Service at the Prancing Pony

by Nefertiti

Summary: PWP. Gandalf spends a night at the Prancing Pony and unexpectedly finds pleasures he has longed missed.

Disclaimer: No rights claimed or financially exploited.

Author's note: Book-based. The setting is The Prancing Pony inn, Bree, September 30, 3018. Readers who only know LotR from the film may be puzzled by this story, since in the film the Prancing Pony is a frightening, dark place. In the novel, Bree is quite a pleasant town, and Tolkien uses it as a way of displaying racial harmony, since its population consists of a mix of Men and Hobbits. Barliman Butterbur, the proprietor, is an old friend of Gandalf's. After deciding to go and consult with Saruman about the Black Riders, Gandalf spends a night at the Pony (June 30) and writes Frodo a letter telling him to set out for Rivendell at once; Butterbur forgets to send the letter, and Frodo does not set out until September 23, thus encountering greater danger because the Riders have reached the Shire by that point. At the Council of Elrond (Chapter II, Book Two), Gandalf describes how he had gone to the Shire after escaping from Orthanc, followed Frodo along the road to Bree, and become convinced that the Riders had killed the hobbit. He tells of his arrival at the Prancing Pony, at which point my narrative begins, detailing a little incident that Gandalf did not relate to the Council. Bob is one of the serving men at the Pony; his main contribution to the book's narrative is to procure the pack-pony Bill for the hobbits and Strider. (The short passage at the beginning is from the novel; the "old fellow" is Butterbur.)

Many Gandalf slash stories posit the wizard to be sexually inactive or even naïve. I have assumed the opposite here. Without entangling Gandalf with any of the significant characters, my story tries to suggest how he might get a little action during his travels.

Completed 20 Feb 2003

"So overjoyed was I by the news that I got out of him, when he stopped quaking, that I embraced the old fellow. How it happened I could not then guess, but I learned that you had been in Bree the night before, and had gone off that morning with Strider.'

'"Strider!'" I cried, shouting for joy.

'"Yes, sir, I am afraid so, sir,'" said Butterbur, mistaking me. '"He got at them, in spite of all that I could do, and they took up with him. They behaved very queer all the time they were here: willful, you might say."'

'"Ass! Fool! Thrice worthy and beloved Barliman!"' said I. '"It's the best news I have had since midsummer: it's worth a gold piece at the least. May your beer be laid under an enchantment of surpassing excellent for seven years!"' said I. '"Now I can take a night's rest, the first since I have forgotten when.'" (FOTR, "The Council of Elrond")

Gandalf entered the quiet, warm private combination sitting- and bedroom and tossed down his small bag. Barliman had given the him the best room in the house, anxious to make up for his idiotic blunder. The fire was burning low, and the dim light made for a very cozy atmosphere. Gandalf flung himself wearily into the big chair near the fireplace and slumped down. Now that his anxiety over Frodo and the others was finally allayed, he felt limp with exhaustion and relief. As long as Aragorn was looking after the hobbits, he could safely take one night of true repose. He began to feel drowsy but sat up and filled his pipe from the new batch of weed that the innkeeper had supplied. For some reason Saruman had taken his own supply. The treacherous wizard had not touched anything else-his pipe, his staff, even his small stock of gold pieces from the troll hoard he and Bilbo had divided years before. Very odd, he thought, but probably just a petty torment, to deprive him even of that simple occupation for his long weary weeks as a prisoner. Saruman always had been contemptuous of Gandalf's interest in such unimportant creatures as hobbits and their rustic habit of smoking.

A soft knock heralded Bob, bearing a tray with a pewter stein and a small pitcher of the best ale in the house. "Ah, Bob. Thank you for your help in stabling Shadowfax. I was afraid he would not take to it well, since he has never been indoors before. But he obviously felt your accommodations here were quite acceptable." Bob grinned. He had filled the stein, and now he handed it to the wizard. Gandalf appreciatively swallowed a mouthful.

"Supper's to come soon, Master Gandalf, sir," said Bob in his rich country brogue.

"No hurry, Bob. It's a pleasure just to sit and sip this wonderful ale. I'm trying to think when the last time I had ale would have been. Over three months! No ale, no pipeweed, no decent food, no fire, no relaxation! This one night must make up for all that, since I've got to set out again into the wilderness east of here tomorrow morning."

