Bree Games 2
Title: Bree Games
Author: Claudia
Pairing: F/A, F/everyone else
Rating: NC17
Summary: There are some roads Frodo should never have
taken?
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money
from them.
Story notes: More fluff? This is probably my ultimate in
Frodo filth. Prostitution, graphic sex, other crimes to
Tolkien, mpreg? Heh. Not yet, but I'm open to it. I mean,
I'm RILLY going to Tolkien Hell for this one.
"My name should not matter to you," the Man said Butterbur's meaty hand grabbed Frodo by the front of his shirt and lifted him easily, swinging him behind him and setting him with surprising gentleness on the ground. He then stepped in front of Vik, shaking with fury.
"Get out of my inn! How dare you…this hobbit has been abused enough…How dare you force yourself on him!"
"No, Butterbur," Frodo said weakly, and Butterbur spun around to face him, jabbing his finger in his face.
"You! Go to the kitchen and start washing-double quick! I'm not done talking to you, neither!"
"I apologize," Vik said, putting his hands out, palms up, in surrender. "I did not mean to cause trouble. Please do not blame Frodo, for I forced him away from his duties. But tell me, Butterbur. If he has been so abused in this environment, why do you not just let him go?"
Frodo's heart sped, but he had no hope that Vik's words would make an impact. The lawman that had been talking to
Butterbur joined them. "Do we have a problem here?"
"Accompany this man out of my inn," Butterbur said in disgust.
"There is no need for that," Vik said, getting up and putting several coins on the table. He paused a moment, looking at Butterbur with an expression so cold that it made Frodo shiver. "And you better make certain that no new bruises end up on that halfling or I will make you personally responsible."
He then nodded to Frodo, who was still standing on trembling legs behind Butterbur.
Once Vik was out the door, Butterbur took Frodo by the shoulder and pushed him through the inn, heedless of the customers who needed refills. Frodo's heart battered frantically as he wondered how much Butterbur had seen and heard. The coin Vik had given him was still warm in his hand, and he slipped it in his pocket.
Butterbur took Frodo into the kitchen and knelt in front of Frodo. "Now let's have no more games, halfling. How much money have you made on the side since you started working for me?"
Frodo took in steady breaths, trying to read the innkeeper's shrewd face. Butterbur could not hurt him. He had been afraid of Vik. But he could turn him into the lawman.
"Nothing," Frodo said softly. He had never been capable of deceit-Bilbo had always sensed when he was not being truthful-and now he could already see that Butterbur did not believe him.
Butterbur jammed his hand into Frodo's pocket suddenly and retrieved the coin that Vik had given him. He turned hard eyes to the hobbit.
"Nearly enough to pay my debt," Frodo whispered, shaking so hard he could barely stand. "The coins are in my bag in my room. Will you not take them and let me go?"
"You got this from that fellow just now for a kiss--or were you going to slip off and do more?"
Frodo did not answer. He watched in bitter disappointment as Butterbur put the coin in his own pocket.
The innkeeper laughed grimly. "I always thought I was a good judge of character-comes from working among all kinds of folk for so long-and I thought you were a real innocent.
But it seems I am wasting your time and energy by having you serve ale. And it seems I waste my sympathy on your battered face." He laughed again, shaking his head. "This sickens me that a fellow from the Shire, from a good family no doubt, would filthy himself like you have, but I'm also a realist, a businessman, and my inn hasn't done well for awhile. Now I could very easily turn you into that lawman out there." Butterbur jabbed his thumb to the door. "He's a good friend, and he'll do anything for me. You wouldn't like that, would you?"
Frodo shook his head, staggering a bit on his fit in dizziness. Butterbur was not yelling at him, not throwing him out, and now it appeared he would not turn him into the law. But he wanted something. That much was clear.
"So we now have a new deal here," Butterbur said. "I don't care about your debt no more. It don't matter when you can bring in several coins in one night. You will stay here and work for me. You will be free to work the floor. You will give me 70% of what you earn. Now be careful because you don't know all the lawmen and sometimes they pretend to go along so that they can nail you for whoring and then drag you off to jail. I will do my best to point them out to you on any given night."
"But I wish to go home," Frodo said, swallowing miserably.
He could not believe he was hearing what he was from Butterbur. "I do want this life."
"Come now, Frodo," Butterbur said. "I'm not an ogre. You see I'm a business man, not unreasonable or cruel. Only thing is, if I find out you're making money that I don't know about and taking it for yourself, we'll have a serious problem. You'll not want to cross me that way. Other than that, at the end of the year, if you still hate it, I will let you go."
"That's six months from now!" Frodo said, his eyes widening in panic. "Sam…my friends will wonder where I am. Please, Butterbur. I'll take my chances with the law. I will turn myself in."
Butterbur clutched Frodo's shoulders. "Do you want to know what will happen to you in jail? The guards are said to be very interested in folk taken in for whoring. No hobbit whore I've ever known has survived it. Frodo, believe what you will, but I am rather fond of you and I would not wish that on you. You can send a message to the Shire from my inn. From jail, I do not think they will be so kind."
"What about you?" Frodo said, his chest heaving with fury.
"What you have just offered me. If they take me to jail, I will tell them about you, too, and you will rot in jail!"
Butterbur slapped him. Not hard, not like the blow to his face before, but enough to startle Frodo, who did not think the innkeeper had violent tendencies. When he saw the disgust and greed in Butterbur's formerly kind face, he wept the first genuinely desperate tears he had felt since he got into this mess.
"Come now." Butterbur's face softened, and he took Frodo into an embrace. "I am sorry I hit you. It's not so bad.
Six months, and you'll be free-with a small fortune to boot."
Frodo collapsed against Butterbur's wide chest, the strength in his legs gone. He had to find a way to get out of this, to escape. He had to.
***
Frodo undressed before going to see Bill Ferny and Kelin.
No use having buttons torn from his shirt, which was already beginning to look grubby. He disrobed completely, throwing his clothes on his bed, and he clutched his green cloak around his naked body.
When he entered the room that Kelin had earlier directed him to, the two Men stood eagerly to greet him.
"We were afraid you wouldn't show," Kelin said.
"You're right," Bill said, turning to Kelin with a lustful smile. "He catches the eye. Different from these Bree hobbits."
"All ready for us, too."
Frodo no longer cared if these men wanted to rip him up inside. What did it matter? It was bound to happen eventually now that he was stuck for six months. He clenched his jaw. He could not think about it or he would weep again, and while Men seemed to think it was cute when a full-grown hobbit lost control of his emotions, Frodo found it disgusting and he hated himself for his outburst with Butterbur earlier.
"Well…what shall I do?" Frodo asked in a soft voice.
"His voice melts me inside, too," Kelin said.
"You can start by this," Bill said, roughly unbuttoning
Frodo's cloak at his neck and letting the cloak fall, leaving the hobbit utterly vulnerable before them.
Kelin reached down, sweeping Frodo off his feet, carrying him in solidly muscular arms. Frodo went utterly limp. He hoped he could make himself hard for these men because he didn't want a repeat of what had happened the last time.
Vik, I'll think about Vik, he thought.
"Shall he be set in between us or should we take turns?"
Bill asked as he undressed, panting. Frodo caught the whiff of his unclean skin and wondered how long it had been since he bathed.
"It's your call," Kelin said, shrugging. He had already completely disrobed. "I'm paying more, so I say I get him first. Just don't touch me in any unnatural way, Bill, or you'll get hurt."
Frodo was squeezed in between the two men in the middle of the small bed. Hands stroked him everywhere. He shut his eyes, imagining Vik's strong hands on him. He hardened, and that caused a sigh of delight from Kelin, who let his grubby hand curl around Frodo's hardness.
Harsh fingers jammed into the cleft of Frodo's bottom, and he yelped in surprised pain. That only made the men laugh.
Frodo kept his eyes shut. Kelin lost no time rolling on top of him, wrenching open his buttocks, and jamming his own hardness into him. The pain was horrendous, but Frodo told himself that the first time it had seemed unbearable, but then it had suddenly changed to pleasure.
"Come on," Bill said, and something bumped against Frodo's lips. Frodo opened his eyes in time for Bill to thrust his member inside the hobbit's mouth.
"Suck, halfling," he said.
Frodo swallowed back a gag, and he shut his eyes, again trying desperately to imagine that it was Vik on top of him, Vik thrusting both into his backside and his mouth, and that he was doing this utterly willingly and for free.
As long as he kept his eyes shut, he could almost believe, and soon enough, his body began to respond, The hardness inside him hit those pinpricks of blinding pleasure, and just as he had with Falon, he let out weak groans and gasps, which met with vast approval.
"Open those beautiful eyes," Kelin said, tugging at Frodo's chin. "Come on."
Frodo opened his eyes, and Kelin wrapped his hand around
Frodo's hardness as if to anchor himself as he thrust desperately inside Frodo.
"Is he tight?" Bill asked, panting desperately as Frodo's tongue darted absentmindedlyl around his member. "I know his pretty little mouth is."
"Unbelievably so," Kelin said. "And hot, too. Now shut yer mouth!"
