Kindred Spirits (6/7) - fanfiction
Greetings Gentle Readers! Sorry for missing a week. The more than usual madness entered my life. But it’s back to business now and when last we left our Gwin he was in an ouchy place. Halbarad had Things to Discuss.
As ever your comments mean so very much to Le Muse and me. Never think that because I don’t respond that I don’t see your efforts. I do wish I had the time and energy to answer you. But please know that you make a difference. You make me smile inside and out. And Le greedy Muse devours all the precious goodies and still doesn’t share. Some non-corporeal entities never change.
*Sending pink floaty hearts*
Faramir, Devon and Gwinthorian join forces for an adventure and court Certain Doom.
Thank you, Kat, for being my constant companion year after year, the one I turn to for calm, sage advice and the bestest beta in all the land. I'm so fortunate in you.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. This story is not meant to violate the rights held by New Line, Tolkien Enterprises, nor any other licensee, nor is any disrespect intended. I don’t own Tolkien’s original characters, however, my OC’s, Gwinthorian, Garrick, Devon and several other Rangers are exclusively my own.
Chapter one is here.
Chapter two is here.
Chapter three is here.
Chapter four is here.
Chapter five is here.
Kindred Spirits(6/7)
by Larrkin
"Then let us get on with it," I said, and I flipped him back over my knee and settled him across my lap, rubbing his warm behind. Gwin mewed and fussed and wriggled until I pressed my arm down more firmly across his back, wrapped my hand around his narrow waist and said, "That is enough of that, Gwinthorian. We have more to discuss and your bottom is not nearly the color I want it to be."
"Ohhh, Hal, nooo . . .!"
Gwin whimpered and I patted his backside, saying, "Shhh, Gwinling. You know I am more than happy to see to all your needs. Nothing is too much for you, little one."
"OhhhnooooAHHHHHH!"
********
That first solid spank on my already hot bottom defies description. The burn re-ignites and my backside bursts into flames. So when my Hal's swat crashed down I sucked a huge breath, my legs shot straight out and I would have exploded from his lap had he not been holding me down with what seemed to be annoyingly little effort. Once more Halbarad settled into his determined pattern of spanking and once more I began my finest wailing.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Damrod assured us that no amount of noise can cause a cave-in, Gwinling, so feel free."
Considerate of Damrod. I felt free indeed, thank you very much. Ear-splittingly free. I always did no matter where we found ourselves at the time of my certain doom. "AHHHHHH! Hal, pleeease! I'm sorrry! P-Please, Hal, stop!"
I don't know why I babble during a spanking. It just slips out. It often surprises me. I sometimes wonder what I'll hear myself say next. It serves no practical purpose. Halbarad simply ignores it. Nevertheless, I lie beneath his solid restraining arm and stammer out nonsense, my bare bottom at his mercy.
Once, not long ago, I had gone slightly mad and tried to practice self-restraint, vowing to endure my spanking with silent dignity. I had been inspired by Aragorn, who had managed such restraint when Halbarad spanked him for his absurd Trillium horse trickery. Legolas and I watched Aragorn lying there, unresponsively taking his spanking, an astonishing sight as Halbarad was expressing his disapproval of Aragorn's reckless behavior quite eloquently all over his pup's swiftly reddening backside. There was something fascinating about Aragorn's stubborn resistance. But I thought that if he could do it, I could do it. I'd forgotten one vital contributing factor:
“Legolas, why does he not cry out?” I had asked whilst we watched Halbarad's hand fall again and again, lighting up Aragorn's reddening backside.
“Because he is Aragorn, sweetling.”
I did not then, nor would I ever possess the fortitude of Lord Elrond's youngest son and future King of Gondor. It was a relief to abandon my efforts. I never repeated that folly. Looking back on it the next day, my bottom still aching, I wondered what on earth I had hoped to achieve. Halbarad decides how much and for how long he is going to spank me and no amount of yelling, crying, pleading, apologizing or promising to never, ever misbehave again will influence my resolute Ranger.
"Gwinthorian."
"AHHHH!"
"Are we drifting?"
‘Tis never wise to answer this question honestly. "N-No, sir."
"Thinking on other matters?"
"Nev’r Hal'brad!"
"I am boring you then."
"Noooo! Not,not,not, sir!"
"I am glad to hear it. I sensed you had journeyed elsewhere."
Wretched Dúnedain.
"Nooo! Here, s-sir. Here with you."
"My mistake, little one."
"Uh-huh! R-Right here with you, Hal'brad."
"Good. Then, as I have your full attention, tell me, why did you agree to Faramir's plan?"
I was confused. I often was when Hal had been spanking me for awhile. But I thought we had just gone over this. It seemed too obvious an answer. I could think of nothing else, though, so I said, "Because I w-wanted to?"
"Is that a question?"
"No," I squirmed and kicked. He was being difficult and his spanks were stinging horribly. Ruthless Ranger, expecting me to carry on a conversation when my bottom was on fire and growing ever hotter. Ruthless, horrible, ruthless Ranger. "Noo, sir," I sputtered between whimpers and gasps. "Not a question. I-I-I did it because I wanted to do what I wanted to d-do."
"And?"
"And that was all that m-mattered."
I truly felt awful about that. I had thought only of my own excitement. How could I have been so dismissive of Hal's feelings? He was right. Whether or not he had in truth worried, I had chosen for him. I'd chosen what I wanted to do over what he might feel. I had been willing to let him worry.
Dev had tried to point all that out when attempting to dissuade me: "Think, Gwin. Think what Halbarad will say, what he'll do to you, how your disappearance will fill him with concern."
When would I learn to stop and listen to Devon? He wasn't always the voice of reason, but he was this time and I should have heeded him. I just thought Dev was being impossible and tiresome and he was threatening to ruin what looked to be a glorious adventure. What kind of selfish wretch chooses to do what I did? I buried my face in my arms and sobbed, thoroughly sick of myself.
Halbarad paused suddenly, resting his hand on my bottom. He was not finished, of course. Too early on and too much left unsaid. This was one of his interludes. He had something particular to talk over. I was ever in favor of Halbarad having something particular to talk over. He stopped spanking when he expected me to think more deeply.
