Aragorn at the Crossroads Inn

After watching Lord of the Rings (again), I searched on-line for some "Aragorn porn". I was sadly disappointed that I could only find slash stories, so decided to redress the balance just a little. The story took me a couple of hours to write, but many, many nights to re-live!

*

A flurry of snow swept over the straw-covered floor as the group of village men left the inn, calling a farewell to my uncle. I approached the last remaining man seated near the fire, his sword leaning against the end of the bench seat, close to hand. I'd served him on previous occasions, usually alone, but sometimes he met a man with a long grey beard. Tonight, unusually, he was staying the night, perhaps because his horse had been as exhausted as he looked when it was led away to the stables.

'Is there anything else I can get you, Sire?'

'No, thank you.' He leaned back from the bowl, emptied of stew, and winced, holding his shoulder.

'You are injured, Sire?'

'It's nothing.'

'Your room is ready, and I have prepared you a bath.'

He looked up at me and his eyes met mine, a clear grey, despite the shadows below them. He smiled, transforming his face, relieving the tension that had been there since he arrived.

'Thank you. You've been very kind . . . '

He paused as though waiting for my name. 'Flora. And you are . . .?'

'They call me Strider.'

'I'll show you to your room. Do you have any bags?'

'Just this,' and he dragged a beaten saddlebag from under his bench seat and limped slowly up the steep stairs behind me, leaning heavily on his sword.

He was struggling to remove his cloak as I arrived with the final bucket of hot water for the tub. I helped him off with it and noticed that his leather jerkin was encrusted with blood.

'Here, let me help,' I said, easing it off his broad shoulders and putting it over the back of a chair. His once-white shirt was blood-soaked at the back and, as he struggled to lift his left arm to undo the lacing at the front, I took over, tugging it from his breeches and raising it over his head. His skin was taught over his ribs, battle-stained and bruised, but it was the gash over his left shoulder blade that caught my attention. 'I have some salve for that,' I said. 'After you've bathed. Now let me help you into that water before it gets cold, and I have five brothers, so you've nothing I've not seen before.'

He laughed as he clumsily pulled off his boots and then breeches, and leaned on me heavily as he climbed over the rim of the tub.

I took away his shirt and breeches to clean, doing the best I could to get out the staining. The shirt fabric was good quality, heavyweight, well stitched. The leather breeches needed more attention, but I scrubbed at them with salt and beeswax to remove the stains and soften the leather. As I took his clothes back up to his room, along with another bucket of hot water, he was snoring gently, asleep in the water. I cautiously walked towards the tub, noticing the flames of the fire reflecting on his damp skin. I may have five brothers, but they were all younger than me and this was definitely a man.

I knelt at the end of the tub and began to gently dry his hair. It was soft, running through my fingers as I untangled it, looking down on his face. Long eyelashes cast shadows onto his cheeks, a strong nose, sensuous lips, deeply-dimpled chin under the stubble of a few days. He'd missed some dirt on his chest, probably because of the injury to his left shoulder, so I took the cloth and gently began to clean him. He stirred a little, smiled, but didn't open his eyes, so I continued, using the clean hot water I'd brought up with me. I rubbed over his chest, up to his neck, and then lower over his stomach. I moved down to his legs, running over the firm thigh muscles and then reaching under the water to his calves and feet. As I glanced up his body, I could see a new part of his body rising out of the water and I smiled. He must have realised as he suddenly sat up. Embarrassed, I handed him a cloth and left him to dry himself as I went to collect my basket of ointments.

He tied a blanket round his waist and I made him sit as I began to smooth a honey and athelas salve onto the shoulder wound. He winced at the first touch, but then relaxed as the healing warmth began to filter through. I tended to it delicately, making sure it was fully covered, and then took some wolfsbane oil and began to massage it into the bruises, feeling his skin warm under my touch, the muscles hard across the broad shoulders. I slid my hands over his chest, rubbing the warming oil firmly into the muscles until he stopped my hand with his. And then he put it to his lips and I could feel his breath on my skin as he kissed the back of my hand and then sucked the tips of my fingers. A shiver of anticipation ran through me and I pressed my breasts against his back as he started to kiss up my arm. I buried my face in the fragrant warmth of his neck, feeling his hair soft against my cheek. And then he turned, sliding his hands up my arms as he pulled me round and onto his lap. He started to plant kisses on my lips, soft, gentle at first, then firmer, harder, his rough stubble scratching my skin. My eyes closed as I sank into the warmth of his kisses, but then, suddenly, he stopped and pushed me to standing.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I shouldn't have done that, but you were so . . . '

'No, don't stop . . . '

'But --' I silenced him by kissing him again, my hands firm on his shoulders, resisting his resistance. I waited until I felt his muscles relax and then slid back onto his lap, slipping my hands around his neck, my fingers twining into his hair, pulling his lips hard onto mine.