Kelin grabbed Frodo's shoulders and thrust into him so hard that the bed clamored against the wall. Frodo was numb to what he knew would be horrific pain later. He pictured
Vik's face above him-- his kind green eyes, his concern, his low but refined voice. He pictured Vik's lust as he had watched Frodo pleasure himself.
All these images brought him closer to the edge, and he writhed against Kelin's weight, panting loudly. Kelin finally released in one harsh grunt, and quickly rolled over on his side, utterly spent. Frodo still had not crested, but neither had Bill. Bill was close, and he was wet from Frodo's saliva. Grunting like an animal, he took himself out of Frodo's mouth and replaced Kelin, thrusting up into Frodo's already widened but very sore hole.
"Oh, sweet, oh, sweet," he muttered. He slobbered on
Frodo's nipples, letting his tongue wander Frodo's narrow chest.
Vik…Vik…Vik!
Frodo came with a mighty gasp, and when Bill saw that he was now soaked with hobbit, it brought him to quick conclusion as well. He fell on top of Frodo heaving with pleasure, kissing Frodo's neck with shocking gentleness.
Kelin had slipped into a drunken doze.
***
Butterbur clicked his teeth approvingly, and patted Frodo's shoulder. "Three coins." He nodded. "I will give you one."
"Thank you," Frodo said, trying to keep his voice humble.
Butterbur had shown a nasty, violent side the night before, and Frodo did not want to see it again. Why were Men so violent? Frodo would never think of striking anyone-he had been raised better than that--not unless he was defending himself against an attack.
"And I have something else for you," Butterbur said, settling down beside Frodo on his bed. Frodo was sore, and the extra weight on the bed made him cringe. Every time he shifted position, a sheet of agony ripped up his bottom. HE didn't know how he would do it if any of the Men expected him to do this act again this night.
Butterbur unwrapped from a brown bag a beautiful silk fabric in sapphire blue. "Feel this."
"Oh," Frodo said in wonder, forgetting his attempt to stay subdued and humble. "I've not seen anything like this!
Where did you get it?"
"Years ago, I bought it from an Elf, back in the days they passed through Bree. I never knew why I bought it, as I have no wife and children, only that it was fetching. Now
I know." He smiled tenderly, and tucked his finger under
Frodo's chin, holding the fabric to Frodo's eyes. "I will have a shirt made for you. None will be able to resist the magic it will do for your eyes. This cloth was meant for you, dear Frodo."
Frodo had to admit that the prospect of wearing a shirt made from that fabric excited him. He was not usually vain, but he imagined wearing the shirt and greeting Vik, who had already declared that Frodo's eyes left him breathless and dizzy.
Upon stepping into the Common Room, Frodo saw the effect his shirt had on the Men in the room. Even those who would never lie with another man gave him a second glance, at least appreciating his exotic beauty. Frodo blushed, and the rush he got from all the attention was enough to reduce the pain in his backside. He wished more than ever that he could have the pleasure but without the damage to his backside and the prospect of violence. He wished it could just be with one person that he loved, and not anyone who had money.
He carried an ale under the pretence of waiting on customers as Butterbur had advised him. He startled when he saw a group of four hobbits sitting at the lower tables.
It had been days since Frodo had seen any hobbits in the inn, and he was eager to converse with some of his kind.
"Good evening," he said with an eager smile.
The hobbits nodded, but averted their eyes.
"Can I get anything for you?" Frodo said. "It's good to see hobbits in here again."
"We've been helped," one of the hobbits said curtly. "Now if you'll excuse us."
They turned away from him, and Frodo suddenly realized, breaking into embarrassed sweat, that everyone in Bree must know what he did. In fact, it was a wonder he had not been thrown into jail already. So intent was he on getting away from the table of hobbits, that he tripped over a mud-splotched boot sticking out from a dark corner. Before he fell, a sturdy hand steadied him.
"Oh, oh, thank you," Frodo said to the stranger, his heart thudding from his near accident. The Man nodded briefly, but said nothing.
"What is your name?" Frodo asked.
, and he leaned back in his chair, clearly finished with the conversation. It seemed he was the only Man who did not stare in wonder at Frodo. After being snubbed by the hobbits of Bree and now this Man, Frodo felt flustered. He muttered, "I'm sorry" and trotted away.
As he walked past a table full of men who had just begun a card game, a strong hand grabbed him. A handsome man with stubble on his chin asked quietly, "How much if I want you for all the evening?"
All the evening? Frodo's bottom spasmed in pain at the very idea of doing what he had done with Bill and Kelin for several hours instead of just a few minutes!
"Don't look so frightened, halfling," the Man said with a knowing laugh. "I don't mean private-like the whole time. I mean, you just sit here with me, let me put my hands on you, and then at the end of the evening, we get a little romp in the bed."
"Oh, I see," Frodo breathed. "I must go ask. In truth I am not certain what to charge."
Frodo tugged at Butterbur's sleeve, getting him to kneel down so they could have a private conversation.
"All evening…though only one time in bed," Butterbur said thoughtfully after Frodo had told him the deal. "Frodo,
offer him two times in bed and ask for 5 coins."
"Twice…in one night?" Frodo's lips trembled.
Butterbur smiled grimly. "You are lucky I do not ask that you find one each hour."
"Oh…all right." Frodo caught sight of the grim man in the back corner. "Do you know who that is? The man in the back?"
"Him?" Butterbur shook his head, looking suddenly unsure of himself. "I'd not bother with him, Frodo. He's one of them rangers. Dangerous folk they are, wandering the wild. What his right name is, I don't know, but when he comes to Bree, he is called Strider. Now go on back to your job."
The deal with the card player was arranged, and Frodo found himself seated on the Man's lap, a strong arm wrapped around his belly. He sat with three other men around a table. They had begun a card game. Frodo could not understand it, but the four of them seemed to have a rhythm going, and they all understood the game well. The Man who had bought him was named Harry, and once in awhile, his hands groped inside Frodo's breeches. Other times, eh whispered, "Touch me down there." And Frodo allowed his hand to slip inside the Man's breeches.
"I'd like to up the stakes," a firm voice said from behind Frodo, and he gasped joyfully.
"Vik…you're here!"
"How so?" Harry asked.
"If I beat all of you at this game, I get the halfling for the rest of the night."
***
Throughout the game, Harry kept a tight arm around Frodo's waist. Whenever it wasn't his turn, he licked Frodo's ear and sucked on Frodo's neck. Frodo cringed, but he did not resist. Vik glared at Harry, swallowing in silent rage, and
Frodo wished there was a way to communicate to Vik that he only tolerated it because he feared later consequences.
"He is a sweet little thing, isn't he?" Harry asked, tilting Frodo's chin up. "I can't wait to bang him upstairs. Twice, I get him twice."
"I may want him tomorrow night then," one of Harry's friends said.
Vik's jaw clenched, but he stayed calm, and Frodo's stomach grew cold and began to roll, and he wondered if he would need to throw up. He shivered, since his silk shirt did nothing to keep him from getting chilled. He suddenly felt utterly vile. The Men were talking about him like he was a piece of meat, property to be bought for a night. And that's exactly what he was, and it had nothing to do with who he was. Frodo Baggins had ceased to exist, replaced by a pretty face that was only eager to please Men who hurt him. Yes, it was because he was desirable, but not in the right way. None of them cared that he was sore or that he
was imprisoned by Butterbur.
If only Vik could take him away from here.
"All right, gentlemen," Vik said, putting his cards on the
table with a triumphant smile. "I believe I have just
won."
"You cheat!" Harry deposited Frodo roughly on the bench
beside him and stood, leaning threateningly over Vik. Two
ales crashed to the floor. The rest of the tavern grow
quiet, staring curiously over at their table.
"I won fair and square. Your friends can't deny it."
"I say you cheat!" Harry shoved Vik in the shoulder. Vik's
easy grin faded, and Frodo was thrilled to see that he
looked dangerous, like an alley cat ready to fight.
"You don't want to do that," Vik said.
Harry squeezed Frodo's ear and twisted, causing Frodo to
gasp in pain before he mercifully let go. "I paid five
coins for him."
"And the deal was, if I beat you and all your friends,
which I clearly have, then the halfling is mine."
"Whoring cheater!"
Frodo gasped and shrunk against the wall as Harry
backhanded Vik across the face. Vik winced for only a
moment, wiping a drop of blood from his nose, before he
reached over and grabbed Harry's tunic, pulling him so that
their faces were only inches apart.
"Let us get something straight," Vik said in a low voice.
"I am many things, but a cheater I am not. I won the
halfling fair and square, and if you have a problem with
that, we can take it outside. But I will not engage in an
uncivilized tavern brawl. Understand?"
"All right then," Harry said. "Don't fret none. I didn't
mean nothing by it. The halfling's yours now." He snorted
in disgust. "Waste of a good five coins, that was." He
pulled out of Vik's grip and shoved away from the table,
stomping out of the inn.
Frodo smiled at Vik in adoration. That this Man had done
this for him had to mean that he cared for him as much as
Frodo cared for him.
"Come," Vik said, putting his arm around Frodo's shoulders
and helping him out from behind the table. "Let us find a
quiet room."