But deeper thinking was often painful in a different way than a spanking was. Besides, I was hardly at my thinking best when my bottom was ablaze and I was breathless and crying and sick of myself. And I had lapsed once again into that awkward sluggishness of speech that went hand in hand with a long spanking. I seemed to have two minds at this point, the sensible inner one that spoke to myself and the elfling one that burbled out of my mouth to Halbarad.
"Shhhhh. Take a calming breath, sweetling. Shhhh," Hal said, his big hand slowly stroking the length of my hair, smoothing it all the way down my back.
"Why do you do that?" I asked him soon after we had met and we lay together after he'd spanked me. "Why do you pet my hair like that?"
"Because I love the feel of it," Halbarad murmured, twisting some of my locks between his large fingers. "And because it makes you purrrrr."
"I do not purr!"
He had laughed, flipped me onto my stomach, started his languid petting and quickly proven me wrong.
I now swallowed down a purr and did my utmost to take a 'calming breath,' unreasonable request though it was.
"Mmm. Good," Hal said after a few minutes. "Aye, you did what you wanted to do. That is true. All of you did. And each of you had your own hidden reasons for what you chose to do. 'Tis no excuse for what you did, but there is more to this than simply the desire for an adventure."
And now would come the hard part. My Ranger was about to demand that I actually think. I turned my head to the side and rested it on my folded arms, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He loomed over me, big and sturdy, a towering, solid warrior moving at what pace he chose as Halbarad ever did, especially when there was something important to discuss. I lay still, waiting, my bottom sizzling under his hand. How I wished he would rub that stinging skin. He had a gentle touch, despite the size of his paw. And then Hal sniffed a small chuckle and began rubbing. Ahhhhhh, the wondrous Dúnedain.
"Your sweet bottom hurts, does it not, little Gwin?" he said in his low, soft voice.
'Sweet' bottom indeed! The man ought not to be allowed. "Uh-huhhh," I whimpered. Given my current state I thought myself quite eloquent.
"You are out of practice," he said. "You have been too well-behaved of late. You haven't needed so much as a swat for . . . how long has it been? A week?"
Infuriating man. He knew how long it had been. I sniffled and muttered, "Aye, Hal'brad."
"Did you enjoy being well-behaved?"
"No."
"Why not?" he asked, sounding not the least bit surprised.
"Boring," I readily told him. "It was boring, my Hal."
"Boring. Aye," he said, a smile in his tone. "We shall come back to that, but first, tell me, why did you decide to suddenly start behaving yourself? You must admit it goes against your adventuresome nature, little one."
It was Hal's gentle, yet deep, 'important' voice, the one I could not resist. He stopped rubbing my bottom and petting my hair so that I would have nothing to distract me from thinking. I tensed. This was it. I felt it shoot through me. I knew where he was taking me. So I answered him honestly, croaking past the burning in my throat. "I wanted to show that-that--" I began to softly cry again, embarrassment heating my face and churning my stomach.
Halbarad patted my bottom. "Go on, Gwinling," he said. "'Tis alright. Tell me."
I rubbed my face over my arms and said, "I wanted to s-show that I could be t-trusted to behave."
"You wanted to show who?"
"You. Aragorn. Ev-Everyone."
"And why did you want to show everyone that you could be trusted to behave?"
I tried to calm down enough to answer him. Hal was being patient and gentle and soft-spoken as he always was when he knew something was hard for me. But he was insisting I speak about this and he wouldn't stop until I did. If I refused he would simply spank me some more and then ask me again and he could keep that up until the next Age. I knew what I had to say, and it sounded terrible. Petty and small-minded and envious, everything that I never wanted someone as fine as my Halbarad to see in me. But he patted my bottom again in that meaningful 'start talking' way. I swallowed hard.
"So that I could go to-to Osligi-Ogsili--"
"Osgiliath?"
"Uh-huh, so that next time I could g-go, too. So that I wouldn't be left behind next t-time. I did not like being left behind, my H-Hal," I rasped, barely able to form the words, and I burst into fresh tears and covered my head with my arms, wanting to vanish, wanting to hide myself from him, even though I knew he would understand and love me whether I deserved it or not.
"My love is not something you must earn, Gwinling," he had told me more than once. "It is yours for no other reason than you are who you are. And who you are is quite enough for me."
And somehow . . . somehow, although I had heard him say that in many ways, many countless times, and although I believed he was being truthful, something that big was too much for me to take inside myself, as if it made no sense that someone as magnificent as my Hal could see me at my worst and still want me. And although I never told him this, he said he understood, and I knew that he did, and, most importantly, he believed me when I told him there was nothing lacking on his part. My Hal was ever loving and truthful with me. I was the one at fault. I was the one who failed to take it in.
"Not b’cause you, Hal," I'd tell him. "N-Never you."
"I know, sweetling. Shh, hush now. I know," he would murmur, and he would simply hold me anyway and love me anyway.
How was he possible? Just how?
So when I felt him scoop me up now and gather me close I knew that he knew all that.
"Aye, sweetling," he said against my ear. "Shhh. I know."
He waited. He rocked and waited. Hal never rushed me through these times. He just held me until I wept my way through the awful badness within me. And when I grew weary of tears and slowed to draw shuddery breaths, he cradled me back against his arm. I felt him gaze down at me. I felt his big fingers wiping the wetness from my cheeks and smoothing the tangled hair from my face, but I couldn't raise my eyes to him, not until he said:
"Look at me, Gwinthorian."
I did. And there were my Hal's soft eyes. There was his gentle, accepting look and his hint of a reassuring smile. It sometimes set me off into more tears again, that look. "'Tis alright, sweetling," he said, as he ever said. "Everything is alright."
He leaned down and kissed my brow, saying, "I am proud of you. That was another hard thing to do, but you told me something you didn't want to tell me, something you felt ashamed of and embarrassed by. That was brave of you, little one."
I could only gaze stupidly up at him.
"Of course you wanted to go with Devon and Faramir," he said. "I would have been surprised if you hadn't felt excluded. There was nothing bad about how you felt, sweetling. But, as you are ever inclined to blame yourself for whatever unhappy thing has befallen you, you took Aragorn's decision as a judgment of your character. 'You were left out because you were unworthy. You weren't good enough to be chosen.' Is that what it felt like?"
