'The Quest for the Rubber Chickens of Mikhai'

'Exit the Forest at Last? What's the Catch?'

Merry, Gimli and Èowyn lay flat on the ground, stock-still. The chicken before all seven shifted restlessly from one foot to the other.

"You folk are quite prone to fainting easily. How queer."

Èomer growled low in his throat.

"Calm, noble Rohirrim. I meant no offense, I was merely commenting on what I have observed."

"You've been watching us?" Legolas burst out. If someone had been following them, surely he would have heard. The idea of someone spying on him made him shudder. The Chicken turned its beady black eyes in his direction.

"Legolas, this is an enchanted forest. Of course someone is going to be watching us. Don't you listen to the fables? It's really common," Pippin said from his spot beside Faramir's leg.

"The Small One is wise in the ways of magic. Has he been offered a job somewhere?"

"I'm a soldier for Gondor," Pippin answered. The Chicken's face turned downcast on this news.

"Quite a pity. You would make a terrific Chicken."

"No kidding," muttered Faramir.

"You flatter me," Pippin said bashfully.

The Chicken shook its wise head. "I speak the truth."

"I see..." said Pippin, not really seeing anything at all. He looked up at Faramir for help, but the man was avoiding his eye.

A groaning sound came from the right; Merry and Gimli were waking.

"Merry!" Pip yelled running to his friend. He helped Merry sit up and whispered something in his ear. The other Hobbit looked round before his eyes settled on the Chicken.

"You!" he shrieked jumping up. "Get away from me!" he shut his eyes hard and scooted away from the front of the Coop. "Don't touch me!" he rolled himself into a fetal position, shaking.

"What's wrong with him?" Èomer asked, a hint of worry noticeable.

"The forest is taking effect on him. He is hallucinating."

"Merry! These Chickens are good Chickens," Pippin tried, gently touching the other Hobbit's cold, sweaty, face.

"No! I said I don't like beef stew!"

He pulled his head back instantly. "Really?"

"AYE-AYE-AYE-AYE-AYE-AYE!"

Merry's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he began flicking his tongue out in rhythmic jolts and wiggles.

Pippin went pale, turning to the Chicken. "We've got to get him out of here."

The Chicken looked grave.

"I am afraid you cannot. At least not yet."

"Why?" Gimli, Legolas and Èomer squealed, suddenly alarmed. Can't get out? What? That wasn't right!

"Well, due to the defensive spell placed on the forest, you must regain sanity before leaving."

"But what about Merry?" Pippin cried. Tears began to stain the bottoms of his eyes a glassy, reflective white.

"I cannot tell you what would save Merriadoc," the Chicken replied. "It is a personal reaction to the enchantment of the forest, there is no definite cure."

"If Merry turns into a Chicken, then I will with him!" Pippin declared in a new resolute voice.

"Oh, shut up. You will not," grumbled Faramir. He looked at the Chicken with no fear or awe on his face, but harsh determination and malice. "Let us out of here, asshole. And you're coming with us." Not a request, but a demand.

Pippin threw a rock at the man.

"Don't talk that way to the Chicken!" Faramir turned to the small soldier. His eyes were a glowing green.

"Don't talk that way to me, you snot-nosed Hobbit!" (Pippin hastily wiped his nose)

"Faramir! Show some of the respect you give Aragorn to the Chicken! He is the one who has tried to protect us in the forest! Stop acting like your father!"

All Hell broke loose.

Faramir lunged at Pippin, who moved to the right so the man hit the wall of the Coop. He growled and turned, searching for the insulting Hobbit. He was hiding behind Èomer. The captain lunged again, trying to fake a right on said man. It almost worked, but at the last second, the Rohirrim's arm swung out and caught him across the chest. Then Èomer brought his other arm around to grasp Faramir's shoulder, pulling the other man away from Pippin.