His hand crept up from my waist and onto my breast. He tugged at the lacing of my bodice, loosening it so that he could slip his hand inside, lifting my breast with his fingers, stroking his thumb over the nipple. I released a moan, drawing my lips away from his briefly, catching my breath as he tweaked my nipple between finger and thumb. I stood, and then slowly started to undress, undoing my blouse, and pulling it over my head, and then loosening my skirt and releasing it onto the floor. I loved watching him watching me, his eyes roaming greedily over my body as I revealed it to him, slipping off my shoes and kicking my clothes away. I reached out for his hand and drew him with me towards the bed. The material was cool against my skin, the wool-stuffed mattress more forgiving than the straw ones we used to have. I stretched out languidly, watching his body silhouetted against the flickering flames of the fire as he joined me, kneeling over me, his eyes running up the length of my body until they connected with mine.

I could hear his breathing, roughly unsteady as he leaned in to kiss me again. I stroked my fingers over his chest, catching at the curling hairs, sinking into the warmth of his kisses. I stretched out my legs and he felt the movement, sliding one hand down my body and then gently between my legs, parting me, oh so gently caressing me, feeling my wetness.

'Flora,' he whispered. 'By all the gods, you know how to distract me.'

'You need distracting?' I replied, stroking my hands down his back and onto his buttocks, squeezing them.

His fingers were pulsing inside me, sliding into the depths of my warmth, drawing out my juices and circling my bud of pleasure, the one that I knew only too well in the darkness of my own attic room. My breath was starting to come in short gasps as he aroused me and I lifted my knees, wanting him deeper. He moved his body further up mine and then slid into me, entering me deliciously slowly before withdrawing so that I could feel every inch of his manhood.

I was by no means experienced in the ways of men and women, but this felt wonderful, building up my anticipation. He lowered himself onto his forearms and I wrapped my legs around his thighs, pulling him deeper into me. He lifted my knee to alter the angle, and, by the gods, feelings stirred inside me I had never before experienced. I gripped onto him tightly, almost unable to breathe as the lust flowed through me until I cried out, my muscles clenching hard until I flung back my arms, tears staining my face as I felt him thrust deeper and harder until he released himself into me, lowering his body onto mine as I clung to him.

My fingers stroked down his back until he rolled away from me, the firelight reflecting on the sheen of his skin. Propping myself up on one elbow, I traced a finger over his collar bone, chest and stomach. He twined his fingers into mine, pulling me towards him for a kiss. If he thought I'd finished with him, he was wrong as I wantonly slid my fingers down his body and onto his manhood. I felt it move between my fingers as I caressed it, watching it stir into life, taking interest in it as it had been the source of such unbelievable pleasure. Certainly more so than the brief experimental couplings I'd experienced with the blacksmith's son where speed had been of the essence, rather than pleasure.

But this was so very different, and I took time to watch it grow, stretching the silky skin as it became taught. I delicately touched it with the tip of my tongue and Strider moaned. I could taste myself on it, mixed with his musky scent and it tasted divine. I stroked my tongue up its length and sucked at the tip. I heard him gasp so I continued, gently running my lips further down the shaft like the sheathing and unsheathing of a sword.

It was with some reluctance that I released his shaft from my mouth, but my own need was building and I desired some attention. I straddled Strider, leaning over him, smiling as he reached up to fondle my breasts, cupping them with his fingers, feeling the weight of them in his hands. I kissed up his stomach, his chest, revelling in the taste and feel and scent of him, and then my lips found his, his tongue plunging into my mouth and I twisted it with mine.

I could feel his hardness nudging at my thigh and I lowered myself slowly onto it, resisting its entry so that I could savour its heat, but then he raised his thighs, plunging into me, deep and hard and wonderfully. I ground my hips onto his, pulling away from his mouth and stretching up, raising my arms above my head as I experienced the full length of him inside me. I touched my breasts, stroking hands firmly over them, tweaking my nipples between my fingers, riding on the crest of his lust. And then he raised his hips, pausing at the peak, and my body was held in suspension until I flung myself forward, my hands gripping his shoulders as I rammed my body down hard onto his, willing him not to stop.

'By the Lords of the Great Woods, you're as wild as a wood nymph,' he whispered.

I was setting the pace now, faster and deeper, feeling once more that spiralling of emotion as it fled to my fingertips, causing me to whimper. He was meeting my pace, driving harder, until I could stand it no more and released a groan, calling his name, my muscles clenching around him, drawing from him a deep moan of his own as I felt him release himself inside me. I was panting like a hound, shaking as my body ended its contractions and I melted onto him, grateful for his strength beneath me. Very slowly, I could feel him withdraw from me, and I stretched out my legs so that I was lying on top of him. He twitched the blankets over me, one arm holding me securely as I nestled into him.