I nodded. It is both wonderful and frightening when Halbarad understands me so flawlessly. It is frightening to feel so exposed and to know that he does see so much. But it is mostly wonderful, and for the same reason, for Halbarad sees me at my most unattractive and he still smiles that loving smile.
"Come," he said quite suddenly. "Sit up and we shall talk this out." And he pulled me up and settled me on his lap, spreading his legs a bit to let my sore backside dip in the slight opening between. This never is much of an improvement, but it is touching that he tries to ease my discomfort.
"Gwinthorian, Aragorn's decision had nothing to do with your worthiness or unworthiness, nor was it a judgment of your character," he said. "Aragorn loves you, sweetling. Do you think he would judge you harshly and punish you unfairly?"
At once I said, "No."
"No. Of course he would not. In fact, Aragorn would defend you against any who dared treat you cruelly."
I knew that. I swallowed hard. "Then why --?"
"There could be any number of reasons why Aragorn made the choice he made that day. It could be that he wanted Faramir to have a day away from the watchful eyes of his big brothers, including himself. Perhaps he felt that, as it had been several weeks since the sewer incident, it was time to give the lad a chance to show he could be trusted again with only a companion along for company. As you had already been to Osgiliath three times, assisting Boromir and Damrod and himself, Aragorn might have felt that Devon deserved the opportunity to go."
What Hal said made so much sense I felt my face grow hot. "I didn't think . . . ."
"Nay, you thought only of your imagined shortcomings," he said. "You were too busy blaming yourself for Aragorn's decision to consider other possible explanations."
I lowered my gaze and squirmed, my face growing hotter.
"And 'tis important to remember that none of us were in favor of the three of you going anywhere together by yourselves," he went on. "Plainly with good reason."
I winced and nodded.
"Look at me, Gwinthorian," he once again ordered in that tone I obeyed at once. His eyes were warm with gentle seriousness. "I cannot say for certain what was in Aragorn's mind that day. It matters not. His reasons were his own and his orders were to be followed and there's an end to it. But I do know that you weren't left behind because of any personal failings you chose to dream up. As ever, sweetling, you are your own worst enemy."
And suddenly Halbarad's gaze turned more forbidding and his tone took on a stern edge I didn't much care for. He said, "I understand why you think as you do, sweetling, but I won't permit you to listen to such lies."
I drew a sharp breath, knowing what was going to happen next, and even though I knew what Hal was about to do I felt compelled to try and escape it. "Hal," I said in a small voice, "would you, w-would you please hold me now?"
Halbarad merely snorted, picked me up and turned me over his knee again, saying, "No. We shall move on and come back to this in more detail during the week."
And there it was. Confirmation of the cursed 'every other day for a week' sentence we all hated. It came as no surprise, but even when I knew I deserved it I still objected to it. "Oh, Hal!" I cried out, "Noooo!"
"You knew your fate the moment you mounted your horse and stole away to Osgiliath, Gwinling."
Halbarad settled my stomach over his solid thighs, wrapped his arm around me again and tucked me close to him. Every muscle that had eased during his interlude now tightened to the point of trembling. We were, Valar help me, 'moving on,' and I was about to once more feel Halbarad's big palm spanking my already stinging bottom, except that my bottom was stinging even more now, blazing, in fact, and my heartless, beloved Ranger was still moving on. And when you know all that, and you cannot escape what is about to happen, well, you cannot help but, Valar help me again, tense.
***********
"Hal! Noooooo!"
It helps Gwinthorian to babble, even when he knows it made no difference. "Aye, little one," I said, lifting my hand.
"NoooAHHHHHHHHH!"
Once again Gwin's cries echoed 'round the stone walls, his slender legs jolted straight at my first spank and he began to kick. Even when his strength is waning Gwinthorian has a vigorous kick. His bottom was now a rosy red and he was nearing his limit of endurance, but my elfling had some reserves left and I wasn't yet finished with him.
I couldn't have been more proud of him for persevering so nobly through the most difficult torments that ate away at him. Those needed to be addressed first, for when Gwin did something he felt wholly ashamed of he could concentrate on nothing else until we settled the matter. He needed to hear again what I never tired of telling him, that no matter what he did and no matter what his evil inner orcs tried to tell him, he was safe and loved and nothing could ever destroy that.
Now we could move on to the actual deed itself, which was considerable. Every other day this week we would discuss the matter at greater length, and we would purge his guilt and he would say his sorries and order would be reestablished. But 'twas best to let Gwinthorian know that I understood all the particulars involved and intended to leave nothing out. He would be comforted by that assurance.
"Have I your full attention, young sir, or are you off wandering in your mind?"
"I'm here, Hal'brad!" he managed to sputter through his crying. "Full 'ten-tention!"
"Good. Then let us state the facts before us," I said, slowing my spanks to help him concentrate. Gwinthorian groaned. "When Aragorn sent Devon and Faramir to Osgiliath you were angry, were you not?"
"Uh-huhhh!"
"Angry and hurt."
"Uh-huhhh!"
"Words, little elfling. Answer me correctly. Kindly do not 'uh-huh' me."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
"Very good," I said. "You assumed that Aragorn didn't permit you to join Devon and Faramir because you were flawed, or wrong, or too untrustworthy. Is that not so?"
"Uh-hu - uh, yes, sirrrr! Hal'brad, owww! Please,please,pleeease!"
"So you decided to show Aragorn and everyone else that you were a well-behaved Ranger worthy of trust. Then, perhaps, you would be permitted to go to Osgiliath the next time Aragorn made a similar decision. Correct?"
Gwin whimpered, squeezed my cloak in his fists and rubbed his face over the cloth. "Y-Yes, sirrr!"
"You behaved yourself for a week, but you were, as you told me, bored."
I did not add that the Grey Company had watched Gwin's doings with feigned disinterest and a covert, perplexed fascination.
"This is about Osgiliath I take it," Garrick had muttered to me on day four of Gwin's venture into restraint.
"It is," I'd replied. "What does Devon have to say about it?"
"Devon is as true to Gwinthorian as ever, but he is also giving him a wide berth. He said 'tis but a matter of time before Gwin reaches his breaking point, and he wouldst rather not be in the vicinity when that happens."