Bob clicked his tongue at this litany of deprivation. "Well, sir, Mr. Barliman told me to make you as comfortable and happy as possible for tonight, so just ask for anything you might be wantin'. Anything at all." He grinned amiably at the wizard, then turned and squatted to add some firewood and build up the blaze.

Gandalf watched lazily, noting how the young man's trousers stretched tight over his muscular buttocks. He felt himself stir and harden slightly. "There's another thing I haven't had in over three months," he reflected to himself, staring wistfully. It briefly occurred to him that he might try and see if Bob would be willing to indulge him in some sort of sexual activity, but all sorts of objections quickly arose. Bob was fairly young. Gandalf thought back, realizing that he had been stopping at the Prancing Pony since it opened, well over a hundred years ago, and he had seen generations of staff come and go. Bob had been working there during his last few visits. He was very good with horses. The wizard had always tipped him well, for his own horses (the ones he borrowed from Elrond, that is) had given him excellent reports about the lad's kindness and diligence. Gandalf had liked him, and Bob had reason to like him. But Bob must still be in his twenties, and he did not want to impose himself on such a lad. If he were to hint at such a thing, Bob might feel obliged to pleasure him whether he wanted to or not, given Barliman's orders. Perhaps he was a bit naïve and would be shocked by the idea. Or if, as seemed more likely in a place like this, he had already received a good many overtures of that sort, he might be willing but expect money in exchange. Gandalf had never, in his roughly two thousand years in Middle-earth, paid for it, and despite his long deprivation, he did not intend to start now.

Still, the young fellow's ass was very fetching. And as Bob rose and turned away from the fire, Gandalf reflected that he was not unappealing. He was big-boned and hearty, with a mop of thick brown hair that swept down nearly over his eyes. His face was ruddy and snub-nosed, with clear skin and thick lips. Gandalf found his imagination running wild as he stared at those smooth lips, slightly parted and with a glint that hinted of the moisture within. There were many things such lips could do ... He realized he was staring and smiled a bit sheepishly at Bob, who stood for a moment grinning at the wizard, then stooped to pull off his boots. "Well, that's service," Gandalf managed to say lightly, struggling to suppress his desire to lean forward and take the boy in his arms. As Bob knelt before him, Gandalf had a vivid image of what else he might be able to do in almost that same position. To divert himself, Gandalf sipped his ale. "Good stuff, this," he murmured.

"Oh, yes, sir, finest in the house," Bob replied, looking the wizard up and down. Gandalf wondered if the lad could detect the bulge that was definitely forming at the front of his trousers. He realized that his mouth was hanging slightly open, and he closed it with a snap. Bob added quietly, "I thought maybe there'd be somethin' else I could do you make you more comfortable, sir. Anything at all," he repeated. Gandalf thought he saw an odd look in the boy's smile-a combination of mischief and uncertainty. His own thoughts must have been more evident on his face than he had realized. Gandalf swallowed hard and began to breathe a bit more quickly. He did not trust himself to reply, but Bob could see the pleading look in the wizard's eyes, and he reached out one hand, cupping it over Gandalf's growing erection and gently manipulating it through the cloth. Without thinking further, Gandalf spread his knees slightly to allow easier access.

Slowly Bob explored his cock's length and thickness, muttering, "Yes, I think you could use this kind of comfort, sir." Gasping with arousal, Gandalf realized that he need not worry that he was seducing an innocent. Bob had plenty of experience. The fingers tweaked his cock's knob, sliding over it and tickling the tip. They worked their way down the shaft to the base, dipping to stroke gently across the tender sac below. Finally he ran his thumb and forefinger from base to tip as Gandalf became fully erect.

Bob grinned and let out a low whistle. "No one would think to look at you, sir, that you had that in your trousers. I'll have trouble getting my mouth around it." Gandalf knew this was an exaggeration, and he was beyond feeling flattered, being almost lightheaded with soaring desire. He snorted as the lad eagerly unlaced his trouser-front and brought out the purple erection with its high, pounding veins. Bob examined it, nodding up at Gandalf with an approving smile. The wizard leaned his head back against the chair, breathing heavily through his nose and watching with half-closed eyes as Bob drew his fingers lightly up and down the shaft, then ran them over the velvety head.

