Categories > Books > Lord of the Rings > Not So Little After All
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
DISCLAIMER: The characters are JRR Tolkiens.
The situations they're in are the author's.
Not meant to infringe on any legal holders of
Lord of the Rings copyright.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Not So Little After All
by OdoGoddess
It had been a hard ride, as Theoden had predicted.
Meriadoc Brandybuck doubted however that the king
had meant it the way he thought of it.
All day Merry had been riding held in front of Eowen,
who held an arm around him, ostensibly to hold him
on the saddle but also to keep a grasp on the pommel
of the saddle.
The thing was, the pommel was riding right against
his crotch. And Eowen's thumb shifted and flexed
as she rode, right against Merry's cock.
At first, he tried to distract himself. But he couldn't
hold thoughts of the upcoming battle in his head
from sunup to sundown. They rode with only a few
stops, mostly for comfort, meaning to relieve their
bladder and bowels. Food they ate twice, a good
breakfast and again when they made camp. In
between, some, like Merry, snacked on pemmican,
dried meats, flat bread and fruit from their
saddlepacks, and sipped at water from their
waterbags. A few, like Eowen, also carried wine
in a wineskin.
So for at least ten hours he'd been almost
constantly stimulated. Not enough for him to
achieve climax, something that would have
shamed him no end, but in a stop and start
manner that had him extremely frustrated by
the time they broke camp.
The communal trench did not allow for enough
privacy for the wanking session that Merry
desperately needed. And he was sharing a tent
with the Lady Eowen.
Flushed with heat, need and famished from the
long hot ride, he found himself peeling off his
leathers and splashing in a shallow pond along
with several of the men.
It was something he would have done if he'd
been in the company of his fellow hobbits, and
he'd not stopped to consider it, but now he was
the only hobbit in the region. And as he started
to relax thanks to the cool, refreshing water, he
realized the Rohirrim were all staring at him.
He flushed, suddenly self-conscious.
Among other hobbits, he was of average build.
Among these men, he was a tiny man. This
extended to his penis, which was plenty big
enough for a hobbit. Glancing at the men
nearest him, he noted they all were rather
intimidating-looking down there.
He imagined he looked rather like a boy to
these men. Swallowing his feelings, he
pretended not to notice their gawking and
slogged out of the water and picked up his
clothes. Sluicing as much water off his skin
as he could with hands, and shaking out
his hair, he dressed and headed toward the
tents, no longer feeling quite as refreshed.
He also did not feel so sexually frustrated,
either; all thoughts of sex having dwindled
with his embarassment.
After a good meal served to him by Eowen
herself, two fire-roasted and skewered sausages
and some kind of roasted root vegetable with
a very sharp, spicy taste, he made a last visit
to the communal trench and headed for the
tent, hoping for a good long sleep.
As soon as he released the tent flap, he
realized his error.
The tent was filled with her scent. She
smelt of heather and grass and her own
musky smell, mixed with their leathers and
warm wool.
She also lay waiting to share the small square
of blanket she'd lain down on the ground
with him. He smiled tentatively.
"That's kind, my lady, but... I can sleep here
in the corner."
"With our baggage? I hardly think so. Don't
be silly and come here. There is plenty of
room. And we can share warmth. The night
will be chill."
Unable to muster an argument, Merry
swallowed and headed over. He was
about to slide in next to her when she
arched a brow at him and said, "Were you
intending on keeping your leathers on?"
"Oh!"
Without thinking, simply following the
order in her voice, Merry took off his
pants and jerkin. He could feel himself
reddening as he quickly slid in next to
her.
She threw the blankets over them and
he let out a shaky breath, rigid and to
his horror, feeling something else become
rigid, too.
A stiff little lump was outlined in the dimness,
beneath where his groin was. Merry turned
away from Eowen and drew in a breath,
swallowing down his feelings.
Maybe he would fall asleep quickly.
After silently naming his lineage back
fifteen generations, he admitted to himself
it wasn't likely. Nor did the feeling of Eowen's
body behind his, the smell of her and her
soft breath fluttering against his neck allow
his rigidity to recede. If anything, his
cock was as hard as it ever was.
Maybe, he thought, he could somehow
relieve the situation without waking her.