"Wise lad."
"B-Bored!" Gwin replied. "Yess, sir. Boring, m-muchly bored."
"Aye. So you seemed." My elfling had been increasingly tense and miserable during that long week, his unhappiness building until he was ripe for roguery, any kind of roguery. "And just when you had decided that a life of boring good behavior was not for you, Faramir appeared with his plan and off you went to Ithilien without a word to anyone. Does that sum matters up?"
"Aye, H-Hal. Summed. All s-summed."
"Aye, sweetling. And 'tis quite enough."
I tipped my knee up and Gwin gasped and squeaked even before I began spanking that soft curve beneath his bottom. Despite having little energy remaining, he sent some astounding wails throughout the chamber and wriggled about in a somewhat futile manner until he finally lost all control and indulged in his most desperate move. Gwin threw his hand back, palm up, wildly trying to reach the tender place I was spanking. I was actually surprised he'd saved this until now. Gwin usually tried to cover his bottom with his hand earlier on in a spanking.
"I shall count to three, Gwinthorian. If I must remove that hand for you I shall double the spanks to this sweet place 'neath your backside. One. Tw - very good. Thank you. To continue--" And I did, swatting away with precise, crisp spanks until his soft undercurve was warm and rosy. Returning to his much redder backside I rested my hand there.
Gwinthorian collapsed, surrendered now to simply sobbing. There was no resistance left in him. There never had been any outward resistance, save when he became indignant over the fact that there were scouts guarding their passage through the forest and I had, therefore, suffered no genuine worry. Unlike Aragorn, who sometimes felt the need to physically fight me ere I became tired of indulging him, scooped him up and tossed him over my knee, Gwin accepted what he knew he had earned. He accepted it the moment he decided to do what he knew he shouldn't do, securing for himself the attention he craved.
But Gwin had no further reserves left today, so I patted his back and quietly said, "Would you like to repeat what you told me earlier, little one?"
"Uh-hu . . . yesssirr. P-Pleeease. I-I would like that."
"Go on then, sweetling."
"S-Sorry!" he quickly cried out. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, H-Hal. So, sooo sorrrrryyy!"
"Shhhhhh," I said. "Shhh, I know. Hush now. Lie still and rest. 'Tis alright now, my Gwinling. All is well. You are safe, and all is forgiven."
Forgiveness always hit Gwinthorian hard. He had experienced too little of it for too long, and although I had been freely forgiving him since I first began spanking him, he yet needed time to feel it course through him and to weep over it being so readily offered to him. I waited, murmuring the soothing words and soft sounds my Gwin craved, giving him all the time he wanted and holding him safe over my lap where I knew he longed to be and where I longed to keep him. I lightly palmed my hand over his bottom and stroked his soft, liquid mane, starting at the top of his head and gliding slowly, slowly down to the feathery ends of his bright tresses, where I lingered to rub his back before starting over. And when he began to purr between hiccups and weepy little shudders I smiled down at him, my chest swelling and filling with warmth. Gwinthorian, well-spanked and at peace, was impossibly endearing. And he was mine. Safe over my knee and mine. Gwin was melting now, every muscle relaxed, and yet he was nonetheless aware, listening for something he loved to hear as much as I loved to tell him:
"You are part of me, Gwinthorian. You are dear to my heart. I shall never leave you, nor will I abandon you to your own harmful whims. Do you understand, my love?"
It ever triggered new tears, the words Gwin had named his 'Beautiful Litany,' yet he managed to breath in a hushed, quivering tone, "Na, Hal."
I let him lie there a bit longer, then I murmured, "Come then, Gwinling." I gathered up his small, limp body, enfolding him to me and saying, "Come. Let me hold you."
He pressed himself to me, struggling to tilt his sore backside off my lap until I slung my forearm under his behind and lifted him up. "I know," I murmured against his ear, "your bottom hurts." He nodded, mewling in his 'I am an overly-spanked and pitiable elfling' manner.
"T-Too much," he whimpered with typical woe. "Too much s-spanking, my H-Hal."
I grinned and nuzzled his soft hair and said, "Mmmmm. I know. I am a heartless brute, my wee Gwin."
"Nooooooo!" He tightened his hold around my shoulders. "N-Not a heartless! Not a brute! Not my Hal! Not,not,not!"
I chuckled quietly. "If you insist."
Pressing his face against my neck, Gwin snuggled as close as he could short of wriggling his way into my clothes. I rocked him, feeling his warm breath on my skin and watching his slender fingers play with the ends of my hair, and when he felt ready he asked the question I had been expecting.
"Are you . . . are you angry with me, my Hal?"
Such a quiet, plaintive tone. He knew the answer, of course, having asked the same question countless times. But routine was comforting to Gwin, so I said, "Nay, sweetling. I was --"
"-- angry 'bout what I did. N-Not angry with me."
I grinned and drew him back to look at him. He peered at me, seeming astonished by his own words. "Clever little elfling," I said. "If you knew the answer why did you ask the question?"
He shrugged and looked off in his vague, searching manner, and said, "I . . . don't know why . . . I think I answered because I . . . I wanted you to know that I knew the answer." He turned back to me, suddenly shy, "But you say it better than I think it." I grinned at him, and, eyes sparkling, he went on: "I . . . I like to hear you tell me, my Hal, even when I already know it. I like to hear you say the words."
I kissed his brow, then said, "I am not now, nor was I ever angry with you. I was angry about what you did, Gwinthorian. And do you know why?"
Gwin studied me, his eyes wide. "Because I endangered myself needlessly?"
"You endangered yourself needlessly. And?"
"And there is nothing more to say," he murmured.
I nodded. "You endangered yourself for no good reason, and that alone, first and foremost, is what matters. There is nothing more to say."
He was silent for a moment, then his quiet gaze turned perplexed. "But, we shall say more about it; we shall talk more about what Dev and Faramir and I did, won't we?"
"Indeed," I replied, aware that Gwin knew all this as well, but that it was something else he needed to hear me tell him. "You have been forgiven, but every other day this week we shall discuss what the three of you did. Thoroughly."
He sighed and curled against me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders again. "Then Faramir and Devon will suffer the same dire fate."