Bob bent his head and licked the tip over and over, lapping at it like a dog, then kissing it noisily with slightly open lips. Gandalf groaned hoarsely as Bob continued his slow exploration of his member, moving down the shaft, twisting his head from side to side to slurp eagerly at its rough surface. His fingers slid up and down the high ridge on the underside, tapping it rhythmically, almost as if he were playing some complex tune on a musical instrument. Gandalf closed his eyes, desperate for release and yet not wanting this to end so soon. The lad's technique was far from subtle, but his wet tongue was driving the wizard mad with pleasure. At last, after tantalizing him for long minutes, Bob drew the tip into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it as he sucked. Gandalf stiffened and groaned, forcing himself not to obey his overwhelming desire to thrust further into the lad's hot, wet mouth. "Yes," he hissed through clenched teeth.

His blood pounding in his ears, Gandalf felt Bob push himself further down onto the erection, sucking and tonguing it enthusiastically. He withdrew until only the tip was in his mouth, then pushed hard down again; with each bob downward he took more of the shaft into his mouth, and Gandalf began to tremble. "Now, now, please," he whispered desperately, his fingers clutching the arms of the chair until they turned white. But Bob was either enjoying this immensely or was eager to show off his talent, and he continued the slow, steady pace, impaling himself further and further until his lips were bumping against Gandalf's bush of curly grey hair and his testicles. As he continued to take the cock entirely into his throat, Gandalf whispered, "It's wonderful, it's perfect," lolling his head back again.

Eventually Gandalf felt as if he would faint if he did not find release soon, and he began involuntarily to thrust slightly into Bob's mouth. The lad glanced up and saw the wizard's face twisted in a grimace of intolerable need. Finally he tightened his lips and increased the pace, tickling the wizard's balls lightly with his fingertips and flicking his tongue harshly back and forth across the sensitive ridge. With a strangled groan, Gandalf launched into bliss, and Bob's mouth filled with hot gushes of liquid that he deftly swallowed. The wizard shuddered and bucked in the chair as wave after wave rushed through him, until finally a long series of decreasing spasms caused him to twitch and utter soft, exhausted moans. Bob pulled up and off him, but he continued to tongue the shaft as it shrank and Gandalf's panting slowed.

At last Bob sat back on his heels. "I think I can report to the boss that I've made your stay as pleasant as possible, Master Gandalf, sir," he said, with a note of pride in his voice. Gandalf sat forward and stroked his cheek. "Indeed, you have made what promised to be simply a wonderfully relaxing evening into something far, far more memorable." He smiled as he looked into Bob's cheerful face, glowing red in the firelight. The lad smelled of ale and firewood and stables, with just a hint of sweat-an earthy, not unpleasant combination, the wizard thought. He could also sense that Bob had been aroused by what he had just done to Gandalf and was reluctant to leave, though he had no real excuse to stay. He was breathing quickly, and his mouth smelled of apples. Gandalf thought he could detect a swelling in Bob's trousers. Almost without realizing what he was doing, the wizard leaned forward and pressed his mouth against the lad's lips. At once they opened eagerly to welcome his tongue. Bob's mouth indeed tasted of apples-and just a fading hint of his own cum, which he tried to ignore. Bob's highly talented tongue writhed against his, and the boy inched closer to him, still on his knees on the floor. Tentatively he put his hands on Gandalf's shoulders, and when the wizard did not pull away, he wrapped his brawny arms around Gandalf's neck, sucking and delving into his mouth with sloppy abandon.

It was certainly not sophisticated lovemaking, Gandalf reflected in a haze of reviving desire, but it was vastly exciting. This big puppy-dog of a boy was so enthusiastic that he nearly overwhelmed the wizard's slight body. Indeed, Gandalf found himself pressed back into the chair as Bob rose off his heels and leaned forward over him, his belly pushing the wizard's knees apart, his tongue moving over Gandalf's neck and ears. Despite the intense climax of a few minutes ago, Gandalf felt his cock struggling to regain its erection. "Three months and more," he thought, "It's no wonder, really." But Bob's desire was so uncontrolled that the wizard felt almost stifled by his big body. He felt Bob pushing a large, iron-hard erection against his own crotch, and the boy's tongue again filled his mouth. He struggled briefly, and Bob pulled back with an anxious look.