After several fruitless and fruitlessly
stealthy moments spent trying to
extricate his arm, his cock, and all without
waking Eowen, he sighed heavily, more
frustrated than before.
He toyed with the idea of just heading
out of the tent as if going to use the
toilet trench and perhaps finding a
quiet place to spend his seed in the
darkness. It seemed like the best
solution.
Before he could actually sit up, though,
a calm and slightly amused voice made
him start.
"I do know of Rohirrim's needs, Master
Meriadoc."
"Lady?"
"All their needs."
He turned toward her and nearly
yelped as he felt her warm, strong hand
slide onto his belly and down...
"Lady!"
"Hush, Merry. There's no need to
waken the Rohirrim." She smiled down
at him, a rather earthy expression on
her face as she added, "Nor is there
cause to interrupt them, either. No doubt
some are tending to this very need."
With that, her warm, strong, and to Merry's
way of thinking, long hand, continued
toward its goal.
Since he had freed his erection earlier,
there was nothing between her skin and
his and he bit back a moan as her palm
pressed his stiff shaft down against his
lower belly.
The moan found voice as her fingers slid
along the base of his erection and felt the
texture of his lightly-haired scrotum.
"Easy," she whispered against his ear.
"Lady," he whispered back, helpless from
his actions. He wanted to thrust, wanted
to...
Her fingers circled his cock, grasped it
like the pommel and began to gently but
firmly rub in a twisting motion. Her hand
was large enough that it completely covered
his cock, base to tip. To his delight, she
pressed down from time to time against
his scrotum.
He felt a slight surge and shook his head,
ashamed. His cock tended to drool a bit
the more excited he got. He knew some
hobbit women did not find this very
aesthetically pleasing, and he hoped he
hadn't offended the sweet lady.
"Easy," she whispered again. "It's all
right, Merry. It's nothing I don't know
of. Nothing to be ashamed of. It's just
a bit of moisture to ease the way, as we
say in Rohan."
He nodded, too excited for speech
requiring more than her name or some
wordless cries. He longed to touch her,
but didn't dare. Despite her actions,
she seemed somehow... unsullied and
he had no wish to sully her. She was
a lady; she could do to him what she
wished, but he did not feel he had the
right to touch her unless she requested
it.
He needed climax now, but her
hand did not provide enough friction.
He had fought the urge, but finally
gave in and moved his hips.
As soon as he began to thrust, Eowen's
grasp tightened and her fist began to
tug on him.
A brief, choked-off cry signalled the
beginning of his orgasm.
Sheer pleasure flooded him, stemming
from his testicles and up his spine and
flowing back out, out through his rock
hard erection spasming in her grip.
He trembled, feeling the last bit of his
essence trickle down onto her hand.
Merry lay, gasping for breath and not
knowing what to say at his unexpected
gift. It was almost overwhelming, his
pleasure, gratitude and shame all in one.
Eowen said nothing, merely wiping her
hand on a bit of straw and smiling
slightly.
Finally his breathing slowed and he
found voice, not daring to look her
in the eye.
"My lady..."
"Say naught."
He turned then to look at her. She
shook her head.
"'Tis nothing to be said. 'Tis a thing that
needed to be done, 'tis needed by all
men betimes. And for all your stature,
you are very much a man, Sir Merry.
Not so little after all."
She smiled and he blushed. She continued,
"We women of Rohan are not taught to shy
from a man's needs. Nor from our own,
come to that."
"Lady?"
"Perhaps one of these nights..." she trailed
off, a dreamy look in her eyes, but then she
shook her head again. "Or not. It matters
not. What matters is you were in need and
I eased your way. Did I not?"
"Aye, my lady," he said shyly, respectfullly.
She smiled at this and leaned over to kiss him
gently on the brow.
"Then sleep now, Merry. We ride early."
His head was full of too many concepts to
voice, too many questions to ask. Finally,
Merry asked none of them. He nodded
and turned his head to rest it against her
shoulder.
"Sleep well, my dearest lady," he whispered.
"Do thou, too, Master Meriadoc," she sighed.
Free of all pressures, mind blank of all but
the sudden deep need for sleep, Merry
closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless
oblivion.
