Title:  Defeat 
Author:  Yano (yano269@yahoo.ie)
Pairing:  Faramir/Lurtz 
Rating:  R 
Summary:  Faramir and companions fight a band of
renegade Uruk-hai, Lurtz is among them.
Disclaimer:  Tolkien is the master. This fic is, of
course, not for profit and not intended to violate any
rights.
Warning:  Rape 
Author's Note:  Movieverse/bookverse plus somewhat AU.
Lurtz is still alive after TFOTR and hangs out in
Ithilien. My first slash fic;-) Apologies to
everybody, especially Faramir.



The clearing had been a battlefield for a night and a
day, and as Faramir looked at the others, there was
none unhurt, none that did not have the wild look of
despair on his face. This was their last stand, and
when their eyes met, he felt that they all knew. The
young captain smiled grimly. “It is the three of us,
then.” He cast his bow aside, drawing his sword
instead. “Gondor!”

Back to back they stood, tall and proud, swords
glinting, and their renewed defiance drew the Uruk-hai
to them once more, snarling their rage at the men’s
courage. Again steel clashed against steel, and the
roars of their enemies dead or dying filled the air.
But even as the three men hewed down Uruks left and
right, slowly they closed in around them, unhurried,
knowing that the men did not stand a chance.

Ingmar was the first to fall, the foe’s blade driven
into his chest, buried in his flesh to the hilt, and
he sank to the ground, a spring of blood bursting from
his lips. As the Uruk-hai roared out their triumph,
for a moment the ring around the men was broken, and
Alwyn cried to Faramir “Try and save yourself,
Captain. This battle is lost.” “I cannot”, said
Faramir softly, and he raised a weary hand to his
face, pushing back his hair and wiping blood from his
brow. “We stand or fall together.” Alwyn closed the
distance between them, gripping his captain’s
shoulders. “You have to live, for Gondor. Remember
that!” And with a quick glance sideways at the Uruks
that came at them again he pushed Faramir backwards,
towards the forest, “Run!”. And Faramir ran. Alwyn
took a firm stance, ready to face the Uruks alone.  He
felled the first that would spring after Faramir with
two mighty strokes.

*Forgive me*, Faramir thought as he stumbled uphill,
*I failed you. I failed you all*. He heard the Uruks
clamour behind him, but sufficiently far away. He
risked a look over his shoulder, saw Uruk-hai crowding
in around Alwyn. He blinked back the wetness in his
eyes. No time for regret. There was a chance, a slim
chance. It would improve if only he could reach the
forest. 

He heard the whirring noise of an arrow behind him,
and felt the sudden pain as the metal tip pierced his
side, just below his leather jerkin. He stumbled,
caught himself and ran on. Cursing under his breath,
he drew the gauntlet off his hand with his teeth,
feeling for the wound. Blood spilled over his hand.
*They won’t get you. Not that easy.* And then he was
in the twilight, under the trees. 

Faramir lay back, breathing hard. No sound under the
green roof of the trees except for the rustling of
leaves. *Get rid of that arrow and run. You can still
get away.*   He unbuckled his belt, laid it aside. His
hand reached for the arrow. Flinching at the touch, he
felt a gush of blood soaking his shirt. Again he
cursed softly. He had been taught not to remove
arrows, to wait for a healer to cut them from the
wound, but how could he hope to ever see a healer
again? He passed his fingers over the wound. The tip
was right there, under the skin. 

Hand shaking, Faramir grabbed the shaft as close to
the wound as possible, pulling hard. The tip tore
flesh and skin as he jerked it out, and the pain of it
made him choke. Biting down on his lip, he pressed
both hands against the wound to stop the bleeding. And
the searing pain subsided. But just as he tore off a
bit of his shirt to dress the wound, he heard them,
coarse voices, twigs crushed under heavy boots.
Noiselessly, he reached for his sword, scrabbled to a
crouching position. 