"I'm sorry, Master Gandalf, did I hurt you? I didn't mean to handle you so rough, but you took me by surprise, kissing me like that. I ... I got carried away ... excited, like." Gandalf smiled, gasping a bit for air. "I'm not hurt, Bob. On the contrary." And the wizard fastened his open mouth on the lad's neck, sucking and tonguing it eagerly.

Then he pulled back and reluctantly asked, "But can you stay here longer? Isn't this taking you away from your duties?" Bob grinned, continuing to grind his erection against Gandalf's own. "Keeping you happy is my duty for tonight, sir. An' old Butterbur wouldn't be at all surprised to find out that this is the way I'm doin' it. It's too late for any one on horseback to be arriving-I hope! Tell the truth, I'd much rather climb that big pole of yours than carry steins o' beer to a bunch of toss-pots."

Gandalf chuckled, "Well, then I can hardly refuse."

"Wonderful, sir! I ... I'm hoping you wouldn't mind putting it in me," said Bob, stroking Gandalf's erection, which was now distinctly increasing. "I'd really admire to feel that in me tonight." Gandalf smiled and resumed his hot, wet attentions to Bob's neck and ears. Soon the young man was uttering very uninhibited moans, one hand continuing to encourage the wizard's erection while the other struggled to loosen his own clothes. Gandalf began to thrust slightly against Bob's hand while he unlaced the top of the lad's shirt. He pulled the V-opening to one side until it revealed one of the pinky-brown nipples. With a moan of desire, Gandalf clamped his mouth on it, feeling the smooth skin pucker and a tiny nub of sensitive flesh rise against his tongue. Gandalf pulled back to look briefly at it, then flicked and kissed it as Bob grunted and arched his back to push his chest harder against the wizard's mouth. Gandalf slid his hand inside Bob's loosened trousers and found the cock ramrod hard and standing up along his belly. It was if anything bigger than his own, and Gandalf hummed with excitement as he ran his fingers up and down its length. By now Bob was frantically shedding his trousers, and he suddenly nudged the wizard to one side and flopped down on his knees, with his elbows on the seat of the chair. His naked ass was thrust out, and he moaned, "Take me, sir, please. Push it inside me, deep in."

Much though Gandalf wanted to do just that, he glanced around for something, anything that could serve as a lubricant. He spotted a small wick-lamp on the mantel and rose to fetch it. There was a bit of oil pooled at the bottom, and his dipped his fingers in and slid the tips over and around Bob's little puckered entrance. Bob let out a groan that sounded more like a bellow coming from his sturdy body, and Gandalf hurriedly smeared more oil on his rampant cock, then began to delve with his long middle finger into the hot depths of Bob's ass. Bob groaned again, spreading his knees far apart and lowering his belly so that his ass was raised and ready for penetration. The lad pushed himself backward until Gandalf's finger was completely inside him. "More," he pleaded. The wizard forced a second finger in and circled the anus, stretching and rubbing it as he thrust in deep, then withdrew. "More, please," Bob whimpered, his mouth lolling open, his eyes blissfully shut. Gandalf felt the sphincter relax as he added a third and fourth finger, and he realized that Bob must have done this fairly often. He gasped with excitement, realizing that he would not have to worry about proceeding gingerly with this fellow. Bob clearly wanted a vigorous invasion of his ass.

Just to make sure, he leaned over Bob's body and murmured in his ear, "Are you ready, my boy?" The reply was clear enough: "Put it in, sir!" Respectful in all circumstances, Gandalf reflected with amusement, sighing in delicious anticipation and placing his rampant tip at the loosened hole. With a jerk of his hips he sent it inside, and after a brief pause Bob moaned hoarsely, "More! Deeper!" Even now Gandalf did not wholly abandon caution, but pumped slowly, sending just a bit more of his length inside Bob with each thrust. Bob was writhing and making a variety of sounds that left no doubt about his excitement.