As they walked out of the room, neither noticed the keen
gray eyes that followed them from the same dark corner
where Frodo had tripped and nearly fallen earlier.
Once they were in a quiet room, Frodo's cheeks were hot. He
didn't care how sore he was. He would allow Vik to do what
the others had done with him and this time he would enjoy
it immensely. He began to unbutton his shirt, but Vik
grabbed his wrist.
"No, Frodo. Just come with me on the bed. Let's just talk
for a bit. I have you all night, and that landlord can't
bother you." Once Frodo joined him on the bed, Vik looked
at his face, where the bruising had noticeably faded. "He
hasn't hurt you, has he?"
"No," Frodo said, and then laughed. "Not yet. Though don't
you think the bruising rather went well with my eyes?"
"Do not joke about it," Vik said. "This is dangerous what
you're doing. If some nasty drunk doesn't accidentally
break your neck, then you might end up lashed in public or
left to be abused in one of Bree's jails. I've seen the
jails, Frodo, and I don't want you there."
"Vik, why do you care so for me?" Frodo asked, his heart
thumping. Vik was holding him close, his arm wrapped
around his back, and Frodo could barely stand the contact.
His nipples felt hard and tender, and his groin ached
pleasantly as he rubbed against Vik.
"Stop," Vik said firmly, pushing Frodo away. Frodo was
breathing quickly, and he squirmed against Vik's grip,
wanting only contact with Vik's body. "Do you see what you
are doing?" Vik's face became grim and he continued,
"Allow me to see something. May I?" he asked, hands
hovering over the button to Frodo's breeches.
"Of course," Frodo said. He was so hard that his member
poked up, straining against the fabric. The feel of Vik's
hands pulling down his breeches nearly undid him, and he
panted restlessly. What point was the Man trying to make?
He only knew it was irritating. Before Frodo could react,
Vik had flipped him over so that he was lying on his
stomach.
"Oh, no," Vik breathed, letting a gentle finger run over
the soreness. "Oh, no."
And there was a quality to Vik's voice that made Frodo's
hardness go limp, that caused a coldness to seep over his
chest, and his throat filled with shame.
***
"Don't touch me!" Frodo suddenly yelled, scrambling away
from Vik's touch, pulling up his breeches. He wanted to
bolt from the room, to never see this captivating and kind
man, who must think Frodo was the lowest form of dirt. But
if he left, he might end up with someone like Harry for the
rest of the night. He shrank against the bed board,
hugging his knees to his chest.
"Frodo…" Vik said, crawling cautiously toward him.
"Leave me be."
"Do you mean it?" Vik said. "I do not wish to, but I will
leave, if that is what you want. I wanted to give you some
peace, and I had thought that I…well, maybe it was too much
to assume on my part, but I thought maybe that you would
consider me a pleasant way to spend an evening."
"I am dirty to you," Frodo said. "And to myself. I left
the Shire to find Bilbo, but what would he think if he
could see me now?"
"Here now," Vik said, gathering Frodo into his arms. "I
did not mean to hurt you in any way. That's the last thing
I would want."
"I'm not like this, Vik," Frodo said, covering his face
with his hands. "I come from a good family."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Vik said, holding Frodo
tighter. "I know you've gotten pulled into a situation no
longer in your control and I want to help you. I will
offer to pay Butterbur off."
Frodo looked up at him, his eyes dark and furious. "So you
can own me as Butterbur does now?"
Vik's cheeks reddened as if Frodo had slapped him hard. He
seemed to fumble for something to say for several seconds,
and Frodo felt guilty for being so cruel. He trusted Vik,
and he knew the Man had good intentions.
"Frodo, I…" Vik started, grasping Frodo's hand and
squeezing.
"I'm sorry," Frodo said, looking down. "I did not mean it.
I know you are a good and honest man."
"I'm glad you think so," Vik said, stroking Frodo's hand
with gentle fingers. "Because I am so taken with you. I
want you free so that…Well, I will take you home to the
Shire if that is what you desire, or you could," he
swallowed. "This isn't easy for me to say. Perhaps if
Bree hasn't turned you off of the world of Men forever, and
you want more adventure, perhaps you could come with me to
my village of Thrushwood. I will be in Bree but for another
week, and I must return to my duties." Frodo was silent,
awed by what Vik was asking of him. He held his breath,
afraid to break the spell.
Vik grew more confident as he didn't see Frodo protesting
right away. "You would be safe. Thrushwood is not like
Bree. The folk that live there are hard working and kind.
My job as captain of lawmen gets rather dull most of the
time. Occasionally I deal with a tavern brawl or a drunk
disturbing the peace, but-"
"Yes," Frodo said, still looking at his hands, his cheeks
heating.
"I promise if you came that you would be happy-" Vik looked
at Frodo sharply. "Did you say yes?"
Frodo nodded, so happy that he could not speak. Vik would
save him from this dreadful place. He would be free, and he
would be with a man with whom he had already in so short a
time fallen in love.
"I want to speak to Butterbur now, to make the deal."
Frodo could not help but grin, as he had not yet seen Vik
so eager.
Then he sighed, serious again. "Wait. I will go with you. I
do not trust Butterbur."
Frodo and Vik left the room and hovered in the corridor,
near the entrance to the Common Room. The room was thick
with smoke, and the roar of Men already loud from drink.
Frodo caught Butterbur's attention and beckoned to him.
The fat innkeeper wiped his hands on his apron and bustled
quickly to them.
"Is there a problem?" Butterbur asked.
"No problem, we hope," Vik said with a nervous smile.
"I've come to make a deal. I want to buy Frodo's freedom
from you."
Butterbur looked surprised for only a moment before his
mouth formed into a grim line. "How can you do that? I do
not hold him here against his will."
Frodo's heart plunged. He should have known Butterbur would
not let him go so easily. He hoped Vik was smart about
such matters.
"What of his debt?" Vik demanded. "It was eight coins, am
I right -- an outrageous and probably false claim to begin
with." Vik held out a leather pouch full of coins. "I will
give you twelve."
Butterbur began to laugh, and Frodo's heart pattered
nervously. He wished Vik would just sweep him up off his
feet and run out of the inn with him, because he had the
feeling something dreadful was going to happen.
"What amuses you?" Vik asked heatedly. "I am making a
serious proposal."
"I erased his debt," Butterbur said. "Did I not, Frodo?"
The innkeeper cast a deliberate glance out into the Common
Room, and Frodo followed his gaze. The lawman that
Butterbur had been talking to a few days earlier was deep
in conversation with the mysterious ranger he had named
Strider.
"Yes," Frodo said, his throat filling, unable to look at
Vik.
"This is true?" Vik asked Frodo, his eyes dark with hurt.
"You do this willingly?"
Frodo looked at Butterbur beseechingly, but he did not dare
to speak. If he misspoke, Butterbur would call out to the
lawman to arrest him, and Vik would have no jurisdiction to
stop it.
"Aye, he does it willingly," Butterbur said. "He gets to
keep about 30% of everything he makes, which is very
generous, considering I cloth and feed him, as well as let
him sleep here for free. He probably already has this
amount that you are offering me."
"Butterbur…" Frodo said, barely able to breathe through his
misery. "I will give you-" But a warning look from the
innkeeper silenced him.
"So it wasn't true that you were down on your luck," Vik
said to Frodo, swallowing in wounded disgust, and his voice
trembled. "I can't believe I allowed myself to be so
deceived."
Frodo looked at him, silently begging him to realize that
something was wrong.
"These whores will do anything to get sympathy," Butterbur
said. "Your coins are best spent elsewhere." Butterbur
pushed the leather pouch toward Vik.
"It would seem so," Vik said, and casting a final bitter
look toward Frodo, he pushed past Butterbur and strode
through the Common Room and out of the inn. Frodo watched
in devastation, his throat filling in desperate pain.
Warning: violence!!
***
Butterbur grabbed Frodo's arm and steered him into the
Common Room. "I'm not going to say anything to you, Mr.
Baggins," he said roughly. "Not now. Because I have
another customer for you. I told him you were busy earlier,
remembering how he bruised up your face before, but you're
no longer busy, are you?"
Frodo let out a sharp gasp when Butterbur stopped him in
front of the man who had been so violent to him. "No." He
looked up at Butterbur, his eyes filled with pleading.
"Please, Butterbur. I've already made you 5 coins this
evening."
"Here you go, Will. He's yours for the rest of the night."
Will-Frodo had never found out his name the last time--
chuckled and handed Butterbur a coin. He then dug cruel
fingers into Frodo's shoulder and led him out of the Common
Room.
Up in the abandoned room Will had found, the Man knelt in
front of Frodo. "Got something for me, Halfling?"
"What…what do you…what do you mean?" Frodo asked in a small
voice, barely able to take in breath. He was trembling all
over, partially from cold, but mostly from fear. This was
the Man who had threatened to beat him if he couldn't get
hard for him, and Frodo felt far from aroused.
Will slapped his face hard. Frodo held his cheek, tears
stinging his eyes. Butterbur had gone beyond cruel. He
would not allow Vik to buy his freedom, and now he had sent
him with someone he knew to be violent, someone he knew
would hurt Frodo. If Butterbur wanted to make more money
off of him, then it made no sense to allow him to get beat
up and bruised again.
