Rings, Socks, and Minds

Sméagol crept from the cave and smelt the air. Yess, my precious. Tonight there were no nasty orcses and goblinses about. No Elveses with bright eyeses or men with sharp swordses. Not tonight. Just him and the fishes of the stream. Nice fishes; swimming blindly towards him. Tasty fishes; he would catch them swiftly and silently. His mind conjured images: his fingers curling around the scales; the helpless creatures flopping on the bank as they died. It brought a lump to his throat, and a thrill to his loins. Gollum. Gollum.

Sméagol crawled on his stomach to the water. With no cursed White Face, and only the stars above, the dark stream ran near invisible through the meadow. But not for Sméagol. Not for sharp-eyed Sméagol. He reached his hand out, ready to dip it into the cold, cold stream.

He jerked back as he heard a sudden click. What was that, my precious? Was someone there, some hunter more silent than he, lurking, ready to pounce? He sniffed the air desperately.

"Dobby is lost. Dobby is LOOOOSST!"

Sméagol readied himself to flee, then stopped. His night vision spotted movement not twenty yards away. The new arrival, whatever it was, was small, and waved what looked to be a sock. Its head was completely bald, with wide pointed ears and massive eyes; its scrawny body was wrapped in a pillow case. A strange little creature all told. Sméagol paused. In all his years, he had never seen a thing like this. Is it tasty, my precious, is it crunchable? He licked his lips. But it might have a sword, my precious. Long thin nasty sword. Careful, careful, my precious. Let us see, oh let us see.

He edged closer. The creature did not look dangeous. Not an orc, my precious, but strange, oh so strange. It squatted on the grass, sobbing.

"Dobby has lost Harry Potter! Dobby has lost Master!"

"The Massster?" Sméagol hissed without thinking. Which masster? The Master of the Precious?

The creature turned and looked straight at him with deep sad eyes. It can see us, my precious. No Yellow Face, no White Face, but it can see us!

"Harry Potter is the Master. Dobby is lost. Dobby does not know where he is! WHERE IS HARRY POTTER?!"

As if on command, a light flashed in the sky, and suddenly the entire meadow was bright as day. A roaring, as of some great dragon, blew Sméagol from his feet. He was stunned, but only for a moment. Need to hide, my precious. Evil magic. Elvish magic. Wincing, he dashed for the cave.

"Precioussss!" he screamed. "The sky light! It burns us! Nasssty Harry Potter! We hatesss it forever!"

But just as he was about to reach the cool darkness of the cave, a boulder tumbled down across the entrance, blocking off escape. A soft, new light spread across the night. Sméagol looked over his shoulder, fearful of what would come.

"Stop we say," said a voice.

In spite of himself, Sméagol obeyed. As if out of some strange mist, a new figure emerged, clad in a dirty robe. This one looked vaguely like the Dobby creature: small, wide-eared and bald. But unlike Dobby he was old, impossibly old, with wrinkles crisscrossing his face. Even stranger, his skin was grey-green, and he radiated immense power, of a sort Sméagol had never before felt. The stranger clutched a staff in his right hand.

"Crashed our spaceship we have. Yoda we are," he said.

What is a Yoda, my precious? Can we eats it?

The sobbing creature with the sock waved his fist. "Dobby wants to how what Yoda has done with Harry Potter. Dobby is lost in a strange place." Dobby clenched his teeth. "Dobby can't apparate. Dobby is stuck here forever!"

"Hmmmmmm," said Yoda. "So stuck we all are, except for you." He gestured at Sméagol. "Come you here, we command."

Sméagol found himself helpless to resist. He crawled slowly over to Yoda, head lowered. He muttered as he went.

"If crashed and lost we are, a cheering up we shall need."

"A cheering up, my precious?"

Yoda nodded. "Hmmmmm. Fancy you we do. Horny we are."

Sméagol blinked. "Horny, my precious? What is horny?"

"Wanting to put our bits in you we are. Hmmmmmmmmm."

Sméagol spat. "No bits. Keep your nasssty hornses."

Dobby hopped over. "Are you friends of Harry Potter?"

