Theodred paced the length of the long house, stopped at the wall, huffed explosively, and then strode back to the other side of the room. His long legs took him quickly to the opposite end and he snorted once before turning around. Overhead rains drummed on the thatched roof and dribbled down the chimney, causing the fire to smoke and hiss.
"Marshall, will you please sit down and eat?" Dúnhere placed a roast venison haunch on the scrubbed plank table and waited for the Second Marshall of the Mark to sit. They had been trapped by a fierce winter storm for over a day and both men grew more restless with each passing hour. Dúnhere had come out of the Harrowdale, at the behest of Erkenbrand, and had met up with Theodred and his troops who were patrolling near the Ford of Isen. Deciding that they should seek advice from Lord Théoden, and possibly help from the Third Marshall, Eomer, the two men had turned for Edoras while the troops went on to the ford. Time was short and both feared they would come too late with advice and help if the storm did not soon abate.
Theodred paused for a moment and stared at the meat sizzling in its own juices. Despite having been heavily salted for winter storage, the meat looked and smelled fresh. Yet, his stomach revolted at the thought of food. His nerves were stretched too tightly and his mind refused to settle on one subject, but rather danced over many subjects and plans. Mostly, he fretted over the men under his command and what should become of them while he languished in the comfortable prison with the chieftain of the Harrowdale.
"I cannot, Dúnhere. Nevertheless, you should eat. Your march will be longer than mine. The storm makes it impossible to get to Edoras now, so I must return to my men."
"Will you take advice from a mere chieftain, then?" Dúnhere began slicing the venison with his knife and laying it out upon a rubbed stone slab.
"I am honored by whatever advice you will share with me."
"Lack of food will only weaken you, leaving you helpless and of no use to those whom you propose to lead into battles and to glory, should that be your destiny." Dúnhere pushed the stone platter across the table and waited patiently.
"Your advice is sound, chieftain of Harrowdale. I will do well to heed it," spoke Theodred as he seated himself opposite of the older man. He speared a chuck of meat and blew on it to cool it. There was nothing Theodred could do since the Rohirrim were spread so thinly and orcs ran amok along her borders. None knew where they were coming from, though Theodred and Eomer had their suspicions. Nor did their suspicions and fears amount to anything for Théoden had aged before their eyes and become, nearly over night, an aged and feeble man; an extreme opposite of the warrior he had once been and he listened only to the council of Wormtongue. This left his son and his nephew to order the troops as best they could and formulate what plans came to them, though many times it meant returning to Edoras only to battle with Wormtongue to see the king. Rumors of evil things grew every day and Theodred wondered when it would come that the Rohirrim were no more. A thick wooden board loaded with dark, crusty bread was shoved towards Theodred. He bit off a large chunk and chewed for a moment as he considered the chieftain of the Harrowdale. Dúnhere was not much older him, nor did his blond mustache or long, braided hair, show any signs of gray. His blue eyes were calm and steady. He took on the role of nursemaid and servant, though no such was required of him, and did most of the cooking and cleaning in the small long house. Theodred was grateful for Dúnhere's presence, for otherwise, he felt he might lose what was left of his mind otherwise. "You are a welcome companion and I owe you a debt of gratitude."
Dúnhere laughed and then took a sip of dark, thick beer so favored by the men of that region. "Nay, Marshal of the Mark, you owe me naught, for we are allies, both through our father's fathers allegiances and through our shared confinement."
The fire popped and hissed, tossing shadows around the sparsely furnished room. Aside from a long table with benches on either side, there was only large wooden cupboard where some foodstuffs were stored, a few barrels of fall's beer, and stacked wood for the fireplace. This was not a place of luxury, but a single story structure designed to hold a few men during severe weather.
Dúnhere rose from the bench with a silent nod and went to place more wood on the fire. The stonewalls were chilly and the compacted dirt floor did not augment the limited warmth of the fireplace. Then he retrieved a bucket of heated water for washing. He returned to the table and began removing the empty platters and placed them in the bucket. At last, he spoke. "I know what is happening at Meduseld and the rumors cause my heart to ache in my chest. Theodred, there is more at work than what the likes of you or I can see. Nay, I will not place you in the position of dealing with a treasonous chieftain. Only, I ask that you use caution. There are worse fates than a land with an enfeebled king."
Theodred shivered as if touched by a chill. To dispel his gloomy mood, he got up and began to scrub the platters soaking in the warm water. "Surely tomorrow will bring brighter skies."
"Let us hope," answered Dúnhere.
