West of the Moon
A Tolkien Fanfiction Archive
Frodo has a craving; Merry and Pippin do what they think they must.
This story was written for the hobbit_smut
Livejournal Community 'First
Author's Note: A little-known feature of the latter days of
the Nümenorean civilisation was
the belief that mushrooms could prolong life. Thus it was
that in the days of Tar-Telemmaitė it was decreed
that mushrooms were food for royalty and that no commoner
could ever touch them. The citizens of Gondor maintained
this tradition and accordingly the end of the line of
descendents of Anarion also marked the end of Mushroom
cultivation in the Southern Kingdom.
Not a single merchant in Minas Tirith seemed to have any idea what he was talking about no matter how hard Pippin tried to explain. "Mushrooms... they're shaped like this," he said as he traced mushroom-shaped patterns in the air with his hands. "You've got to have some, this is an emergency." But not even for Ernil I Pheriannath could a shopkeeper conjure something out of nothing and Pippin was forced to return to the hobbits' temporary home empty-handed.
As he walked through the door, Merry leapt up expectantly: "So? Did you find any?" he asked.
"No," replied Pippin, "not a sniff of them anywhere in the city. Apparently they haven't grown or collected any since the death of Eärnur."
"But that's nearly a thousand years," protested Merry, "how could they survive without mushrooms for a thousand years?"
"More to the point, how is Frodo going to survive the next few hours without mushrooms? I don't know what we're going to do." He collapsed into a chair at Merry's side, "Fine time for Sam to go away."
"I know," said Merry, "but Sam really wanted to take up the invitation to go with Faramir and see repair work to the farmlands. How was he to know that Frodo would choose this moment to get one of his cravings on him? Besides, even if Sam does have a nose like a truffle hound, it's not going to do any good if there's none to be had."
"Oh, I'm not blaming Sam," said Pippin, "it's just that we could really do with him here at the moment. You told me about the havoc that Frodo's cravings could wreak on Brandy Hall and he was only a lad then. Just imagine what could happen now!"
"I shudder to think," said Merry, "the extent of the devastation has probably grown along with him. What's more, Frodo's been through a lot lately and it's probably lowered his resistance. Given that this city's been through a lot too, I doubt it could stand one of Frodo's rampages just now."
"But what are we going to do about it?" said Pippin. "We can hardly keep him locked in his room alone for the duration, someone's bound to notice. At least if Sam were here he could take his mind off of things and the exercise might even make it run its course more quickly."
"He's never going to last until Sam gets back," said the ever practical Merry, "so we'll just have to distract him ourselves. Question is: what do we do?"
"We do what Sam would do, of course! After all, we are very good at it," replied Pippin, with a lascivious wink, "and it certainly used to distract Frodo back in Buckland."
"Hmmm..." said Merry, "it did used to do the trick nicely, didn't it? But that was pre-Sam; what if Frodo doesn't co-operate?"
"If he doesn't co-operate, we'll just have to tie him down and persuade him," suggested Pippin, with a great deal too much enthusiasm.
"Sam won't like it," warned Merry.
"Sam," said Pippin, "is not here."
Merry pondered upon this undoubted truth for a moment, before saying: "All right, I'm up for it if you are."
Pippin grinned. "You're always up for it, Merry!"
"Not always," corrected Merry, "there was that time a couple of years ago when I saw Lobelia Sackville-Baggins naked. I couldn't get it up for days."
"That particular reminiscence isn't helping me to firm my resolve," complained Pippin as they made their way towards the object of their concern, "also, it was your own fault for playing Peeping Tom in the baths."
Merry shrugged. "I thought it was Pearl."
"And that makes it better, how?" complained Pippin.
Nevertheless, now that their course of action was determined, the cousins put thoughts of all naked relatives but one out of their mind and moved swiftly towards their goal - the room in which they had locked Frodo as soon as he had asked the ominous question. Pausing outside the door, Merry asked: "Do you have anything in particular in mind or are we going to improvise?"
"Perhaps we could spank him," suggested Pippin enthusiastically. "Frodo likes being spanked."
"No, Pip - you like being spanked," Merry corrected.
Pippin shrugged. "All right then, you can spank me while Frodo watches."
