Sequel to Aragorn at the Crossroads Inn
ARAGORN AND FLORA
Aragorn pulled his cloak more tightly around him. It was the end of March and the nights were still bitterly cold, he was desperately tired, it would be another three days before he reached Bree, but still he could not sleep.
His thoughts turned to Arwen and he shook his head as though to rid himself of them. They would never marry, her father, Elrond, would not allow it, and it was too cruel to expect it, for her to give up her elven immortality and live a human lifespan. His stomach groaned, unused to being so full. An excellent meal last night, a fine breakfast, and a pack of travelling food given to him by Flora.
He involuntarily smiled as he thought of Flora. She'd been beautiful, innocent, but not virginal, he'd enjoyed showing her the delights of lovemaking, and felt sure she'd never before climaxed. He could feel himself hardening as he pictured her ripe sensuous body, with soft curves and a warmth that had thawed the chill in his bones more thoroughly than any fire.
He remembered lying in the bath as she'd washed him, massaging his battle-weary muscles, tenderly ministering to him, and how one muscle in particular had responded. Yet she hadn't been shocked, just given him a knowing smile. He re-lived the firmness of her touch, the fragrance of her, and he was forced to reach his hand into his breeches to grip his hardening member. Breathing deeply, he pictured her as she'd undressed for him, both shy and wanton, drawing on his reaction to her, wanting to please him, but wanting to please herself.
He'd taken her to his bed, revelling in her innocence, her surprise and pleasure as he'd touched her intimately, releasing in her emotions that at once amazed and tormented her, leaving her wanting more. And that first magical entering of her, her tightness, her wetness, her pleasure and her willingness.
He turned onto his back, the better to take himself in hand. Oh how he'd wanted her to peak, for him to be the key to her first time. And how he'd listened to her rapture, bringing himself to his own climax sooner than he'd wanted, simply due to her unconcealed elation. And then how she'd taken control of him, tending to his manhood, absorbed in fascination as she licked and sucked him back to hardness, delicately, not wanting to hurt him, inexperienced and yet so focused on his pleasure.
He groaned, pulling faster at himself, but not wanting it to finish just yet. How she'd lowered herself onto him, arms raised above her head, like a goddess of the night, all powerful. He mentally ran his hands over her warm breasts, feeling their weight and softness until her own climax had forced her down onto him and he'd pushed deeper into her, wanting to watch her face as the waves of passion flooded through her.
The hot sticky liquid spurted involuntarily from his manhood and he sighed as the memories of the previous night faded and he drifted into sleep. The journey was a hard one to Bree, but Hasufel was in good health and he knew the road well. He arrived at dusk four days after leaving The Inn at the Crossroads, hoping to see Gandalf. Uncannily, or maybe not for Gandalf, he arrived while Aragorn was eating, warmed after a hot bath.
Gandalf was in a jovial mood, blowing smoke rings and telling of his recent travels. But then his mood changed, he sighed heavily and said, 'Aragorn, I fear for the future. Sauron is growing in strength and your help may be required sooner than we all thought.'
'You know I'll do everything I can.'
'Aye, and more will be expected of you. But I have a favour to ask of you now. I want you to be close to The Shire.'
'Not much of a favour,' Aragorn said, smiling. 'Can I ask why?'
'Not yet. But I've heard information that may well come to fruition sooner rather than later.'
'And it involves The Shire? Hobbits?'
'Hobbits indeed, I believe. But I'll say no more. Except I need you to find out this . . . '
Aragorn spent the next few days information gathering, calling on his contacts, laying the foundations should their help be needed, and learning of the worrying sightings of Nazgul in the area. He was asleep when there was a rapid knocking on his door.
'Sir, there is a girl here to see you.'
'No thanks, I don't want one.'
'She is asking for you, Sir. For Strider. She arrived ten minutes or so ago by horseback. I have stabled her horse with yours.'
'With Hasufel?'
'Yes.'
For Hasufel to allow any horse to be stabled with him, it must be familiar. He pulled on his breeches and shirt and followed the innkeeper down to the bar. Huddled by the fire, shivering, was Flora, but not the Flora of a few days past. This Flora had an angry black eye and bruising to her cheek. As he approached, tears filled her eyes.
'Flora, what happened?' The innkeeper was hovering. 'Have you eaten?' She shook her head. 'Can you get her some soup, she's freezing. And a hot bath in my room?'
'Yes, Sir.'
Aragorn pulled Flora onto a seat near the fire and examined her eye. 'What happened?'
'My uncle. He . . . he found out about us. Mindor told him he'd seen me at the first floor window and he, well, he asked for the money you'd paid me. When I told him none, he didn't believe me and . . . I couldn't stay. I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to come tonight. It's only for one night, then I can find my relatives.'
'Hey, hey, it's all right. You're safe now.' Flora ate the soup, still trembling, but from shock rather than cold. 'My father died and I'm the oldest, so I got a job with my uncle at the inn.'
'Did you bring much with you?'
