you can hear me from one ear at least, the word cake is already well known to you. Hmm?"

His honey darted his eyes back to the basket, and licked his lips again. Faramir shouted with laughter. "Clever little thing, aren't you? Is it only that you do not speak my language? Can you speak any? If you are a halfling, then surely I remember Mithrandir telling me your people have their own realm, with laws and leaders." Faramir rubbed at narrow shoulders now, careful over blue and yellow bruises.

"But I also remember a story when I was a boy, about a halfling who lived in a hole in the ground. Are you really just a woodland creature then, Honey? You look the part, fey eyes and all."

Dry at last Faramir wrapped the towel around his charge and fetched the basket of cakes. "You've earned a prize," he allowed, and pulled a whole cake out. He broke it in half and fed the first half to the eager halfling. While his charge hummed his enjoyment Faramir lifted up the clothes he had chosen.

They were sleeping garments actually, and he couldn't have been more than eleven when he wore them. Soft gray, they laced loosely at the waist, and the top had cloth toggles that buttoned closed. Faramir shook the shirt out and sat back down, pulling the halfling between his spread legs, as far as his wrapped bath sheet would allow.

Grasping one fine wrist he attempted to slip the jacket on, but Honey pulled back, temper threatening again.

"Clothes," Faramir said firmly. "You will wear them." But Honey pulled back again, brow lowering mutinously. "I know you wear clothes, my halfling, I cut the last ones from you. Is that what you want? Your own clothes? Do you remember them then?"

Honey tilted his head, still frowning, his eyes a little distant.

"They're gone, Honey, I left them by the river, though I meant to look for them to search for some clue. They were real clothes once though, it was good broadcloth I cut through, and there were brass buttons, one or two still left."

Honey didn't seem to understand the words, but the soft tone soothed him, and Faramir pulled on the loose shirt and did up the cloth toggles.

"This is yours now," he said huskily, admiring the picture he made. He smoothed back the drying curls, tucking a stray ringlet behind one pointed ear. There was a desolate look on the fine fey face, and Faramir couldn't help but draw him into the circle of his arms and press a kiss to his fragrant brow.

"It's all right, Honey," he promised. "Don't try to remember, it will do you no good. Your life starts here with me, and you shall know only pleasure and sweet things. More cake?"

But even the cake did not console him, and he closed his lips and turned his face away. A tear slipped from his eye and Faramir scooped him up and sat him on his knee, cuddling him close.

"Shh, my Honey," he murmured, pressing another kiss to the warm temple. "Shh." Faramir stroked the pointed face and laid another kiss on his cheek, then another on the corner of his lips. The skin felt like silk under his mouth, and with a swirl of his tongue he tasted salt tears and swallowed them. Turning the dainty head he pressed his lips gently to Honey's mouth, not forcing, not moving, just breathing into his parted lips, feeling him, savoring him, soothing him.

The halfling pulled back, blinking wet eyes in confusion. He frowned again, and lifted small hands to Faramir's face. With curious eyes he touched his fingers to sensitive lips and Faramir couldn't help closing his eyes and moaning a little at the touch.

"You don't know what you do to me, do you?" he groaned. "Innocent blue eyes, tears on your face. But you're mine now, and I can't let you go, even if I should. I won't hurt you," he promised.

He stood and laid the precious bundle on his bed, then let the damp bath sheet drop from around his waist. With a ragged sigh he lay down beside his Honey, catching one narrow shoulder when the halfling would have moved away.

"Shh," he crooned. "Didn't I promise not to hurt you? Innocent eyes or not, you're no child, and I will pleasure you. Honey?"

Those blue eyes were still trusting, still unafraid, but they were confused as Faramir raised his large hand and slowly unbuttoned the shirt he'd fastened only minutes before. Hreadread it wide and groaned at the picture the golden skinned creature made on his bed, in his grasp. Chest rising and falling, concave belly quivering, flushed little cock quiescent and soft.

"Trust your master, Honey," he said, then he leaned over and laid a real kiss on slightly parted lips, pressing, then parting them with his tongue, sweeping along the lower lip and then gently broaching his mouth, seeking until his tongue found Honey's and stroked it softly.

The halfling mewled in surprise, and tried to pull away, eyes widening. There was a little less trust and a little more fear there now.

"Doesn't that feel good?" Faramir smiled, and the frown wavered. "Yes, you know I haven't hurt you yet, when I could have. Come, I'll show you something better than apples and honey cakes."

Holding narrow shoulders firmly Faramir stroked careful kisses down the halflings throat, across his fragile collar bone, down to his tiny nipples. He lickene sne smooth stroke, and smiled when Honey's body jerked. Then he kissed the brown nub and suckled gently. The small body jerked again, and hands came up and cupped Faramir's cheeks, pulling his head back.

Fear and wonder in those eyes. Was there more? No doubt if he could speak he would be telling Faramir to stop, but he could not speak and Faramir was not in a mood to listen if he was. This creature was his, his pet, his possession. He would not hurt him, but he would pleasure him, claim him, master him.

"You eat only from my hands," he declared. "I'll hold you when you piss. I wash you, dress you, own you. And you will cry out under my hands, my mouth, my tongue!"

With that he held his forearm over the flat belly and used his right hand to cup that soft cock, still nestled in its bed of russet curls. It filled his hand, and Faramir tugged it gently, pulling it up towards his belly and skinning back the purple head. Then he licked over that split plum, around the mushroom head, down the large throbbing vein.

Honey bucked under the touch, little hands clutching at his hair, small mewls coming from his throat. He was struggling, he was squirming, but his cock was hardening, and Faramir licked again, swirling his large tongue over the whole head, collecting beads of moisture and tasting them with delight.

"Feel good, my honey?" he crooned, then with a sigh he easily engulfed the head and stroked down to the root, lips pressing, tongue curling around. The halfling bucked again and within moments he was coming, a burst of hot salt pouring down Faramir's throat.

He swallowed, suckling upwards, squeezing gently with his hand, easing the shaking body into the aftermath of orgasm with gentle touch and kiss. Then he laid one last kiss on the flushed little member and shifted up on the bed.

Honey's eyes were closed, tears on his lashes. Faramir licked them away. He pressed his own cock against the soft bruised skin and the halfling's eyes opened and looked down at it. Then he looked up, eyes wide and frightened.

"It's all right, my Honey," Faramir crooned. "I promised not to hurt you and I shan't. The time will come when I will teach you every way to please me, but for now just give me your hand and I will pleasure myself."

He knelt by the halfling and fisted his own cock a few times, feeling the familiar ache of pleasure. Then he reached down anok Hok Honey's hand, uncurling the little fist and curving it around his width. Fingers barely met, but just the sight bought Faramir close and he pushed lazily into the grip, tightening his own hand around the smaller one when the creature would have pulled away.

"It's all right," he mumbled, half to himself. He stroked and pushed, using his free hand to swirl moisture around the head, sweeping it down to lubricate the curving fingers. Honey stopped trying to pull away and Faramir gazed down into his worried eyes, smiling at the expression, half afraid, half curious. Pleasure was building and he thrust into it, harder, shorter, faster until it burst from him and spurted out over the halfling's face, his throat, his chest.

Faramir stroked softly, sensitive now to every touch, sighing his pleasure and resting back onto his heels. He opened his eyes and chuckled at the expression on his halfling's face. Honey's free hand touched the sticky mess, lips turned down. Faramir freed his captive hand, dropping a kiss on it before laying it back on his chest. Then he lay down and curled lazily one his elbow, gazing down at his prize, pleasure still shuddering through him.

"I've marked you now," he said in satisfaction, stroking the cooling seed around one nipple, into the pool of Honey's throat. "I told you I wouldn't hurt you."

Honey tried to wipe his face and Faramir chuckled and reached for the damp towel, wiping his seed away. "Better? For someone covered in shit yesterday you're very fastidious."

Honey gazed up at him, eyes troubled.

"That was only yesterday, wasn't my pmy pet," Faramir murmured. "You must wonder what kind of madman you've run into. But I can't regret this, even if I have despoiled your wide eyed innocence. You belong to me now, you see. I haven't owned many things in my life, although you might not believe it. Most of what I have was my brother's, or is given me grudgingly by my father, so I do not consider it mine. But you, my Honey, you belong to me. I claimed you, I saved you, I saw something in you when they all turned away. And I will keep you, and use you, and cherish you."

Honey followed the words with his eyes, but his tilted head showed he didn't understand them. His stomach rumbled and he pressed his hand to it, eyes surprised. Then he peered up at his master under his lashes, and opened his mouth, just a little.

"Strange, wise creature!" Faramir exclaimed. "Well, but if my deeds are inexcusable then I won't excuse them! I will simply enjoy the moment, and feed my pet, as he demands. Come!" Faramir stood and fetched some clean clothes for himself.

Honey stood too, and with shaking hands tried to do up the toggles on his shirt. But Faramir brushed his hands away and swiftly buttoned him, then held out the drawstring pants for him to step into.

"I dress you," he said possessively, pulling on his own pants. "And feed you," he said, sitting down and spreading his legs. Honey gazed at him for long moments, fingering the soft fabric of his shirt. Then he stepped forward and leaned against the firmly muscled thigh. Faramir laughed softly and chose a morsel of food.

"I own you."

888

After a light meal they dozed for a while, and then in the afternoon Faramir took his pet's hand and led him to the next chamber, where great double doors opened onto a sunlit garden. It was cool and shady under the old trees, and drifts of soft leaves blew onto the stone porch as he stepped out. Honey's hand tightened in his and Faramir looked down and saw one hand lifted to shade his eyes from the sun.

He crouched and caught the halfling's narrow hips, turning the golden face to his.

"If you are a woodland creature this garden should be to your taste. It's walled and guarded from the outside, so you can roam free here."

There was a confused fear on Honey's face as he looked down at his hairy feet and then darted a glance out into the dappled shade of the garden.

"It's all right," Faramir said gently. He released his charge and sat back on his heels, gesturing with his hand.

But tears filled Honey's eyes and he clutched the large man's hands, pressing close.

Faramir caught the trembling body in amazement, then cursed at himself for his own foolishness.

"Ah, my Honey,' he groaned. "I'm not casting you out! See, here." He kept ahold of the grasping hands and stepped out onto the grass, delighting in the cool feel of it beneath his bare feet. Honey whimpered and pulled back.

"No," Faramir said firmly, dropping easily to his backside and crossing his legs. He pulled Honey onto his lap and cradled him. "It's just a garden," he murmured into the uninjured ear. He stroked the grass and plucked a handful, bringing it to his nose and inhaling the pungent scent.

Honey's eyes opened and he frowned a little, but he also leaned forward and inhaled too, darting a look at his master for approval. Faramir gave it, enchanted anew with this ravishing creature.

"That's right," he praised. He stood his pet up and patted his rump. Then he leaned back on one elbow and smiled, gesturing towards the garden expansively. "Go, my Honey. Explore. Your master will not leave you."