"You know he doesn't understand most of what he says,"

"Let's put an end to this madness, starting with him! It's been driving me to the point of insanity even when we first started out on this quest! Now my wife has discarded me, I can't get that cursed Chicken-chant out of my head, my breath smells like ass, and I'm falling in love with a man! All because of THAT!" he jabbed a finger at the fluffy, rather innocent looking Chicken.

"You've...fallen for a man?" Èomer asked, breathless.

"Fallen...for...a--No! Mistake. I've umm..." he looked around desperately for an alibi. "Fallen for this groundhog!" Faramir picked up the newly discovered rodent that was now digging away at its hole in a terrified frenzy (I would be too...).

"C'mere you," Faramir practically screamed. He picked it up by its thick neck and kissed it full on the face. Both he and the groundhog yelped.

Èomer blinked, his jaw agape, with slight tears in his eyes. Pippin smiled successfully at Faramir's supposed new soul mate.

Inwardly Faramir cringed at the huge lie he just told. Plus the fact that he had just kissed a groundhog.

Sadly, he threw the creature to the ground. "Ok, not my soul-mate. Wrong person, my bad." Pippin cracked up and the Chicken looked smug. Èomer seemed to collapsed in unidentified relief.

The Chicken coughed.

"If you'll turn your attention back to me...yes, that's better. Now, the most I can do for you now, are to let you out of that Coop. After that you are free to wander the forest. Remember, you cannot leave until sanity has been regained. And, I would not wander alone."

Èowyn sat up at the mention of 'let you out'. "We can leave?" she asked excitedly.

Yellow-Bird swiveled his head to eye her. "Had you not fainted, you would have heard the conversation following. I shall not explain it again."

The blonde eyed him hungrily. "Why you little-" the magic burst to life in her. "Hot, sexy pile of feathers!" she ran to the front of the Coop and kneeled before him. "My King!"

"Well, it seems like she's over Aragorn," Legolas muttered to Gimli out of the corner of his mouth. The Dwarf nodded his agreement.

"Err, yeah..." Yellow-Bird muttered nervously, backing away. "Fellighran...let...these Men...out..." he gulped.

The Coop disappeared instantly, without a word of command. Heads turned in every direction, looking around and taking in their surroundings. Merry, Faramir and Pippin were still on the ground however, and they looked like they were going to move anytime soon, especially since Merry was still mumbling to himself.

Èomer's sister took this opportunity to run after the Chicken with open arms. He squawked loudly and took off, flapping feebly in the other direction. The Cawona had disappeared sometime in the mess.

"Well...uh...what now?" Pippin asked, scratching the back of his head. Èomer looked at him helplessly.

"I think the best we can do is to get these two somewhere else, sleep then decide what to do in the morning. What about you, Faramir?" the Gondorian didn't answer. He stared after the spot where his ex-wife had disappeared to...after the Chicken. "Faramir?"

The Rohirrim walked over and put his hand on Faramir's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" was the spat answer. Èomer sighed.

"C'mon. We must find a somewhat safe spot to camp. The Halflings are worse off than we," he offered his hand, which was gratefully, but somewhat reluctantly taken. Faramir made a point of avoiding the other's eyes. Once up, he stormed over to the place where Merry lay curled up, picked him off the ground and flung him over his shoulder, before walking off in some random direction. Èomer stared after him somewhat sadly.

"You love him, don't you?" Pippin asked quietly, plucking himself up, brushing off his behind. Èomer sighed.

"Yes, I do. I don't know why. Something about his mysterious ways, his brooding moods and his stunning beauty draw me to him. It's like a tug of Elven rope that refuses to let go," he explained, choosing his words carefully. Pippin nodded in complete understanding.

"Then let's go after them, so we don't-"

"Are you two coming or not?" Faramir yelled from somewhere to their left. Both sighed again and started after him.

It was pitch black when they found a spot that Pippin declared was safe enough for them to rest without worry. (They think he still had a snail concealed somewhere in his clothes)

Faramir set Merry down gently, covering the little Hobbit with his long sleeved tunic. The cool night air did not bother him one bit. Casually, Pippin went around collecting bits of wood, and started a small, but warming fire. Then he lay down beside his Hobbit-buddy and went to sleep.