I kissed his silky cheek. "Faramir and Devon chose the same dire fate."
to be continued
As ever your comments mean so very much to Le Muse and me. Never think that because I don’t respond that I don’t see your efforts. I do wish I had the time and energy to answer you. But please know that you make a difference. You make me smile inside and out. And Le greedy Muse devours all the precious goodies and still doesn’t share. Some non-corporeal entities never change.
*Sending pink floaty hearts*
Faramir, Devon and Gwinthorian join forces for an adventure and court Certain Doom.
Thank you, Kat, for being my constant companion year after year, the one I turn to for calm, sage advice and the bestest beta in all the land. I'm so fortunate in you.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. This story is not meant to violate the rights held by New Line, Tolkien Enterprises, nor any other licensee, nor is any disrespect intended. I don’t own Tolkien’s original characters, however, my OC’s, Gwinthorian, Garrick, Devon and several other Rangers are exclusively my own.
Chapter one is here.
Chapter two is here.
Chapter three is here.
Chapter four is here.
Chapter five is here.
Kindred Spirits(6/7)
by Larrkin
"Then let us get on with it," I said, and I flipped him back over my knee and settled him across my lap, rubbing his warm behind. Gwin mewed and fussed and wriggled until I pressed my arm down more firmly across his back, wrapped my hand around his narrow waist and said, "That is enough of that, Gwinthorian. We have more to discuss and your bottom is not nearly the color I want it to be."
"Ohhh, Hal, nooo . . .!"
Gwin whimpered and I patted his backside, saying, "Shhh, Gwinling. You know I am more than happy to see to all your needs. Nothing is too much for you, little one."
"OhhhnooooAHHHHHH!"
********
That first solid spank on my already hot bottom defies description. The burn re-ignites and my backside bursts into flames. So when my Hal's swat crashed down I sucked a huge breath, my legs shot straight out and I would have exploded from his lap had he not been holding me down with what seemed to be annoyingly little effort. Once more Halbarad settled into his determined pattern of spanking and once more I began my finest wailing.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Damrod assured us that no amount of noise can cause a cave-in, Gwinling, so feel free."
Considerate of Damrod. I felt free indeed, thank you very much. Ear-splittingly free. I always did no matter where we found ourselves at the time of my certain doom. "AHHHHHH! Hal, pleeease! I'm sorrry! P-Please, Hal, stop!"
I don't know why I babble during a spanking. It just slips out. It often surprises me. I sometimes wonder what I'll hear myself say next. It serves no practical purpose. Halbarad simply ignores it. Nevertheless, I lie beneath his solid restraining arm and stammer out nonsense, my bare bottom at his mercy.
Once, not long ago, I had gone slightly mad and tried to practice self-restraint, vowing to endure my spanking with silent dignity. I had been inspired by Aragorn, who had managed such restraint when Halbarad spanked him for his absurd Trillium horse trickery. Legolas and I watched Aragorn lying there, unresponsively taking his spanking, an astonishing sight as Halbarad was expressing his disapproval of Aragorn's reckless behavior quite eloquently all over his pup's swiftly reddening backside. There was something fascinating about Aragorn's stubborn resistance. But I thought that if he could do it, I could do it. I'd forgotten one vital contributing factor:
“Legolas, why does he not cry out?” I had asked whilst we watched Halbarad's hand fall again and again, lighting up Aragorn's reddening backside.
“Because he is Aragorn, sweetling.”
I did not then, nor would I ever possess the fortitude of Lord Elrond's youngest son and future King of Gondor. It was a relief to abandon my efforts. I never repeated that folly. Looking back on it the next day, my bottom still aching, I wondered what on earth I had hoped to achieve. Halbarad decides how much and for how long he is going to spank me and no amount of yelling, crying, pleading, apologizing or promising to never, ever misbehave again will influence my resolute Ranger.
"Gwinthorian."
"AHHHH!"
"Are we drifting?"
‘Tis never wise to answer this question honestly. "N-No, sir."
"Thinking on other matters?"
"Nev’r Hal'brad!"
"I am boring you then."
"Noooo! Not,not,not, sir!"
"I am glad to hear it. I sensed you had journeyed elsewhere."
Wretched Dúnedain.
"Nooo! Here, s-sir. Here with you."
"My mistake, little one."
"Uh-huh! R-Right here with you, Hal'brad."
"Good. Then, as I have your full attention, tell me, why did you agree to Faramir's plan?"
I was confused. I often was when Hal had been spanking me for awhile. But I thought we had just gone over this. It seemed too obvious an answer. I could think of nothing else, though, so I said, "Because I w-wanted to?"
"Is that a question?"
"No," I squirmed and kicked. He was being difficult and his spanks were stinging horribly. Ruthless Ranger, expecting me to carry on a conversation when my bottom was on fire and growing ever hotter. Ruthless, horrible, ruthless Ranger. "Noo, sir," I sputtered between whimpers and gasps. "Not a question. I-I-I did it because I wanted to do what I wanted to d-do."
"And?"
"And that was all that m-mattered."
I truly felt awful about that. I had thought only of my own excitement. How could I have been so dismissive of Hal's feelings? He was right. Whether or not he had in truth worried, I had chosen for him. I'd chosen what I wanted to do over what he might feel. I had been willing to let him worry.
Dev had tried to point all that out when attempting to dissuade me: "Think, Gwin. Think what Halbarad will say, what he'll do to you, how your disappearance will fill him with concern."
When would I learn to stop and listen to Devon? He wasn't always the voice of reason, but he was this time and I should have heeded him. I just thought Dev was being impossible and tiresome and he was threatening to ruin what looked to be a glorious adventure. What kind of selfish wretch chooses to do what I did? I buried my face in my arms and sobbed, thoroughly sick of myself.
Halbarad paused suddenly, resting his hand on my bottom. He was not finished, of course. Too early on and too much left unsaid. This was one of his interludes. He had something particular to talk over. I was ever in favor of Halbarad having something particular to talk over. He stopped spanking when he expected me to think more deeply.
