"This isn't the first halfling to have crossed your
path? Faramir, tell me everything."
I spurred my steed down the narrow alley behind Gandalf and
his tiny companion. No, this was not the first halfling I had seen.
But what could I tell Gandalf of the hobbits I knew? Of their journey,
to be sure, where we met and how we parted. Of my knowledge of the ring,
yes, he would want to know that, and I would gladly tell.
But the things that touched me most in our encounter I would
keep secret. Of how, while interrogating the strangers, I heard echoes
of my brother's voice as the stouter hobbit bravely informed me that
he was his companion's gardener.
But then my thoughts were ever on Boromir. The image of our
parting haunted me. He had looked so beautiful upon his mount, the wind
caressing his hair. He told me to remember that day, as if I could ever
have forgotten it. I longed to press his fingers to my lips, telling
him that he meant everything in the world to me, begging him to come
back safely to me. Maybe if I had said that he would not have fallen
on the road from Rivendell. But I could only stand silently, gazing
up at him and hoping he could read the thoughts behind my eyes.
I now know that my words could not have saved him. The temptress
ring was too powerful. But I knew nothing of the ring then. I only knew
what I had seen in my dreams, and the cloven horn I held in my hands.
I remember how my dreams were interrupted by a small hand
stroking the horn. Lifting my head, I saw my own grief reflected in
the weeping eyes of Sam Gamgee. "I am sorely hurt, Lord Faramir,"
I heard him say. "It broke my heart to part with Boromir, and to
hear that he is dead … that I will never see him again...."
His words were strangled with a sob as he fell into my arms. I scarcely
had time to draw my brother's horn from my lap as his tiny body pressed
into mine.
I made out fragments of his story as he wept in my arms –
of Boromir sparring with the hobbits, saving Sam from a cave troll in
the mines of Moria, helping his kinsmen cross the bridge of Khazad-dûm.
In Lothlórien, Sam had come to my brother's bed, seeking solace
in that brief respite from their journey. "He was my protector,"
Sam said, and I understood completely. How many times did I seek my
brother's bed late at night, able to forget my father's cruelty only
in his warm embrace? Now he was gone, and this tiny creature in my arms
was the last link I had to the one I loved more than any other.
Lost in thoughts of Boromir, it took me a moment to realize
that the hobbit was now nuzzling my neck, the wet tears of his face
mixing with soft, wet kisses on my throat. It was a disconcerting feeling,
at once pleasurable and distracting. "Boromir was my protector,"
I heard him say again. "Now I am so alone, so alone...."
My heart broke to hear the pain in his voice. I turned my
face to the hobbit and kissed his cheek, whispering, "No, Sam,
you are not alone." The next thing I knew, his lips were pressing
against mine. His tongue flicked the edges of my mouth, then pushed
their way inside. He tasted of sweetness, of fresh earth and fruits.
I wanted to taste more of him, and eagerly returned his kiss.
The next thing I knew, tiny hands were stroking me through
my leggings. It was an unbelievable feeling, only surpassed by the touch
of those hands after he released my straining erection from the confining
cloth. They moved so quickly, teasing me, urging me to higher and higher
ecstasy. I would have lost control had he not broken our embrace at
that point. At first I feared he had changed his mind, but when I looked
in his eyes I saw his resolve.
"Boromir taught me how men make love," he said.
"It was better than anything I'd ever imagined." He met my
questioning eyes and said, "Will you make love to me, Captain Faramir?"
I could only nod, but that was enough for the hobbit. He
hastily loosened his leggings and lowered them to the ground. When he
stood up, he held a small jar of saddle oil. The tiny creature then
climbed into my lap, straddling my waist.
"Won't this hurt you?" I asked, wanting him terribly
yet not wanting to injure him.
"Your brother never hurt me," he answered, a dreamy
look in his eyes. He handed the jug to me; I dipped my fingers first
into the oil and then, gently, into his tight entrance. It was larger
than I expected, considering his size. I eagerly explored the velvety
muscles with my fingers as the hobbit began to slide himself up and
down, sighing as he enveloped my fingers in his welcoming passage.
I must have sighed too, for he caught my eye as he reached
a hand into the oil and massaged it onto my penis. I ached for him,
and almost lost control as he lowered himself onto me. I struggled not
to go too fast, for I did not want to hurt him, but the young hobbit
took over, dictating the speed and the depth of our exchange. At first
he took his time, slowly impaling himself until he had drawn my entire
shaft inside. The feeling was intoxicating – such depth, such
exquisite pressure all around me. I could feel myself throbbing inside
him. Then he drew himself up, almost completely releasing me, sending
a shudder of loss through my body. He plunged back down, releasing a
loud moan as I entered him again. Slowly he increased his speed, his
rhythm just unpredictable enough to leave me aching in anticipation,
and then revelling in pleasure. I caressed his own weeping erection,
trying to focus my attention on his pleasure if only to distract myself
from the release that my body begged for. In my hands he finally found
his own release, his hot jism bubbling out onto my tunic. I lost myself
then, and climaxed into tumbling ecstasy.