That left Èomer and Faramir awake.

The sound of night birds echoed through a permanent wind that blew thick at the bottom of the forest. It swirled devilishly around the two men who sat across from one another in the fire, enticing the want for soft caresses, kisses of heat and longing, and the feverish feeling of being so dangerously close to that other person.

That fever reflected in Èomer's eyes as he stared across the whipping flames at Faramir.

"It is so calm," Faramir breathed, his eyes closed as he turned his head to let the chilly breeze cool his fire-heated face. "Like an Elven song."

"Nay, to me it is anything but calming," replied Èomer. "It awakens me, it brings me to see my soul with clarity now."

"What do you mean?"

"I believe I have found the one that I am bound to by soul," Èomer said with a boldness that he did not feel. He stared into Faramir's icy eyes.

Faramir blinked. "Èomer, I believe you're getting a boner."

"What? Oh, no, that snail's still there." He reached down into his pants, grimaced, and pulled out the snail that must have came off of Pippin. He stared at it in wonder before throwing it to the floor and squashing it with a satisfying splat. "And I thought I was getting that genital disease."

"Maybe you are. It still looks pretty swollen."

"Let's forget about that. Faramir, the feeling I get with you is indescribable. It has been a love that I have tried to quench since the time I first met you. But it has only grown since then. The forest has brought it out to practically an unbearable burden. Unless I hear the same from you."

The Gondorian was silent at these soft words; he sat there staring into the storm cloud eyes of the Rohirrim. Èomer looked away, his mind already set on taking the rejection. He breathed in heavily and got up from the ground, walking in the opposite direction from where his true love sat. His guard was down, tears were glinting in his eyes, and his loins weren't easing the pain.

Suddenly, he felt a small hand on his wrist, pulling him around. He only had seconds to glimpse the ginger colored hair of the man he had poured his heart to, before he was shoved roughly against a tree, chapped lips delectably covering his own.

"You," Faramir said against his lips, "are to be the love of my life." Then he delved into Èomer's mouth with a sudden urgency, ripping open the loose ties of his shirt and gliding his hands over the man's rock- hard pecs.

Èomer tilted his head back and accepted the passionate embrace, pulling himself into Faramir more closely so they were comforted by each other's heat in the biting cold. He reached down to Faramir's slim waist and grasped it, enjoying the feeling of the solid weight of his manhood against Èomer's own.

Now Faramir's mouth was plunging down the side of his neck. He playfully nibbled Èomer's collarbone, eliciting a deeper, more gravelly moan from the back of his throat.

Èomer was clearly enjoying the attention his muscled chest was getting. The wavering heat pouring from off both their bodies, and clashing; mixing together before dissipating.

Then, Faramir was at his navel, brushing a hand against his lower stomach. The Rohirrim spasmed slightly and snorted in laughter. Faramir paused and looked up, quirking an eyebrow.

"Is someone slightly ticklish?" he taunted, jabbing his fingers lightly on the spot. This time, Eomer giggled, folding at the stomach.

"D-don't...do that!" he squeaked, sending Faramir into bouts of laughter.

"Looks like I've found your weak spot," he chuckled. "Shall we see if I can find another?" he whispered seductively in the other's ear. Èomer shivered considerably and moaned at the thought of what this man could do to him.

The Rohirrim recovered quickly, however and was now able to look Faramir in the eye. "Most certainly, but it should probably be taken away from the campsite. Don't want to scar any innocent Hobbit minds, do we?" he grinned, the devil winds fierce within him.

"Innocent? I think not." Faramir pointed to the other side of the fire, where Merry and Pippin's silhouette could clearly be seen. It seemed Pippin was having fun raping the now-awake and alert Merry. But then again, there didn't seem to be much protest from the receiving side.

"Still..." Èomer said, trying to keep his face straight. The image of two Hobbits having sex was too funny.