'Flora? Flora?'

'My lord, ask nothing of me, I am spent,' I murmured.

He held me closer to him and I could feel his muscles relax and, shortly, his breathing deepen and, soon, my body aching wonderfully, sleep overtook me also.

I could feel his body tensing under me and I unwillingly stirred. 'Horses,' he whispered, and I reluctantly released him to see him stride across the room to the window, opening it and peering out into the snow. I wrapped myself more closely in the blankets, already missing his warmth until I heard the hoof beats slow to a halt near the inn.

I joined Strider at the window, trailing a blanket behind me. 'Who is it?'

'You're not expecting anyone tonight?'

'No, no one.'

'In that case, they're probably looking for me.'

'But . . . why?'

'It's a long story.' He glanced over towards me. 'I'll tell you another time.'

A group of nine or ten men were now circling on horses in the darkness below. Strider pulled on his breeches and boots and then stood by the door, sword clasped in hand. I listened carefully, thinking I recognised at least one of the voices. I took a risk and leaned out of the window, the blanket wound round me.

'Mindor Drewater, what are you doing here at this time of night? Surely you know we're closed.'

A surprised face looked up at me. 'Flora? I, er, we, er . . . '

'Yes?'

Another man drew forward into the fitful light from the window. He was older than Mindor, reigning in his horse as he looked up at me. 'We are looking for someone,' he stated. 'A Ranger who goes by the name of Strider.'

'He's not here.'

'We had word he was earlier.'

'He was but he left.'

I hissed towards Strider, 'Where are you heading?'

He had one second to decide whether to trust me. 'Bree.'

'He said he was going to Riversmeet,' I shouted down. Bree was north, Riversmeet to the west with the inn at the crossroads. Strider had approached from the east.

Another rider joined them. 'His horse is in the stable.'

'It's gone lame,' I called. 'He took one of Farmer Dewsfoot's. Seemed in a hurry to trade for it. Now, is there anything else or do I have to call my uncle?'

As I expected, none of them wanted to incur the wrath of my uncle. They spoke briefly in a huddled mass and then set off down the westward path to Riversmeet. I struggled to close the window, the blanket sliding from me, but my body was soon warmed by the pair of arms that slid around my waist and hugged me to him.

'Thank you.'

I turned in his arms and kissed him. 'You should sleep,' I said, stroking fingers softly across his cheek.

'I am too awake. Come with me,' and he led me back to the bed, shedding his boots and breeches on the way. He kissed up the inside of my legs, his beard rough on my inner thighs until he reached the warmth of my opening. He expertly found the bud that gave me pleasure with my own fingers and strafed it with his tongue. I had to grip the mattress, my nails catching on the cloth as he lit a flame in me that he fanned with his fingers and his tongue. It was only when I was gasping and panting that slowly, oh so slowly, he kissed his way up my body, leaving his fingers to caress me, driving towards some peak I could not name. As his lips found mine, I could taste myself on him and explosions of lust drove me upwards onto a new plane of ecstasy.

He entered me roughly, but I cared not, grateful just that he was there. My fingers gripped his arms, tight on his muscles. I was trying not to cry out, but I could not help the mewling that escaped my lips as my body tensed, rigid against his as he thrust into me, harder and harder until I could barely grasp a breath. And then there was his sudden release and he exhaled a groan as he buried his face into my neck and lowered his body onto mine and I held him, not wanting to ever let him go.

It was barely dawn when he left the bed and dressed, shaving in cold water in the mirror near the window. I watched him through sleep-laden eyes, the way his muscles moved, the length of his legs as he pulled on his breeches and boots. He was moving less stiffly than he had last night, and his shoulder wound was less angry. I left the bed as he finished shaving and rubbed some more of the healing salve onto his shoulder.

'You know you saved my life last night, don't you?' he said, turning to drop a kiss on my forehead.

'And you've changed mine forever.' I couldn't help but ask. 'Will I ever see you again?' He tilted my chin up towards him. 'If I could wish a night in the heavens, it would be this one again with you. But these are dangerous times and I know not whether I shall ever pass this way again. Flora, you have rescued me this night in more ways than one, and I shall be forever in your debt. But I must go now. Thanks you, my precious one. Thank you.'

I could hear my uncle stirring and wanted to be downstairs before him, so I quickly dressed and left the room. I spoke only once more with Strider as I served his breakfast and he settled the bill.

'Flora, I'd like you to have this.' He pressed a small object into my hand. 'You never know when you might need to prove who your friends are.' I watched him leave, standing in the doorway to the inn as he took the road towards Bree. He waved as he disappeared into the trees and I opened my palm. The cloak pin showed a white tree arced by seven stars. The tree of Gondor.