"It doesn't matter what you do," Frodo said dully. "Just
take me if that is what you want."
The Man grabbed Frodo's shoulder and threw him to the
ground so that he landed on his back and hit his head
against the wood floor. Will dropped to his knees,
hovering over the hobbit, and squeezed his chin with one
meaty hand. The other hand slipped inside Frodo's breeches
and curled around his flaccid member. "You better be
getting hard for me, you little rat!"
Frodo squeezed his eyes shut. There was no way he could get
hard for this Man. When he had been with Kelin and Bill, he
had imagined being with Vik, but now Vik hated him. His
heart cramped at that last thought.
"Last time I didn't want to bang you, but this time I think
I might."
"Please…" Frodo said, blinking rapidly. "Please be
merciful…" He didn't know why he was bothering. Will's eyes
were cruel, like he imagined the orcs from Bilbo's tales,
and he clearly thrived on preying on Frodo's weakness.
"Shut up." Will slapped him hard again.
Frodo desperately thought about anything else that might
help to arouse him, and he was surprised when his thoughts
turned to the piercing gray eyes in the corner of the
Prancing Pony and the strong hands that had caught him when
he had nearly fallen on his face. The mysterious ranger
would no doubt be intriguing in bed, a little untamed,
dangerous. Frodo pictured sure hands, calloused from the
wilderness and wielding a sword, roving his body, curling
around his shaft. Slowly he began to harden.
"There we go," Will said, panting. "That's better."
Frodo blocked out Will's voice as he felt his breeches
pulled down. Instead he heard the low, sultry voice of the
ranger whisper as he nibbled on Frodo's pointy ear. Gentle
licks over his chest, circling his hardening nipples-
Frodo cried out and his eyes flew open. Will had bit his
nipple hard, drawing blood. His arousal immediately
deflated, and he flung his hands at Will's face in the fury
of pain. He made contact, heard the crack his hand made
against Will's nose, and it gave him only a moment of
satisfaction before Will flushed with rage.
"All right, you little Shire rat."
The blows hailed on Frodo from every direction. He could
not distinguish between fist and boot-they seemed equally
unyielding. He could not even cry out, as every strike
knocked the breath from him. With a final stomp on his
tender belly, Will said, "I want to, but I ain't gonna kill
you 'cause old Butterbur will find a way to get me in jail.
I can tell you this, though, halfling. This felt tons
better than banging you. Tons better. Look, I'm hard as
can be."
Frodo tried to take in breath, but it hurt so much. His
face felt numb, though Will had only hit him there a few
times. He faded in and out of consciousness, and he didn't
hear when Will left him. He continued to lie on the dusty
wood floor, his breeches around his knees, his fancy silk
shirt splattered with blood.
When he thought about Vik, a hot fury spread over his sore
chest. Because of him, this had happened. Because Vik had
been too cowardly to just take Frodo and flee the inn and
then he had been too dense to see through Butterbur's
manipulation. If Vik was truly taken by him, then he
would never have left him behind.
Frodo's stomach rolled until he gagged and vomited on the
floor. The act sent sheets of pain over his battered
abdomen, filling his eyes with tears.
***
The door to the room was flung open and a heavy knee
crashed to the wood floor in front of Frodo's face. Frodo
managed to crack his eyes open long enough to see Butterbur
peering down at him.
"He got you really good this time." Butterbur said, cupping
Frodo's chin in his meaty hand and examining the welts and
bruises. "Let's come on down to the room and I'll fix you
up. You gotta believe me that I didn't want you this
banged up. Not good for my business either. You'll probably
not be able to work for a week or so."
"Leave me alone," Frodo said, and his voice sounded nasal.
He wondered if his nose was broken. It hurt badly enough.
Butterbur pulled Frodo's breeches back up. "Come now," he
said, helping Frodo to a sitting position. Frodo gasped.
His ribs hurt horribly. "I probably shouldn't have done
that," Butterbur continued. "Sent you with that horrid
man, but you got me right upset trying to get that Vik to
buy you right in front of the lawmen and all. Come now,
Frodo. I'll fix you up. You'll be as good as new in a few
days."
"You're likely to get me killed and then you'll get no
money out of me," Frodo said, clutching his stomach and
wheezing.
"Watch your mouth," Butterbur said, flashing him a warning
glance.
***
Frodo sat alone at a table in the Common Room. Though
Butterbur had cleaned him off and helped rinse the blood
from his silk shirt, Frodo did not want to lie down in his
room because it smelled bad. He didn't want Butterbur
fussing over him. He shuddered at the innkeeper's touch and
thought it was probably only a matter of time before he
wanted to find out for himself why Frodo was so popular.
Frodo was horribly sore. His face throbbed and he could
barely move without his ribs protesting. He didn't think
they were broken, but they were certainly cracked. When he
had coughed in the other room, a few droplets of blood had
sprayed onto his hands.
Now that he was sitting alone, free with his thoughts, he
could muse over Vik's unfair treatment. It didn't make
sense. While they had lain together in the room, Vik had
made it clear how strong his feelings were for him, that he
was willing to do nearly anything to get him out of this
situation. He knew Butterbur was not trustworthy, so why
had he suddenly turned on Frodo? Frodo felt a bit of hope
at the idea that maybe Vik had seen the lawmen, too, and
had not wanted to get Frodo arrested. But he had still
left Frodo to be beaten by that horrid man. He could have
just taken Frodo out of there, never mind the consequences.
Vik looked strong enough to be able to fight several men at
once.
Frodo startled as he suddenly was aware that the hooded
gray-eyed ranger was sitting just at the next table,
sipping an ale and watching the hobbit carefully. Frodo's
heart leaped and his cheeks warmed, remembering how he had
imagined the Man's rough yet gentle touch on him earlier.
Frodo managed a tentative smile at him, causing his cheek
to throb, but Strider did not respond. Frodo's cheeks
heated again, this time in embarrassment.
Why was Strider so unaffected by him? He could make Frodo
forget his misery for awhile. Why were the appealing men
turning against him, leaving him vulnerable to repulsive,
violent men like Will?
This was going to end now.
Unbuttoning his shirt so that one nipple was daringly
visible, Frodo slid out of his seat and stood in front of
the ranger.
"Why do you stare at me?"
There was a long, awkward silence, in which Frodo nearly
regretted approaching the ranger. Butterbur had warned him
against it, said the rangers were dangerous.
Finally, Strider spoke in a low voice. "You are mistaken,
halfling. I am not staring at you, much as you may have
become accustomed to that."
Frodo gave him the most charming smile he could. "Would
you like to find out why men stare at me?" Frodo asked.
The ranger watched him, apparently unmoved for several more
moments, until his lip finally curled up just slightly.
"You would lie with me?"
"Yes," Frodo said in relief that Strider had finally
responded. "Though I am rather sore right now."
"What do you charge?"
"It depends on what we do," Frodo said. "If we do the full
act, I must charge you three coins. If not, it will be
two."
"You are very expensive," Strider said, and his hand
brushed over Frodo's face. Frodo could not help but lean
into the touch, closing his eyes. "And perhaps normally,
justifiably so. But I am certain your face was much fairer
without the swelling and bruising. You should have a care
who you choose to service, for now I would only pay you two
coins for the full act."
"All right, that will do then," Frodo closed his eyes in
contentment, imagining the ranger's hands on him, making
his body sing loud enough to forget the bruising.
"Let me make certain I understand," Strider said. "I will
give you two coins and you would be willing to allow me to
have my way with you. Is that it?"
"Yes, that is the way it works," Frodo said. "Now come, I
know of a good room."
"Not so fast, halfling." Strider's voice changed, became
hard and chilling, as he stood to his full height. "You
are under arrest." Before Frodo could struggle or realize
what was happening to him, Strider had pulled out a length
of rope and was tying Frodo's wrists behind him. Frodo
squirmed around to see his face, gasping in horror, tears
of rage springing to his eyes.
"You're a lawman?" he gasped, squirming from side to side.
"How can that be?"
"Not your concern." Strider pulled Frodo's wrists up just
slightly to stop the hobbit's struggling, but Frodo
whimpered as his ribs throbbed yet again. "Stop your
struggling or this is going to be unpleasant."
"Where are you taking me?" Frodo gasped. He pictured a
dank jail full of leering Men like Harry and Will. Or the
guards that Butterbur had threatened him with, those that
liked to have fun with hobbit prisoners.
Many in the inn had grown quiet as Frodo was tied up, his
nipple still tantalizingly visible, and they watched with
seedy interest, and definitely some regret, as Frodo was
led through the inn.
Butterbur ran from behind the bar.
"What is the meaning of this?" he called out, wiping his
hands on his apron.
"I'm afraid your little gold mine is finished in Bree,"
Strider said, pushing Frodo roughly in front of him.
"Gold mine?" Butterbur muttered innocently. "For what I
pay him, it's more the other way around, I-"
"Save it," Strider said with a piercing glare. "You are
fortunate that you are such good friends with so many of
the lawmen or you would be coming with me right now, too."
Strider pushed open the door to the outside, and his
fingers dug into Frodo's shoulders.