Honey stood uncertainly, looking at Faramir and then back at the garden. He took a few steps backwards, keeping his eye firmly on the big man, and Faramir smiled and nodded encouragingly. Honey took another few steps then turned his head and looked longingly at the shade under the biggest tree. Then with another quick glance he trotted away, and within moments seemed to disappear in the shadows.

With a start of surprise Faramir sat up straight. He hadn't expected that burst of speed, that silent vanishing act. He strained his eyes, leaning forward on one hand. And then he saw the russet head and curious blue eyes gazing at him from behind another tree and he relaxed back with a soft laugh.

"Enjoy yourself, my Honey."

"My lord?" A servant was behind him on the porch and Faramir called him over.

"Bring blankets and foohe ohe ordered.

"More food, my lord?" the servant asked nervously and Faramir raised an eyebrow. In the city a servant would not dare question his order, no matter what he asked for, but the rustics out here knew no better. This one was no more than fifteen and had only been a child the last time Denethor's family visited.

"And wine," Faramir said patiently. "And have a chair and table bought out here."

A sound rang out from between the trees and the boy's head turned, a flash of fear on his face. "W-what's that?" he stuttered.

Faramir sighed. "What is your name, boy?"

"Alric, my lord," the boy said nervously, eyes still darting to the garden. Faramir followed his gaze but there was nothing to be seen.

"Alric, have my room tidied, and after you have brought what I asked come only when summoned by the bell, understand?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Inform the other servants of my order. No one is to enter my rooms unless summoned!"

"Yes, my lord," Alric said hurriedly, then he turned and rushed away.

Faramir climbed to his feet and strolled through the garden, enjoying the feel of the ground beneath the sensitive soles of his feet.

"Honey?" he called softly.

The noise echoed around him again and with a frisson of pleasure Faramir recognized it as husky laughter.

"I knew you'd enjoy the garden,' he murmured. Beyond the first trees was a small sunlit area and Faramir sat down and leaned back on one arm.

"Honey," he called. "Come to your master."

For long minutes there was no sound, just the wind soughing through the trees and the rustle of neglected leaves.

"Honey?" Faramir called again, a prickle of unease in his heart. He remembered the fleet footed run, the shadowy disappearance. Could he have misjudged the situation? Was his woodland creature even now scaling a stone wall? Fleeing his master?

A light hand touched his shoulder and he turned his head in shock, causing the halfling to step back inprisprise.

Faramir gaped. He was a soldier, with a soldier's instincts. He had been straining every nerve to listen for his creature, and here it was, at his unprotected back, silent as the grave.

Fear and uncertainty painted shadows on the golden skin and Faramir forced himself to smile. "Sorry, my Honey," he murmured, holding out his arm invitingly. "You startled me. Did I scare you?"

The smile and soft voice did the trick, and Honey came to him willingly and stood in the circle of his embracing arm, even casually leaning one arm on his head.

Strangely touched by the trust in the intimate gesture Faramir stilled and let the warmth and pleasure of the moment soak through him. Then he nuzzled a soft throat, tasting his own seed still there, dry and flaky now, and he chuckled and blew a kiss into its hollow.

And was rewarded with that sylvan laugh again, and a delightful wiggle. He pulled the yielding body into his lap and dropped teasing kisses onto a smiling face, loving the way those uncanny eyes squinted in pleasure, loving that he could take the solemn frowns and turn them to joy.

"Honey," he murmured, cupping the little pointed face tenderly. "You are a woodland creature after all. It's here you've come alive, and made me love you even more." His heart felt full, and yet almost pained, as if the joy that overflowed was somehow too much, too deep to be contained.

"Maybe Boromir was right," he whispered to uncomprehending blue eyes. "Maybe you have cast a spell on me."

888

Everything was as he'd asked for and Faramir wondered if he had misjudged his rustic servants after all. He ignored the chair and piled the trays of food on the blanket, before sitting down and pulling the halfling onto his lap.

"Hungry?" he asked, then laughed at his own question. He'd never seen a creature so small eat so much in his life, and he spent the next half an hour feeding mouthful after mouthful to his hungry little pet.

"Do all halflings eat this way?" he asked in amazement. Honey ate with sincere dedication, eyes fixed firmly on whatever his master was holding. Faramir teased him a little, slowly moving the savory tart left and right, chuckling when the eyes followed it.

Honey frowned irritably and grasped Faramir's thick wrist, leaning forward and taking a huge bite, then smiling impishly as he chewed.

Enchanted by the smile Faramir dropped a kiss on his halfling's curls and patiently fed him another bite.

Finally Honey's chewing slowed and he swallowed, looking wistfully at the remaining food but turning away when offered
Fa
Faramir shifted him so he leaned back on his chest and then slipped his hand under the loose shirt. He rubbed gently at Honey's tummy, almost surprised to find it still flat. "Full?" Honey yawned, head tilting back, pink tongue curling. Faramir leaned forward and stroked his own tongue over it, enjoying the start of surprise, but not taking it further.

"You're tired, aren't you, Honey?" he said tenderly. He stretched back on the blanket, cradling the nodding head on his chest. "It's been a long day for you, sweetling, hasn't it?"

The afternoon wind blew cold and Honey shivered and curled his sore ear into his neck. Faramir lifted his large hand and gently cupped his head, curving his own body so he was sheltered from the breeze.

"Sore, Honey?" he whispered, feeling the small body drooping into sleep.

When the halfling was fast asleep Faramir shifted him onto the blanket and pulled the edges around him. Then he stacked the trays on the table and settled into the chair with a glass of wine, leaning back and smiling into the setting sun.

888

When the sun was gone Faramir gathered up his sleeping bundle and carried him back through the big doors, laying him tenderly on the bed and tucking another thick cover around him.

Then he walked back through the darkening rooms and rang the bell.

Alric arrived at a run and Faramir suppressed a smile at the way his feet slid on the shiny floor as he stopped in the doorway.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Come here, Alric." Faramir led the way through to his bedroom, and indicated the sleeping form on the bed. "This is a halfling, boy. Have you ever seen one before?"

Curiosity and dread lit the boy's plain face. "N-no, my lord," he whispered.

"Come look," the captain invited, and he lifted back the covers a little and showed Honey's sleeping face, lit by the moonlight. His curls clustered on his brow and his skin was like warm silver in the dim room. As the cover moved away he sighed in his sleep and curled a little more into the warm bed.

"Oh my," Alric breathed, awe on his face. "It's so pretty."

"He," Faramir stressed. "He's my pet, boy. My property. You will never find him alone, but if by some chance you happen upon him remember that. No one touches him. No one frightens him."

"Yes, my lord," Alric agreed, eyes still wide, his freckled cheeks flushed.

"I want you to serve me, Alric, and you alone. Make sure no one else comes to these rooms, understand?"

The boy nodded vigorously.

Faramir laid a firm hand on one broad shoulder. "And I want you to do one other thing for me. Make sure every servant and guardsman in this place knows what I have told you here tonight. This creature is precious to me, precious beyond measure. All those loyal to my house are bound to protect him, as they would me. Can you do this?"

Alric straightened his shoulders proudly and nodded. "I will do this, my lord," he promised. "And I will protect and serve you with my life also."

"Good boy," Faramir praised, suppressing a smile at the eager promise. "Now go, tell the kitchen that each meal must have as many special and dainty dishes as they can manage. My halfling eats well, and often."

When the boy was gone Faramir lit a lamp and settled down in a soft chair, a book in his lap. He did not read though, distracted as he was by his own thoughts. The last days had rushed by so fast, bringing with it new pleasure and welcome responsibilities. But the next days would rush too, and Faramir didn't want to think beyond them.

He tried to picture a future that would satisfy him now, to see a happy ending in this, and couldn't.

888

After an hour Honey stirred and sat up, eyes darting around the room. He lowered his head and covered his crotch, and Faramir read him right and reached for an empty chamber pot. He knelt before him, and unlaced his pants, tugging the fabric down and exposing the piss hard organ. Then, aware of wide blue eyes on him he grasped it gently and lifted the pot. Honey put one hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes, the curious frown back, but then his body released and he let go his stream, sighing in relief.

Faramir shoved the pot back under the bed and tucked the rosy cock back into the soft pants, leaning forward only to press a soft kiss to the halfling's smooth belly.

"What do you think of me?" he murmured again, lifting the covers and letting the sleepy creature burrow back into his warm nest. "I'm not even sure myself why I'm driven to touch you so. I've never touched another cock in my life, 'sides my own, and now I'm obsessed by yours. By you," he whispered, curling up behind the dozing form, wrapping his arms around him. "Every part of you, everything about you."

He buried his face in fragrant curls, remembering the horror of the stinking cart, the mewls of agony. It tore at his heart to think what this delicate little creature had suffered before falling into his hands.

"But not so delicate, are you, sweetling?" he said thoughtfully. To have survived at all was a triumph, showing extraordinary strength. Faramir remembered the silent footsteps, the trick of disappearing into the shadows. There was more than sylvan beauty here, more than wide eyes and pointed ears. Maybe these odd feet showed the truer tale, hard and tough, made to survive, designed to endure.

"Halfling," he whispered. He had genuinely forgotten to examine the clothes he'd cut from the unconscious body by the ford at Lefnui, but now he couldn't help being glad he had. Selfishly he didn't want to know if there was some clue to his pet's origin in them. Did not want to know if there wasewheewhere else his Honey belonged. Because wherever he came from they hadn't taken care of him, they hadn't cherished him. Else he wouldn't have suffered, wouldn't have been driven out of his mind by pain and imprisonment, wouldn't be here in his arms now.

"They don't deserve you," Faramir vowed. "They shan't have you back."

Honey whimpered in his sleep and rolled over, his small hand going to his sore ear. Faramir reminded himself to ask the healer for a tisane. He studied the sleeping face, wondering, thinking.

Those clothes though, they hadn't been something a wild creature would wear. They'd been tailored with fine cloth and brass buttons. Perhaps there'd even been a trace of embroidery on them, Faramir recalled now, something perhaps once blue.

"What were you?" Faramir asked the sleeping face. One of Mithrandir's halflings? Folk who lived in peace and harmony, with laws and languages and leaders of their own? Or something stranger, dwelling in the shadows amongst the trees, silent feet and enigmatic skills hiding them from the eyes of man, sylvan laughter echoing around forest glade?

Faramir feared he knew the answer. Faramir knew he did not care.

"Whatever you were, you're mine now," he said, grey eyes like stone.

It was a vow.

888

In the night Faramir was roused by low groans from his bed mate. Instantly awake he bent over the halfling in concern. Honey was holding his stomach, his mouth turned down.

Faramir gently slipped a hand under his shirt and stroked the velvety skin. "Belly ache?" he said sympathetically. "It's my fault, I let you eat too much, too quickly."

Honey's face showed his distress and Faramir gently picked him up and carried him behind the ornate screen that hid the lavatory chair from sight. It was high for the halfling so Faramir matter-of-factly pulled off his loose pants and sat him down.

Honey moaned weakly and the tall man wrapped an arm around his shoulders and stroked the aching belly soothingly.

"I'm sorry, slingling," he crooned. "Your master should take better care of you."

