Sweet Fantasies
by Adinshe

Sweet fantasies.

There were just the two of us in the large conference room. Legolas and Gimli, mourning the fact that they had not been able to save the two little ones, had returned to their own people. Arwen had yet to arrive in the White City. Faramir, Captain of the Gondor since Boromir's death, had begun his duties of inspecting the troops that remained after the final gruesome battle. They had to be tended to, regrouped, be given new provisions, new orders.

Sauron had been defeated, his armies destroyed, apart from small rogue bands roaming the country there was no more threat. Still I wanted my troops alert and in perfect condition, my machine of war ready and running.

One could never know.

One could never know how Middle Earth might benefit from a union between Gondor and Rohan. One mighty realm instead of two smaller ones, with as sovereign the most powerful to have ever held sway: myself.

I cast a benign smile at Éomer, and an answering smile lit up his boyish features, surrounded by angelic blond hair. I poured him some more wine, and watched as he lifted the cup, pursing his soft, full lips to take a sip.

He put it down and looked at me earnestly. "There is still much to be done" he said. "Many men are wounded, many crops are spoiled.

We have to start rebuilding Helm's Deep and Edoras before winter. Still, this is a time for celebrating. And I will certainly take the time to celebrate with you, my friend. First, there will be the coronation. How happy shall the people be, to get back their king after all this time. How they shall adore you, their liberator. I must congratulate you once again on your overwhelming victory. Finally we are truely free."

"I could not have done it without you." I lied, and he smiled at me gratefully.

"Then there will be our weddings. It shall be the greatest feast ever..."

I nodded and smiled, imagining him dressed in nothing but chains, as he would be, when I could safely get my hands on him. We talked for an hour or so, and I pretended to listen, all the while seeing in my mind's eye his shocked face as I slapped a collar round his soft, tender neck, a cuff on one hand, then the other. I imagined his helpless rage as I chained him to the wall of a prison cell and ripped off his clothes, his fear and outrage as I fondled his nude body.

While he talked about our brides I saw myself stroking and squeezing his chest, his nipples, those long legs, tied to a crossbar at the ankles, all the better to give me access to his most private places, all the better to ravish him brutally when the time was ripe.

I imagined his horror when I gripped him down there, saw his eyes widen with terror as I pushed my fingers up into him.

I grinned at that, and Éomer grinned back, resuming his tale about the time he and Eowyn had snuck out of the palace to go of hunting together.

My gaze burnt hotly on him, but he didn't notice, taking it for rapt attention, which in a way it was.

I looked into his his dark blue eyes, soulful and trusting, and imagined them full of hurt, desparate, as I played a little with my knife, cutting his helpless body, telling him he would soon die, that I would watch him die slowly, smiling, just as I had watched Boromir die.

It got rather hot in the room, and I slipped off my mantle, unnoticed by Éomer, who went on talking as if there were no tomorrow.

Yes, I'd watch him die, but first I'd take him, take him as he'd never been taken before.

I would plunge into that lush body, slam him into the wall, and his screams of pain and terror would be the sweetest music to my ears. And then, at the moment of my climax I would squeeze his soft throat, feel the arousing struggle of his body in his fight for air, look into his eyes to see the light of his life slowly dimming.

"So you agree on that?" Éomer asked.

"Of course, dear friend." I answered, "I have already dispatched as many scouts as we can spare right now. One of them is sure to find Sam and Frodo."

Ah, poor Frodo.

How he screamed as I ran Sam through with Andúril.

How impossibly wide his already wide eyes became.

What a pity I had to shut up the beautiful little hobbit so quickly. I would have liked to have ravished his pale, slender body.

"But methinks we should rest a bit now. There is so much more we need to discuss yet, so much to be done. You have not seen all of this marvellous palace yet. I would like to show you round myself."

"Thank you, Aragorn." he said, standing up, and he bowed gracefully.

When I had gone I just sat there for a while, musing. Everything was going so well, so wonderfuly. Faramir would return in a week or so. I wondered if I should dispose of him soon, just as I would have to dispose of Éomer, Éowyn and Arwen. I could not allow any competition, any resistance.

But it didn't have to be quick.

I could toy with him for a little while.

He was sweet, just as Boromir had been.

I would tell him about Boromir, as I played with him.

I couldn't wait to hear him howl.

Oh, such sweet fantasies.

All people have them.

But unlike others I have the means to make them come true.

One cannot stop the one who has the ring.

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