TBC
Go on to the last part
Author: Claudia
Pairing: F/A, F/everyone else
Rating: NC17
Summary: There are some roads Frodo should never have
taken?
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money
from them.
Story notes: More fluff? This is probably my ultimate in
Frodo filth. Prostitution, graphic sex, other crimes to
Tolkien, mpreg? Heh. Not yet, but I'm open to it. I mean,
I'm RILLY going to Tolkien Hell for this one.
"My name should not matter to you," the Man said Butterbur's meaty hand grabbed Frodo by the front of his shirt and lifted him easily, swinging him behind him and setting him with surprising gentleness on the ground. He then stepped in front of Vik, shaking with fury.
"Get out of my inn! How dare you…this hobbit has been abused enough…How dare you force yourself on him!"
"No, Butterbur," Frodo said weakly, and Butterbur spun around to face him, jabbing his finger in his face.
"You! Go to the kitchen and start washing-double quick! I'm not done talking to you, neither!"
"I apologize," Vik said, putting his hands out, palms up, in surrender. "I did not mean to cause trouble. Please do not blame Frodo, for I forced him away from his duties. But tell me, Butterbur. If he has been so abused in this environment, why do you not just let him go?"
Frodo's heart sped, but he had no hope that Vik's words would make an impact. The lawman that had been talking to
Butterbur joined them. "Do we have a problem here?"
"Accompany this man out of my inn," Butterbur said in disgust.
"There is no need for that," Vik said, getting up and putting several coins on the table. He paused a moment, looking at Butterbur with an expression so cold that it made Frodo shiver. "And you better make certain that no new bruises end up on that halfling or I will make you personally responsible."
He then nodded to Frodo, who was still standing on trembling legs behind Butterbur.
Once Vik was out the door, Butterbur took Frodo by the shoulder and pushed him through the inn, heedless of the customers who needed refills. Frodo's heart battered frantically as he wondered how much Butterbur had seen and heard. The coin Vik had given him was still warm in his hand, and he slipped it in his pocket.
Butterbur took Frodo into the kitchen and knelt in front of Frodo. "Now let's have no more games, halfling. How much money have you made on the side since you started working for me?"
Frodo took in steady breaths, trying to read the innkeeper's shrewd face. Butterbur could not hurt him. He had been afraid of Vik. But he could turn him into the lawman.
"Nothing," Frodo said softly. He had never been capable of deceit-Bilbo had always sensed when he was not being truthful-and now he could already see that Butterbur did not believe him.
Butterbur jammed his hand into Frodo's pocket suddenly and retrieved the coin that Vik had given him. He turned hard eyes to the hobbit.
"Nearly enough to pay my debt," Frodo whispered, shaking so hard he could barely stand. "The coins are in my bag in my room. Will you not take them and let me go?"
"You got this from that fellow just now for a kiss--or were you going to slip off and do more?"
Frodo did not answer. He watched in bitter disappointment as Butterbur put the coin in his own pocket.
The innkeeper laughed grimly. "I always thought I was a good judge of character-comes from working among all kinds of folk for so long-and I thought you were a real innocent.
But it seems I am wasting your time and energy by having you serve ale. And it seems I waste my sympathy on your battered face." He laughed again, shaking his head. "This sickens me that a fellow from the Shire, from a good family no doubt, would filthy himself like you have, but I'm also a realist, a businessman, and my inn hasn't done well for awhile. Now I could very easily turn you into that lawman out there." Butterbur jabbed his thumb to the door. "He's a good friend, and he'll do anything for me. You wouldn't like that, would you?"
Frodo shook his head, staggering a bit on his fit in dizziness. Butterbur was not yelling at him, not throwing him out, and now it appeared he would not turn him into the law. But he wanted something. That much was clear.
"So we now have a new deal here," Butterbur said. "I don't care about your debt no more. It don't matter when you can bring in several coins in one night. You will stay here and work for me. You will be free to work the floor. You will give me 70% of what you earn. Now be careful because you don't know all the lawmen and sometimes they pretend to go along so that they can nail you for whoring and then drag you off to jail. I will do my best to point them out to you on any given night."
"But I wish to go home," Frodo said, swallowing miserably.
He could not believe he was hearing what he was from Butterbur. "I do want this life."
"Come now, Frodo," Butterbur said. "I'm not an ogre. You see I'm a business man, not unreasonable or cruel. Only thing is, if I find out you're making money that I don't know about and taking it for yourself, we'll have a serious problem. You'll not want to cross me that way. Other than that, at the end of the year, if you still hate it, I will let you go."
"That's six months from now!" Frodo said, his eyes widening in panic. "Sam…my friends will wonder where I am. Please, Butterbur. I'll take my chances with the law. I will turn myself in."
Butterbur clutched Frodo's shoulders. "Do you want to know what will happen to you in jail? The guards are said to be very interested in folk taken in for whoring. No hobbit whore I've ever known has survived it. Frodo, believe what you will, but I am rather fond of you and I would not wish that on you. You can send a message to the Shire from my inn. From jail, I do not think they will be so kind."
"What about you?" Frodo said, his chest heaving with fury.
"What you have just offered me. If they take me to jail, I will tell them about you, too, and you will rot in jail!"
Butterbur slapped him. Not hard, not like the blow to his face before, but enough to startle Frodo, who did not think the innkeeper had violent tendencies. When he saw the disgust and greed in Butterbur's formerly kind face, he wept the first genuinely desperate tears he had felt since he got into this mess.
"Come now." Butterbur's face softened, and he took Frodo into an embrace. "I am sorry I hit you. It's not so bad.
Six months, and you'll be free-with a small fortune to boot."
Frodo collapsed against Butterbur's wide chest, the strength in his legs gone. He had to find a way to get out of this, to escape. He had to.
***
Frodo undressed before going to see Bill Ferny and Kelin.
No use having buttons torn from his shirt, which was already beginning to look grubby. He disrobed completely, throwing his clothes on his bed, and he clutched his green cloak around his naked body.
When he entered the room that Kelin had earlier directed him to, the two Men stood eagerly to greet him.
"We were afraid you wouldn't show," Kelin said.
"You're right," Bill said, turning to Kelin with a lustful smile. "He catches the eye. Different from these Bree hobbits."
"All ready for us, too."
Frodo no longer cared if these men wanted to rip him up inside. What did it matter? It was bound to happen eventually now that he was stuck for six months. He clenched his jaw. He could not think about it or he would weep again, and while Men seemed to think it was cute when a full-grown hobbit lost control of his emotions, Frodo found it disgusting and he hated himself for his outburst with Butterbur earlier.
"Well…what shall I do?" Frodo asked in a soft voice.
"His voice melts me inside, too," Kelin said.
"You can start by this," Bill said, roughly unbuttoning
Frodo's cloak at his neck and letting the cloak fall, leaving the hobbit utterly vulnerable before them.
Kelin reached down, sweeping Frodo off his feet, carrying him in solidly muscular arms. Frodo went utterly limp. He hoped he could make himself hard for these men because he didn't want a repeat of what had happened the last time.
Vik, I'll think about Vik, he thought.
"Shall he be set in between us or should we take turns?"
Bill asked as he undressed, panting. Frodo caught the whiff of his unclean skin and wondered how long it had been since he bathed.
"It's your call," Kelin said, shrugging. He had already completely disrobed. "I'm paying more, so I say I get him first. Just don't touch me in any unnatural way, Bill, or you'll get hurt."
Frodo was squeezed in between the two men in the middle of the small bed. Hands stroked him everywhere. He shut his eyes, imagining Vik's strong hands on him. He hardened, and that caused a sigh of delight from Kelin, who let his grubby hand curl around Frodo's hardness.
Harsh fingers jammed into the cleft of Frodo's bottom, and he yelped in surprised pain. That only made the men laugh.
Frodo kept his eyes shut. Kelin lost no time rolling on top of him, wrenching open his buttocks, and jamming his own hardness into him. The pain was horrendous, but Frodo told himself that the first time it had seemed unbearable, but then it had suddenly changed to pleasure.
"Come on," Bill said, and something bumped against Frodo's lips. Frodo opened his eyes in time for Bill to thrust his member inside the hobbit's mouth.
"Suck, halfling," he said.
Frodo swallowed back a gag, and he shut his eyes, again trying desperately to imagine that it was Vik on top of him, Vik thrusting both into his backside and his mouth, and that he was doing this utterly willingly and for free.
As long as he kept his eyes shut, he could almost believe, and soon enough, his body began to respond, The hardness inside him hit those pinpricks of blinding pleasure, and just as he had with Falon, he let out weak groans and gasps, which met with vast approval.
"Open those beautiful eyes," Kelin said, tugging at Frodo's chin. "Come on."
Frodo opened his eyes, and Kelin wrapped his hand around
Frodo's hardness as if to anchor himself as he thrust desperately inside Frodo.
"Is he tight?" Bill asked, panting desperately as Frodo's tongue darted absentmindedlyl around his member. "I know his pretty little mouth is."
"Unbelievably so," Kelin said. "And hot, too. Now shut yer mouth!"