When the messy business was over Faramir wiped his sweaty face and carried him to a comfortable chair, ringing the bell for his servant as he went. Then he sat down and cuddled his shivering bundle close.

"I forget sometimes what a state you were when I found you," he murmured, rocking the small creature tenderly.

Long minutes passed and Honey had quieted and begun to doze by the time Alric rushed into the room, shirt untucked, shoes unbuckled.

"My lord?" he panted.

"Fetch the healer," Faramir ordered curtly.

Alric gaped for a moment then nodded fervently before racing back out of the room.

The healer arrived more sedately, but still hurrying, his leather bag in his hand. He had obviously been roused from sleep, his long dark hair was tousled ans fas face bore pillow creases.

"Are you ill, my lord?" he asked anxiously.

"It's my halfling," Faramir said softly, rising and trying to sit Honey on the bed. But the creature mewled and struggled to stay in his arms. "He doesn't know you." Faramir stroked back sweaty curls and murmured reassuringly in his good ear. "Come, sweetling, don't be afraid. No one will harm you while I am here."

Slowly Honey released his death grip until he was barely clutching Faramir's shirt.

"Does he understand you, my lord?" the healer asked in wonder.

"He understands the tone of my voice," Faramir said softly. "And that I have never hurt him." His eyes darkened with guilt. "Not intentionally anyway. I let him eat too much and too quickly last night. His stomach pains him and the food passed right through him." He nodded at the ornate screen.

"I did warn you, my lord," the healer said, in the brusque manner of all healers everywhere. "I've seen men starved near to death who've gorged themselves and finished the job."

Faramir felt his skin go cold. "Is his life in danger?"

The healer moved to lay a hand on Honey's forehead, but the halfling reared back, turning his face to Faramir's chest. The man sat back with an impatient huff. "He was not so far gone," he admitted. "Not skin and bone. It's possible he'll have no more than a gut ache and the runs from this folly." He turned frustrated eyes on the captain.

"My lord, I need to examine him. Can you lay him on the bed?"

Faramir shifted his bundle onto the bed next to him, patting reassuringly at the fingers that clung. Honey lifted trusting blue eyes at him, his face still miserable.

"It's all right," Faramir soothed, hating the pain in those expressive eyes. "Lay back, Honey, and let the healer examine you." He pushed gently at one shoulder and Honey let himself be pushed onto his back, although tears started at the corners of his eyes. When the healer reached for the fastenings of his shirt he wept and looked pleadingly at Faramir, hands clutching the soft cloth.

With an icy start Faramir realized what was in his halfling's mind. "No, Honey!" he groaned in dismay. His halfling thought the healer was going to touch him as intimately as his master had! The mere thought was too cruel to be borne. Faramir quickly pushed the healer's hands away and unfastened the shirt with shaking hands. "Tell me what to do," he ordered roughly.

The man gaped. "My lord?"

Faramir leaned over and stroked the wet face, making sure Honey saw the reassuring smile on his face, even though he felt as if his heart were breaking. "It's all right. No hands touch you but mine, remember?"

He looked back at the healer over his shoulder. "Tell me what to do!"

eed eed to feel his belly, my lord," the healer stuttered in confusion.

"What for?"

"Undue tenderness, hardness, or some distention, In case he has internal injuries undetectable before."

Faramir gently touched the qringring golden skin, pressing as carefully as he could.

The healer's fingers flexed. "It would be better if I did it myself."

"No," Faramir snarled, temper frayed. "No hands touch him but mine, understand?" He pressed as directed for long moments, before sitting back with a sigh of relief. "I feel nothing here," he reported. "No distention, no hardness."

The healer's jaw was set, but he nodded. "Then it's probably just his gut as I supposed. I will prepare him a gentle bto eto ease his belly and stop the diarrhea."

Wasting no time Faramir closed the shirt and lifted Honey back into his lap, one hand sliding soothingly back over the flat belly.

"His ear pains him too," he said in concern. "Can you give him something to ease it?"

"I have a tisane, my lord." The healer stared at him for a long moment, opened his mouth as if to speak and then appeared to think better of it and closed it again. He bowed. "I will bring them to you directly," he murmured. "In the meanwhile he may need to purge himself again."

Faramir nodded and the man excused himself and left.

"My Honey," he groaned as soon as they were alone. He took the pointed chin between finger and thumb and gazed into wet blue eyes. "Whatever my sins concerning you, and they are many and great, I have not made a whore of you." He stared hard into swimming blue eyes, willing him to understand. "No one will hurt you. And no one will ever touch you again, but me." He pressed a fervent kiss to the damp brow. "You will trust me," he vowed.

Small hands crept up and grasped his shirt front, and Honey curved closer, sweaty forehead pressed to his master's neck. Faramir held him and rocked him until the small body quivered again and Honey drew back hastily, eyes distressed. Reading the signs Faramir lifted him easily and carried him back behind the screen.

888

When the healer returned Faramir was sitting up on the bed against the head board, his halfling sitting between his legs, laying sleepily back against his master's broad chest.

"If you could get him to drink this, my lord." the healer passed him a small cup of milky drink.

Faramir sniffed it.

"It will soothe his stomach and lessen his bowel distress." The man laid a flask upon the table. "And a spoonful of this will ease the pain of his wounded ear, but only a spoonful mind! Any more for his size might be dangerous, it's a child's dose I've prescribed. It will make him sleepy, but that will probably do him good."

Faramird thd the cup to Honey's lips and stroked his belly tenderly, but the halfling turned his face away stubbornly.

Persistent, Faramir caught the stubborn chin and turned his face towards him, craning his head around to peer into dull eyes. "Trust me."

Honey's lips trembled, but his eyes sharpened a little and he tilted his head enquiringly. Faramir smiled and y's y's sensitive lips curved up a little. Then he opened his mouth and closed his eyes.

Faramir put the cup to his lips and he drank it down, wrinkling his nose and grimacing. Laughing huskily the captain handed the empty cup back to the healer.

"You have a way with him, my lord," the healer said in grudging admiration. "One might almost think he understands at least some of what you say."

"I wonder," Faramir mused, half to himself.

The healer placed a jar on the table. "This is for his scrapes and bruises," he said tentatively. "I should have left it last night. Also if he becomes sore from the diarrhea the cream will ease... Er, perhaps you would like me to..." he trailed away as grey eyes were turned on him. "No," he said to himself. "I'll just leave it to you, shall I?"

Faramir raised a brow.

"Yes," the healer said, closing his bag hurriedly. "If you need anything," he began, then, obviously flustered, he bowed and hurried from the room.

Honey sighed in his arms, shifted uncomfortably and then burped richly. The surprise in those wide blue eyes as they flew open was enough to reduce Faramir to helpless laughter, and he cuddled his somewhat indignant halfling close and kissed his crown.

888

Alric knocked on the door and entered the room, carefully balancing his full tray. He deposited it on the table with an audible sigh of relief and looked over at the rumpled bed, where the halfling was just a small bump beneath the covers.

"Begging your pardon, my lord," he whispered. "But is he all right?"

Amused at the servant's daring Faramir nodded, pouring himself a mug of hot tea and sipping it gratefully.

"Thank goodness," Alric sighed. "We've been that worried about him in the kitchens, sir, I can't tell you. Mistress Plum, her what runs the household, she said she fair couldn't concentrate this morning, after she heard he'd been took poorly. Made her buns fall, she said."

Faramir raised a curious brow, but he hadn't the heart to squash the boy as his brother would have done, or thrash him as his father would.

"Her buns?"

"Currant buns," Alric explained, plain brown face open and guileless. He nodded to the tray. "Will the lit'lun be eating this morning, sir?"

"Plain food," Faramir said thoughtfully. "And smaller portions, though I think he will not like it. I will ring when I need you, Alric," he said gently, when the boy's eyes lingered on the bed.

Obviously crestfallen at not getting another glimpse of the halfling he sighed and trotted disconsolately away.

"Oh, my Honey," Faramir chuckled under breabreath. "I'm not the only one you cast your spells on." He sat on the bed next to the bump and peeled the covers away, revealing the sleeping form. The night had been a disturbed one, but after the healer's milky drink the halfling's stomach had eased and he'd slept the rest of the night through. The sun was high now and Faramir patted his rump.

"Come, Honey, open your eyes, let me see you're all right."

With a grumpy sound the tousled head pressed into the pillow. Grinning Faramir patted a little more firmly, but the russet head refused to move. Wickedly he tugged at the pants and began to pull them down, revealing a downy crack and then two smooth golden globes.

Honey's head lifted and he finally turned, opening his blue eyes wide.

"Should have got up when I told you," Faramir teased, stroking his hands over the revealed flesh, pushing the pants further down.

Eyes half closed Honey watched, his chin on his shoulder as the large warm hands pushed the loose pants down his thighs to his knees. Now he was laying on his belly, rump exposed, eyes fixed on Faramir's hands.

"You feel like silk," the man said, swallowing hard. "And I shouldn't have started this, not now. You've not been well." He cupped the firm backside, just for the pleasure of feeling the skin beneath his hands. He was getting hard, he realized. Just from this. Just from touching this skin, looking into those hooded ey

There was a graze on one thigh and with a start Faramir remembered the cream the healer had left the night before. He jumped up and fetched it, levering off the lid and tossing it on the table. Honey rolled over and Faramir groaned aloud. With his mass of hair rumpled and loose and his pants around his knees he was a perfect wanton, tousled and sexy.

"I just want to treat your grazes," Faramir said shakily. "And check if you're sore from last night."

Were those blue eyes knowing and wise? Did they understand? Or did they just go along with everything he did, no matter how outrageous? Last night you held his cock while he peed, Faramir thought to himself. You wiped his body clean when he was too weak to do it himself. If you want to touch him now don'don't need to make excuses. Especially ones he doesn't understand.

All the same he carefully removed the pants and began to apply a little cream to the cuts and grazes he found. Honey sighed with suresure as the cool fragrant cream was stroked onto him and Faramir hardened even more at the sound.

How will he sigh when I stroke over his tight ring,? When this soothing cream eases the burn from his painful spasms in the night? Will I be able to stop with just stroking?

Finally Faramir could take no more, he parted the strong little legs and bent them at the knee, heart pounding at the sight of the lax cock and balls nestled in their russet curls.

"Honey," he whispered, and those blue eyes followed him as he dipped his finger into the cream. Shaking he held the cool dollop for a moment, and while his free hand lifted the soft genitals, he gently pressed the cream to the pink ring.

Honey sighed again, closing his eyes and arching into the touch. When he opened his eyes again they were a little dazed and unfocused, as if he had traveled outside himself for a time. Faramir stroked the cream around the small opening, pressing just a little, feeling a slight give under his fingertip.

He pulled his hand back and quickly undid his pants, freeing his own hard cock and fisting it swiftly, sighing to himself at the slight ease. Then he took a dollop of cream and deposited it into his hand, stroking it over his hardness, hissing in pleasure.

More cream on his index finger and then back to Honey's hole, circling it, pressing in a little and feeling the pressure around his fingertip, and then ing ing it back out. His hand pumped his cock, Honey's own cock was firming, and now Faramir pressed and kept the pressure up, broaching the little opening with the tip of his finger, then to the end of the nail, then to the first knuckle.