Merry raised his eyebrows and grinned meditatively at Pippin. "You've got a taste for an audience? Because if Frodo isn't interested I could always sell tickets...I imagine that would draw a fair crowd."
Pippin struck a dramatic pose. "But would they immortalise it in song? There's the question."
Looking at the little popinjay preen himself, Merry couldn't resist giving him a quick swat to the rear. Pippin looked hopeful at that, but Merry shook his head, saying: "That's all you're getting for now, my lad - we have work to do."
Pippin replied with a wink. "For Frodo," he said.
Girding their respective loins in the figurative sense, Pippin having also had the forethought to provide the means to do it in the literal sense should it become necessary, they entered. The room's occupant was not, as Merry and Pippin had assumed, in an uncontrollable frenzy, but was reading a book by the open window.
Turning deceptively calm eyes to the new arrivals, he said, "Merry, Pippin, you're back already! This book is so fascinating that I had quite lost track of the time." Merry and Pippin exchanged glances; this wasn't quite what they'd expected. Then Frodo sealed his fate by asking the fateful question: "Did you manage to get any?"
"I'm sorry, Frodo," said Pippin, shaking his head sadly as he circled behind the oblivious Frodo, "I've searched high and low, but there aren't any to be found."
"Oh, that's a shame," lamented Frodo, "I really fancied a few for supper."
"I know, I know, but there aren't any," said Merry, soothingly, "maybe when Sam gets back he'll be able to think of something, but until then you're just going to have to be strong. Pippin and I are here to help in any way we can."
"Pardon?" said Frodo, perplexed.
"We're going to help you relax, take your mind off things," said Pippin, "all you have to do is trust us and we'll do the rest."
"I'm sorry, but you're not making any sense at all," said Frodo. "I think I'll just leave you to sort yourselves out while I go and find us something else for supper."
The other two exchanged a startled glance. "What do we do now?" asked Merry, making a quick grab for Frodo's arm as he headed towards the door. "We can't let him go, he's quite obviously delusional."
"It's like I thought," sighed Pippin, not entirely despondently. "There's nothing for it; we'll just have to restrain him."
"What?" yelped Frodo.
"It's for your own good, cousin," murmured Pippin. "You'll thank us for it later."
"Do you have any rope?" asked Merry, who was finding it increasingly difficult to hold onto a Frodo who had been trying to extricate himself from his cousin's grasp ever since hearing the suggestion.
"Best check in Sam's stuff, he's the bondage expert around these parts," suggested Pippin.
"Sam?" said Merry, with surprise.
"Yes," confirmed Pippin as Frodo went an interesting shade of pink, "you don't think he got so good at knots just from tying up the runner beans, do you?"
"My word, you learn something new every day!" said Merry. "I must ask Sam for a few lessons once he gets back."
"Look," said Frodo, in desperate tones, "I'm not quite sure what's going on, and I'm very appreciative of your concern, but I really don't need to be tied up."
"It's bad this time," said Merry. "He's playing with our minds, trying to make us think he's normal so he can escape and run amok. I think we'd better find a gag."
"Yes," agreed Pippin, "it'll stop him using his teeth as well. A bit of nibbling is fine and dandy, but I don't feel sorry enough for Frodo to risk losing anything vital."
"Why would you feel sorry for me?" asked Frodo, his voice climbing in pitch.
"Because you're caught in the trap of a dangerous craving," explained Pippin, slowly and patiently, "and we all know what it does to you when that happens. That's why we need to take your mind off of things."
"So," added Merry, "If you would just let us tie you up, we can start distracting you."
"But I'm not..." began Frodo before stopping abruptly as a thought struck him: "Oh..." he said, and then "Oh!" before suddenly starting to twist wildly in Merry's grasp.
"See, Frodo," said Pippin, moving forward to add his strength to Merry's, "I told you this would happen!"
"Noooooo!" shrieked Frodo, rolling his eyes dramatically, "Must have mushrooms..." and with that the other two had no choice but to tackle him to the bed.
Once Frodo was securely bound and gagged, a task which took more time than it should have done because of all the theatrical writhing and snapping of teeth that he was doing, Merry and Pippin stripped for action. "What are we going to do about Frodo's clothes?" asked Merry, "we really should have got them off before we tied him to the bed."