~ FINIS ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
completed: 9 July 2004
DISCLAIMER: The characters are JRR Tolkiens.
The situations they're in are the author's.
Not meant to infringe on any legal holders of
Lord of the Rings copyright.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Not So Little After All
by OdoGoddess
It had been a hard ride, as Theoden had predicted.
Meriadoc Brandybuck doubted however that the king
had meant it the way he thought of it.
All day Merry had been riding held in front of Eowen,
who held an arm around him, ostensibly to hold him
on the saddle but also to keep a grasp on the pommel
of the saddle.
The thing was, the pommel was riding right against
his crotch. And Eowen's thumb shifted and flexed
as she rode, right against Merry's cock.
At first, he tried to distract himself. But he couldn't
hold thoughts of the upcoming battle in his head
from sunup to sundown. They rode with only a few
stops, mostly for comfort, meaning to relieve their
bladder and bowels. Food they ate twice, a good
breakfast and again when they made camp. In
between, some, like Merry, snacked on pemmican,
dried meats, flat bread and fruit from their
saddlepacks, and sipped at water from their
waterbags. A few, like Eowen, also carried wine
in a wineskin.
So for at least ten hours he'd been almost
constantly stimulated. Not enough for him to
achieve climax, something that would have
shamed him no end, but in a stop and start
manner that had him extremely frustrated by
the time they broke camp.
The communal trench did not allow for enough
privacy for the wanking session that Merry
desperately needed. And he was sharing a tent
with the Lady Eowen.
Flushed with heat, need and famished from the
long hot ride, he found himself peeling off his
leathers and splashing in a shallow pond along
with several of the men.
It was something he would have done if he'd
been in the company of his fellow hobbits, and
he'd not stopped to consider it, but now he was
the only hobbit in the region. And as he started
to relax thanks to the cool, refreshing water, he
realized the Rohirrim were all staring at him.
He flushed, suddenly self-conscious.
Among other hobbits, he was of average build.
Among these men, he was a tiny man. This
extended to his penis, which was plenty big
enough for a hobbit. Glancing at the men
nearest him, he noted they all were rather
intimidating-looking down there.
He imagined he looked rather like a boy to
these men. Swallowing his feelings, he
pretended not to notice their gawking and
slogged out of the water and picked up his
clothes. Sluicing as much water off his skin
as he could with hands, and shaking out
his hair, he dressed and headed toward the
tents, no longer feeling quite as refreshed.
He also did not feel so sexually frustrated,
either; all thoughts of sex having dwindled
with his embarassment.
After a good meal served to him by Eowen
herself, two fire-roasted and skewered sausages
and some kind of roasted root vegetable with
a very sharp, spicy taste, he made a last visit
to the communal trench and headed for the
tent, hoping for a good long sleep.
As soon as he released the tent flap, he
realized his error.
The tent was filled with her scent. She
smelt of heather and grass and her own
musky smell, mixed with their leathers and
warm wool.
She also lay waiting to share the small square
of blanket she'd lain down on the ground
with him. He smiled tentatively.
"That's kind, my lady, but... I can sleep here
in the corner."
"With our baggage? I hardly think so. Don't
be silly and come here. There is plenty of
room. And we can share warmth. The night
will be chill."
Unable to muster an argument, Merry
swallowed and headed over. He was
about to slide in next to her when she
arched a brow at him and said, "Were you
intending on keeping your leathers on?"
"Oh!"
Without thinking, simply following the
order in her voice, Merry took off his
pants and jerkin. He could feel himself
reddening as he quickly slid in next to
her.
She threw the blankets over them and
he let out a shaky breath, rigid and to
his horror, feeling something else become
rigid, too.
A stiff little lump was outlined in the dimness,
beneath where his groin was. Merry turned
away from Eowen and drew in a breath,
swallowing down his feelings.
Maybe he would fall asleep quickly.
After silently naming his lineage back
fifteen generations, he admitted to himself
it wasn't likely. Nor did the feeling of Eowen's
body behind his, the smell of her and her
soft breath fluttering against his neck allow
his rigidity to recede. If anything, his
cock was as hard as it ever was.
Maybe, he thought, he could somehow
relieve the situation without waking her.