Honey winced and mewled and Faramir came back to himself and pulled his finger carefully back out, circling the hole with the soothing cream, gentling the shaking body.

"I won't hurt you," he muttered, and then he came, seed spattering over Honey's half hard cock and balls, over his flat belly and smooth thighs.

Faramir sighed his pleasure, moaning low in his throat as he teased the last few drops from the head, squeezing gently and firmly as the last aching shudders swept through him.

Then he took Honey's sticky cock in his hand and using his own seed as lubricant began to pump it, free hand smoothing his cream into the rest of his skin.

Honey pressed his head back into the pillow, his little hands fists by his side, his eyes closed as Faramir's hand worked his cock until it spurted and spat its own small load onto his thighs.

Laying down by his side with his sticky hand supporting his head, Faramir ruefully petted the sensitive little organ, stroked up over Honey's belly and under his shirt to his fast beating heart.

"My Honey," he murmured. "Will I ever last more than a few minutes with you? You have me undone, like a teenage boy, just from yoyes yes and your skin."

And then Honey reached up and touched his face, stroking his fingers over Faramir's lips, eyes warm and bright. And there was something in them, just for a moment, something keen and sharp.

"Honey?" Faramir said, and at that moment he wouldn't have been surprised if his halfling hadn't opened his mouth and spoke to him, so knowing were those wide blue eyes, so canny.

And then his pet closed his eyes and yawned again, pink tongue curling, fists clenching and stretching childishly, and the moment was lost.

All the same Faramir was shaken.

888

That afternoon they spent among the trees again, and Honey played his disappearing trick, melting ithe the shadows and then suddenly reappearing on the other side of the clearing. Faramir turned to chase him and with a sylvan laugh he was off again, feet silent, under the trees and away.

Laughing but still mystified at the talent, Faramir followed, sure he could see a flash of movement under a nearby tree. Then he jumped in surprise when a small hand touched his rump and then in a flash was gone, only the sole of one hard foot visible for an instant as his halfling fled.

"I give up," Faramir finally called, collapsing onto the soft grass. "You're too good for me, sweetling. Come out and cuddle me, for I am feeling bereft."

And slowly Honey appeared, face alight with happiness. When Faramir pulled him down onto his lap he found leaves in his hair, and one blue blossom, tucked in among the curls. He freed it and twirled it between his fingers, content to hold the little creature close against his heart and catch his breath.

Honey squirmed in his arms and plucked the blossom from his fingers, examining it with a frown. He held it to his nose and sniffed, then held it to Faramir's nose. Faramir obediently sniffed but there was no fragrance to the blossom, it was already wilting in the afternoon sun.

"Do you want flowers, Honey? We have few. Just hardy trees in this old garden, more like a piece of the forest than a true garden."

Honey's face was sad as he studied the fragile blossom, the thin petals bruised and drooping.

"Do you have flowers in your home?" Faramir wondered. "Do you have gardens? Is there someone there who loves you, my heart?" But Honey's attention was already drifting, taken by a butterfly that flew by, orange wings shimmering.

Faramir studied that absorbed little face, loving each changing expression, but wondering, wondering. "What am I doing to you?" he whispered.

Honey pressed a hand to his belly and tugged Faramir's hand to get his attention. Then he opened his mouth.

"You just ate," his master chided. "Small meals, remember?"

Honey's mouth turned down as he read Faramir's expression.

"Do you want another belly ache?" his master said severely. "I won't have your poor body abused again." A shudder slid over his skin. "I want you healthy when I tuck you back into our bed tonight. I want more than my own hand, my pet. I want those honeyed lips on me, as I teach you how to please me."

Faramir tilted his halfling's head and laid a kiss on his lips, parting them and stroking with his tongue, suckling the other little tongue into his mouth.

"In fact," he muttered, lifting his head. "Why wait? If you're hungry I'll give you something to taste."

He lifted Honey in his arms and carried him back to their picnic blanket, shaded beneath the largest and oldest tree in the garden. There he sat his halfling down and tugged at the laces of his own breeches, pulling them off and kicking them away before sitting on the smooth blanket with only his loose white shirt covering him.

Honey gaped at him in surprise, eyes trying to peer under the hem of the shirt as his master sat, as if trying to see him. Faramir obliged by unbuttoning his shirt and spreading it wide. Now he was near naked and Honey clothed, and he lifted his half hard cock and stroked it.

"Come, Honey," he coaxed. "Come and taste me."

Honey hunched his shoulders a little, eyes confused. So far the game had been one sided, Faramir realized. He had touched and Honey had been touched. When the little hand had been wrapped around him it had been held there, and Honey had no clue why.

"You must learn why," Faramir told him. He reached out and took both hands, and laid them on his hardness. Honey looked down at this hands, then tried to pull away, but his master was having none of it. He took those hands again and wrapped them around his cock, top and bottom. Then he stroked them up and down, showing him the way.

"Like that," he smiled, and Honey shrugged dubiously and began to move his hands. Breath hitching Faramir kept his own hands around the smaller ones, showing him how to swirl the liquid that leaked from the head, how to skin the foreskin back, how to circle that swelling mushroom.

Eyes curious now Honey experimented for himself, moving a little more quickly, squeezing a little more tightly, running one small thumb over the slitted head.

Faramir threw his own head back and groaned as the velvet thumb caught in the sensitive slit. Huffing a little in pleasure Honey did it again, stroking along the slit this time, pulling away his thumb and a long pearl of liquid that clung to his fingers.

His face in a grimace, half fascination half disgust, Honey slid his hand over the head, sweeping the liquid into the pumping motion, pushing back further as Faramir encouraged him with hoarse groans and cries.

Faramir stopped the hands, his chest rising and falling. "Not so fast," he panted. "You'll have me away like a boy again."

Honey huffed impatiently as if to tell his master to make up his mind.

"I want your mouth on me, Honey mine," Faramir said breathlessly. He lifted Honey's hands and pressed a kiss to the sticky palms, then he stroked his finger through the pearly fluid and stroked it over Honey's lips.

"Not to your taste?" Faramir chuckled at the disgusted grimace. "But it's all right for me to wrap my mouth around you, hmm?"

He reached for the remains of their lunch and levered the lid off a small jar of honey. "Let's see if we can't sweeten it for you, yes?" He lifted the sticky comb and let it drizzle over his hard cock, drawing in a breath as the cool liquid oozed out and over his purple head.

Honey watched incredulously, mouth agape.

"That's the way I want you," Faramir said, cupping the nape of his neck and drawing his halfling's head down towards his twitching cock. Honey didn't fight him but his face was doubtful and he licked his lips nervously as his soft lips approached.

Faramir held his cock in his other hand and proffered it, just as he offered tasty treats to his pet's lips at every meal. "I won't force you," he said softly. Honey slanted him a glance, his lips quivering, and Faramir released his nape and smiled encouragingly. "It's all right," he said softly.

Honey licked his lips again and then reached out with his hands and stroked the sticky honey up and down. Then with a grimace he leaned over and engulfed the head, his mouth opening wide to take it all in. Faramir shuddered in disbelieving pleasure, arching his back as sensation hit him hard.

"Honey," he groaned.

The halfling swirled with his tongue, but then drew back, licking his lips thoughtfully. His hands idly pumped while he tilted his head and considered the cock before him. And then he nodded and tried again, opening his mouth wide and engulfing the head, lips pressing and tongue stroking. He worked for long moments, licking and suckling at the straining cock as if it really were some delicate treat presented for his amusement.

Faramir's jaw was clenched with the strain of not grasping that tousled head, with not forcing the small mouth over his cock, with not thrusting upwards into that enticing suction. His chest heaved and he grasped the base of his cock and helped Honey's hand pump him, while he fought not to frighten his halfling out of this newfound pleasure. In his mind he pictured himself back between Honey's thighs, holding his cock as he held it now, pressing it to that small hole, forcing it into the tight welcoming heat...

And then the captain ondorndor came, spurting into the halfling's mouth, white streams and pearls that caught in his hair and dripped down his chin. Faramir leaned forward and lay his head on Honey's rumpled curls, breathing deeply while he tried to shudder back to life.

Honey was surveying his hands and wiping his face with resigned disgust and Faramir laughed shakily.

"Get used to it," he said hardly. He swept at a white dollop and stroked it over Honey's lips, and when his mouth opened in surprise he pushed it in. Honey made a sour face but Faramir stopped his mouth with his own and the little creature was forced to swallow.

"Get used to that too," Faramir chuckled at the glowering little face.

He pushed Honey down onto his back and the halfling went eagerly, his glower fading to an expectant smile, looking down his pointed chin to the waist of his pants expectantly.

Pleased that here at least he wouldn't have to coax and cajole, Faramir kissed his lips again. "I told you that you would know pleasure with me," he reminded his pet. "Tonight I will use the good healer's cream again, and we will see how much more than one knuckle you can take."

He shivered in the afternoon light at the mere thought of the slow opening, the pleasure of broaching that tiny aperture with one finger and then euallually two. Would it even be possible to push his cock in there without hurting his pet? "We have time," he mused. "For me to open you up." He looked ruefully down at his body. "How do you do this to me?"

Then he kissed his impatient halfling again and set about showing him some more of the sweet things in life.

888

Faramir awoke to find Honey tugging on his hand, humming urgently. The soldier sat up quickly, his first instinct that of danger, but Honey's lips were curved upwards and his eyes shone brightly. He hummed again and Faramir rubbed his face to wake himself up.

"All right, my Honey." He let himself be hauled to his feet by the tugging hand and followed where his halfling led. They moved through the trees and off the stone marked path, down to a darker dell near one of the walls. "You've wandered pretty far."

Honey let go his hand and raced ahead with a laugh, stopping triumphantly in a shady patch and smiling joyfully.

"So you found yourself some flowers," Faramir smiled back, hands on hips. He surveyed the small patch of flowers and shrubs, obviously an old cultivation long gone to seed. Honey plunked himself in their center and stroked the nodding petals gently.

Careful not to damage his halfling's precious find, Faramir sat down next to him, heart full at the simple joy on that shining face. Honey studied the patch and then plucked a soft pale blossom, its center small and dark. Surprised at the choice of the somber flower, Faramir frowned curiously as Honey held it up next to his master's face and nodded.

He offered it to the man and Faramir took it, still a little puzzled. Then Honey picked a blue flower and held it to his own face and he saw straight away that the color matched the halfling's heart breaking blue eyes. He looked back down at the pale flower, its soft petals almost grey and realized that Honey had given him a flower to match his eyes.

To his surprise he found himself blinking away tears, and he lifted a shaking hand and wiped his eyes roughly. Honey stood and pushed himself into the circle of his arm, wrapping his own arm around Faramir's shoulder and laying his head on his master's hair.

"I love you," Faramir said, because he could not help it.