Kelin grabbed Frodo's shoulders and thrust into him so hard that the bed clamored against the wall. Frodo was numb to what he knew would be horrific pain later. He pictured
Vik's face above him-- his kind green eyes, his concern, his low but refined voice. He pictured Vik's lust as he had watched Frodo pleasure himself.
All these images brought him closer to the edge, and he writhed against Kelin's weight, panting loudly. Kelin finally released in one harsh grunt, and quickly rolled over on his side, utterly spent. Frodo still had not crested, but neither had Bill. Bill was close, and he was wet from Frodo's saliva. Grunting like an animal, he took himself out of Frodo's mouth and replaced Kelin, thrusting up into Frodo's already widened but very sore hole.
"Oh, sweet, oh, sweet," he muttered. He slobbered on
Frodo's nipples, letting his tongue wander Frodo's narrow chest.
Vik…Vik…Vik!
Frodo came with a mighty gasp, and when Bill saw that he was now soaked with hobbit, it brought him to quick conclusion as well. He fell on top of Frodo heaving with pleasure, kissing Frodo's neck with shocking gentleness.
Kelin had slipped into a drunken doze.
***
Butterbur clicked his teeth approvingly, and patted Frodo's shoulder. "Three coins." He nodded. "I will give you one."
"Thank you," Frodo said, trying to keep his voice humble.
Butterbur had shown a nasty, violent side the night before, and Frodo did not want to see it again. Why were Men so violent? Frodo would never think of striking anyone-he had been raised better than that--not unless he was defending himself against an attack.
"And I have something else for you," Butterbur said, settling down beside Frodo on his bed. Frodo was sore, and the extra weight on the bed made him cringe. Every time he shifted position, a sheet of agony ripped up his bottom. HE didn't know how he would do it if any of the Men expected him to do this act again this night.
Butterbur unwrapped from a brown bag a beautiful silk fabric in sapphire blue. "Feel this."
"Oh," Frodo said in wonder, forgetting his attempt to stay subdued and humble. "I've not seen anything like this!
Where did you get it?"
"Years ago, I bought it from an Elf, back in the days they passed through Bree. I never knew why I bought it, as I have no wife and children, only that it was fetching. Now
I know." He smiled tenderly, and tucked his finger under
Frodo's chin, holding the fabric to Frodo's eyes. "I will have a shirt made for you. None will be able to resist the magic it will do for your eyes. This cloth was meant for you, dear Frodo."
Frodo had to admit that the prospect of wearing a shirt made from that fabric excited him. He was not usually vain, but he imagined wearing the shirt and greeting Vik, who had already declared that Frodo's eyes left him breathless and dizzy.
Upon stepping into the Common Room, Frodo saw the effect his shirt had on the Men in the room. Even those who would never lie with another man gave him a second glance, at least appreciating his exotic beauty. Frodo blushed, and the rush he got from all the attention was enough to reduce the pain in his backside. He wished more than ever that he could have the pleasure but without the damage to his backside and the prospect of violence. He wished it could just be with one person that he loved, and not anyone who had money.
He carried an ale under the pretence of waiting on customers as Butterbur had advised him. He startled when he saw a group of four hobbits sitting at the lower tables.
It had been days since Frodo had seen any hobbits in the inn, and he was eager to converse with some of his kind.
"Good evening," he said with an eager smile.
The hobbits nodded, but averted their eyes.
"Can I get anything for you?" Frodo said. "It's good to see hobbits in here again."
"We've been helped," one of the hobbits said curtly. "Now if you'll excuse us."
They turned away from him, and Frodo suddenly realized, breaking into embarrassed sweat, that everyone in Bree must know what he did. In fact, it was a wonder he had not been thrown into jail already. So intent was he on getting away from the table of hobbits, that he tripped over a mud-splotched boot sticking out from a dark corner. Before he fell, a sturdy hand steadied him.
"Oh, oh, thank you," Frodo said to the stranger, his heart thudding from his near accident. The Man nodded briefly, but said nothing.
"What is your name?" Frodo asked.
, and he leaned back in his chair, clearly finished with the conversation. It seemed he was the only Man who did not stare in wonder at Frodo. After being snubbed by the hobbits of Bree and now this Man, Frodo felt flustered. He muttered, "I'm sorry" and trotted away.
As he walked past a table full of men who had just begun a card game, a strong hand grabbed him. A handsome man with stubble on his chin asked quietly, "How much if I want you for all the evening?"
All the evening? Frodo's bottom spasmed in pain at the very idea of doing what he had done with Bill and Kelin for several hours instead of just a few minutes!
"Don't look so frightened, halfling," the Man said with a knowing laugh. "I don't mean private-like the whole time. I mean, you just sit here with me, let me put my hands on you, and then at the end of the evening, we get a little romp in the bed."
"Oh, I see," Frodo breathed. "I must go ask. In truth I am not certain what to charge."
Frodo tugged at Butterbur's sleeve, getting him to kneel down so they could have a private conversation.
"All evening…though only one time in bed," Butterbur said thoughtfully after Frodo had told him the deal. "Frodo,
offer him two times in bed and ask for 5 coins."
"Twice…in one night?" Frodo's lips trembled.
Butterbur smiled grimly. "You are lucky I do not ask that you find one each hour."
"Oh…all right." Frodo caught sight of the grim man in the back corner. "Do you know who that is? The man in the back?"
"Him?" Butterbur shook his head, looking suddenly unsure of himself. "I'd not bother with him, Frodo. He's one of them rangers. Dangerous folk they are, wandering the wild. What his right name is, I don't know, but when he comes to Bree, he is called Strider. Now go on back to your job."
The deal with the card player was arranged, and Frodo found himself seated on the Man's lap, a strong arm wrapped around his belly. He sat with three other men around a table. They had begun a card game. Frodo could not understand it, but the four of them seemed to have a rhythm going, and they all understood the game well. The Man who had bought him was named Harry, and once in awhile, his hands groped inside Frodo's breeches. Other times, eh whispered, "Touch me down there." And Frodo allowed his hand to slip inside the Man's breeches.
"I'd like to up the stakes," a firm voice said from behind Frodo, and he gasped joyfully.
"Vik…you're here!"
"How so?" Harry asked.
"If I beat all of you at this game, I get the halfling for the rest of the night."
***
Throughout the game, Harry kept a tight arm around Frodo's waist. Whenever it wasn't his turn, he licked Frodo's ear and sucked on Frodo's neck. Frodo cringed, but he did not resist. Vik glared at Harry, swallowing in silent rage, and
Frodo wished there was a way to communicate to Vik that he only tolerated it because he feared later consequences.
"He is a sweet little thing, isn't he?" Harry asked, tilting Frodo's chin up. "I can't wait to bang him upstairs. Twice, I get him twice."
"I may want him tomorrow night then," one of Harry's friends said.
Vik's jaw clenched, but he stayed calm, and Frodo's stomach grew cold and began to roll, and he wondered if he would need to throw up. He shivered, since his silk shirt did nothing to keep him from getting chilled. He suddenly felt utterly vile. The Men were talking about him like he was a piece of meat, property to be bought for a night. And that's exactly what he was, and it had nothing to do with who he was. Frodo Baggins had ceased to exist, replaced by a pretty face that was only eager to please Men who hurt him. Yes, it was because he was desirable, but not in the right way. None of them cared that he was sore or that he
was imprisoned by Butterbur.
If only Vik could take him away from here.
"All right, gentlemen," Vik said, putting his cards on the
table with a triumphant smile. "I believe I have just
won."
"You cheat!" Harry deposited Frodo roughly on the bench
beside him and stood, leaning threateningly over Vik. Two
ales crashed to the floor. The rest of the tavern grow
quiet, staring curiously over at their table.
"I won fair and square. Your friends can't deny it."
"I say you cheat!" Harry shoved Vik in the shoulder. Vik's
easy grin faded, and Frodo was thrilled to see that he
looked dangerous, like an alley cat ready to fight.
"You don't want to do that," Vik said.
Harry squeezed Frodo's ear and twisted, causing Frodo to
gasp in pain before he mercifully let go. "I paid five
coins for him."
"And the deal was, if I beat you and all your friends,
which I clearly have, then the halfling is mine."
"Whoring cheater!"
Frodo gasped and shrunk against the wall as Harry
backhanded Vik across the face. Vik winced for only a
moment, wiping a drop of blood from his nose, before he
reached over and grabbed Harry's tunic, pulling him so that
their faces were only inches apart.
"Let us get something straight," Vik said in a low voice.
"I am many things, but a cheater I am not. I won the
halfling fair and square, and if you have a problem with
that, we can take it outside. But I will not engage in an
uncivilized tavern brawl. Understand?"
"All right then," Harry said. "Don't fret none. I didn't
mean nothing by it. The halfling's yours now." He snorted
in disgust. "Waste of a good five coins, that was." He
pulled out of Vik's grip and shoved away from the table,
stomping out of the inn.
Frodo smiled at Vik in adoration. That this Man had done
this for him had to mean that he cared for him as much as
Frodo cared for him.
"Come," Vik said, putting his arm around Frodo's shoulders
and helping him out from behind the table. "Let us find a
quiet room."
