Deprived of Hope

by Henrika

Chapter One

Gandalf the Grey sat back against a large rock, puffing on his pipe. He slowly inhaled the fresh forest air and closed his eyes, revelling in the quiet stillness of the surroundings. He had taken off his sword and his staff and placed them on the ground a few feet from where he was sitting. His feet and sore muscles ached from several days of walking and little rest, and there was a constant storm cloud plaguing his mind.

The Ring, hanging from a golden chain around Frodo’s neck. This was their second week of the quest, and every step brought them closer to Sauron’s Black Land. The wizard feared the power of the evil object and longed to be away from it, if only for a short while.

Dawn was drawing near, and Gandalf had left the Fellowship and his sleeping place just about an hour ago. He had tried to move in stealth, but he was still pretty sure that Aragorn, with his keen ranger-eyes, had seen him sneak off. Gandalf didn’t really mind. He was sure that Aragorn understood his worry and would not begrudge him a few hours of peace and solitude.

Gandalf’s mind and body grew warm at the thought of Aragorn. The Man had been his lover on and off for some decades now, and although there had been occasional discords between them, the wizard valued their friendship highly even when they were not sharing a bed. Gandalf found the tall, handsome Man extremely desirable and shivered when he pictured Aragorn’s intense grey-blue eyes watching him. He blew out some smoke with an audible sigh and let his head fall back, attempting to find a comfortable position and leaning against the solid stone. A hot, pulsating ache had started in his loins, and his robe suddenly felt both hot and tight, despite the fact that it was December and chilly in the morning air.

The wizard longed to ease the ache by touching himself. Sex was out of question during the quest, and so far there had been no time for any masturbation either. Until now. Gandalf smiled to himself. No one would see him. And if someone did, so what? He hoped that everybody had realized that he, despite his aged appearance, had urges and needs just like any male of any race.

Slowly he unbuckled his belt and started untying the fastenings of his worn, grey robe. When that was done and he could slide the two halves of the garment apart, only his undergarments were in the way. Underneath the robe Gandalf wore a soft, white linen shirt and grey underpants. He opened the first two buttons of his shirt, rubbed his sensitive, peaked nipples through the fabric, and slid his right hand into his pants. His cock was already hard, resting against his lower abdomen.

Gandalf let out a strangled moan when he took his erection in a firm grip and began to stroke it. He didn’t seriously believe that anyone – not even Legolas with his sharp, elven hearing –would hear him, considering how far away from the company he had gone, but he didn’t want to risk anything. Besides, there could be creatures lurking in his forest; creatures whose attention he did not want to attract.

Beneath his closed eyelids, Gandalf saw stars and something that resembled his own fireworks as he pleasured himself, imagining it was Aragorn’s hand or skilled mouth working on him.

"Oh, yes… Oh, oh…"

A cruel bark of laughter pulled him out of his reverie in less than a second. His eyes fluttered open and to his dismay he saw five foul, sneering Orcs staring down at him with gleaming, predatory looks in their eyes.

Instinctively Gandalf jerked his hand from his trousers and lunged for his sword, Glamdring, which he knew lay somewhere nearby. His fingers brushed the handle of the sword but didn’t get any further, because one of the Orcs had drawn out a dagger which he thrust clean through the wizard’s right hand, pinning it to the ground.

Gandalf screamed from agonizing pain and surprise, already realizing that he was likely to lose this fight. The Orcs were five, he was alone, and his right hand was maimed and unfit for use.

The Orc drew his dagger back and simultaneously kicked Glamdring away, out of Gandalf’s reach for good. The wizard screamed again and pulled his arm back to him, cradling his bleeding hand to his chest. Blood from the grizzly wound quickly stained his white shirt, and he could feel the sticky wetness pouring down his skin.

Realizing that fleeing was his only choice now, Gandalf tried to rise and run away, but being surrounded, he was immediately caught by the Orcs who threw him back down to the ground. They were over him in a second, snarling and barking at each other in their foul-sounding language. The wizard cried out again when one of them sank its rotten, sharp teeth into his shoulder, biting through his tender flesh. He tried to fight them off, kicking and hitting their swarthy, stinking, hard bodies with his uninjured hand, but to no avail. They were too many and too strong for him. He could not fight them without a weapon.