888

"My nurse used to called these Heart's Ease," Faramir said, twirling the blue blossom in his fingers. "I don't recall a name for the grey ones." He lifted the bloom matching his eyes to his nose and was delighted by the delicate scent. He offered it to Honey who sniffed and smiled. "She took care of me when my mother died," Faramir said, lost in the past. "Then died herself when I was eleven. I never told anyone else, Honey, but I wept more for her than the mother I barely remembered."

Honey sniffed the delicate blue bloom again and then tucked it behind his pointed ear.

"Do you have a mother somewhere?" Faramir said softly. "Is there someone who loves you waiting at home? Do they stand by the gate looking down the long road, hoping to see your merry smile, your bright eyes?"

Honey's smile faded and his eyes grew distant, as if he really was hearing what Faramir said, as if he really understood.

"That part of you still exists somewhere, doesn't it?" Faramir wanted to reach out and touch his halfling but he was afraid of breaking the moment. "Whoever you were before you fell into my life, before I claimed you as my own. He's still inside you, isn't he?"

The halfling's golden throat moved as he swallowed hard, as if there were words trapped somewhere inside him wanting to be spoken. Then his eyes cleared and he looked down at his hand, still holding the grey blossom. He tilted his head and smiled lopsidedly and tucked the bloom behind his master's ear.

"We have time for this too," Faramir said thickly.

888

The soft cream eased to the first knuckle as it had before, but when Faramir pressed to the second Honey mewled and caught his wrist. "You can take a little more," Faramir coaxed, stilling his finger, letting the tight passage adjust around him. Honey twitched uncomfortably but didn't fight him as he leaned over and licked his large tongue over the halfling's flushed cock. Then he engulfed the head and pushed a little further with his blunt index finger, bending the knuckle to widen the tightness.

Honey arched into the suction of his master's lips but cried out at the pressure in his small hole. Regretfully Faramir straightened his thick finger, stroking a little as he eased it out. "Sorry, sweetling," he murmured, pumping the halfling's cock when it threatened to soften. "I'll have to go slower than that, I think."

Honey stared down at him tearfully and Faramir dedicated himself to his pet's pleasure to make up for it. He knelt between the spread legs, holding back the thighs with his hands, working his mouth only on the stiff cock. Honey's hands tangled in his hair, pushing and pulling him away as he dipped and lifted his head. Because of the difference in their size he could easily take the entire cock in his mouth to his throat, and his own hard cock twitched and leaked as he imagined how good that must feel. Honey certainly seemed to enjoy it, he was more vocal than he'd ever been before, mewling and humming his pleasure as Faramir bought him close to his peak and then lifted his head away to nuzzle the small tight balls with his nose.

Finally Honey's hands tightened in his hair and he pulled Faramir's head back, glaring down at him with fierce blue eyes. Chuckling and nodding to show he'd got the message, his master acknowledged the urgency and lowered his head once more, this time taking his halfling all the way to the edge and over, eagerly swallowing down his spurting seed and licking him gently clean.

Honey was already drifting into sleep when Faramir gathered him into his arms, and the man sighed with frustration as his hard cock throbbed painfully.

"Looks like it's my hand again," he whispered, not wanting to wake his pet from the sweet sleep. "Just as well the sight of you is enough to send me over." He turned on his side and curved the small body back against him, groaning as his slick cock slid over the smooth honey gold skin. Carefully he pressed, nestling his length into the tight crease of Honey's buttocks, gently parting the small globes and then pressing them back together so they cradled his length.

Breath sobbing he began to push, sliding along the tight tunnel, stroking his skin over taut skin, burying his face in the crown of curls. Far more quickly than he would have liked he was coming, and he moaned his pleasure into the russet curls, slowing his movements and cuddling Honey's body close.

The halfling squirmed in his grasp and turned over, sleepy blue eyes surveying him grumpily.

"Sorry," Faramir panted. "Did I wake my lord?"

Honey covered his master's open mouth with his hand and determinedly closed his eyes, huffing impatiently. Chest shaking with laughter Faramir complied, feeling the weary ache in his well used limbs.

888

"Mithrandir approaches!" a lookout called and Boromir stood up and shaded his eyes against the noonday sun. When the grey clad wizard rode into their camp Boromir was surprised to see him on a horse, but even more surprised by his six companions.

His surprise must have been writ plain on his face because the wizard did not even alight from his horse before calling down to him sharply. "Surprise I can understand, Son of Gondor!" His voice rang out in the clearing. "But is that also recognition on your face? Surely these are not the first halfling's you've beheld just lately?"

"Halflings," Boromir repeated, studying the strange creatures mounted on small but sturdy ponies. They studied him back, openly and even a little critically.

Mithrandir jumped from his horse nimbly. "Come, Boromir." He drew the soldier's attention back to him. "Answer my question."

Boromir found his tongue and his dignity quickly enough to resent the wizard's peremptory tone. "And what if I have, wizard?" He stood proudly, one hand on his sword hilt. "Why t yot your concern?"

"Gandalf, what's happening?" One of the halflings cried. He was older, his hair salt and pepper grey, his hands clutching the pony's reins were wrinkled and veined. "Has this man seen Frodo or not?"

Boromir's attention was caught by the worry in the elderly halfling's voice, and he relaxed his stance.

"Please dismount and rest yourselves, friends," he said more politely. "And I will answer your questions. And ask a few of my own."

"These are hobbits of the Shire," Mithrandir introduced the six halflings once they were sitting around the campsite. "Their leader here is Mr. Bilbo Baggins, whose young cousin disappeared on the borders of their homeland more than a month ago. The rest are his kin. Come, Boromir, keep us in suspense no longer. We believe he was taken by a party of orcs."

"And every day we've expected to come across his poor remains," Bilbo Baggins said in despair.

"And so you might have, if my company hadn't stopped them crossing into Gondor a week hence." Boromir indicated back over his shoulder. "At the ford of Lefnui we took them and slaughtered them, every last one."

"And my boy?" Bilbo seemed to hold his breath.

"There was a halfling held captive by the orcs. Unless there were others of your kind taken, then he is the one you seek, and he was alive last time I saw him," Boromir confirmed and Bilbo clapped his hands together joyfully.

"Gandalf!" he exclaimed and the other hobbits began to chatter joyfully.

"Hold," Mithrandir said firmly and they silenced. "Go on, Boromir. How was he when you saw him?"

"And why weren't you bringing him home?" Bilbo dded.ded.

Boromir raised a brow at the halfling but chose to answer the wizard first. "He was in a bad way," the captain admitted. "And the reason I wasn't bringing him home, Master Halfling, was because I did not even know what he was, let alone who. He was unconscious when I left him with my brother at Lefnui."

"Faramir?" Mithrandir said in surprise. "Frodo is with Faramir?"

"When I left them they were heading for our summer house at Saerthondost," Boromir revealed.

"Gandalf," Bilbo said urgently. "We must ride there at once!" The old hobbit jumped to his feet and then swayed, his face turning white. Two of his kin leapt up and grasped his arms, helping him sit back down.

"Bilbo," Mithrandir chided him. "My friend, calm yourself. I know the young man Captain Boromir speaks of very well. Frodo is as safe with him as he would be with you or I."

"You must rest, Bilbo," one of the hobbits said urgently. "You've pushed yourself too hard."

"Nonsense, Mac," Bilbo panted, pulling out a large kerchief and mopping his face wearily. "It's just this sun, is all. I'm fine."

Mithrandir stood abruptly. "Bilbo Baggins," he said sternly. "You are a stubborn old fool. You're ninety-nine years old! Do you think you'll do Frodo any good if you find him and die in his arms?"

Boromir stared in new amazement at the halflings. "Ninety and nine?"

"But he might need me," Bilbo fretted.

"There's nothing you can do for him that I can't," Mithrandir said firmly. "And no offense, but I will ride quicker alone. I will go on to Saerthondost and give him what help I may, and you and the rest can ride after me at an easier pace."

Another of the hobbits stood. He had sandy brown hair and a round merry face. "At least let me come, Gandalf," he begged heavily. "It's my fault the lad was even out in the Old Forest alone."

Mithrandir clapped a hand on the halfling's shoulder heartily. "Nonsense, Saradoc," he said firmly. "Frodo was ever the willful child, haring off on adventures." He cast a twinkling look at Bilbo. "It runs in the blood," he joked, then sobered. "Trust me, my friends. I can be at Saerthondost in three days. If Frodo is alive, then he will be safe under my wing by then."

Bilbo looked down at his shaking hands and sighed deeply. "Thank you, Gandalf," he said simply. He looked up at the wizard. "Bring our boy home."

888

The man and the halfling spent more time out of doors now than in, from first light until dusk. Honey would run to his patch of flowers and Faramir would follow, laden with food and their blankets. The halfling began to treat the overgrown patch as his own, tossing away unwanted rocks and even teasing weeds from the ground around his precious blooms. Then he would lie back on the blanket amongst the nodding blooms and smile seductively at his master.

"Although I think I am the one who is mastered now," Faramir said ruefully as he watched Honey harvest blossoms and leaves and twist them together with his nimble fingers. Then he stood and laid the circlet of flowers on Faramir's head, stepping back with a wide glowing smile.

"King at last," Faramir joked huskily. "Crowned by your hands, my lord. Boromir would be jealous though, he craves a king's crown for himself."

Honey sat down and set about making a smaller one for his own head, and Faramir amused himself playing with rumpled curls. The halfling blew a strand of hair out of his eyes impatiently and Faramir caught the two sides and drew them back, holding them with one hand while he drew a lace from his shirt. Then he tied it back, letting the leather lace trail down. Honey cast him a grateful glance over his shoulder and Faramir stroked his face gently.

"Yes," he went on. "Who is the pet and who the master?"

Night after night they spent in each other's arms and he didn't have to press his Honey into doing anything he asked any more. The halfling trusted him enough to know his master was leading him to pleasure only. Save for one remaining pleasure that Faramir despaired they would ever attain. Every night he began their love making trying to open that small aperture, soft fragrant cream his aid. He would coax reluctant legs apart and stroke the small hole, pressing as carefully as he could. Honey could now re ore one finger but he cried out at two, and no matter how slowly Faramir went his Honey would begin to struggle and weep and he would be unable to continue. He was unable to hurt his little love for his own selfish pleasure.

He would apologize with his hands and his mouth and Honey would respond sweetly, forgiving him instantly. Still Faramir had not given up. The thought had begun to obsess him, even in his dreams at night, his fantasies as they made love. Part of him feared himself when he awoke sweating and hard from such a dream and then he would set about making Honey's pleasure all the greater when they made love.

Because in his dreams he ignored the struggles and the cries of pain. In his dream he remembered that first rush of exultation he had felt, oh so long ago now. That moment when he had held his halfling's head back and kissed his vulnerable throat. That moment when he had realized that he truly owned this delicate little creature. And that he could do anything he wanted to him.

Such thoughts frightened him because they did not have a place in the tender love he felt when he gazed upon this trusting halfling in his care.

"Do you trust me, Honey?" he whispered, and Honey smiled and set his own crown on his curls.

Faramir tumbled him onto his back and leaned over him, tracing with his fingers those high cheekbones, the fine chiseled lips. Honey slitted his eyes in pleasure, a soft pink flush on his skin.