"Hmmm hmmm," said Yoda. "Friends of Harry Potter we are. Lots of Snarry on lonely nights we have read. A threesome we need, yes." He gestured with his left hand.

Sméagol found himself looking at Dobby in a new light. Yes, he remembered the emotion of lust, from all those years ago. The way he'd used the Precious to sneak into his neighbours' bedrooms, and watch. Oh, he'd watched and learned from these bouts of invisible voyeurism, but never participated himself: he'd never had the chance. No-one had ever wanted him. For the first hundred years under the Mountains, he'd spilt his seed to memories, until those too faded into darkness, and fish, and orcs. But desire was once again rising in him. We will fucks it, my precious. We will fucks it hard, right here on the grass. We will fucks it till it screams.

He tore off his loincloth, and stood naked beneath the stars. His long-forgotten phallus rose majestically. He rubbed it, recalling the contours, the texture, the wiry hairs. It was a thing of beauty.

He saw Dobby had dropped his sock and pillow-case; Yoda had discarded his robe. Both were naked and erect as he.

Dobby turned to Sméagol. He blinked. "What do you want first, master? Dobby aims to please every friend of Harry Potter."

He's calling us masster, my precious. After all these yearses, someone calls us masster.

Sméagol grinned. "We thinks you should suck our cock, my precious. Our long and beautiful cock."

"Hmmmmm," said Yoda. "Shaft you with our meaty light-sabre we shall." He patted it.

"Dobby has much experience. Dobby is always of service." He knelt and took Sméagol's phallus in his mouth. The warmth and wetness left Sméagol gagging. Gollum. Gollum. Yoda moved around behind Dobby, and thrust himself into the creature's rear-end. Dobby did not even flinch. His lips moved up and down the length of Sméagol; his tongue, so strong and flexible...

"More, more!" screamed Sméagol. He tugged at the big pointed ears. "Why has we not met any Dobbyses before? They are better than fishes, my precious, better than fishes!" Gollum. Gollum.

"Such a tender arse have you." Sweat beaded on Yoda's forehead as he thrust ever deeper. "Like it do we. Lucky Harry Potter is, yes, yes."

Precious! Sméagol spurted seed into Dobby's mouth. He fell back on the grass. "Preciousssssss," he panted. "Oh my sweet precioussssss."

Dobby swallowed and puckered his lips. "Dobby calls it my ring of power, master. Ooooh."

Sméagol lay looking at the stars, recovering his breath. He listened to Yoda's grunts, and Dobby's happy squeals. His phallus grew hard once more.

"HMMMMMMMMM!" hummed Yoda at last. He slapped Dobby on the behind, and backed away. The sweat on his torso glistened in the soft light. "Need a little rest, I think, yes."

Sméagol's eyes devoured the wrinkled grey-green body. Ours, my precious, all ours. He sat up. "Give it to us, my precious. Give it to us, raw and wriggling!"

Yoda nodded. "Switch places we will. Dobby's other end you may try. Approve do you both?"

"Dobby is always of service. Dobby is a free Elf, but Dobby will always give pleasure if asked."

Sméagol frowned. "Elf, my precious? Nassty Elvses with bright eyes? You're not an Elf, my precious. Sméagol. Fucks. No. Elveses!"

Dobby pouted. "Dobby does not know what you are, but Dobby is an Elf."

"Hmmmm." Yoda waved his hand. "An Elf, Dobby is. Not of the Elves you know."

Suddenly, Sméagol did not care. After a few minutes, they were ready to go at it again. Dobby rested his head in Yoda's lap, while Sméagol eased himself into Dobby's anus. It was a tight fit, but the Elf – is it really an Elf, my precious – did not shirk at all.

Sméagol took hold of Dobby's ears and pulled them back. "We will pumps it good," he whispered. "Oh yes, my precious. We will."

"Stop." Yoda pulled back. He slid from Dobby's mouth. "Watch we will. Dobby's sock may we borrow?"

"Master may use Dobby's sock, if master pleases."

Yoda inserted his phallus into the sock, and began pumping it with his fist.

"Resume you may, yes."