"Then we will go to the hot springs," was the answer. He put an arm around the other man's waist, rubbing his hipbone with his thumb in circular motions. Èomer laid a less-aggressive hand behind Faramir's neck and they walked on.

By the time they got into the spring, Èomer's pants and Faramir's entire outfit had been discarded to the side. The Gondorian was delighted to find that the guy went commando (what else could they go?) for most of the time, and as soon as they climbed into the warm, clear water, he attacked the lower half of Èomer's body.

He took the King's wealth into his hands and could barely contain himself as his hand stroked the hardening skin. There was no need for the receiving party to rise to attention, though, and his body began to squirm in pleasure to Faramir's sensual touch. He threaded his hands through the ginger locks of his lover and kissed him deeply, bucking his hips to gain more friction.

Faramir continued his ministrations, kissing the Rohirrim back harshly, with quick nips. The other's lips dripped out a bit of blood, which was sucked dry immediately.

As the Gondorian sped up, Èomer's thrusts became rougher and more needy.

Then, it was stopped.

Èomer cracked open an eye and looked down at Faramir, who was looking at him with dark blue, lust-filled eyes. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Please, Èomer, I need you. I want you to take me, make me bleed, make me scream your name in pleasure and pain." The other man nodded, not quite grasping what had just been requested, but pulled him over to the east bank anyway. Once there, he lifted Faramir out of the water and laid him on the bank, climbing in between the other's legs.

The other's manhood stood tall and proud in the moonlight, just inviting Eomer's mouth to devour him whole. He did so, making Faramir groan in surprise and ecstasy. He flicked his tongue around and underneath the layer of skin that covered the head. He swallowed as much as he could, willing his gag reflex to not react. Then he went back up, teeth grazing the skin ever so lightly.

Now it was Faramir's turn to giggle. The feeling was tingly and erotic. It turned him on more, but before he could think about any of it, Èomer pulled away, leaving him cold and horny.

"On your knees." he ordered in his most Kingly voice. It was done so submissively, and teasingly. Faramir turned too slow for Eomer's liking. The wind kissed his face and newly exposed ass sweetly. (New meaning to the phrase 'kiss my ass'). Breathing heavily, Èomer leaned over to Faramir's ear. "Prep or no?" said man could only shake his head. "So be it."

He grabbed the other's hips in a death-grip and thrust in roughly. Faramir groaned in pain, but it was quickly replaced by an enormous amount of pleasure as Èomer started jerking himself in and out harshly, grinding heavily. The soothing night air-cooled their bodies a bit, but both were still covered in a slick sheen of sweat.

"H-harder. Please, Èomer. Make me scream your name!" Faramir all but shouted. His demand was granted with equal passion, the King losing it all and pounding into his love with reckless abandon. Boromir's brother moaned Èomer's name loudly, his hand moving toward his own length. It was jerked away as the Rohirrim's strong, calloused hand took over.

They both were lost in a round world of hazy passion, moaning each other's name loudly, and breathing heavily. Faramir's climax came faster than expected, bathing the sand below him in the sticky, white substance. His velvet inner walls clenched down on Èomer's own manhood, squeezing and rubbing it, bringing him to the point of completion. He shot his load into the Gondorian's tight passage, moaning his name loudly.

Faramir collapsed to his stomach, Èomer on top. It was a few minutes before Eomer pulled out and rolled over, pulling his lover into a tight, possessive embrace. The King kissed the top of Faramir's head, mumbling something incoherent before drifting off into the bliss of sleep.

"Yeah, I love you, too," Faramir whispered back, the words muffled by the arm covering his mouth. He, too, was soon asleep.

"Jeez, it took 'em long enough, don't you think?"

Yellow-bird turned to the woman laying next to him, but she was sound asleep.

"Humans...no stamina at all..."

//

Authors Notes: Ah! The plot thickens a bit! Faramir and Èomer are together, Pippin and Merry are together. Èowyn ran off after the Chicken and...hey! What happened to Gimli and Legolas? You'll find out in the next chapter...please read and review!