After several fruitless and fruitlessly
stealthy moments spent trying to
extricate his arm, his cock, and all without
waking Eowen, he sighed heavily, more
frustrated than before.
He toyed with the idea of just heading
out of the tent as if going to use the
toilet trench and perhaps finding a
quiet place to spend his seed in the
darkness. It seemed like the best
solution.
Before he could actually sit up, though,
a calm and slightly amused voice made
him start.
"I do know of Rohirrim's needs, Master
Meriadoc."
"Lady?"
"All their needs."
He turned toward her and nearly
yelped as he felt her warm, strong hand
slide onto his belly and down...
"Lady!"
"Hush, Merry. There's no need to
waken the Rohirrim." She smiled down
at him, a rather earthy expression on
her face as she added, "Nor is there
cause to interrupt them, either. No doubt
some are tending to this very need."
With that, her warm, strong, and to Merry's
way of thinking, long hand, continued
toward its goal.
Since he had freed his erection earlier,
there was nothing between her skin and
his and he bit back a moan as her palm
pressed his stiff shaft down against his
lower belly.
The moan found voice as her fingers slid
along the base of his erection and felt the
texture of his lightly-haired scrotum.
"Easy," she whispered against his ear.
"Lady," he whispered back, helpless from
his actions. He wanted to thrust, wanted
to...
Her fingers circled his cock, grasped it
like the pommel and began to gently but
firmly rub in a twisting motion. Her hand
was large enough that it completely covered
his cock, base to tip. To his delight, she
pressed down from time to time against
his scrotum.
He felt a slight surge and shook his head,
ashamed. His cock tended to drool a bit
the more excited he got. He knew some
hobbit women did not find this very
aesthetically pleasing, and he hoped he
hadn't offended the sweet lady.
"Easy," she whispered again. "It's all
right, Merry. It's nothing I don't know
of. Nothing to be ashamed of. It's just
a bit of moisture to ease the way, as we
say in Rohan."
He nodded, too excited for speech
requiring more than her name or some
wordless cries. He longed to touch her,
but didn't dare. Despite her actions,
she seemed somehow... unsullied and
he had no wish to sully her. She was
a lady; she could do to him what she
wished, but he did not feel he had the
right to touch her unless she requested
it.
He needed climax now, but her
hand did not provide enough friction.
He had fought the urge, but finally
gave in and moved his hips.
As soon as he began to thrust, Eowen's
grasp tightened and her fist began to
tug on him.
A brief, choked-off cry signalled the
beginning of his orgasm.
Sheer pleasure flooded him, stemming
from his testicles and up his spine and
flowing back out, out through his rock
hard erection spasming in her grip.
He trembled, feeling the last bit of his
essence trickle down onto her hand.
Merry lay, gasping for breath and not
knowing what to say at his unexpected
gift. It was almost overwhelming, his
pleasure, gratitude and shame all in one.
Eowen said nothing, merely wiping her
hand on a bit of straw and smiling
slightly.
Finally his breathing slowed and he
found voice, not daring to look her
in the eye.
"My lady..."
"Say naught."
He turned then to look at her. She
shook her head.
"'Tis nothing to be said. 'Tis a thing that
needed to be done, 'tis needed by all
men betimes. And for all your stature,
you are very much a man, Sir Merry.
Not so little after all."
She smiled and he blushed. She continued,
"We women of Rohan are not taught to shy
from a man's needs. Nor from our own,
come to that."
"Lady?"
"Perhaps one of these nights..." she trailed
off, a dreamy look in her eyes, but then she
shook her head again. "Or not. It matters
not. What matters is you were in need and
I eased your way. Did I not?"
"Aye, my lady," he said shyly, respectfullly.
She smiled at this and leaned over to kiss him
gently on the brow.
"Then sleep now, Merry. We ride early."
His head was full of too many concepts to
voice, too many questions to ask. Finally,
Merry asked none of them. He nodded
and turned his head to rest it against her
shoulder.
"Sleep well, my dearest lady," he whispered.
"Do thou, too, Master Meriadoc," she sighed.
Free of all pressures, mind blank of all but
the sudden deep need for sleep, Merry
closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless
oblivion.
~ FINIS ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
completed: 9 July 2004
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