But deeper thinking was often painful in a different way than a spanking was. Besides, I was hardly at my thinking best when my bottom was ablaze and I was breathless and crying and sick of myself. And I had lapsed once again into that awkward sluggishness of speech that went hand in hand with a long spanking. I seemed to have two minds at this point, the sensible inner one that spoke to myself and the elfling one that burbled out of my mouth to Halbarad.
"Shhhhh. Take a calming breath, sweetling. Shhhh," Hal said, his big hand slowly stroking the length of my hair, smoothing it all the way down my back.
"Why do you do that?" I asked him soon after we had met and we lay together after he'd spanked me. "Why do you pet my hair like that?"
"Because I love the feel of it," Halbarad murmured, twisting some of my locks between his large fingers. "And because it makes you purrrrr."
"I do not purr!"
He had laughed, flipped me onto my stomach, started his languid petting and quickly proven me wrong.
I now swallowed down a purr and did my utmost to take a 'calming breath,' unreasonable request though it was.
"Mmm. Good," Hal said after a few minutes. "Aye, you did what you wanted to do. That is true. All of you did. And each of you had your own hidden reasons for what you chose to do. 'Tis no excuse for what you did, but there is more to this than simply the desire for an adventure."
And now would come the hard part. My Ranger was about to demand that I actually think. I turned my head to the side and rested it on my folded arms, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He loomed over me, big and sturdy, a towering, solid warrior moving at what pace he chose as Halbarad ever did, especially when there was something important to discuss. I lay still, waiting, my bottom sizzling under his hand. How I wished he would rub that stinging skin. He had a gentle touch, despite the size of his paw. And then Hal sniffed a small chuckle and began rubbing. Ahhhhhh, the wondrous Dúnedain.
"Your sweet bottom hurts, does it not, little Gwin?" he said in his low, soft voice.
'Sweet' bottom indeed! The man ought not to be allowed. "Uh-huhhh," I whimpered. Given my current state I thought myself quite eloquent.
"You are out of practice," he said. "You have been too well-behaved of late. You haven't needed so much as a swat for . . . how long has it been? A week?"
Infuriating man. He knew how long it had been. I sniffled and muttered, "Aye, Hal'brad."
"Did you enjoy being well-behaved?"
"No."
"Why not?" he asked, sounding not the least bit surprised.
"Boring," I readily told him. "It was boring, my Hal."
"Boring. Aye," he said, a smile in his tone. "We shall come back to that, but first, tell me, why did you decide to suddenly start behaving yourself? You must admit it goes against your adventuresome nature, little one."
It was Hal's gentle, yet deep, 'important' voice, the one I could not resist. He stopped rubbing my bottom and petting my hair so that I would have nothing to distract me from thinking. I tensed. This was it. I felt it shoot through me. I knew where he was taking me. So I answered him honestly, croaking past the burning in my throat. "I wanted to show that-that--" I began to softly cry again, embarrassment heating my face and churning my stomach.
Halbarad patted my bottom. "Go on, Gwinling," he said. "'Tis alright. Tell me."
I rubbed my face over my arms and said, "I wanted to s-show that I could be t-trusted to behave."
"You wanted to show who?"
"You. Aragorn. Ev-Everyone."
"And why did you want to show everyone that you could be trusted to behave?"
I tried to calm down enough to answer him. Hal was being patient and gentle and soft-spoken as he always was when he knew something was hard for me. But he was insisting I speak about this and he wouldn't stop until I did. If I refused he would simply spank me some more and then ask me again and he could keep that up until the next Age. I knew what I had to say, and it sounded terrible. Petty and small-minded and envious, everything that I never wanted someone as fine as my Halbarad to see in me. But he patted my bottom again in that meaningful 'start talking' way. I swallowed hard.
"So that I could go to-to Osligi-Ogsili--"
"Osgiliath?"
"Uh-huh, so that next time I could g-go, too. So that I wouldn't be left behind next t-time. I did not like being left behind, my H-Hal," I rasped, barely able to form the words, and I burst into fresh tears and covered my head with my arms, wanting to vanish, wanting to hide myself from him, even though I knew he would understand and love me whether I deserved it or not.
"My love is not something you must earn, Gwinling," he had told me more than once. "It is yours for no other reason than you are who you are. And who you are is quite enough for me."
And somehow . . . somehow, although I had heard him say that in many ways, many countless times, and although I believed he was being truthful, something that big was too much for me to take inside myself, as if it made no sense that someone as magnificent as my Hal could see me at my worst and still want me. And although I never told him this, he said he understood, and I knew that he did, and, most importantly, he believed me when I told him there was nothing lacking on his part. My Hal was ever loving and truthful with me. I was the one at fault. I was the one who failed to take it in.
"Not b’cause you, Hal," I'd tell him. "N-Never you."
"I know, sweetling. Shh, hush now. I know," he would murmur, and he would simply hold me anyway and love me anyway.
How was he possible? Just how?
So when I felt him scoop me up now and gather me close I knew that he knew all that.
"Aye, sweetling," he said against my ear. "Shhh. I know."
He waited. He rocked and waited. Hal never rushed me through these times. He just held me until I wept my way through the awful badness within me. And when I grew weary of tears and slowed to draw shuddery breaths, he cradled me back against his arm. I felt him gaze down at me. I felt his big fingers wiping the wetness from my cheeks and smoothing the tangled hair from my face, but I couldn't raise my eyes to him, not until he said:
"Look at me, Gwinthorian."
I did. And there were my Hal's soft eyes. There was his gentle, accepting look and his hint of a reassuring smile. It sometimes set me off into more tears again, that look. "'Tis alright, sweetling," he said, as he ever said. "Everything is alright."
He leaned down and kissed my brow, saying, "I am proud of you. That was another hard thing to do, but you told me something you didn't want to tell me, something you felt ashamed of and embarrassed by. That was brave of you, little one."
I could only gaze stupidly up at him.
"Of course you wanted to go with Devon and Faramir," he said. "I would have been surprised if you hadn't felt excluded. There was nothing bad about how you felt, sweetling. But, as you are ever inclined to blame yourself for whatever unhappy thing has befallen you, you took Aragorn's decision as a judgment of your character. 'You were left out because you were unworthy. You weren't good enough to be chosen.' Is that what it felt like?"