"Maybe you shouldn't trust me."

Honey tilted his head, lifting one hand and cupping his master's neck, trying to draw his head down. Faramir felt his ill mood slipping from him and he began to smile in anticipation, yielding to the tug. And then he heard a cry from the house and sat up abruptly. His orders to not to be disturbed had been obeyed to the letter, for Alric to break them now must mean he had a very good reason. Honey sat up beside him, but Faramir laid a hand on his shoulder, indicating he should stay. Then he walked swiftly back through the garden.

"My lord," Alric said apologetically. "I would not have disturbed you, but he was most insistent."

"Boromir?"

"The wizard," Alric hissed, and behind him Faramir saw Mithrandir striding forward, his grey cloak travel stained and his hat and staff in his hand.

"Mithrandir!" Faramir exclaimed, casting a quick glance behind him. Honey had obeyed his silent command and was staying out of sight. Faramir was sure he would not come unless called, he was shy with everyone else but him.

"What brings you here?"

"I like your crown, Faramir," Mithrandir joked and Faramir realized he still wore his flowery circlet. He carefully lifted it off and laid it on the table.

"Bring wine," he ordered Alric, before sitting at his table. "Come, Mithrandir. Make yourself comfortable. Did you travel all this way to admire my flowers?"

The wizard sat heavily. "I'm too old for all this," he sighed. "No, Faramir, I come on graver business. I'm almost afraid to ask you, now it comes to it. Where is the halfling? Where is Frodo?"

Faramir's heart began to race and shock prickled his skin. "Frodo?" he repeated slowly, to give himself time to think.

"Yes," the wizard cried impatiently. "Boromir told us you brought him here. Tell me, Faramir. Did he survive? Is he all right?"

For a moment Faramir could see a future laid out before him. He would tell the old wizard that the halfling hadn't survived his journey. He would console him, ask his questions, learn all he wanted about his halfling but still keep him for himself, his secret, his pet. He opened his mouth to speak the lie, to set the future in motion, but something stopped him, held him back. Mithrr har had many powers it was said. Even the power to perceive a truth from a lie.

The captain of Gondor straightened his shoulders proudly. He would not be caught out in a lie, not about this.

"Frodo," he said instead, tasting the name. It felt alien on his tongue. "He is a halfling then?"

"He's alive?" Mithrandir repeated anxiously.

Faramir nodded. "Yes."

The wizard closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness," he said shakily. "I can't imagine telling his family otherwise, after Boromir gave us hope."

"His family are here?"

"On their way, with Boromir and your men. Your brother gave up the chase, saying he hadn't time to track them as far as we had already come. He's escorting Frodo's kin here at a slower pace."

Faramir stood and turned his back to the wizard, trying to master the expressions on his face. More halflings! His Honey's family come to claim him, to take him away. He set his jaw stubbornly.

"But Faramir, how is it you do not know his name? Or where he comes from? Is he still unconscious?" The wizard stood up. "Take me to him, and I will see what I may do."

"Sit, Mithrandir," Faramir said firmly. "You do not give me orders in my own house. You have no authority here."

The wizard frowned, his hairy eyebrows beetling. "What is wrong, Faramir? Why are you so on edge? What are you keeping from me? Is it Frodo? Speak!"

"Sit," Faramir said again. "And I will show you."

The wizard frowned but sat, placing his hat on the table but holding his staff in his hand. Faramir crossed the grass in front of the trees, not quite in the shade. "Honey?" he called softly, sure his halfling was close and watching. "Honey? Come to your master."

At first all was quiet and Faramir could hear the wizard's impatient breathing behind him. And then, silent footed as usual, Honey appeared from behind a tree. And now Faramir clearly heard an indrawn breath of shock from the wizard, and he saw, as if through the newcomers eyes, the picture his pet made.

Long russet curls streamed down his back, lifting gently in the breeze. A crown of blossoms on his head, a few ringlets that escaped Faramir's lace straggling over daintily pointed ears. Wide blue eyes, cautious but trusting as the creature looked to his master. And today he was dressed in soft sky blue pants and a shirt unlaced and open. Like a small wild fantasy he emerged from the dappled shade, one step, two, and then he ran and leapt into his master's arms.

Faramir caught him gladly and hugged him to his heart for a moment, and then turned, resting him on his hip like a child.

"Frodo!" the wizard cried, and the halfling shrank back a little at the loud noise. "Frodo?"

"You're frightening him," Faramir said, walking back across the grass.

The old wizard was standing now, leaning on his staff.

"What is it?" Mithrandir said, eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with him? What have you done?" the last question was a cry of outrage and Faramir responded as the son of a Steward and raised an eyebrow, as if at an insolent servant.

"What have I done?" he drawled. "Saved his life, Mithrandir. Fed him, clothed him, healed him."

The wizard's canny eyes were raking over him now, at the way Honey's hands were clenched into the man's shirt, at the way he buried his face in the man's neck. "And made a catamite of him!" he stormed.

Faramir huffed a laugh at the old wizard's outrage. "Made a pet of him actually," he returned carelessly.

"And do you defile all your pets?"

Faramir glanced down at Honey's face, one blue eye peering curiously at the newcomer. "So far," he conceded.

"This is beyond belief," Mithrandir thundered. "When Boromir told me Frodo was in your care I was relieved! I thought if there was one man I could trust to act with decency and honor it was you."

"Looks like we have different ideas of decency," Faramir said, sitting in his chair and shifting his halfling to his lap. Honey leaned one head on his shoulder and stared openly at the newcomer now, from the safety of his master's grip.

"I call it indecent to take advantage of the helpless and the weak," the wizard said heavily, sitting back down as if his legs would no longer support him. "What is wrong with him? Why doesn't he speak? Frodo?"

Honey tilted his head curiously and Faramir gazed down at him, wondering how he would react to the name. There was only the usual mild wonder in his blue eyes at the incomprehensible things that happened around him.

"Did you know him, Mithrandir?" Faramir asked. "Before?"

"I had never met him," the wizard confessed, his eyes still firmly on the halfling. "But I've known his family for forty years. Faramir, what on earth led you to this madness? I've known you all your life, never would I believe you could stoop so low as to harm an innocent in your care."

"I have never hurt him," Faramir shot back. "Never caused him pain, save those tender pains that sometimes occur between lovers."

"Lovers!" Mithrandir scorned, and Honey jumped at the harsh noise.

Faramir tightened his hold and glared at the wizard. "He's not used to loud noises, Mithrandir, and I'll thank you to remember that. He suffered a terrible wound to one ear while a captive, and can no longer hear out of it. But it's quite sensitive to the cold or loud noises."

"Deaf in one ear?" Mithrandir said sadly. "But that doesn't explain this unnatural silence, this incomprehension. I know he speaks the common tongue, I know he is considered extraordinarily intelligent for his age. He has even been learning other languages for his own pleasure, Sindarin, the language of the elves chief among them."

"He is intelligent," Faramir agreed, absorbing this new information. "Do not let his silence make you believe otherwise. As for understanding, I do not not know how much he understands, or how much he doesn't. For what it's worth I don't think there is anything willful in his silence and blank looks." Faramir cradled the small head and pressed a tender kiss to his flushed temple. "Whoever or whatever he was, Mithrandir, was burned away in the fires of agony he suffered in the hands of those monsters. What's before you is all that is left."

"I see," the wizard said heavily. "You cannot be blamed for not knowing who or what he was then, Faramir. But you still had no right to do as you did."

"I had every right," Faramir said arrogantly. "I found him, Mithrandir. I saved him, and I claimed him. He is my property now."

"Property?" The wizard gaped at him in shock. "Are you mad? He is a free hobbit of the Shire, beloved son of a proud family. He is not an animal you can claim."

"And where is this Shire?" Faramir dismissed. "Who are these hobbits you speak of? This is Gondor, wizard, and here this creature has no name save the one I give him, no family I choose to recognize."

"You have no right-"

"I have every right," Faramir interrupted. "You have no authority to challenge my rights."

"Because you are a son of the Steward?" Mithrandir bit out. "Do you think your father would approve of your liaison with this... creature, as you call him?"

"My father cares not what I do," Faramir shrugged heedlessly. "And even if he did, do you think he would take your side over his son's? And if you think to appeal to Boromir when he arrives, think again. He has no more love for wizards than Denethor, and would support my right to treat my pet as I will."

The wizard's face turned to stone. "Think well, son of Gondor, before you take this road with me. This hobbit is ill and in need of help, he is no creature, and no... pet!" Mithrandir spat the word.

Faramir stroked the glowing russet curls, with one hand, sliding the other over Honey's belly and laying it possessively over his heart. "And who is to say otherwise?" he drawled lazily. "He will certainly speaspeak out against his master."

"Would he if he were able?" Mithrandir said bitterly. "If you will not listen to me, then perhaps his family will sway you."

"His family?" Faramir said incredulously. "And where were they when my Honey was taken by those beasts?" Real anger stirred in him. "Do you know the condition I found him in? The agony he suffered? How could they let him fall into such hands?"

Mithrandir looked uncomfortable. "It's not certain why he was wandering alone," he began.

"And you say his family are coming? Who? His father? His brothers?"

"He has neither," the wizard admitted. "He was orphaned as a child, and lives with members of his family."

"Orphaned," Faramir said triumphantly. "Dumped with family, left vulnerable to beast of prey? This is what you would have me return my Honey to?"

"He is not yours!" Mithrandir roared, leaping to his feet.

Honey flinched again and the wizard cleared his throat and sat down again.

"Neither is he yours," Faramir returned quietly. "Nor will I recognize any who come to claim him."

"So that's it," Mithrandir said incredulously. "Do you think you can keep him then, just like that?"

"Do you think you can take him from me?" Faramir challenged, and just for a moment there was a crafty look in the wizard's eyes and he fingered his wooden staff. But then his shoulders relaxed.

"You've had him to yourself all this time," he said thoughtfully. "How frightened he must have been when he awoke, how vulnerable. And how easy for a clever man to take that silent vulnerability and twist it for his own ends."

Faramir leaned back in his chair, listening hard.

"But you do not have him to yourself any more, Faramir. I am here, and soon his beloved uncle and family will be here too. He may not know me, but he will know them. How long will your hold on him last, when he sees there is other kindness in the world? And folk who love him who do not twist that love and violate his innocence as a price!"

Faramir's hands tightened and Honey squirmed on his lap. He quickly relaxed his grip and lifted his hands away. "All right, Mithrandir," he said quietly. "I was a stranger when he met me, you are a stranger now. Coax him away from me, if you can. Coax him from my side to yours, I will not try to stop you. Lay one finger on him with his consent, and I will rescind my claim."

The wizard tilted his head as if suspecting a trick, but he accepted the challenge eagerly enough. Faramir lifted Honey off his lap and set him on his feet. The halfling looked at him in surprise and leaned against the arm of his chair.

"Frodo?" Mithrandir said softly, leaning forward a little. Honey tilted his head again and looked at him curiously. "Yes, you know your name, don't you? I've come to take you home, my boy. Back to the Shire. To Bag End, if that's what you want. Your Uncle Bilbo has talked of nothing else but taking you there ever since we rode out looking for you."

