A Memory Of Daisy Chains

A Memory Of Daisy Chains

Posted: October 13, 2006
Title: A Memory of Daisy Chains
Author: Oakenshield
Type: FCS
Characters: Théoden/Thorongil
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The characters and the places all belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I am making no profit from this at all.
Word count: 2288
Author's note: Dedicated to JacquesMoineau for being a Super Gopher!

Summary: Released from Saruman's spell, Théoden remembers a day in summer many years ago.

*****

His mind awoke and he knew not what had happened, what he had done, where he was or what year it might be. What was the state of the world? Had all come to death? Had everyone and everything fallen into the shadow that had clouded his soul for as long as he could remember?

Who was he?

Who were these people before him? Should he know them? Some faces were familiar, he thought, but others were not. There was a face in the gathering that he recognized, yet did not. He focussed on the grey eyes of the strange man that his mind felt drawn to, and as his gaze was met, a memory returned to him.

The shadows peeled back from his thoughts and the mist cleared from his eyes. The darkness lifted and he found himself looking down upon a sun-soaked meadow, where two horses stood chomping at the dry grass, saddles and bridles draped over a fallen branch. Two young men sprawled beneath a sturdy tree, both tall and handsome, one dark-haired, one fair. He did not recognize either of them, though he felt that he should.

The dark-haired man was the elder of the two, by more years than what showed on his face, and wisdom shone in his eyes. The blond was probably not even thirty years of age, and he looked youthful and full of himself. No names came to his mind, though it seemed the recollection was on the tip of his tongue.

The blond man was picking daisies from the grass, linking them into a chain as he looked up at his companion who was leaning against the trunk of the tree, smoking a pipe, his eyes closed and the rays of the summer sun making leaf-shaped patterns on his face as they filtered through the branches.

"Do you sleep?" the blond asked softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

"I do not," the other man replied, knocking out his pipe and opening his steel-blue eyes to blink down at him. "What is this?" His face broke into a smile and he plucked the daisy chain from the blond man's hands to set it carefully upon his golden head. "I crown you King Théoden, son of Thengel!"

Théoden... that was a name he knew. That was his name. He was the king. The handsome blond man was him. For a moment he had thought it to be... someone else. Who? Did he have a son? He thought that he might have.

This was not a recent memory. He was old now; he could feel it in his bones though the spellbound shackles that had held him down were quickly coming undone, allowing him to stand tall again. This was a memory from days gone by, though how many years or decades, he was unsure. He could remember the heat of the sun that day, the smell of the grass and the trees, the voice of the man he had been with, the emotions he had felt. He closed his eyes and clung to the vision to learn more.

His young self laughed heartily as he removed the crown of flowers from his head and set it atop a stone poking out of the grass. "Not for some time yet, I hope," he said. There was more to do with his life before he was to sit upon a throne.

"The time will come when every man will have to take up responsibility he does not wish to have," his friend said wistfully, a frown marring his face for a moment. "But that time is not now. This is a day of peace; we must enjoy it while we still can. There will be more troubles just around the corner, I am sure."

Théoden rose on his knees and leaned close to the man to press a kiss to his forehead. "You are so full of gloom," he commented. "Hearken to your own words, and enjoy this day!" He ruffled a hand into the mass of brown hair and flicked it into his eyes.

The man smiled widely at him as he pushed his hair back and Théoden felt his heart jump. Not just his heart... In fact, it was not his heart that was swelling at all, but an organ of greater demand much further south. He swallowed and shifted so that his tunic covered that which he did not wish his friend to see. Yet.

"You need to relax," he said, taking hold of his reserved companion by the shoulders to pull him away from the tree, intending to offer a backrub, but devilment possessed him and a wicked smile began to pull at his lips. Perhaps a frontrub would be better. How many chances would he have, anyway?

"Hm. And how do you propose to relax me?" Was that flirtation shimmering in those grey eyes? Was that an invitation hiding in the tilting of his head? Was that a challenge showing in his pursed lips?

Théoden regarded him for a moment, drumming his fingers on his shoulders, waiting until he looked down at his aggravating hands before he leaned in to press a firm kiss to his lips. He felt the man tense and he held him against the tree trunk to stop him pulling away as his tongue swiftly invaded his mouth.

The man gave a small squeak and tried to turn his head away but Théoden fisted a hand into his hair to hold him still, pressing his body tightly against him to keep him pinned. After several struggling seconds, he surrendered and Théoden relaxed his hold on him, running his fingers through his long, dark hair as he opened his lips to accept the returning kiss.

The man tasted of pipeweed and his tongue was soft and slick in comparison to the prickly roughness of his beard that grazed Théoden's lips as he ravaged his mouth. He had not expected the kiss to be given back to him with such fervour, and he fought to keep his dominance of the other's mouth, duelling with his tongue, answering the gentle bites that were bestowed on his lower lip with nips of his own.

"You have interesting ways to relax folk," the dark-haired man said shakily, panting as Théoden broke the kiss.

Théoden grinned at him and moved in again to swipe his tongue across his kiss-stung lips. "Have you objections?" he dared to ask, though he already knew the answer. No one with objections would have kissed like that! His lips felt bruised, and it felt good.