The next thing I felt were soft kisses gently fluttering
over my face. I opened my eyes to see the features of my tiny lover.
His eyes still glistened with tears, but they held a peace that had
been missing before. "My sweet Sam Gamgee," I said, lifting
him off my spent member and settling him across my legs so I could hold
him closer. "You are indeed a surprise."
He laughed softly at that. "Your brother said almost
exactly the same thing." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then
said softly, "I will miss him all my life, but I think he would
be glad to know that we did this. It brings him closer, don't you think?"
I hugged him tightly at that, and kissed his forehead gently.
"Yes, I think it does." For I did feel Boromir's presence
more strongly than I had for months, except in my dreams. "And
I know he would be glad that you've come under my protection. He must
have hated to see you part from his company."
The hobbit stiffened at this remark, and I could tell I had
said something wrong. "What is it, Sam? Did something happen with
Boromir?" Sam said nothing, but looked at me anxiously. Then he
scrambled to get out of my lap.
As he drew up his leggings I asked again, "Please, Sam,
I beg of you, tell me what happened to my brother."
"Don't ask me that, Captain Faramir, sir," Sam
whimpered. "It wasn't his fault, it was the ring."
"The ring? What ring is that, Sam?" I asked, more
sharply than I intended, as the suspicions that had been forming in
my mind since we first encountered the hobbits swirled into place.
"No, Captain Faramir, it's nothing, I can't say anything
more." He turned and ran from the room. I quickly tied up my leggings
so I could follow him, but before I could rise Mablung brought me news
that the hobbit's strange companion had been spotted in the Forbidden
Pool. I raced out to see Gollum, and for a few moments watched that
filthy beast despoiling the sacred waters. I almost told my men to kill
him then, wanting desperately to release my unspoken frustration on
another creature. But something stayed my hand, pity or curiosity or
both, and I told Mablung that I would bring the hobbits to the pool.
When I entered the hobbits' quarters, I saw that Sam was
already asleep, fresh tears now drying on his rosy cheeks. I longed
to stroke his sleeping back and whisper that I was sorry, but his companion
was awake. I bade him come with me. I led Frodo to the Forbidden Pool,
where he persuaded the Gollum-creature to come with us ("persuaded"
being a very loose interpretation of the word). The horrible creature
confirmed my worst suspicions about the hobbits and their quest. As
my men interrogated him (again, "interrogation" being very
loosely interpreted), he revealed that Frodo did indeed carry the one
ring of power, Isuldir's Bane, the weapon that my father had asked Boromir
to bring to Minas Tirith.
Enflamed with a hatred I did not understand, I strode into
the hobbits' room. They were both awake now. Sam shot me a concerned
look but I could hardly look at him. My thoughts were on the ring –
of using it to save Gondor, of forever dispelling my father's mocking
tone, of succeeding where my brother had failed. My sword was out, though
I could not remember drawing it, and with it I lifted the chain around
Frodo's neck. Sam called out to me then. His voice was drowned out by
that of the ring, which commanded me to take it in my hands.
I hardly remember what I said to the ringbearer – I
have probably blocked it out from the shame I later felt – and
I have no idea how far I might have gone had Frodo not shoved my blade
away and broken the ring's spell. Finally I heard Sam's words begging
me to let them go, to stop hurting them. Wounded by my words, and by
my own sense of betrayal, I could only stare into his face. The face
that I had comforted just hours before was now streaked with more tears
and pain, and I was the cause of it.
Just then Mablung announced that Osgiliath was under attack.
Perhaps I was still under the ring's spell, perhaps I just wanted time
to apologize to Sam, but for whatever reason I insisted the hobbits
come with us. Once there, though, I felt the ring calling to me again,
begging me to bring it to my father. With it I could finally make him
see that I was as valuable as Boromir, perhaps even more so, for I could
deliver this weapon that Boromir had lost. With it I alone could save
Gondor.
"Do you really want to know what happened to Boromir?"
The words cut me to the quick and ripped me back into consciousness.
"You want to know why your brother died? He tried to take the ring
from Frodo! After swearing an oath to protect him, he tried to kill
him. The ring drove your brother mad!" In Sam's agonized words,
I heard the extent of his loss. Boromir, his protector, had betrayed
the hobbits. And I had done no better.
And so I will tell Gandalf how I was almost overcome by the
ring, and how I was stopped just in time. And I will tell him how I
freed the hobbits, along with their guide, in the sewers of Osgiliath.
And I will tell him that that is all I know of hobbits, keeping secret
my high regard for a tiny gardener from the Shire.
THE END