Honey seemed to relax at the soft tone but Faramir felt himself tensing. Was this some wizard's trick, this soft coaxing voice? Had he been a fool to give in to this impulse?

"Look what I have for you," Mithrandir said, reaching into his satchel. "Your uncle bought it for you, and he's been carrying it like a lucky charm." He opened a cloth bag and pulled out a brightly colored twist. "Rock candy," he beamed like a benevolent grandfather.

Faramir willed the smile to stay on his face as his halfling's eyes lit up at the sight of the treat. If he frowned discouragement then Mithrandir would call him a cheat and the game forfeit.

"Come, take it," the wizard coaxed. Honey looked searchingly at his master and longingly back to the treat. "Come, Frodo, I know this is your favorite."

Faramir silently cursed all wizards as Honey straightened away from his side and took one step toward the wizard, eyes fixed on the bright red candy. If he stepped into Mithrandir's grasp, if he leaned over and took the treat from his fingers, all would be .
.

Honey looked back at him one more time, seemed to take encouragement from his smile and then darted forward with that halfling's sudden speed. But he did not touch the old wizard's hand, he tugged the candy from it and spun away, swiftly depositing it in his master's hand. Then under the wizard's disbelieving eyes hembedmbed sedately back into Faramir's lap and opened his mouth demandingly for the treat.

Grinning fit to burst Faramir dutifully passed the morsel over then pressed a hard kiss onto blissfully chewing lips. The look he shot the shaken wizard was pure triumph.

"It appears you've trained your pet well," the wizard said bitterly. He rose to his full height and loomed over them. "But do not congratulate yourself too much. You've seen a sweet and even side of hobbits with this wounded youngster, but they have another side, and believe me when I tell you it will be roused when they arrive to find out what you've done to their kin. If I were you I would prepare myself for battle, Soldier of Gondor!" And with that ringing cry the wizard swept indoors.

But Faramir was still exulting in his success, hugging his delighted halfling to him. "Let them come," he whispered, and Honey tilted his head, sticky lips curved into a smile, as if he quite agreed.

888

Alric was laying the large table in their adjoining room when Faramir and his halfling awoke from their nap. He rushed into an explanation when the captain raised a curious brow at the plates and crystal glasses.

"I did not know what else to do, my lord," the servant said worriedly, wringing his hands. "The wizard ordered me to set him a place at dinner, and I tried to tell him you ate off trays in your room, but, well, he is a wizard..." He shrugged awkwardly.

"It's all right, Alric," Faramir dismissed him. "Stronger men than you have failed to resist Mithrandir when he gives an order."

Alric nodded gratefully, then smiled and waved a little at the halfling, who had his head around the door and was watching curiously. Honey ducked his head a little but smiled shyly, and Alric's chest swelled as if he was about to burst. He nodded to his lord and then raced from the room, and Faramir imagined him running into the kitchens and bragging about having seen his lord's pet.

The food was laid when the wizard made his entrance, his straggly grey hair and beard hardly looking any better than they had when he arrived.

"I did not expect the honor of your presence, Mithrandir," Faramir drawled, taking his place at the table. Honey leaned against his chair, obviously wondering at this new eating arrangement and not sure he liked it. Faramir turned his chair a little and with a huff of satisfaction the halfling took his usual place between spread thighs, leaning back with a sigh of anticipation.

"We are not enemies, Faramir," the wizard said genially, taking his own place. "Things may have got a bit heated earlier, but I remind myself that I cannot expect you to know or respect halflings as I do, since you have never met any save young Frodo here."

Faramir helped himself to meat and bread, cutting a thin portion with his knife and offering it first to Honey, before taking a larger slice for himself. "That's very decent of you."

"Yes, well," Mithrandir said, looking dubious at the polite tone. "I thought I might tell you a little about the Shire over dinner, if you don't mind. Give you a glimpse of Frodo's homeland, the life he led before you knew him." His eyebrows twitched irritably. "Do you have to feed him like that?" he burst out. "He has hands, doesn't he? He can eat for himself?"

"No doubt he can," Faramir agreed mildly. "But it pleases me to have him eat from my hands only." He raised an inquiring brow. "If it offends you we can take our meal back to our room?"

Mithrandir turned his mouth down, but forbore further comment on the subject. Instead he began to wax lyrical about this homeland of the hobbits, this Shire. Faramir made a show of eating casually, feeding Honey automatically from his hand, but he was taking it all in. He gazed at his halfling's absorbed face, trying to picture him in such a bucolic setting. Farming? Family trees? Ale, pipe weed? Faramir tried to connect such a homespun life with the exotic creature contentedly chewing on his dinner, and he could not seem to do it.

"It all sounds charming," he said insincerely. "But it is of little matter to me. I have stated my position, surely you cannot hope to change my mind with these visions of agrarian splendor?"

Mithrandir's eyes sparked. "It is to your good sense I hope to appeal," he said tightly. "Your mind I have lost all hope for." He leaned forward intently. "If you will not think of his past, then think of his future! What kind of life can you offer him, Faramir? Look at him! You've made a lap dog out of him!"

Faramir tightened his jaw. "I've made a pet of him, wizard," he reminded. "I never denied it."

"A pet!" Mithrandir threw up his hands in despair. "Can you not hear how demeaning that is? To someone like Frodo Baggins? To the life he had, the life he should have had!"

"I did not take that life away from him," Faramir shot back. "I am giving him the best he can hope for now!"

"Are you? What kind of life will he have back in Minas Tirith? No gardens there for him to roam in. You'll destroy him in that city of stone!"

Faramir huffed a bitter laugh. "You don't have much of an opinion of me, do you, Mithrandir? If you think I would take Honey anywhere near my father?" He leaned back in his chair, stroking the russet curls. "You know Denethor, you know the love he has for me. Or rather the lack of it!" Faramir looked down, eyes hard. "I do not look for his approval, although I have not quite given up all hope of one day knowing it." He looked back at the wizard directly. "But you know well enough he is happier when I am out of his sight. Boromir is my captain, and if he orders me to business here in the West I could linger a ten year and not be missed at home."

"And after that?" Mithrandir probed shrewdly.

"If you are looking for a lifetime guarantee of safety, wizard, then you might as well wrap him in cotton wool and tuck him away in a crate right now. I am a soldier, and the times being what they are I might die tomorrow." He swept his hand to the halfling's shoulder and held it. "So might he!"

"And if anything does happen to you? What then becomes of your pet?"

"Trust my love for him enough to know I will ensure he is well taken care of in that event."

"I do believe you love him," Mithrandir conceded heavily. "In your way. But if you love him, don't you ever wonder about who he is? Who he was? What he might yet be, given the chance to heal?"

This was harder to dismiss. Faramir curved his hand around his halfling's neck, stroking the fine skin lovingly. "Look at him, Mithrandir. Do you really think he can come back from this?"

"I do not know! Do you? But surely if he is to have a chance it will not be here!" the wizard argued. "It is familiar faces he needs, and familiar places. Surely you see if he is to gain any semblance of himself it will be in his homeland? In the Shire?"

Faramir bit his lip, turning this over in his mind. In the front of his memories were the times when he had caught a glimpse of something more in his pet, something unexpected. What if the wizard was right? What if there was a way and he was denying his halfling the chance to regain himself?

"Faramir," the wizard coaxed softly. "I know you are a good man, I know it. If you love him you will want what is best for him." One gnarled hand grasped his arm firmly. "Even if that isn't you!"

Abruptly Faramir stood, unable to listen any more. Honey slid to the ground, hands wrapping around his master's forearm, his fierce blue eyes glaring at the wizard through a cloud of curls.

"Think about what I've said, Faramir," the wizard said ringingly as they walked away.

Faramir could do little else. He closed their door heavily behind them and sat on the edge of his bed, legs spread, hands linked and dangling between his thighs. He bent his head, all his certainties draining away. He knew he could take care of Honey, he knew he could. There was no doubt in his mind that they could build some kind of future together, however precarious Mithrandir thought it might be. But now he had to ask himself, did he have a right to that future?

"Never argue with a wizard, Honey. Even love becomes a weapon."

Honey stood before him and touched his face, cupping it in hisds ads and lifting his chin so their eyes met. His lips were trembling and he nestled close, hands wrapping as far as they could around his master's broad frame.

"Sweet thing," Faramir said thickly. "What a kind heart you have. Too kind perhaps. Don't you ever wonder at what your master is doing to you?"

Honey pressed his lips to Faramir's neck, then kissed desperately up to his chin before pressing their lips together. The man froze in shock. Never before had his halfling initiated their lovemaking, and the tears that had been clogging his throat ever since he walked away from the wizard's words threatened to rise up and leak from his eyes. He sat and let Honey kiss him, feeling his heart begin to race at the exquisite feel of that precious tongue stroking his lips, touching his tongue, suckling gently at his mouth.

"What you do to me," he said brokenly.

Honey climbed up on the bed and tugged at Faramir and the man let himself be urged. He stretched out on the pillow and lay passive as small fingers unlaced his shirt and opened it up, half closing his eyes in pleasure as sweet lips kissed and sharp teeth gently nipped. Glancing down he saw Honey's fingers struggling with the laces of his breeches and he lifted heavy hands to help, making short work on the fastenings. Then Honey was spreading the fabric aside and leaning in, breath panting on his half hard cock.

When the sweet mouth engulfed him Faramir arched and the tears he had been holding back began to leak from his eyes. How could he lose this? How could he let his little love go?

Honey slid up his body and licked the tears from his face, crooning soft noises of comfort.

"I'm all right," Faramir choked, his eyes squeezed shut, mind still roiling in turmoil. He stretched and moaned under the knowing touches, feeling his body harden, wanting desperately the oblivion that came with passion, needing to stop thinking for just a little while. And then he felt the stroke of cool cream on his hardness and his eyes flew open in shock.

His Honey was poised above him, thighs spread, his tight hole resting at the tip of Faramir's cock. With a sigh he pressed down and sensation exploded within the man as he felt, at long last, the clench of tight muscles around him.

"Honey!" he cried, arching back, groaning as an inch more was engulfed. This was everything he'd wanted, everything he'd dreamed in every sweaty fevered dream. He lifted his hands to his love's hips, holding their narrow span, desperately wanting to pull him down, to push himself up, to force every last inch of himself inside the tight firmness that held him.

Then he opened his eyes.

Honey's sweet lips were pressed together tightly, his golden face was pale. Tears poured from his eyes and down his once rosy cheeks. But still he pushed.

Like a bucket of cold water shock hit Faramir and his loving grip on narrow hips hardened. Ignoring the yelp of pain he tugged himself free from his halfling's grip, throwing him onto his back and rolling over to loom atop him.

"What are you doing?" he yelled into frightened, pain filled eyes. "I did not ask you to sacrifice yourself for me!" He grasped a small shoulder and shook. "I do not want your pain!"

Honey flinched away, trying to curl into a ball, sobs choking him, and Faramir groaned, panic and fury dying away to remorse.