As they walked out of the room, neither noticed the keen
gray eyes that followed them from the same dark corner
where Frodo had tripped and nearly fallen earlier.
Once they were in a quiet room, Frodo's cheeks were hot. He
didn't care how sore he was. He would allow Vik to do what
the others had done with him and this time he would enjoy
it immensely. He began to unbutton his shirt, but Vik
grabbed his wrist.
"No, Frodo. Just come with me on the bed. Let's just talk
for a bit. I have you all night, and that landlord can't
bother you." Once Frodo joined him on the bed, Vik looked
at his face, where the bruising had noticeably faded. "He
hasn't hurt you, has he?"
"No," Frodo said, and then laughed. "Not yet. Though don't
you think the bruising rather went well with my eyes?"
"Do not joke about it," Vik said. "This is dangerous what
you're doing. If some nasty drunk doesn't accidentally
break your neck, then you might end up lashed in public or
left to be abused in one of Bree's jails. I've seen the
jails, Frodo, and I don't want you there."
"Vik, why do you care so for me?" Frodo asked, his heart
thumping. Vik was holding him close, his arm wrapped
around his back, and Frodo could barely stand the contact.
His nipples felt hard and tender, and his groin ached
pleasantly as he rubbed against Vik.
"Stop," Vik said firmly, pushing Frodo away. Frodo was
breathing quickly, and he squirmed against Vik's grip,
wanting only contact with Vik's body. "Do you see what you
are doing?" Vik's face became grim and he continued,
"Allow me to see something. May I?" he asked, hands
hovering over the button to Frodo's breeches.
"Of course," Frodo said. He was so hard that his member
poked up, straining against the fabric. The feel of Vik's
hands pulling down his breeches nearly undid him, and he
panted restlessly. What point was the Man trying to make?
He only knew it was irritating. Before Frodo could react,
Vik had flipped him over so that he was lying on his
stomach.
"Oh, no," Vik breathed, letting a gentle finger run over
the soreness. "Oh, no."
And there was a quality to Vik's voice that made Frodo's
hardness go limp, that caused a coldness to seep over his
chest, and his throat filled with shame.
***
"Don't touch me!" Frodo suddenly yelled, scrambling away
from Vik's touch, pulling up his breeches. He wanted to
bolt from the room, to never see this captivating and kind
man, who must think Frodo was the lowest form of dirt. But
if he left, he might end up with someone like Harry for the
rest of the night. He shrank against the bed board,
hugging his knees to his chest.
"Frodo…" Vik said, crawling cautiously toward him.
"Leave me be."
"Do you mean it?" Vik said. "I do not wish to, but I will
leave, if that is what you want. I wanted to give you some
peace, and I had thought that I…well, maybe it was too much
to assume on my part, but I thought maybe that you would
consider me a pleasant way to spend an evening."
"I am dirty to you," Frodo said. "And to myself. I left
the Shire to find Bilbo, but what would he think if he
could see me now?"
"Here now," Vik said, gathering Frodo into his arms. "I
did not mean to hurt you in any way. That's the last thing
I would want."
"I'm not like this, Vik," Frodo said, covering his face
with his hands. "I come from a good family."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Vik said, holding Frodo
tighter. "I know you've gotten pulled into a situation no
longer in your control and I want to help you. I will
offer to pay Butterbur off."
Frodo looked up at him, his eyes dark and furious. "So you
can own me as Butterbur does now?"
Vik's cheeks reddened as if Frodo had slapped him hard. He
seemed to fumble for something to say for several seconds,
and Frodo felt guilty for being so cruel. He trusted Vik,
and he knew the Man had good intentions.
"Frodo, I…" Vik started, grasping Frodo's hand and
squeezing.
"I'm sorry," Frodo said, looking down. "I did not mean it.
I know you are a good and honest man."
"I'm glad you think so," Vik said, stroking Frodo's hand
with gentle fingers. "Because I am so taken with you. I
want you free so that…Well, I will take you home to the
Shire if that is what you desire, or you could," he
swallowed. "This isn't easy for me to say. Perhaps if
Bree hasn't turned you off of the world of Men forever, and
you want more adventure, perhaps you could come with me to
my village of Thrushwood. I will be in Bree but for another
week, and I must return to my duties." Frodo was silent,
awed by what Vik was asking of him. He held his breath,
afraid to break the spell.
Vik grew more confident as he didn't see Frodo protesting
right away. "You would be safe. Thrushwood is not like
Bree. The folk that live there are hard working and kind.
My job as captain of lawmen gets rather dull most of the
time. Occasionally I deal with a tavern brawl or a drunk
disturbing the peace, but-"
"Yes," Frodo said, still looking at his hands, his cheeks
heating.
"I promise if you came that you would be happy-" Vik looked
at Frodo sharply. "Did you say yes?"
Frodo nodded, so happy that he could not speak. Vik would
save him from this dreadful place. He would be free, and he
would be with a man with whom he had already in so short a
time fallen in love.
"I want to speak to Butterbur now, to make the deal."
Frodo could not help but grin, as he had not yet seen Vik
so eager.
Then he sighed, serious again. "Wait. I will go with you. I
do not trust Butterbur."
Frodo and Vik left the room and hovered in the corridor,
near the entrance to the Common Room. The room was thick
with smoke, and the roar of Men already loud from drink.
Frodo caught Butterbur's attention and beckoned to him.
The fat innkeeper wiped his hands on his apron and bustled
quickly to them.
"Is there a problem?" Butterbur asked.
"No problem, we hope," Vik said with a nervous smile.
"I've come to make a deal. I want to buy Frodo's freedom
from you."
Butterbur looked surprised for only a moment before his
mouth formed into a grim line. "How can you do that? I do
not hold him here against his will."
Frodo's heart plunged. He should have known Butterbur would
not let him go so easily. He hoped Vik was smart about
such matters.
"What of his debt?" Vik demanded. "It was eight coins, am
I right -- an outrageous and probably false claim to begin
with." Vik held out a leather pouch full of coins. "I will
give you twelve."
Butterbur began to laugh, and Frodo's heart pattered
nervously. He wished Vik would just sweep him up off his
feet and run out of the inn with him, because he had the
feeling something dreadful was going to happen.
"What amuses you?" Vik asked heatedly. "I am making a
serious proposal."
"I erased his debt," Butterbur said. "Did I not, Frodo?"
The innkeeper cast a deliberate glance out into the Common
Room, and Frodo followed his gaze. The lawman that
Butterbur had been talking to a few days earlier was deep
in conversation with the mysterious ranger he had named
Strider.
"Yes," Frodo said, his throat filling, unable to look at
Vik.
"This is true?" Vik asked Frodo, his eyes dark with hurt.
"You do this willingly?"
Frodo looked at Butterbur beseechingly, but he did not dare
to speak. If he misspoke, Butterbur would call out to the
lawman to arrest him, and Vik would have no jurisdiction to
stop it.
"Aye, he does it willingly," Butterbur said. "He gets to
keep about 30% of everything he makes, which is very
generous, considering I cloth and feed him, as well as let
him sleep here for free. He probably already has this
amount that you are offering me."
"Butterbur…" Frodo said, barely able to breathe through his
misery. "I will give you-" But a warning look from the
innkeeper silenced him.
"So it wasn't true that you were down on your luck," Vik
said to Frodo, swallowing in wounded disgust, and his voice
trembled. "I can't believe I allowed myself to be so
deceived."
Frodo looked at him, silently begging him to realize that
something was wrong.
"These whores will do anything to get sympathy," Butterbur
said. "Your coins are best spent elsewhere." Butterbur
pushed the leather pouch toward Vik.
"It would seem so," Vik said, and casting a final bitter
look toward Frodo, he pushed past Butterbur and strode
through the Common Room and out of the inn. Frodo watched
in devastation, his throat filling in desperate pain.
Warning: violence!!
***
Butterbur grabbed Frodo's arm and steered him into the
Common Room. "I'm not going to say anything to you, Mr.
Baggins," he said roughly. "Not now. Because I have
another customer for you. I told him you were busy earlier,
remembering how he bruised up your face before, but you're
no longer busy, are you?"
Frodo let out a sharp gasp when Butterbur stopped him in
front of the man who had been so violent to him. "No." He
looked up at Butterbur, his eyes filled with pleading.
"Please, Butterbur. I've already made you 5 coins this
evening."
"Here you go, Will. He's yours for the rest of the night."
Will-Frodo had never found out his name the last time--
chuckled and handed Butterbur a coin. He then dug cruel
fingers into Frodo's shoulder and led him out of the Common
Room.
Up in the abandoned room Will had found, the Man knelt in
front of Frodo. "Got something for me, Halfling?"
"What…what do you…what do you mean?" Frodo asked in a small
voice, barely able to take in breath. He was trembling all
over, partially from cold, but mostly from fear. This was
the Man who had threatened to beat him if he couldn't get
hard for him, and Frodo felt far from aroused.
Will slapped his face hard. Frodo held his cheek, tears
stinging his eyes. Butterbur had gone beyond cruel. He
would not allow Vik to buy his freedom, and now he had sent
him with someone he knew to be violent, someone he knew
would hurt Frodo. If Butterbur wanted to make more money
off of him, then it made no sense to allow him to get beat
up and bruised again.
