Thorongil rescues Faramir despite his injury

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Chapter 6: Assaulted[edit]

this page added by Minx

I know I shouldn’t be continuing on my own chapter until two weeks are up but well, there was a particular scene that I did want to see written in this interactive so... sorry!

And, there’s no reason why Faramir can’t get a little angst before Aragorn is able to rescue him!

Warnings for many squicky things and er, bestiality I suppose!

Thorongil started as he heard the thrashing noises followed by Faramir’s frantic cry. Whatever was the boy up to he wondered sighing heavily as his side twitched. Thankfully the cut was small and it wouldn’t take more than a day or two to heal.

When he reached the entrance to the cave however, he’d forgotten all about the cut. He rushed forward to the water’s edge where Faramir was frantically battling what looked like a giant many-armed squid. A long tentacle was wrapped around the younger man’s ankle and another around his waist.

“Oh dear Eru!” he gasped and rushed forward, sword in hand. He didn’t count on the creature's myriad arms though. One large tentacle came swooping out of the water and knocked into him, causing him to gasp and fall back. The arms were long he realised and extended for what seemed like a mile.

Faramir lay on his back near the water held in place by the power grip crushing his left ankle. Another tentacle had wrapped around his wrists holding both arms in place over his head even as heaved and writhed under the creature. A third tentacle had wound around his upper thigh, holding his right leg down in place. He could feel something small and toothlike poking into his clothes, and realise that some of the tentacles contained a very sharp, serrated edge. The sharp teeth bit into his pants, tugging at the cloth wildly but every effectively for in mere moment, the cloth around his upper thighs had been shredded. Another tentacle wound around his waist was similarly tearing apart his shirt.

He screamed as yet another tentacle now came in contact with his bare skin, settling on it, a cold and clammy thing. He heard someone running.

Thorongil…. his dazed mind told him.

Hearing the sounds of Thorongil being attacked he screamed, “Leave him alone!”

The tip of yet another tentacle brushed his mouth at that and he shuddered.

Thorongil groaned loudly as the tentacle gave him another blow on his unprotected midriff and then rolled over doubled up in pain. The thing had huge and heavy arms and he knew if used effectively they could knock him out so he tried instead to dodge the blows, wondering how Faramir was faring under that mass of writhing tentacles so near him. The injury to his waist was also flaring up with pain now.

Faramir felt more cloth ripping. Torn between worry for Thorongil whom he realised was being knocked around by the creature’s other arms and his own fear, he didn’t realise until too late that the serrated tentacles had divested him of a good part of his clothes. All he had on was a badly torn shirtsleeve. It was then that he realised in alarm that his pants were entirely off leaving his lower body naked and exposed. Something soft and squidgy clamped itself onto his groin and he screamed again, the sound muffled by the tentacle that slipped into his mouth. Faramir moaned now.

He could hardly believe this was happening. Was he really lying like this at the mercy of some strange water creature? The tentacle slipped out of his mouth and slithered all the way down his body, splaying his own saliva over his chest and then suddenly flicked out. His throbbing ankle was tugged again so that the leg was pulled away leaving him lying splayed on the ground. The arm on his groin moved and then slid under his body raising it slightly. Before Faramir could wonder at all these happenings, the tip of a tentacle slipped in between his legs. He screamed then, fear and terror coating his voice.

“No! Help! Thorongil, help me!” he begged, trying desperately to release his arms and legs form the tight grips that held them in place. But all he succeeded in doing was wrenching his arms badly. The tentacle groped around his buttocks, nudging in between them and came to rest at the cleft between them. Faramir screamed once more, as his legs were pulled wider apart.

He felt his voice go hoarse. Another arm inched back onto his groin, and wrapped itself around his limp member, squeezing it lightly.

“No!” he moaned and this time the sound seemed to annoy the creature for it suddenly wrapped a tentacle around Faramir’s neck, pressing the tip into his throat.

Thorongil lay huddled on the hard ground, aching from the constant blows of the creature for a few moments before he realised the creature had actually left him alone. He moved slowly so as to not cause any alarm and then realised in shock that the reason the tentacle was not hitting at him was because it had now rapped itself around Faramir’s neck. The younger man was moaning harshly under the creature. His clothes appeared to have been torn off, and tiny scratches covered what parts of his body he could see splayed out under the creatures heaving bulk. He moved closer swiftly, picking his sword from where it had clattered and inched his way fearlessly towards the strange spectacle before him. What he saw nearly sickened him. The creature was not just attacking Faramir physically.

There were arms all over him, Faramir realised, his head feeling giddy as the arm around his neck tightened. The creature was making a strange half-hissing, half-slobbering sound. More arms ran over his body as he lay there gasping for breath. They roved over his chest and stomach, some scratching him with their pin-pricked edges, others resting a suction–like tip over his nipples tugging painfully at them. The tentacle at his cleft nudged its way through to come and rest on the tiny entrance between his buttocks that now lay exposed as his legs were splayed wildly in each direction.

He let out a muffled scram, as he felt a blunt, hardened, slimy mass push into the tight ring of muscle, even as his cock was squeezed hard. Aragorn got ready to attack. He was alone, he knew breathing heavily but he would take the chance.

No, Faramir moaned to himself at the slimy touch in his most intimate of places where he had never been touched before. No.. no… no…. he was going to be raped… by some sort of a creature… an animal… Thorongil… was Thorongil safe? At least it was not he in this place, he thought desperately and then wondered where such a strong feeling had come from.

And then Thorongil shouted.

No, don’t Faramir wanted to tell him. Don’t endanger yourself. Somehow he felt Thorongil was needed, was important in ways he could never be.

The creature screeched, an angered sound. The tentacle gripped around Faramir’s cock unwound. He could smell the nauseating stench of blood.

And then there was a volley of more shouts and screams and the sound of galloping horses. The mass of arms clinging to him, began flapping wildly, hurting him in the process, the arms around his neck, legs and wrists unwound and the blunt tip trying to push itself inside flapped away.. He cried aloud at the strange sensation of being free of the slimy mass. The creature had let him go, he realised dully as he curled painfully into himself unable to move, out o pain, fear or shock he could not tell.

Above him the horrific creature was making a loud, screeching sort of noise over the furious din, of screaming voices, neighing horses and swords… and arrows?. Bloodied tentacles splattered wildly around Faramir even as he lay huddled on the ground.

It seemed ages when the noise finally stopped and the creature no longer seemed to hover anywhere near Faramir. He turned his head dully and then realised Thorongil was standing over him.

“Faramir, are you all right,” Thorongil knelt by him anxiously, and placed a gentle hand on Faramir’s bare shoulder.

“Yo-you saved me,” Faramir said hoarsely, “Sh-shouldn’t have. I-it could have hurt you.”

He was trembling he realised, and feeling cold and sick and hurting all over.

“How can you say that?” Thorongil demanded softly.

“You were hurt,” Faramir said raising a shaking arm towards Throngil’s waist where the cut could be seen under the half-open shirt, bleeding freely.

Thorngil crouched closer to Faramir, as though he meant to pick him up.

“M-my clothes,” Faramir said distressed.

“Aragorn!” the voice cut through to them, “How is your companion?”

“I suddenly received help,” Thorongil (or was he Aragorn?) explained, and gently pulled a still trembling Faramir into his arms, so that he could get a clear look at the person who approached - one of their rescuers.

Hugely inspired by the artwork of the magnificent Heilt, particularly a beautiful piece where the watcher in the water does nasty things to poor Faramir:) Heilt’s site is here. Please ask her permission to view the pic which is in her ‘backyard’ by leaving a message on the first post

What happens next?[edit]


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