"Oh, love," he wept, trying to gather Honey to him, weeping harder as the little one flinched away. "I'm sorry! I'm not angry with you, really I'm not!" He gentled his voice, stroking the shivering body, trying to convey with touch what his words could not tell. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and slowly Honey uncurled and reached out for him.

Faramir sighed and gathered him close. "I wish you could understand me," he whispered fervently. "I wish with everything in me that you could understand." He drew back and stroked gentle kisses over tear swollen eyes, peering under heavy lashes as they opened a fraction. "I know you were only doing what you thought I wanted. What I did want! But if the price of my pleasure is your pain, then it's not what I want, my love!"

Honey's lips quivered and he lifted his hands and pressed a finger to Faramir's lips.

"I know," Faramir soothed. "I've never yelled at you before, never touched you with rough hands. Forgive me?"

Those tender lips tried to curve in a smile and nearly made it. Faramir slid his hand around and cupped his halfling's bottom gently. "Did you hurt yourself?" he whispered. He laid his brow to Honey's, holding him close. "Did I let you hurt yourself? If only you understood! Even if you came to hate me for what I've done to you, I could live with that, if you understood!"

Slowly something came to him then, and he turned it over in his mind. Honey tilted his head and stared at him curiously, wiping his eyes and sniffing. He touched Faramir's cheek and the man smiled at him and kissed his palm.

"I've been a fool," he breathed. "Mithrandir laid two choices before me, and I despaired between them. Leave you to your kin who might be able to help you, or take you with me and beyond their help. I know what I want, but both choices have their bitter side. But what about a third choice, my Honey?" He kissed Honey's lips and the halfling sniffed again and smiled, just a little.

"What about a third choice?"

888
Boromir rode in at sundown, on the edge of a rainy miserable day. The good weather had broken and his mood was as wet as his sodden clothes. He threw the reins of his horse at the boy who ran to greet him and he strode up the stairs.

"Boromir!" Mithrandir cried, greeting him as he squelched inside. "Thank goodness, sanity at last."

"Still here, wizard?" Boromir said sourly, stripping off his cloak and dropping it on the flags. "I thought you'd have your halfling and meet us on the way."

"But where are the others? I didn't expect you for at least two days."

"I left them with my men and rode ahead," Boromir said shortly. "I wanted to see my brother."

"Your intuition where he is concerned is true as ever," the wizard said. "Would you believe he's barred his door against me? Set guards on it. All because he does not want to face the truths I have laid out before him. He's acting like a spoiled child." Mithrandir shook his head. "I thought better of him."

Boromir spun on the old wizard and bared his teeth in a snarl. "Show a little respect for a son of the Steward in his own house," he warned angrily.

"You do not know what he has done, Boromir," the wizard challenged.

"I will hear it from his lips," the captain said shortly. He strode to his brother's room and the guards sprang apart, one opening the door and bowing. "Let no one else inside," Boromir ordered, satisfied when the doors closed in the indignant wizard's face.

"Faramir?" he called to the figure on the terrace, but when he emerged into the damp evening he saw it was not his brother who stood gazing out into the rain. "Healer?"

"My lord." The healer bowed.

"Where is my brother?"

"The captain is gone, my lord."

Boromir frowned. "Gone?"

"Last night, with his halfling. He ordered we keep the wizard ignorant. I think the captain knew you would be here today, sir. He left you this note."

Boromir took the envelope and nodded his dismissal and the healer bowed low. "At your service, my lord," he said, and departed.

Boromir ripped open the envelope and sed ied it, eyes moving quickly. He looked up blindly for a moment, then reached for a chair and sat down heavily, careless of the rain running in rivulets down his face. "Faramir," he murmured.

Brother, he read more slowly. I've never asked you for a favor before, but today I do. I'm taking my halfling back to his home, searching for an answer as to whether he can be healed there. I need your lies to cover my absence with our father. If we have not returned in a six month then you may take it I will not return, and tell him I am dead. I wonder if he will even look up from his maps? Think kindly of me, brother, even if you do think I'm mad. I've found a rare treasure, and I must do what I can to keep it, or spend the rest of life grieving for its loss. Tell the wizard nothing of my destination, he would not believe a lie, I do not think he will suspect the truth. Tell my halfling's kin that he is safe and well, they will not believe you either, but, brother, I swear it is the truth. If I do not return, lay a flower on our mother's tomb for me. A blue one.

Your brother, Faramir.

Boromir let the letter fall onto the table, watching the rain soak into it, blur the ink, drown the words. It turned opaque, and through it Boromir's wet eyes could make out a circle of wilted blue flowers.

It looked like a crown.

888

Epilogue
Boromir rode into the dark clearing, practiced eyes picking out familiar land marks and guiding his way. He was not surprised to see his brother huddled beneath his cloak, sitting on bare rock under a tree. Nearby a rough lean-to covered a small bundle, so quiet was the forest that Boromir could hear the soft breath of sleep from its occupant.

Faramir did not look up as Boromir climbed wearily from his mount, groaning a little as his legs straightened. "Miserable night," Boromir said, tethering his mount loosely to a branch. His horse was well trained and knew better than to wander.

Faramir neither moved nor acknowledged his presence.

"So, brother," Boromir went on, stretching his back with a sigh. "I expected to find you halfway to Enedwaith by now, yet here you are, a bare half mile from the road." He shook back wet hair, shivering a little at the chill. "Nothing more miserable than a cold camp, eh, brother? I suppose you knew I'd follow. That annoying old wizard accused me of intuition, can you believe it? If I had such a thing I'd have crossed country to find you instead of wasting a day and half the night riding to the summer house and back."

He pointed a thumb west. "You do know of course that my men are just a mile that way? Thought you did."

"I didn't leave so you would follow," Faramir said in a low voice.

Boromir sat by him on a wet log, drawing his cloak around him for scant comfort. "I know why you left. Perhaps better than you do yourself."

"I thought you at least would be on my side." Faramir looked up, his face only a pale patch in the cloudy night.

"On all things am I on your side," Boromir said mildly. "A week ago I'd have stood back to back with you and fought for your right to keep what you have claimed."

"Then help me!" his brother beseeched.

"But a week ago I had not met those hobbits from the Shire. I had not spent days listening to them prattle on about their missing lad. Their loner, with his head in the clouds and his nose in a book, the outsider, the odd one out, too clever by half."

Faramir shook his head, and clenched his fists on his knees, as if he wanted to lift them to his ears to block out his brother's words.

"And you know who it reminded me of? You, little brother."

Faramir raised his eyes in shock.

"And I got to thinking, how would it be, if some beast up and carried you off? What wouldn't I do to get you back? Right now, brother, you sit at a crossroad, and you know it don't you?" Boromir continued. "It's why your trail led this far and no further. His kin lay a mile away, still sleeping peacefully, unaware that you are stealing past them with your prize. But when morning comes and they continue on to Saerthondost then it's all set in motion and cannot be undone. The truth of your acts must come out."

"I'm not ashamed of anything I've done," Faramir said lowly.

"I wish I could say as much!" Boromir exclaimed with a chuckle, then sobered. "See here, little brother, I'm still on your side. But the game's over now, your rest done. Time for us to come back to the real world and go home."

"It was no game."

"No? But you thought him some wild creature, didn't you? Some fey thing from the forest? I might question your tastes in taking him to your bed, but in those circumstances small blame to you for claiming him as your own if desidesired him. That is what you thought, isn't it?"

Faramir looked as if to speak, then dropped his head again.

"Well now you know differently. No creature this, but a person, with a name and a family and a home. You told the wizard you would not let him go, but the truth is plainer here. You never really owned him."

"You don't know what you're asking of me, brother," Faramir said into his hands.

Boromir stood up, shaking down the folds of his wet cloak. "I'm not asking," he said baldly. "Easier that way. I can deliver this burden and be back here before morning. Then you and I can ride back to the house and get stinking drunk. How does that sound?"

"I did know," Faramir said thickly. "I've known for a long time. That he was no creature."

Boromir laid a gloved hand on his brother's bowed head. "Then that is your burden to bear," he said sympathetically. "It will be easier to bear it if you do the right thing now, eh? Before the chance slips away."

"I believed for a while that we could find a life together, Boromir. If he regained himself then even my guilt over what I had done could be eased."

Boromir studied his brother's hunched figure in the darkness.

Faramir stood and walked over to the sleeping hobbit and gazed down at him. "But the truth is we do not fit together. Even if all was made right and forgiven, even if he loved me and I could love who he became, where do we meet? What place is there in this world for a halfling and a man to know love?"

He knelt and touched the soft bundle tenderly. "That's why," he whispered, almost to himself. "Why it was easier to believe he was something I could own and master. Then no one could take him from me."

Boromir walked to the sleeping figure and Faramir started to his feet. "No hands have touched him but mine."

"Trust him to my hands?" Boromir asked evenly. "I will deliver him into the hands of his kin, and perhaps when he awakes this will all seem like some dream."

"Dream," Faramir repeated as Boromir knelt and gathered the sleeping figure in his arms. "Perhaps it was all a dream." He turned his head as his brother walked past him and lifted the small burden to the saddle. With an easy vault Boromir was on the horse behind him, gathering halfling and reins to his chest.

Boromir looked down at his wet brother standing in the rain. His face was turned away, and the older man was glad. "All just a dream," Boromir agreed, then wheeled his horse and left his brother standing in the rain.

888

He rode carefully so as not to rouse the halfling, not sure what he would do if Frodo awoke in his arms. Pale dawn was lighting his way by the time a sentry hailed him into camp, and the first thing he saw was the hobbits, clustered as they usually were at camp around a frying pan on the fire. Even in this weather they'd found enough dry wood to get a smoky blaze going and they looked up curiously as Boromir rode into the camp.

Despite his age it was Bilbo's keen gaze that spotted his burden first, and his face lit up with hope and fear.

"Captain?" he called, and the others left their pan and gathered around him.

Boromir lifted the sleeping hobbit and lowered him into glad arms, who settled him on the ground and lifted back his covers. Morning's light lit Frodo's golden skin and he flinched a little, his eyes flickering then opening. For a moment there was confusion and then stark fear as he looked wildly around for a familiar face.

"Frodo!" Bilbo cried gladly and the halfling's eyes were drawn to his, the fear fading swiftly to be replaced by a confused frown. "Frodo, my boy," the old hobbit said, unashamedly weeping. Freeing his hand from the blankets Frodo lifted it and touched a tear running down the lined face. There was something else on his face now, a slow dawning. It was recognition.

"Yes, you know your old uncle, don't you," Bilbo choked and the recognition blazed into knowledge and sudden joy. Suddenly strong young arms were lifting and twining around old shoulders and the older hobbit gasped in relief and returned the hug fiercely.

"You're all right, lad," he cried gladly, and the other hobbits gathered around, laughing and crying their relief. "You're safe now!"

Unnoticed Boromir mounted his horse and rode back the way he came, leaning over to murmur orders to his sergeant before riding out of camp. At its outskirts he met the wizard, riding in. They both reined in and exchanged long glances.

Then they urged their horses forward, each moving in a different direction.
The End..

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