Sméagol was more interested in Dobby. His pelvis slammed again and again into that sweet little Elven behind. Yes, my precious. We fucks it hard. Like we saw them doing back home. No-one had ever let Sméagol join in before. Never. He'd waited centuries for this. So much pent up energy, just waiting for release...

"Harder!" squealed Dobby, panting beneath him.

"The Dobbyses wants it harder, my precious," panted Sméagol. "So we gives it harder!"

His thrusting intensified until Sméagol began to fear one of them would break. His slender fingers ran over Dobby's sweaty body; his nails raked the Elven nipples in mindless passion.

"We is coming, my precious! We is coming!"

"Hmmmm. YESSS!" cried Yoda. "YESSS! YESSSS!"

All three collapsed, exhausted.

Sméagol lay sated, his fingers toying with the grass. So this is what it feels like, my precious. Not with handses, but for real. He wondered if things would have turned out differently if he'd found someone before the Precious – someone who would let him do this with them. We will never know, my precious. The Precious came, and here we are.

At last, Yoda spoke. "Once more, we are thinking."

"Dobby is wondering..."

"What is the Dobbyses wondering, my precious?"

"Dobby has a cock too."

"A wonderful cock it is. Hmmmm."

"Dobby is wondering if the masters would like to play with his cock. Just the once. Harry Potter never did."

"Harry Potter never did? Lying the fanfiction was?"

"What is fanfiction, precious?"

"Discover fanfiction for yourself, you must. But a cock Dobby has. Three-way fellatio is the way, we think."

The three arranged themselves with Yoda's phallus in Sméagol's mouth, Sméagol's in Dobby's, and Dobby's in Yoda's. Sméagol was pleased with this arrangement; he had Dobby's expert tongue once more toying with him. But we'll have to do the same to Yoda, my precious. We must be as good as Dobby.

Sméagol had never had a phallus in his mouth before, let alone a grey-green one. Yoda had tufts of white hair growing near the base.

Yoda pulled Dobby from his mouth. "Sharp and pointed your teeth are," he said to Sméagol. "Bite me you must not."

Sméagol nodded. No biting, my precious. We'll sucks it like an egg with our lipses and gumses.

Sméagol tried. He got to work, keeping his teeth away from Yoda's shaft. But as Dobby brought him to ever-increasing peaks of ecstasy, he lost control. Carried away by the surging power of his own orgasm, Sméagol sunk his teeth into the meaty member in his mouth. For a moment, he tasted blood.

His old hunting instincts suddenly asserted themselves, and he bit down again, hard.

"Owwww! Bitten us you have!" Yoda cried. He pulled his bleeding phallus from Sméagol's jaws, and backed away. "Ruined we are!"

"We is sorry, my precious," wailed Sméagol. "We will not do it again. We swear on the Precious!"

Yoda grabbed his staff, and struck Sméagol on the back again and again. Crack. "Nasty, vile creature you are. Be gone, far from here. GO!"

Still wincing from the pain, Sméagol felt himself thrown back by some irresistable force. He flew through the air and landed arse-first, not far from the blocked cave-mouth.

"It is angry with us, my precious," Sméagol whimpered. "Angry because we bit its nice meaty cock. But we did not mean to. Really!"

Dobby still sat on the grass, staring at the commotion with great glassy eyes. "Dobby is confused. Masters are not angry with Dobby?"

"Go we must," snapped Yoda. He pulled on his robe. "Remembered how to fix spaceship we have, and company we need." He gestured at Dobby. "Come."

As Sméagol watched, Yoda turned, and walked from the meadow. Dobby hopped nakedly after him. A few moments later came more strange light and roaring. Sméagol kept his head to the ground, and covered his ears. Tears ran down his cheeks. Evil magic. It hurts us, my precious. And it hates us more because we bit its cock. We hates it. Yoda, Dobby, and Harry Potter. All Elveses. We hates them all forever!

Then darkness and silence reigned once more in the meadow. Sméagol looked up, and saw only the innumerable stars.

We is alone, my precious. As always, we is alone.

He sighed. At least he still had the fishes.