Faramir Fiction Archive

The Price (R)

Written by Minx

28 February 2003 | 34809 words

Chapter 6

“Stop,” Faramir wailed out, grey eyes tinged with untold fear, “Please, I will do anything you like, leave Boromir alone, please…”

“Tell your elf friend,” Fenekor said, pressing the blade in slightly inducing a small drop of blood that sent Faramir panicking.

“No! Stop!”

“It is a pity, your brother is quite good looking. I might have liked him myself.”

“Haldir,” Faramir screamed out, “Stop him!”

“He can’t,” Fenekor retorted, “He will not actually, he seems coy, ask him nicely, nay, grovel before him, show him how sweet you look, unless he enters your sweet tight little ass, I will not leave your brother.”

“Haldir,” Faramir screamed, as Fenekor pressed the blade tighter.

Haldir watched despairingly from where he lay half sitting beside Faramir’s bench. He had no weaponry left on him, even the knife in his boot was gone.

Dropping Boromir to the ground, Fenekor walked across to Faramir, snapped off the manacles holding him in place, and grabbed him up by his hair. Haldir growled in anger as he heard a painful sob wrack his young friend’s body.

“Is he not beautiful?” Fenekor purred, running his free hand over the trembling body, inducing more tremors. The hand came to rest over his lower back, threatening to defile the sore and bleeding entrance once again.

“Tell him you want him,” Fenekor ordered, fingering the much abused area roughly, eliciting hisses of pain, “Tell him how it feels to have another inside you, tell him how much you love it, that you smile in your sleep, when you think of it, that you may cry now, but you love it, you crave it.”

The young man cowered in fright eliciting a contemptuous burst of laughter from the Harad captain, “Sniveling little coward, I do not wonder why your father gave you up so easily, with nary a protest,” he scorned, throwing him back onto the bench.

Faramir fell curling into himself, sobbing softly now, the very pain and humiliation that threatened to send him into oblivion, was perversely keeping him awake. He could hear Haldir shouting angrily, a rage in the elf’s voice that he would otherwise have thought impossible.

“Kiss him!” Fenekor ordered, and yanking Faramir’s head back, he stared into the grey fear filled eyes, with a gloating expression on his face.

Haldir glared at him, and stood up, his expression murderous, “Leave him alone!”

Fenekor stroked Faramir’s bruised face and let the hands rove all the way down his back, across his stomach, and down his lower belly till he was lightly stroking his member, “Kiss the elf,” he repeated, bringing his mouth close to the trembling man’s ear. Then he let Faramir drop forward.

Faramir struggled up, and lurched towards Haldir, who caught up the beaten, naked body in his arms and once again looked in horror at the state he was in. Then he felt himself being gathered in his loving arms, and spoken soothingly to.

“Oh, Faramir,” Haldir whispered, his distress evident in his voice. “Do not worry, I will not force myself on you. I will not do as he asks.”

“He will hurt Boromir, please, father will never forgive me,” Faramir sobbed out.

The Gondorian pulled himself up, and silenced Haldir by placing his mouth on his, and immediately removing it.

“That’s not a kiss,” Fenekor shouted, and he felt something flay his back, bringing tears to his eyes, and more pain.

Haldir hissed in anger as Fenekor stood belt in hand behind them, “Kiss him,” he ordered again.

This time Faramir obeyed implicitly, he let his tongue rove inside Haldir’s mouth, and the elf found himself being sucked into a contented vortex he never wanted to come out of. Faramir seemed in a state of semi-oblivion now, and so he took the lead. He held him comfortingly, probed the mouth with his tongue, and stroked his hair, in a loving manner, sucking at the finely chiseled mouth until he felt he had to come up for air. Faramir lay spent in his arms, tears flowing copiously, clutching him as though he were all he had.

“Take off the elf’s clothes,” Fenekor ordered, he was now sitting on the bench, and watching them licking his lips in anticipation. Boromir’s prone body was at his feet, the head placed over his knees so that his blade still remained at the exposed throat.

Faramir obeyed, but his eyes were downcast, and his face was very, very pale. He pulled off Haldir’s cloak and tunic, and then his leggings, and stared at the beautifully sculpted body in front of him, reddening as he realised what a terrible sight he himself must look. An audible gasp from behind told him Fenekor agreed with his assessment. Haldir stood proudly, his neatly braided hair falling onto his shoulders, lips set in a thin line, the muscles in his arms and legs finely developed from years of archery and life in the forest, anger forcing each sinew to stand out.

“Do it now, show him your pretty little ass, and tell him you want him inside it,” Fenekor commanded, the blade pressing down on Boromir’s skin, and Faramir looked at Haldir mutely pleading.

Haldir felt his own eyes tear up as he saw a plethora of emotions cross the tired face in front of him, fear, shame, pain, and worry. The face was swollen and bruised, the lips were almost double their size, eyes and nose reddened by tears, and livid marks and traces of blood covered the entire body. He shut his eyes in despair, he could not possibly do to Faramir what that monster had done to him. He found him attractive, yes, but Faramir was in neither the physical nor the mental condition to be made love to, no matter how gentle he would be. But if he didn’t, then Boromir stood to be harmed and Faramir would not survive that. Faramir made the decision for him by seating himself on the cold hard floor, and pulling him down. He was trembling and his eyes were shut tight as he lay down on his stomach, and stretched his legs apart.

“Turn over and open your eyes,” commanded Fenekor, “Or the elf will not be able to see how you enjoy him.”

The command was obeyed without hesitation. Haldir sat where he was, his clothes in a heap at his feet. He could not move. His heart felt torn, and he wondered how heart wrenching it must be for Faramir, if it was this bad for him. Faramir gave him a pleading glance, tears filling up the grey eyes once again, but Haldir continued staring mutely at him. How could he do this? He averted his eyes from the gory display in front of him, his own orbs clouded with tears.

A cry from Faramir brought his gaze back. Boromir was awakening, and Fenekor was trying to prevent that. He was shaking the half awake thrashing figure in his arms.

“No!” his younger brother sobbed, curling up in agony.

“Why not, pretty?” smirked the Haradrim, “Let your brother too see you being humiliated.”

Boromir’s open eyes took in his brother’s abject figure huddled on the floor, his friend kneeling in despair, and the knife at his throat, and the man he wanted to strangle with his bare hands holding it in place.

“It is good to see you awake, Lord Boromir, would you too like to see Master Haldir give you brother some pleasure.”

“No,” Boromir whispered, turning an anguished gaze from his brother to his friend.

Haldir shook his head, “I will not,” he said resolutely.

“Very well, then, Boromir dies.”

“I would rather die than let my brother suffer any more,” Boromir thundered, his ire now totally roused, as Faramir began getting up, and then slumped back grimacing in pain.

“But he will suffer! After I kill you I will kill the elf, and then your brother will continue to suffer. What do you say, my pretty little Faramir, should I kill your brother or will you show us what it looks like when an elf beds a man?” Taking advantage of the fact that Fenekor’s eyes were on Boromir’s angry face, Haldir slowly reached for his braided hair. He had almost forgotten that he still had a weapon he could use, if only he could reach it.

Faramir straightened up and crawled towards Haldir ignoring the muted protests from Boromir, whose mouth had been covered by Fenekor’s free hand. Haldir grabbed at the clasp holding his braids in place, a sharp silver implement, pushed Faramir aside, and threw himself with every inch of speed and agility he possessed at Fenekor.

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