Later, the men shoved the trestle table aside and pulled their blankets as close to the fire as possible. Each stripped off boots and tunics, leaving on only breeches and shirts. They did not speak, as each was lost in thoughts best left unspoken. Dúnhere laid a heavy fur on the floor and then piled on top of it a thick woolen blanket and another heavy fur. Theodred piled heavy quilts a few feet away and sat down heavily with his knees drawn up to his chest. Meanwhile, Dúnhere banked the fire and settled on his own pallet. He pulled the fur up to his chest and placed his arms behind his head and stared quietly at the dark-beamed ceiling. After a while, he heard Theodred moving and heard the distinct sound of cloth being dragged over the floor. Turning his head, he saw by the dim light of the banked fire, that the marshal had moved his pallet closer. He smiled in the semi-darkness.
"You do not need it," he said by way of invitation.
Theodred paused and stared down at his quilts. "Are you sure?"
In answer, Dúnhere lifted a corner of his fur. Theodred dropped his quilts and squirmed beneath the heavy fur and was instantly engulfed by warmth. He inched close to the chieftain and laid his head on the strong shoulder. Rough fingers traced his jaw, rubbing the darker blond facial hair against the grain. Theodred shifted so that he could see Dúnhere's profile. He could see the shadows of a smile curving Dúnhere's mouth beneath his mustache and smiled himself. Had any other man made such an invitation or dared touch him in such a manner, he would have drawn his blade. He stretched his neck a little and touched his lips to the corner of Dúnhere's mouth. At that moment, Dúnhere turned his head, as if reading Theodred's thoughts, so that just as Theodred pulled away, their lips met.
Swallowing nervously, Theodred turned a little on his side so that he lay against Dúnhere from chest to ankle. His hardening member pressed against the other's hip. Dúnhere's grip on his shoulders tightened, pulling him closer. Unable to resist, Theodred raised his hands and cupped the chieftain's chin. Again, their lips met, softly and teasingly, at first, but increasingly harder as the kiss lasted. Theodred tossed his leg over Dúnhere's waist, nearly straddling him, in his haste to mold their bodies closer. Dúnhere gripped Theodred's shoulders with one arm and tangled the fingers of his other hand in Theodred's hair. The mouths parted and their teeth clashed together as each thrust his tongue deep inside the other's mouth, seeking warmth.
Lifting his head at last, Theodred dragged his head down, nuzzling the column of Dúnhere's throat. He opened his mouth wide and bit lightly at the soft skin. Dúnhere groaned and tightened his grip on Theodred's hair. Eagerly, Theodred pulled at the laces binding Dúnhere's shirt, his fingers and tongue questing for the heated skin beneath the heavy cotton. As the laces came loose, he rubbed his face against the furry chest, breathing deeply of Dúnhere's unique musky scent. He could hear the rabid staccato rhythm of Dúnhere's heart and felt his own reply in a similar fashion. Hands clawed at his thighs, just below his buttocks, and pulled him bodily until he straddled Dúnhere. With their groins pressed together, Theodred could feel how rigid Dúnhere was beneath his leggings. Propping himself on his hands, he arched his back and ground hard against Dúnhere, moaning as the delicious friction increased his own need. The blankets were shoved away and the same hands that had gripped his thighs inched their way inside his shirt, setting his skin on fire wherever they touched. Settling himself comfortably on the chieftain's hips, he began stripping away the other's shirt. When at last the rippled chest was exposed, he lowered his face and took a peaked nipple between his teeth and rolled it harshly.
Dúnhere's back arched and he sucked air into his lungs as Theodred's teeth and tongue attacked his aching nipple. Waves of pleasure shot from the abused nub straight to his groin and he could not stop the long groan that escaped from his throat. His nails dug long, angry welts along Theodred's back as he clawed at breeches and shirt, seeking a greater intimate contact. The eager mouth moved over his chest, kissing and nuzzling, until it reached the right nipple and Dúnhere hissed. Inside his leggings were damp and his sac felt as though it might explode. Every move Theodred made moved his cock along Dúnhere's tight stomach and both men panted and groaned.
Sitting up, Theodred could feel Dúnhere's rigid member throbbing against his buttocks. He pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes and took a shuddering breath as Dúnhere slipped his hands over his nipples and pinched them both simultaneously. Theodred threw back his head and ripped his shirt up to his shoulders, exposing his whole torso. Dúnhere allowed his hands to roam where they would, tugging at the soft hairs peppering Theodred's chest, pushing his thumb inside small navel, trailing his fingers through the narrow strip of hair running beneath the leggings. All the while, Theodred rocked slowly with his eyes closed, pressing down harder and harder on cock beneath him. Dúnhere squeezed and kneaded the long bulge between Theodred's thighs, measuring the length and width with his calloused hands. He felt it twitch in response to his ministrations and his own responded similarly, causing Theodred to whimper softly.