One of them – a much larger soldier Orc, known as an Uruk-hai – yelled at the one who was biting him. "Stop that! There’s plenty of time for that *later*! Don’t spoil him too much before we can see what other pleasures we can get from this wizard-filth!"

The biter drew back from Gandalf, obviously heeding his larger companion’s orders. Blood was dripping from his mouth, together with spit and froth. He was displeased with being interrupted, but apparently he could wait a few minutes until the wizard had nothing left to give.

Gandalf’s robe, shirt and pants were brutally ripped from his body in large chunks until he was completely naked. In panic he began to realize what was about to happen. First he was to be raped, then killed and eaten. No, he could not let that happen. He couldn’t fail his companions. Too much depended on him. If he died now, they might all be lost.

Once again he attempted an escape, but a large, rough fist hit his head and made him sink back to the ground, dazed. That same hand, belonging to the Uruk-hai, then tangled in his beautiful, silver hair and yanked his head back. One of the Orcs pulled its hardening cock out of its leggings but was met with a roar from the Uruk.

"*I* will go first, you filth!" he snarled, moving to cover Gandalf’s slender body with his own and forcing the wizard’s legs apart. Gandalf gasped in fear and disgust when he saw the creature’s aroused member. It was at least nine inches long and thick. That thing was sure to split him in two.

"Don’t – please, don’t!" he tried desperately, trying to squirm away when the Uruk lifted his legs, almost raising his bottom off the ground. He was held in place by two of the Orcs, though, and couldn’t get anywhere. The Uruk laughed cruelly, exposing his crooked, yellow teeth when he started pushing his cock into Gandalf’s dry passage. The wizard resisted to the best of his ability but stopped when he realized it was no use. Flexing his muscles only made it hurt more, and there was no way that he could prevent this. Gandalf could feel his own flesh being torn apart by the relentless piece of hard, unyielding meat, and tears of pain and humiliation filled his eyes. The Uruk, of course, took no heed to his need to adjust, but started pumping hard and fast as soon as possible.

Gandalf screamed, but even his screams were drowned by the loud, barking laughter of his violators. The Orc who had bitten him suddenly appeared above him, grinning down at him with its teeth still coloured red from the wizard’s blood. The creature was holding its stiffening, stinking organ in its hand and knelt next to Gandalf, with one knee on either side of his head. The wizard did his best to turn his face away, but aided by one of its companions, the Orc managed to force his mouth open and thrust its cock deep down his throat. Gandalf was not unaccustomed to fellatio, but he couldn’t help choking and gagging around the huge, smelly organ when the creature cruelly deposited it in his mouth.

"If you bite me, wizard, my friend will cut off your balls!" the Orc hissed at him, and in response the Uruk seized Gandalf’s scrotal sac and twisted his testicles painfully, grinning down at him as it continued to rape him fiercely. Gandalf’s screams were loud despite being muffled by the Orc’s cock in his mouth.

Gandalf didn’t try to bite. He didn’t doubt their warning, and as long as there was a chance he might get out of this with all his body parts intact, he wasn’t going to do anything to risk it. All he could do was hope that the foul creatures would finish quickly.

After a few minutes of pain and horror, the Uruk suddenly threw his back, growling, as he came and sent a huge load of come into Gandalf’s abused bowels. The vile fluid burned the wizard from inside, and Gandalf screamed even louder than before. He was grateful that his first ordeal was over, though, and almost sighed when he felt his rapist pull out.

His reprieve was short. Soon the Orc with its cock in his mouth climaxed as well, and he could feel his throat being filled with thick spurts of bitter, disgusting seed. The Orc had not yet pulled out, so the wizard’s only choice, except choking, was trying to swallow it. His throat convulsed and he gagged around the sagging member, accidentally biting into it.

The Orc reacted very violently. It pulled its cock out of his mouth and hit him across the face, leaving three parallel cuts on his cheek, plus a welt that would later turn into a black eye.

"So you bit me, you filth?" the Orc snarled, smearing the blood from the cuts and the come that was leaking out of Gandalf’s mouth across the wizard’s cheek. "Do you wish to be gelded?"

Gandalf began to cry freely. "No, please… I didn’t mean to…" he sobbed. "Please let me go now…"

"Let you go?" the Uruk laughed with a sadistic gleam in his eyes. "Can’t you see – there are more of us!"

