Rating: R – warning for sexual content
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s world and all who dwell therein... apart from these three that is!
Boromir found lodgings at an isolated homestead. Over their harvest supper, the farmer patiently explained that when a wild stallion came by he’d put out his mares in hope of snagging a foal... looked meaningfully at his three eldest daughters, who were all paying rapt attention. Boromir suddenly got the gist, but it was as he bedded down in the barn that reality cuddled up to his back, cupping parts untouched for weeks with cool hands.
He hadn’t meant to, normally he’d have politely declined... but the crofter’s mead and her gently thorough perseverance… well, one thing lead to another.
Midnight he woke, sleepily realising another daughter had crept beneath his blanket… Finding him naked and easily accessible, she tickled, she kissed… soon he was mounted by strong thighs as she rose from trotting to a canter.
Pre-dawn lit a third beauty, already hard at work, dexterously pulling some life into Boromir’s tired body. She proved as thoroughly persistent as her sisters and giggling, had her way.
After noon, Boromir woke bleary-eyed, sore. He saw nothing, only heard giggles as he discovered candied cherries and a honey-pot in his pack... and rode away wondering what harvest nine-months might bring him.