Unlacing the leggings, Dúnhere captured the cock as it sprang free and stroked it hard from base to tip. The purplish-red head leaked and the sac beneath was stretched and drawn tightly into its surrounding dark hairs. When Theodred looked down, Dúnhere licked his lips suggestively. He grasped Theodred's hips and pulled him forward.
"Come, Theodred, let me taste you," he said as the head of Theodred's cock nudged at his chin.
Falling forward on his hand, Theodred tentatively thrust his cock into Dúnhere's waiting warmth. Teeth grazed his tender flesh and the slick tongue danced wickedly along the underside of his shaft, sending Theodred soaring. Braced on hands and knees he began to slowly and gently drive himself in and out of Dúnhere's mouth. Each thrust went a little deeper until the head of his cock hit the back of Dúnhere's throat. The chieftain swallowed and hummed while Theodred ground his teeth and moaned. His hips kept hitching and he fought to keep his pace slow.
Dúnhere tucked his arms behind his head and relaxed his throat as much as possible, giving Theodred silent permission to ride him as he would. The springy curls tickled his nose and his jaw felt stretched beyond endurance. But Theodred felt so good and tasted so delicious that he did not want it to end. Theodred's thrusts became shorter, his moans longer, and his panting louder as Dúnhere sucked his length, accepted him fully. Knowing he was nearing the end of his endurance, Theodred at last forced himself to withdraw from the sweet torture. He wriggled backwards and placed a kiss on Dúnhere's lips, tasting his own pre-cum on the full lips. Turning, he levered himself so that he could easily open Dúnhere's leggings while lowering himself once more into the wet heat of the chieftain's mouth. He lowered his hips until he felt his balls brush Dúnhere's nose and then held his hips still as he licked the tip of Dúnhere's cock. Dúnhere moaned and the vibrations traveled from his cock to his tight sac. Holding the base of the cock before him, he concentrated on pleasuring the chieftain and ignoring his own need. He placed his tongue flat against the slit and licked slowly up and down, gathering pre-cum as he did. He slurped the droplets away and dragged the tip of his tongue down to the base and back up again. With his other hand, he cupped Dúnhere's sac and squeezed it gently and laughed as strong thighs bunched. He used his forearms to keep Dúnhere's hips in place as he teased the head again, swirling his tongue over the head and down to the base and back up again and again. Beneath him, Dúnhere swallowed convulsively and the pressure on his aching cock increased until he grunted. Unable to wait any longer, he opened his mouth wide and took all of Dúnhere into his mouth until he nearly gagged and his eyes watered.
The chieftain could feel Theodred's jaws and throat constrict. Teeth nipped him roughly and he winced a little at the sharpness. Then the tongue, wet, wicked, and hot, soothed where the teeth had been so rough and Dúnhere forgot all about pain. Theodred's breath fanned his balls with warm air. When Theodred squeezed his aching sac, he arched his hips as much as he could, pushing harder against Theodred's mouth. He put his hands on Theodred's cheeks, gripping them hard enough to score the pale flesh with half moon nail marks and purple bruises as he forced the marshal to lower his hips more fully, swallowing as much as he could. He encouraged Theodred to find a comfortable rhythm, pumping in and out of his mouth smoothly. His own hips strained upwards and he could feel his sac drawing tighter against the base of his cock as Theodred continued to suck and lick him. He hummed continuously and his breathing grew ragged as he came closer to climax. Above him, Theodred's hips moved roughly.
Without warning, Theodred's hips shoved brutally downwards and stayed as his body rocked and twitched. Hot semen flooded Dúnhere's mouth and he gasped around the cock filling his mouth and swallowed and swallowed even as his own climax came over him. Dimly, he could feel Theodred sucking greedily at him, milking him dry and squeezing him roughly. After a few moments, both men lay still, panting and too spent to move. Dúnhere absently sucked Theodred's softening cock even as Theodred's warm hands caressed him. Finally, he released Theodred and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of his thigh.
Theodred climbed off of Dúnhere and twisted around so that he could lay beside the chieftain. He pulled up the fur and tucked it around them. The last embers of the fire cast shadows over their sleeping forms.
Next in the Series: Full Circle