One of the four Orcs was holding his injured hand, eagerly lapping up the blood that was pouring from the perforating stab wound in his palm. Gandalf’s skin crawled in disgust. He tried to pull his hand back, but the Orc didn’t let him. He could see in their eyes that soon they would want more than sex.

Gandalf could tell that his backside had been torn. Not only was there pain, but blood was flowing down his thighs and onto the grass underneath him. He simply couldn’t endure another rape. The pain alone was enough to drive him mad. Still, he knew it was inevitable. They all wanted a turn with him, before they would…

Oh, please, help me… Somebody… Gandalf thought. Please don’t let them…

He tried to close his legs when the next pair of Orcs came to replace the former ones. It was no use. They forced his thighs apart, and he could hear the Uruk laughing.

"I’ve loosened him up nicely for you!" he said. "Now, be my guest! Take as long as you want."

Gandalf fought to stay conscious during the violations, as he realized that it was his only chance of survival. It was tempting just to give in, to get rid of the pain and the knowledge that he was about to be killed. Still, every time his eyes began to darken, he fought to stay awake with all the willpower he had.

When the last two Orcs had finished – one in his mouth and one in his ass – the one that had been fucking him rolled off and lay down on the ground beside him, temporarily exhausted. The pain itself would have been paralysing in a normal case, but Gandalf realized that this was his only chance and if he didn’t take it, there would never be second one.

The wizard struggled to his feet as fast as his injuries allowed him and jumped over the Orc that was lying on the ground by his feet. The creature growled in anger and reached out to grab his ankle. When Gandalf felt the coarse, clawed hand seizing him, he kicked out against the Orc, hitting it across the temple and causing it to lose its hold on him. In panic he let his eyes flicker over the surroundings, trying to decide which way to run.

He stumbled through the grass, every step feeling like he would be split in two. The foul beasts were only a few yards behind him, and he could almost feel their hot, smelly breaths in his neck. When it was already too late, Gandalf realized that he should have attempted to get hold of Glamdring or his staff. Wounded and without a weapon, he was an easy prey for five, healthy Orcs. There was no way he could hide either; he was bleeding and these creatures could smell blood a mile away.

The world suddenly began to spin around him, and to his dismay Gandalf discovered that he was about to pass out. He had no choice but to slow down. If he didn’t, he would fall to the ground unconscious.

Suddenly a hard object – perhaps it was a stone, a piece of wood or simply an Orc-fist – clashed into the back of his head, and he fell to his knees. The same Orc that had delivered the blow then kicked him in the stomach, and Gandalf could do nothing but emit several gagging sounds.

The other four creatures quickly caught up with their companion, and within seconds Gandalf was surrounded again. The Orc that had thrust its dragger through his hand drew its weapon out again and slashed at the wizard. Reflexively Gandalf tried to parry the blow, but he was not fast enough. The rusty, serrated blade cut into his side, just below his ribcage, slashing up a shallow, three-inch wound. Blood immediately started pouring down his stomach. He barely felt the pain. Instead he sank down all the way, finally allowing his eyes to blacken. He had nothing more to give. The Orcs would feast on his poor, broken body now, and no one would probably ever know what had happened to him. The last thing Gandalf felt before going unconscious was the cool, moist grass against his face.

The Orc whose blade had cut into him lowered it. Believing that Gandalf was dead, he sank down to take his first bite of flesh. The Uruk stepped in between, though, stopping his smaller, bow-legged companion.

"No!" he hissed. "We must leave at once."

The Orc, angry to be denied a tasty meal, hissed in reply, "What for?"

"There are others close," the Uruk said. "I can smell Man-flesh."

The Orc’s eyes gleamed with anger. "You *promised* us!"

The Uruk grabbed the snarling Orc and jerked him to his feet. "They will be here soon!" he growled. "We must leave this instant!"

Before leaving, however, the group went back to the place where they had found the wizard to see if anything valuable had been left in his clothes. The Uruk soon found the light, elegant Elven sword that Gandalf had been carrying and decided to take it for himself. He had needed a new sword for days, anyway.

Grumbling, the Orcs shot longing looks at Gandalf’s prone body while slowly following their leader into the forest. The Orc that had bitten into the wizard’s shoulder regretted that they had not started feasting on him right away instead of fucking him. Now he would have to endure a growling stomach for no one knew how long.

Gandalf was not awake to realize that they had let him live.

TBC

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