"We'll just have to cut them off," replied Pippin, "it's a small sacrifice for Frodo to make, given what we're doing for him."
The noises that Frodo made as his breeches were cut off seemed to indicate that he was in full agreement and, once he was satisfyingly naked, demonstrated all too obviously that his mind was being nicely distracted and his body had followed suit.
"Do you want to start at the top or the bottom?" asked Pippin.
"Maybe we should toss for it," suggested Merry.
"What, whoever comes first gets to choose?" asked Pippin. "If you ask me, it seems a bit of a waste of energy in the circumstances."
Merry sighed. "I meant with a coin, ninny. For that you get to start at the bottom."
"That's fine by me," said Pippin, with a grin.
"I always knew you had a foot fetish," retorted Merry.
"It's not his feet that I'm aiming for," replied Pippin roguishly; although that was certainly where he started.
With nips and licks the two cousins moved slowly and painstakingly over the body of the recumbent third. Not an inch of skin was left untasted as two clever mouths and two nimble tongues caressed their way across the banquet that was Frodo's trembling flesh.
"Mmmm..." murmured Merry appreciatively, his teeth worrying at Frodo's left nipple, "I'd forgotten how good Frodo tasted."
"Yes," agreed Pippin, taking a pause from laving the soft tissue of Frodo's inner thigh, "ripe and ready for the fucking."
"Don't you mean, plucking?" queried Merry.
"Each to his own," mumbled Pippin, resuming his journey upwards to the accompaniment of appreciative sounds from behind Frodo's gag.
Jealous of the reaction, Merry redoubled his efforts and moved downwards onto the gentle swelling of Frodo's still diminished belly. Their two paths met at the junction of Frodo's thighs and they spared a moment from their task for each other, tongues tangling in a familiar dance until an indignant noise from Frodo reminded them of exactly why they were there. Still caressing each other they dipped their heads to the desperately straining flesh below and moved in unison to produce a sensation designed to send even the most mushroom-obsessed of hobbits right out of his mind.
It seemed, however, that Frodo was not the only one present who was becoming desperate as Pippin soon moaned, "Oil... now."
Merry briefly disentangled himself to root around in the pocket of his discarded breeches and find the requisite item, then his oiled fingers added to the sweet torture that they were inflicting upon their more than willing victim. But Pippin was now in no mood for finesse and complained bitterly that Merry was in the way.
Merry however was intent upon his ministrations, saying only: "Give a hobbit some room to work, will you?"
"If Frodo would just move a couple of inches to the right..." grumbled Pippin as he tried to position himself to allow Merry the necessary access.
Merry reminded him of the difficulty that would pose in the present situation: "Frodo can't move - we tied him down, remember?"
Pippin pouted. "Well, he could have said."
Merry said, "I'm sure he would have loved to, Frodo being a helpful fellow after all, but there is the small matter of the gag..."
"Excuses, excuses," said Pippin.
Smiling at his cousin's intransigence, Merry untied Frodo's ankles from the bedposts and slid a pillow under his rump before transferring his attention to Pippin. Once Pippin was prepared, Merry moved up the bed to nuzzle at Frodo's neck while Pippin turned his attention towards Frodo, carefully entering and then, once Frodo had relaxed around him, initiating a driving rhythm. He slid his hand down Frodo's belly towards his swollen heat but the descent was stopped abruptly when Merry slapped Pippin across his wrist, saying sharply: "No, I want this to last."
Concentrating as he was upon his own pleasure, it wasn't long before Pippin shuddered to conclusion, collapsing onto Frodo's chest with a sharp cry of: "Oh, Merry...that was wonderful."
"Mmmm," said Merry, smoothing Pippin's hair back from his sweat slickened brow and grinning evilly, "but poor Frodo doesn't seem to have achieved quite your level of tranquility just yet."
Pippin withdrew and sat back to watch as Merry's mouth and hands played Frodo's body like a fine instrument, approaching but never touching the place that Frodo so obviously needed it most. Merry made sure that Frodo was on the verge of losing what remained of his craving-addled wits before finally preparing himself and then settling down upon Frodo and starting an unhurried rhythm.
