Hope for the Uruk: 4. Reprise(1)

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4. Reprise(1)

Ten days passed before I ventured below Rath Dinen once again. I had devoted part of each day to further research amongst dusty, brittle scrolls in libraries and record rooms. I had bathed obsessively and privately. I had gone out over Pelennor to watch the muffled squads engaged in burying the stinking detritus of battle. I had kept scrupulously downwind of the keen Elven senses of Prince Legolas. I had spoken again to Mithrandir whose research had been more wide-ranging, but more diffuse, than mine. He had added little to the Tale of the Gladden Fields, except to tell me once again that Master Elrond always remarked on the striking likeness between Isildur’s eldest son Elendur, and King Elessar. I even contemplated taking horse up the Great River to Gladden myself.

None of this was any use. Each night I fell asleep with my hand at my cock, and images of Uruk-anatomy dancing behind my eyelids. People began to look at me askance, and wonder semi-audibly if I was spending too much of myself.

On the tenth day I received an oblique message from the commander of the guard-squad. The Orc’s guards had reported strange behaviour on the part of their charge. I sent for him privately to ask what they meant.

“Well, sir, they say he’s gone wild.”

“He’s an Uruk.” I pointed out.

“Yes, sir, but they say he flies into rages and throws his food at them. They’ll hardly go near him now – except he insists they muck him out regularly.”

“Very commendable!”

“And he’s asked for you, sir, begging your pardon.”

“Hmm. Well maybe he really does have more information. He told me so last time, but I didn’t believe him. I’ve been trying to verify what he did come up with. Very well. Tell the men I’ll be down this evening.”

That night I took with me on impulse, the grey cloak of Lorien which had lain unused in my chest since my arrival. I had no particular desire to go unnoticed by the guards, but it occurred to me to test the Uruk’s claim as regards the keenness of its senses.

The two guards seemed extremely ill at ease, all traces of their former insolence gone. They surrendered the keys with no demur and, at my request, opened the outer door themselves, entering together whilst I ghosted in behind them wearing the cloak.

The Uruk’s naked bulk loomed against the bars, which it rattled balefully.

“What the fuck are you Snaga staring at now?” he snarled, “And where’s that fucking Tark? Did you fuckers pass my message? I told you – I got information. Where I come from you’d be flogged to within an inch of your fucking lives! I heard what you said about him last time, y’know. What if I tell all that filthy stuff you said?”

The guards froze in panic, both sets of eyes swivelling to where I lurked in the shadows.

“Wassa matter now?” asked Shagrat witheringly, “You look like you’ve been caught shitting your britches by …. Wait a minute! I smell Tark! What have you done with him, you miserable fuckers?”

“Leave them alone.” I said, “They’re only doing their job.”

“Where have you been, Tark? Didn’t they tell you I’d asked for you?”

“I’ve had a great deal to do.”

“Oh right! So Isildur takes second place, eh, whilst everyone prepares for the Cupcake princess, and sings lullabies to the shattered Ringbearer? Wish I’d eaten that fucker …. “ it trailed off into vaguely-threatening mutters.

I took off the cloak, and signed to the guards to go. They left as quickly and inconspicuously as two bulky men could do. I came closer to the bars, swinging the cloak behind me.

“Gah! You smell of Cupcake.” accused Shagrat, “Bloody Golden Wood, too. You don’t wanna go near there, Tark, it’s dangerous.”

“What do you want, Orc?”

“Told you before. You want this information, or not?”

“How if I said not?”

“Then you’ll be sorry, that’s all. You – that is, your little King – will wanna know what old Shagrat can tell.”

This was a stupid game. We both knew why I’d returned. I unlocked the cage and slid inside, discarding cloak, robe and boots on the threshold. My breath uneven, I approached the Uruk so closely that our chests were nearly touching.

“So you’ll be wanting to tell me how many times the Uruk-hai saw Saruman the White paddling about in the shallows by Gladden?” I asked.

The Uruk placed one claw-tip delicately beneath my chin and raised my face.

“It was a long-shot with the extra information,” he admitted, “and yet … here you are again, Tark. D’you have a name, by the way?”

“Hope.” I said.

“Hope? What kind of poncy name is that?”

“The one I was given at birth.” I reached forward and touched his massive chest, “What have you been doing to yourself? You’ve lost a lot of weight.”

“Threw all my food at those fuckers, didn’t I? Gotta keep in trim …”

“But not starve yourself. You’re an idiot, Shagrat.”

“You don’t look so well yourself, little Tark. Big shadows under your eyes. Wassa matter? Can’t sleep? Or is it too much jerking off eh? I’d like to see that.”

I tilted my head to look up at him, whilst my forefinger found my rampant cock, and ran its length. His massive fist overtook mine and wrapped itself around both hand and cock.

“On second thoughts … “

The claws were gone again. It was a humanoid hand that enclosed me. They must, I thought dizzily, be retractable. He was brisk and efficient, bringing me to completion fast. As before, he coated his cock before bearing me backwards to the paliasse. The table had apparently disappeared.

“I smashed it.” he admitted, noticing my glance, “but this will be better today. They changed the straw.”

The paliasse was admittedly softer than the table, but the straw seemed just as harsh on my still-tender back. Shagrat parted my legs as he had done before, stooped, gathered my knees over his wide shoulders, and reared up on his knees, curling me neatly over myself. A wriggle of the shoulders spread my legs wide, and I felt his sticky cock probe me before I was well ready for him.

His massive head bowed between my spread knees. A hand – claw - snaked from beneath my thigh as he traced red circles around each of my nipples. I tensed as his tongue reached down.

Its touch was warm and soothing. It lapped at the droplets that sprung and spilled across my chest. The mouth descended and suckled. The triple battering ram of his cock made easy conquest of me as I melted to the insidious demands of his lips.

Again I felt those long, controlled movements within me. Torturers make good lovers, then, attuned to each nuance of pleasure as well as of pain. As his hands and tongue and cock meted out generous measures of both, I wished for the agony never to end; the ecstasy to be infinitely prolonged. In the midst of a long life bound entirely by duty, lineage and destiny, it was good now to be subject only to these two simple sensations, and to the transient will of this creature of the dark.

Shagrat pulled back until only the head of his cock remained inside. He reared over me, and for the first time lowered his mouth to mine. His tongue slid past my lips and teeth. He held us both now on some unbearable edge, forever, as it seemed.

His mouth left mine and travelled to my neck. Perhaps he would bite as he came, sending me through completion clear beyond the circles of the world. I felt the slabs of teeth behind his lips against the pulsing vein at my throat, and waited expectantly.

“Estel.” he said into my flesh.

And plunged, throwing us both beyond names and words in a white and foaming flood.

Notes:

(1) Identity: Anyone who has missed the “subtle” clue in the title will discover the identity of Shagrat’s partner-in-crime by the end of Ch 4.

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Grond

Status: Reviewed

Completion: Complete

Era: 3rd Age - Post-Ring War

Genre: Other

Rating: Adult

Last Updated: 08/08/03

Original Post: 08/04/03

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Playlists Featuring the Story

Hope Unquenchable - 15 stories - Owner: Envinyatar
A collection of stories that, to me, illustrate the following quote from Appendix A: Aragorn's "face was sad and stern because of the doom that was laid on him, and yet hope dwelt ever in the depths of his heart, from which mirth would arise at times like a spring from the rock." In character stories that present the lighter side of Aragorn.
Included because: How could I leave this one out!

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