The man smiled and cast his eyes down, his cheeks colouring, his characteristic shyness swallowing up the authority that had for but a moment escaped in his lust. "Would it matter to you if I did?" he said.

"Perhaps..." Théoden shifted forward on his knees a little so that his thigh brushed his friend's groin, and he smirked as he felt a promising hard bulge pulse against his leg. "Though it would not seem that you mind."

The man blushed further and Théoden bit his tongue to stop himself chuckling aloud as his fingers sought out the ties of his leggings and swiftly pulled them undone, kissing him firmly once more to halt any protests. He sunk down to lie belly-down between his outspread legs, grinning up at him as his hand delved into the open flap and his fingers closed around his half-erect cock.

From above him, the man cleared his throat and looked up into the tree canopy, gulping visibly as Théoden stroked him to full hardness. He was clearly uncomfortable with the situation, but not so uncomfortable that he was about to stop it. He was naive, despite his age, but maybe not as naive as he appeared. Who was seducing who?

"Have you done this before?" Théoden asked him, desperately clinging to what bit of control he had on the situation. He was starting to realise that perhaps he was the one being taken advantage of, but it didn't matter one bit to him so long as the kisses could happen again, and his touches would not be rejected.

Another shy smile was the only answer he got, and it answered nothing. Like everything with this man, it was another mystery that he would probably never know the truth of. He liked to imagine he was the first to touch him in such a way, to have kissed him in such a way, but maybe he was meant to think that? Perhaps every young man in every part of the land this stranger had travelled had thought the same thing. Either way, this man was certainly a beautiful thing to undo.

He licked his lips as he pulled the ties of the leggings open further to remove his cock from the confines of the cloth and ran the tip of his thumb over the rosy head.

His companion gasped and closed his eyes, pulling his lower lip between his teeth, a small furrow appearing between his eyebrows as an expression of utmost pleasure fleeted across his normally passive features.

Théoden watched his face as he massaged him in his palm then slithered down a little lower to take him in his mouth. He sucked down and back up once then withdrew and extended his tongue to lave slowly up and down his length, seeking out particularly sensitive places, listening and watching his partner intently to judge what made him gasp or shiver, then mercilessly playing on these places.

A hand crept into his hair, at first laying gently on the top of his head, then as he teased further, the fingers tightened in his hair, twisting and pulling a little.

He winced at the slight pain but it also brought a smile to his lips. Even if he was being taken advantage of, he still had power over this man. The power resided in his lips and tongue and he knew exactly how to wield it. He knew exactly how to draw out the sweet torment with every stroke of the tip of his tongue against pulsing veins, every brush of his lips against smooth and sensitive flesh, every touch of his fingers fluttering in the wake of his mouth.

"Oh..."

The sigh from above him made him shudder and he felt his own arousal press uncomfortably into the ground he was lying on. It was surely something he would have to deal with himself later, he didn't hope for the gesture to be returned, but he would certainly have good memories to add speed to his own hand.

He eagerly licked away a silvery bead of fluid from the head of the man's cock before closing his lips around it and sucking down, slowly, firmly, closing his hand around what his mouth could not reach. His free hand traversed up under the light shirt the man was wearing, over the firm muscles of his abdomen, slithering across a fine sheen of perspiration until his fingertips found a nipple to provoke. He gently pinched and twisted the hardened teat, stopping as his friend's breath became more ragged. He did not want to give him too much too soon. He wanted him to come back for more.

He sucked deeper, accommodating the hot length in his throat for as long as he was able to. His hand roamed back down, despite mumbled protests, to stroke the insides of the muscular thighs either side of his shoulders as he swallowed around him.

The man gave a low groan, which sent a shock of desire straight to Théoden's groin, and he swallowed around him again before he had to pull up lest he choked. He stroked the underside of the throbbing length with his tongue as he increased the speed and pressure of his strokes, moaning softly to add gentle vibration to his administrations. He was close, he could taste it.

The hand in his hair tightened and his friend gasped and cried out hoarsely in a tongue that Théoden did not know, shattering the silence of the afternoon. He felt his thighs shudder beneath his caressing hands and a moment later his mouth was flooded. The hand against his head remained as firm until every tremor had stopped and every drop had been swallowed, then it slowly unwound from around his hair to pet the golden strands that had been messed up.

He lifted his head to regard his companion, sitting up to lay a kiss against the sweat-dampened brow, feeling fire against his lips. Fire that he had stoked. His own fire was raging with no hope of burning itself out, but he did not want it to be extinguished.

"Théoden..." his name was panted as a tongue snaked out to moisten dry lips.

A name lingered on his own lips, as he plucked the daisy chain from where it lay over the rock and both men laughed as he placed it neatly in his friend's crotch, restoring the camaraderie that made a pantomime of proving that he was still in control.

The memory faded as he blinked and looked around the hall. The white wizard stood before him, but not as he knew him. An Elf lingered close by, a Dwarf beside him, but his eyes kept returning to the ragged ranger with them.

"Thorongil..." he whispered, as the name finally swept across his lips like the ghost of a kiss, and the ranger cast his eyes down, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth, though Théoden could not tell if he looked away for deepest shame or mildest embarrassment. Such expressions had never been comprehensible.

Yes, he knew his face.

*****

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Oakenshield