"I don't know how you can drag it out like that," said Pippin in admiration, "I certainly couldn't!"
"Patience is a virtue," said Merry, punctuating each word with a languid movement, "seldom found in Tooks and never found in Peregrine."
Frodo was now writhing desperately against his remaining bonds and whimpering behind the gag. "Couldn't we untie him now?" pleaded Pippin. "I really don't think he's in any state to cause trouble."
Pausing his motion for a moment, Merry agreed. "Unfasten him from the headboard but retie his hands once you've done it, I don't want him lunging for my throat at a crucial moment."
"No," said Pippin, "the odd bit of pain certainly has its charms, but I should imagine that you'd like to stay conscious this time."
Pippin encountered no resistance from the panting hobbit as he released Frodo's hands and laid them upon his stomach before crawling up onto the pillows, lifting Frodo and settling him between his legs. He retied Frodo's hands and asked: "What about the gag?"
"Take it off," said Merry, "I want to hear him."
Pippin undid the gag and drew it away, releasing a stream of incoherent moans and pleas from Frodo's lips.
"What do you want, Frodo?" asked Merry. "Tell me."
Frodo gasped, "Please, oh please."
"Not good enough," said the implacable Merry, raising himself up upon his knees so that he barely held Frodo within himself. "What do you want? Mushrooms?"
"Nooo..." whimpered Frodo, struggling to raise his hips against Pippin's grasp.
"What, then?" continued Merry, mercilessly maintaining their respective positions, "what is it that you need?"
"You, you, oh please, Merry... finish it, finish it please."
Finally responding to Frodo's desperation, Merry slammed himself down, taking as much as Frodo as he could contain within himself with a triumphant cry. Grasping Frodo's bound and sweating hands, he picked up the pace and drove both of them to the release that they so desperately craved.
The morning light and a newly returned Sam found the three of them still tightly entwined. As he entered, Frodo opened his eyes, smiled sleepily and murmured, "Sam, you're back! Did you have an interesting time?"
"That I did," said Sam, returning the smile, "and t'would appear that you did too!"
Pippin raised his head at that, saying quickly: "Now Sam, don't get upset. We were just trying to take Frodo's mind off mushrooms. He had a real craving for them and we couldn't find a single one in the city."
"You wouldn't at that," said Sam, "but that'll change soon, now there's a King in Gondor again. Not but that it wasn't touch and go until we went out to the farms."
"What do you mean?" asked Pippin, his curiosity getting the better of his apprehension.
"According to the old traditions they have to grow mushrooms for the King," explained Sam, "but there weren't a one of them as knew how, it having been so long since they'd had one. Happen it was lucky that I came along."
"Indeed it was, Sam," said Frodo with an admiring grin.
"Aye well, it won't be long now 'till they're gracing Strider's tables, but there won't be any for the likes of us, they being reserved for royalty and all."
"Maybe we can get Aragorn to change the laws," said Pippin hopefully.
"Round here that'll probably take generations," said Merry gloomily, without bothering to crack an eyelid.
A sudden thought hit Pippin. "I must say, you're taking this awfully well, Frodo," he said.
Frodo sighed: "Yes, well, these days even the most tempting of culinary treats seems somehow... unimportant."
Merry's eyes finally popped open at that. "Then last night..." he asked.
Frodo nodded: "I was pretending, yes."
"All of it?" asked Pippin plaintively.
"No," said Frodo, stroking his cousin's curly head, "just the frenzy bit."
"That's hardly fair!" objected Merry,
"Why?" asked Frodo, "didn't you enjoy yourselves?"
"That's not the point!" they chorused in unison.
"If that wasn't the point, then I'm blowed if I know what was, " observed Sam. "After what we've been through we all deserve a bit of pleasure and if you can't find it with each other then I'll not be knowing where you can."
"Then you don't mind?" asked Pippin.
"Just so long as you haven't worn him out too much," replied Sam.
"Not at all," said Frodo, reaching out an arm. " As a matter of fact, there is one thing that I'm craving. Why don't you join us, Sam?"
Sam observed the scene before him and his fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt. "Don't mind if I do," he said.
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