I nodded. It is both wonderful and frightening when Halbarad understands me so flawlessly. It is frightening to feel so exposed and to know that he does see so much. But it is mostly wonderful, and for the same reason, for Halbarad sees me at my most unattractive and he still smiles that loving smile.
"Come," he said quite suddenly. "Sit up and we shall talk this out." And he pulled me up and settled me on his lap, spreading his legs a bit to let my sore backside dip in the slight opening between. This never is much of an improvement, but it is touching that he tries to ease my discomfort.
"Gwinthorian, Aragorn's decision had nothing to do with your worthiness or unworthiness, nor was it a judgment of your character," he said. "Aragorn loves you, sweetling. Do you think he would judge you harshly and punish you unfairly?"
At once I said, "No."
"No. Of course he would not. In fact, Aragorn would defend you against any who dared treat you cruelly."
I knew that. I swallowed hard. "Then why --?"
"There could be any number of reasons why Aragorn made the choice he made that day. It could be that he wanted Faramir to have a day away from the watchful eyes of his big brothers, including himself. Perhaps he felt that, as it had been several weeks since the sewer incident, it was time to give the lad a chance to show he could be trusted again with only a companion along for company. As you had already been to Osgiliath three times, assisting Boromir and Damrod and himself, Aragorn might have felt that Devon deserved the opportunity to go."
What Hal said made so much sense I felt my face grow hot. "I didn't think . . . ."
"Nay, you thought only of your imagined shortcomings," he said. "You were too busy blaming yourself for Aragorn's decision to consider other possible explanations."
I lowered my gaze and squirmed, my face growing hotter.
"And 'tis important to remember that none of us were in favor of the three of you going anywhere together by yourselves," he went on. "Plainly with good reason."
I winced and nodded.
"Look at me, Gwinthorian," he once again ordered in that tone I obeyed at once. His eyes were warm with gentle seriousness. "I cannot say for certain what was in Aragorn's mind that day. It matters not. His reasons were his own and his orders were to be followed and there's an end to it. But I do know that you weren't left behind because of any personal failings you chose to dream up. As ever, sweetling, you are your own worst enemy."
And suddenly Halbarad's gaze turned more forbidding and his tone took on a stern edge I didn't much care for. He said, "I understand why you think as you do, sweetling, but I won't permit you to listen to such lies."
I drew a sharp breath, knowing what was going to happen next, and even though I knew what Hal was about to do I felt compelled to try and escape it. "Hal," I said in a small voice, "would you, w-would you please hold me now?"
Halbarad merely snorted, picked me up and turned me over his knee again, saying, "No. We shall move on and come back to this in more detail during the week."
And there it was. Confirmation of the cursed 'every other day for a week' sentence we all hated. It came as no surprise, but even when I knew I deserved it I still objected to it. "Oh, Hal!" I cried out, "Noooo!"
"You knew your fate the moment you mounted your horse and stole away to Osgiliath, Gwinling."
Halbarad settled my stomach over his solid thighs, wrapped his arm around me again and tucked me close to him. Every muscle that had eased during his interlude now tightened to the point of trembling. We were, Valar help me, 'moving on,' and I was about to once more feel Halbarad's big palm spanking my already stinging bottom, except that my bottom was stinging even more now, blazing, in fact, and my heartless, beloved Ranger was still moving on. And when you know all that, and you cannot escape what is about to happen, well, you cannot help but, Valar help me again, tense.
***********
"Hal! Noooooo!"
It helps Gwinthorian to babble, even when he knows it made no difference. "Aye, little one," I said, lifting my hand.
"NoooAHHHHHHHHH!"
Once again Gwin's cries echoed 'round the stone walls, his slender legs jolted straight at my first spank and he began to kick. Even when his strength is waning Gwinthorian has a vigorous kick. His bottom was now a rosy red and he was nearing his limit of endurance, but my elfling had some reserves left and I wasn't yet finished with him.
I couldn't have been more proud of him for persevering so nobly through the most difficult torments that ate away at him. Those needed to be addressed first, for when Gwin did something he felt wholly ashamed of he could concentrate on nothing else until we settled the matter. He needed to hear again what I never tired of telling him, that no matter what he did and no matter what his evil inner orcs tried to tell him, he was safe and loved and nothing could ever destroy that.
Now we could move on to the actual deed itself, which was considerable. Every other day this week we would discuss the matter at greater length, and we would purge his guilt and he would say his sorries and order would be reestablished. But 'twas best to let Gwinthorian know that I understood all the particulars involved and intended to leave nothing out. He would be comforted by that assurance.
"Have I your full attention, young sir, or are you off wandering in your mind?"
"I'm here, Hal'brad!" he managed to sputter through his crying. "Full 'ten-tention!"
"Good. Then let us state the facts before us," I said, slowing my spanks to help him concentrate. Gwinthorian groaned. "When Aragorn sent Devon and Faramir to Osgiliath you were angry, were you not?"
"Uh-huhhh!"
"Angry and hurt."
"Uh-huhhh!"
"Words, little elfling. Answer me correctly. Kindly do not 'uh-huh' me."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
"Very good," I said. "You assumed that Aragorn didn't permit you to join Devon and Faramir because you were flawed, or wrong, or too untrustworthy. Is that not so?"
"Uh-hu - uh, yes, sirrrr! Hal'brad, owww! Please,please,pleeease!"
"So you decided to show Aragorn and everyone else that you were a well-behaved Ranger worthy of trust. Then, perhaps, you would be permitted to go to Osgiliath the next time Aragorn made a similar decision. Correct?"
Gwin whimpered, squeezed my cloak in his fists and rubbed his face over the cloth. "Y-Yes, sirrr!"
"You behaved yourself for a week, but you were, as you told me, bored."
I did not add that the Grey Company had watched Gwin's doings with feigned disinterest and a covert, perplexed fascination.
"This is about Osgiliath I take it," Garrick had muttered to me on day four of Gwin's venture into restraint.
"It is," I'd replied. "What does Devon have to say about it?"
"Devon is as true to Gwinthorian as ever, but he is also giving him a wide berth. He said 'tis but a matter of time before Gwin reaches his breaking point, and he wouldst rather not be in the vicinity when that happens."
"Wise lad."