Once Gandalf was halfway in, he paused, the sweat beading on his forehead. "All right?" he asked. "Yes, yes, more," Bob moaned. Gandalf continued to work his way slowly inside, reveling in the hot, moist grip along his shaft. He was two-thirds of the way in, and Bob's groans were growing louder, but no less delighted. Gandalf commenced pumping steadily, assuming that he was in as far as possible. As it was, the pressure and heat were making his head spin, and he wanted nothing more than to simply go on thrusting into Bob for long, long minutes and savor this very spectacular end to his long, involuntary celibacy. But Bob's big body still was ready for more, as he made clear by pushing backward and trying to take in even more of Gandalf's cock. Gandalf delightedly obliged with a hard thrust that tunneled his tip deep into the lad and buried the shaft to its roots. "Yes!" Bob managed to gasp.

Gandalf began to thrust slowly but fairly hard, and Bob took every blow with a groan of growing desperation. Dimly Gandalf realized that he had not touched the lad's cock, and he reached down to clutch and stroke the quivering shaft. Bob snorted and writhed under him. Having come once, Gandalf set a leisurely pace that kept him hovering in a fog of bliss. Bob clearly had other ideas: "Now, now!" he begged. "Soon," Gandalf corrected him in a murmur. It had been such a long time-and it would probably be a long time again before he felt such pleasure. He ran his fingers over the soft skin of Bob's cock-tip, then up and down the rough, pounding veins.

Finally he saw Bob's hands clutching the cushion of the chair tightly, and the boy threw back his head and begged, "Hard! Please, please! Now!" At last Gandalf increased the pace and force of his thrusting, until he drove Bob over the edge. The boy bellowed and groaned and thrashed, his hot jets coating Gandalf's fingers and dripping onto the rug. His ass jerked Gandalf's cock so hard that the wizard slipped into ecstasy, pumping with abandon as he shot spray after spray deep inside the tight velvet sheath. They both enjoyed the delicious lingering spasms until the last tiny tremor slipped away.

Panting, Gandalf pulled out of Bob and knelt back on the rug, watching as the lad slowly pushed himself up from the chair and turned to face him, sitting heavily on the rug, his back propped against the front of the chair. Gradually his dazed expression cleared, and he grinned at Gandalf. "I can't recollect ever feeling it quite like that, and that's the truth, sir." Gandalf grinned back, "You're amazing, Bob! You took me in so deeply that it was wonderfully powerful for me, as well." It was hard to tell in the firelight, but Gandalf thought that the boy was blushing. "Well, I get a fair amount of practice in a place like this," he said, somewhat sheepishly. "Still, it's not always so good as this was. Some of these fellows don't bother much about my pleasure, and sometimes it's over a lot too soon for my liking. But I really wanted to have you in me, sir, and I'm awful glad you wanted it, too. You know how to make a fellow really feel it."

Gandalf smiled and stroked his cheek. "You've given me so much pleasure tonight, Bob. I'm very glad you enjoyed it too."

Bob shook his head to clear the last wooziness-yes, definitely like a big puppy, Gandalf thought-and rose, pulling on his clothes clumsily. Gandalf also struggled to his feet and fastened his own trousers, standing contentedly looking into the fire.

"So, will you be wanting your dinner now, sir? I can go and fetch it if you like."

Gandalf pressed his lips together, feeling a little pang of sadness as the boisterously enthusiastic young lover of a few moments ago faded away and was replaced by the deferential young serving man. He turned and smiled. "Yes, dinner would be lovely, Bob. I think after that, you will definitely have satisfied my appetites." Bob dipped his head down in the suggestion of a bow and left.

Gandalf watched him go, regretting in a way that this little interlude had ended so soon. Still, there was really no way to prolong it. Despite what Bob had said, he probably had tasks to do before he could retire for the night. At that point Gandalf wanted most of all to sleep, and the thought of trying to do so with that large, active fellow beside him in bed made him laugh softly. No, it had simply been a charming, casual encounter, one which he realized he had badly needed.

Gandalf settled back into the chair, pouring himself another stein of ale as he waited for his dinner. "Where are Aragorn and Frodo and the others at this moment?" he wondered. "Don't worry so much!" he scolded himself. "Aragorn can take care of them. He knows these parts better than you do yourself. There's nothing you can do tonight, so forget it for now." And he prepared to eat a hearty meal and collapse into the soft, inviting bed in the corner-unaware that a few hours later, an invasion of Bree would send him out onto the road, once more facing danger and hardship on the long, lonely path to Rivendell.