"It doesn't matter what you do," Frodo said dully. "Just
take me if that is what you want."
The Man grabbed Frodo's shoulder and threw him to the
ground so that he landed on his back and hit his head
against the wood floor. Will dropped to his knees,
hovering over the hobbit, and squeezed his chin with one
meaty hand. The other hand slipped inside Frodo's breeches
and curled around his flaccid member. "You better be
getting hard for me, you little rat!"
Frodo squeezed his eyes shut. There was no way he could get
hard for this Man. When he had been with Kelin and Bill, he
had imagined being with Vik, but now Vik hated him. His
heart cramped at that last thought.
"Last time I didn't want to bang you, but this time I think
I might."
"Please…" Frodo said, blinking rapidly. "Please be
merciful…" He didn't know why he was bothering. Will's eyes
were cruel, like he imagined the orcs from Bilbo's tales,
and he clearly thrived on preying on Frodo's weakness.
"Shut up." Will slapped him hard again.
Frodo desperately thought about anything else that might
help to arouse him, and he was surprised when his thoughts
turned to the piercing gray eyes in the corner of the
Prancing Pony and the strong hands that had caught him when
he had nearly fallen on his face. The mysterious ranger
would no doubt be intriguing in bed, a little untamed,
dangerous. Frodo pictured sure hands, calloused from the
wilderness and wielding a sword, roving his body, curling
around his shaft. Slowly he began to harden.
"There we go," Will said, panting. "That's better."
Frodo blocked out Will's voice as he felt his breeches
pulled down. Instead he heard the low, sultry voice of the
ranger whisper as he nibbled on Frodo's pointy ear. Gentle
licks over his chest, circling his hardening nipples-
Frodo cried out and his eyes flew open. Will had bit his
nipple hard, drawing blood. His arousal immediately
deflated, and he flung his hands at Will's face in the fury
of pain. He made contact, heard the crack his hand made
against Will's nose, and it gave him only a moment of
satisfaction before Will flushed with rage.
"All right, you little Shire rat."
The blows hailed on Frodo from every direction. He could
not distinguish between fist and boot-they seemed equally
unyielding. He could not even cry out, as every strike
knocked the breath from him. With a final stomp on his
tender belly, Will said, "I want to, but I ain't gonna kill
you 'cause old Butterbur will find a way to get me in jail.
I can tell you this, though, halfling. This felt tons
better than banging you. Tons better. Look, I'm hard as
can be."
Frodo tried to take in breath, but it hurt so much. His
face felt numb, though Will had only hit him there a few
times. He faded in and out of consciousness, and he didn't
hear when Will left him. He continued to lie on the dusty
wood floor, his breeches around his knees, his fancy silk
shirt splattered with blood.
When he thought about Vik, a hot fury spread over his sore
chest. Because of him, this had happened. Because Vik had
been too cowardly to just take Frodo and flee the inn and
then he had been too dense to see through Butterbur's
manipulation. If Vik was truly taken by him, then he
would never have left him behind.
Frodo's stomach rolled until he gagged and vomited on the
floor. The act sent sheets of pain over his battered
abdomen, filling his eyes with tears.
***
The door to the room was flung open and a heavy knee
crashed to the wood floor in front of Frodo's face. Frodo
managed to crack his eyes open long enough to see Butterbur
peering down at him.
"He got you really good this time." Butterbur said, cupping
Frodo's chin in his meaty hand and examining the welts and
bruises. "Let's come on down to the room and I'll fix you
up. You gotta believe me that I didn't want you this
banged up. Not good for my business either. You'll probably
not be able to work for a week or so."
"Leave me alone," Frodo said, and his voice sounded nasal.
He wondered if his nose was broken. It hurt badly enough.
Butterbur pulled Frodo's breeches back up. "Come now," he
said, helping Frodo to a sitting position. Frodo gasped.
His ribs hurt horribly. "I probably shouldn't have done
that," Butterbur continued. "Sent you with that horrid
man, but you got me right upset trying to get that Vik to
buy you right in front of the lawmen and all. Come now,
Frodo. I'll fix you up. You'll be as good as new in a few
days."
"You're likely to get me killed and then you'll get no
money out of me," Frodo said, clutching his stomach and
wheezing.
"Watch your mouth," Butterbur said, flashing him a warning
glance.
***
Frodo sat alone at a table in the Common Room. Though
Butterbur had cleaned him off and helped rinse the blood
from his silk shirt, Frodo did not want to lie down in his
room because it smelled bad. He didn't want Butterbur
fussing over him. He shuddered at the innkeeper's touch and
thought it was probably only a matter of time before he
wanted to find out for himself why Frodo was so popular.
Frodo was horribly sore. His face throbbed and he could
barely move without his ribs protesting. He didn't think
they were broken, but they were certainly cracked. When he
had coughed in the other room, a few droplets of blood had
sprayed onto his hands.
Now that he was sitting alone, free with his thoughts, he
could muse over Vik's unfair treatment. It didn't make
sense. While they had lain together in the room, Vik had
made it clear how strong his feelings were for him, that he
was willing to do nearly anything to get him out of this
situation. He knew Butterbur was not trustworthy, so why
had he suddenly turned on Frodo? Frodo felt a bit of hope
at the idea that maybe Vik had seen the lawmen, too, and
had not wanted to get Frodo arrested. But he had still
left Frodo to be beaten by that horrid man. He could have
just taken Frodo out of there, never mind the consequences.
Vik looked strong enough to be able to fight several men at
once.
Frodo startled as he suddenly was aware that the hooded
gray-eyed ranger was sitting just at the next table,
sipping an ale and watching the hobbit carefully. Frodo's
heart leaped and his cheeks warmed, remembering how he had
imagined the Man's rough yet gentle touch on him earlier.
Frodo managed a tentative smile at him, causing his cheek
to throb, but Strider did not respond. Frodo's cheeks
heated again, this time in embarrassment.
Why was Strider so unaffected by him? He could make Frodo
forget his misery for awhile. Why were the appealing men
turning against him, leaving him vulnerable to repulsive,
violent men like Will?
This was going to end now.
Unbuttoning his shirt so that one nipple was daringly
visible, Frodo slid out of his seat and stood in front of
the ranger.
"Why do you stare at me?"
There was a long, awkward silence, in which Frodo nearly
regretted approaching the ranger. Butterbur had warned him
against it, said the rangers were dangerous.
Finally, Strider spoke in a low voice. "You are mistaken,
halfling. I am not staring at you, much as you may have
become accustomed to that."
Frodo gave him the most charming smile he could. "Would
you like to find out why men stare at me?" Frodo asked.
The ranger watched him, apparently unmoved for several more
moments, until his lip finally curled up just slightly.
"You would lie with me?"
"Yes," Frodo said in relief that Strider had finally
responded. "Though I am rather sore right now."
"What do you charge?"
"It depends on what we do," Frodo said. "If we do the full
act, I must charge you three coins. If not, it will be
two."
"You are very expensive," Strider said, and his hand
brushed over Frodo's face. Frodo could not help but lean
into the touch, closing his eyes. "And perhaps normally,
justifiably so. But I am certain your face was much fairer
without the swelling and bruising. You should have a care
who you choose to service, for now I would only pay you two
coins for the full act."
"All right, that will do then," Frodo closed his eyes in
contentment, imagining the ranger's hands on him, making
his body sing loud enough to forget the bruising.
"Let me make certain I understand," Strider said. "I will
give you two coins and you would be willing to allow me to
have my way with you. Is that it?"
"Yes, that is the way it works," Frodo said. "Now come, I
know of a good room."
"Not so fast, halfling." Strider's voice changed, became
hard and chilling, as he stood to his full height. "You
are under arrest." Before Frodo could struggle or realize
what was happening to him, Strider had pulled out a length
of rope and was tying Frodo's wrists behind him. Frodo
squirmed around to see his face, gasping in horror, tears
of rage springing to his eyes.
"You're a lawman?" he gasped, squirming from side to side.
"How can that be?"
"Not your concern." Strider pulled Frodo's wrists up just
slightly to stop the hobbit's struggling, but Frodo
whimpered as his ribs throbbed yet again. "Stop your
struggling or this is going to be unpleasant."
"Where are you taking me?" Frodo gasped. He pictured a
dank jail full of leering Men like Harry and Will. Or the
guards that Butterbur had threatened him with, those that
liked to have fun with hobbit prisoners.
Many in the inn had grown quiet as Frodo was tied up, his
nipple still tantalizingly visible, and they watched with
seedy interest, and definitely some regret, as Frodo was
led through the inn.
Butterbur ran from behind the bar.
"What is the meaning of this?" he called out, wiping his
hands on his apron.
"I'm afraid your little gold mine is finished in Bree,"
Strider said, pushing Frodo roughly in front of him.
"Gold mine?" Butterbur muttered innocently. "For what I
pay him, it's more the other way around, I-"
"Save it," Strider said with a piercing glare. "You are
fortunate that you are such good friends with so many of
the lawmen or you would be coming with me right now, too."
Strider pushed open the door to the outside, and his
fingers dug into Frodo's shoulders.
TBC
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