"B-Bored!" Gwin replied. "Yess, sir. Boring, m-muchly bored."
"Aye. So you seemed." My elfling had been increasingly tense and miserable during that long week, his unhappiness building until he was ripe for roguery, any kind of roguery. "And just when you had decided that a life of boring good behavior was not for you, Faramir appeared with his plan and off you went to Ithilien without a word to anyone. Does that sum matters up?"
"Aye, H-Hal. Summed. All s-summed."
"Aye, sweetling. And 'tis quite enough."
I tipped my knee up and Gwin gasped and squeaked even before I began spanking that soft curve beneath his bottom. Despite having little energy remaining, he sent some astounding wails throughout the chamber and wriggled about in a somewhat futile manner until he finally lost all control and indulged in his most desperate move. Gwin threw his hand back, palm up, wildly trying to reach the tender place I was spanking. I was actually surprised he'd saved this until now. Gwin usually tried to cover his bottom with his hand earlier on in a spanking.
"I shall count to three, Gwinthorian. If I must remove that hand for you I shall double the spanks to this sweet place 'neath your backside. One. Tw - very good. Thank you. To continue--" And I did, swatting away with precise, crisp spanks until his soft undercurve was warm and rosy. Returning to his much redder backside I rested my hand there.
Gwinthorian collapsed, surrendered now to simply sobbing. There was no resistance left in him. There never had been any outward resistance, save when he became indignant over the fact that there were scouts guarding their passage through the forest and I had, therefore, suffered no genuine worry. Unlike Aragorn, who sometimes felt the need to physically fight me ere I became tired of indulging him, scooped him up and tossed him over my knee, Gwin accepted what he knew he had earned. He accepted it the moment he decided to do what he knew he shouldn't do, securing for himself the attention he craved.
But Gwin had no further reserves left today, so I patted his back and quietly said, "Would you like to repeat what you told me earlier, little one?"
"Uh-hu . . . yesssirr. P-Pleeease. I-I would like that."
"Go on then, sweetling."
"S-Sorry!" he quickly cried out. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, H-Hal. So, sooo sorrrrryyy!"
"Shhhhhh," I said. "Shhh, I know. Hush now. Lie still and rest. 'Tis alright now, my Gwinling. All is well. You are safe, and all is forgiven."
Forgiveness always hit Gwinthorian hard. He had experienced too little of it for too long, and although I had been freely forgiving him since I first began spanking him, he yet needed time to feel it course through him and to weep over it being so readily offered to him. I waited, murmuring the soothing words and soft sounds my Gwin craved, giving him all the time he wanted and holding him safe over my lap where I knew he longed to be and where I longed to keep him. I lightly palmed my hand over his bottom and stroked his soft, liquid mane, starting at the top of his head and gliding slowly, slowly down to the feathery ends of his bright tresses, where I lingered to rub his back before starting over. And when he began to purr between hiccups and weepy little shudders I smiled down at him, my chest swelling and filling with warmth. Gwinthorian, well-spanked and at peace, was impossibly endearing. And he was mine. Safe over my knee and mine. Gwin was melting now, every muscle relaxed, and yet he was nonetheless aware, listening for something he loved to hear as much as I loved to tell him:
"You are part of me, Gwinthorian. You are dear to my heart. I shall never leave you, nor will I abandon you to your own harmful whims. Do you understand, my love?"
It ever triggered new tears, the words Gwin had named his 'Beautiful Litany,' yet he managed to breath in a hushed, quivering tone, "Na, Hal."
I let him lie there a bit longer, then I murmured, "Come then, Gwinling." I gathered up his small, limp body, enfolding him to me and saying, "Come. Let me hold you."
He pressed himself to me, struggling to tilt his sore backside off my lap until I slung my forearm under his behind and lifted him up. "I know," I murmured against his ear, "your bottom hurts." He nodded, mewling in his 'I am an overly-spanked and pitiable elfling' manner.
"T-Too much," he whimpered with typical woe. "Too much s-spanking, my H-Hal."
I grinned and nuzzled his soft hair and said, "Mmmmm. I know. I am a heartless brute, my wee Gwin."
"Nooooooo!" He tightened his hold around my shoulders. "N-Not a heartless! Not a brute! Not my Hal! Not,not,not!"
I chuckled quietly. "If you insist."
Pressing his face against my neck, Gwin snuggled as close as he could short of wriggling his way into my clothes. I rocked him, feeling his warm breath on my skin and watching his slender fingers play with the ends of my hair, and when he felt ready he asked the question I had been expecting.
"Are you . . . are you angry with me, my Hal?"
Such a quiet, plaintive tone. He knew the answer, of course, having asked the same question countless times. But routine was comforting to Gwin, so I said, "Nay, sweetling. I was --"
"-- angry 'bout what I did. N-Not angry with me."
I grinned and drew him back to look at him. He peered at me, seeming astonished by his own words. "Clever little elfling," I said. "If you knew the answer why did you ask the question?"
He shrugged and looked off in his vague, searching manner, and said, "I . . . don't know why . . . I think I answered because I . . . I wanted you to know that I knew the answer." He turned back to me, suddenly shy, "But you say it better than I think it." I grinned at him, and, eyes sparkling, he went on: "I . . . I like to hear you tell me, my Hal, even when I already know it. I like to hear you say the words."
I kissed his brow, then said, "I am not now, nor was I ever angry with you. I was angry about what you did, Gwinthorian. And do you know why?"
Gwin studied me, his eyes wide. "Because I endangered myself needlessly?"
"You endangered yourself needlessly. And?"
"And there is nothing more to say," he murmured.
I nodded. "You endangered yourself for no good reason, and that alone, first and foremost, is what matters. There is nothing more to say."
He was silent for a moment, then his quiet gaze turned perplexed. "But, we shall say more about it; we shall talk more about what Dev and Faramir and I did, won't we?"
"Indeed," I replied, aware that Gwin knew all this as well, but that it was something else he needed to hear me tell him. "You have been forgiven, but every other day this week we shall discuss what the three of you did. Thoroughly."
He sighed and curled against me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders again. "Then Faramir and Devon will suffer the same dire fate."
I kissed his silky cheek. "Faramir and Devon chose the same dire fate."
to be continued