It was the tall Uruk-hai archer that spotted him
first. Faramir jumped to his feet, sword at the ready.
The Uruk growled something in his abominable speech,
his slanted eyes moving quickly over the man’s body,
taking in the blood that drenched his clothes and the
grass beneath him, and he lowered his bow. Before
Faramir could marvel at the gesture, he felt a strong
arm catching him from behind, and a dagger at his
throat. “Drop the sword,” the Uruk-hai behind him
snarled in the Common Speech. The dagger drew blood,
and Faramir let the sword slip to the ground.  “Do you
want me to cut his throat, Lurtz? He looks like he’s
going to bleed to death in no time.”
An evil light flickered in the eyes of the archer, the
one that had been called Lurtz. “He looks like good
sport to me.” He signalled to the other, and the
dagger disappeared from Faramir’s throat, his arms
were free. Faramir lashed out at Lurtz, but the
Uruk-hai had anticipated this and caught his hand in
midair, snarling. “Fight, you will?” He seemed more
amused than troubled. The man stood taller than either
of the Uruk-hai warriors, but Lurtz’ frame was much
broader and heavily muscled. He nodded towards his
comrade, who grabbed the man by his shoulders.
*Cowards*, Faramir thought.

Lurtz brought up his knee and rammed it into Faramir’s
stomach. The man doubled over, coughing. Again.
Faramir sank forward, his knees shaking. “Stand him
up.” A fist in his hair roughly pulled him back up,
bringing his face level with Lurtz’, who positively
smiled at him. Faramir’s mind was racing. *I have to
fight them. I have to-*

Lurtz hit him in the face, twice, three times,
watching with curiosity as blood trickled from the
man’s nose and lips, crimson stains on his pale skin.
Faramir inhaled sharply as Lurtz snatched his throat,
tilting the man’s head to the side with the same well
practiced movement as if he wanted to break his neck.
The man’s face was a mess, bruised blue and purple
below his eye, lip split where the Uruk’s blows had
caught him, and beneath the unwavering defiance in his
expression there was a flicker of fear. And suddenly,
as Lurtz felt Faramir’s smooth skin under his hands,
enticingly soft, a different kind of sport came to his
mind. A good sport. Ah, how the man would fight him...
Faramir’s hair fell over his face, and Lurtz missed
the look of grim determination in the man’s grey eyes.

Faramir kicked backwards, at the Uruk that held his
arms, hitting him hard between the legs. Stumbling,
the Uruk let go of him, and Faramir sprang forward,
snatching the knife from Lurtz’ belt, and before the
Uruk could react, the man had driven the blade deep
into his shoulder. Lurtz’ breath caught, eyes wide
with surprise as he reeled backwards, hand clutching
his bleeding arm. But his comrade was there in no
time, snatching Faramir’s coat as he leaped after him,
and both tumbled to the ground, scrabbling on the
slippery grass. The blade slipped from Faramir’s
fingers, dropped just a few spans from his reach. He
struggled desperately to reach it, the Uruk trying to
get on top of him to pin him down.

Lurtz strode over, blood oozing from where Faramir had
stabbed him, but now that the surprise was over, it
did not seem to trouble him overmuch. He watched the
two of them struggle for a moment, saw Faramir’s hand
dart for the weapon, and brought his heavy boot down
on the man’s hand. Faramir gasped as he felt the
sickening snap of a bone breaking. He sank down, face
forward, fighting down a wave of nausea as Lurtz’s
iron shod heel dug into his hand. 

The other Uruk scrambled to his feet. This was
entirely too much sport for his taste. Looking down
towards the clearing to what was quickly becoming an
Uruk-hai camp, he saw the others lighting a fire. It
took only a moment to choose between his loyalty to
Lurtz and the possibility that the others had food.
“I’ll go eat”, he said, slouching off.

Lurtz took his boot from Faramir’s hand. “Fight”, he
growled, kicking him hard. Clutching his broken hand,
Faramir pulled his knees to his chest in a futile
attempt to protect himself. “Fight!”. He kicked the
man again, but it did not produce the desired effect
any more. The man just lay there, breathing hard but
regularly. Lurtz then bowed down, and jerked Faramir’s
head up by his hair. “You are quickly defeated,
Gondorman.” “Curse you”, the man spat, trying to raise
himself on his elbows, put up some resistance, but the
Uruk easily pushed him down by his neck, shoving his
knee between his legs. 

Faramir’s eyes fluttered shut as Lurtz leaned forward,
his ugly face almost touching his cheek. And then the
Uruk-hai sniffed at him, sniffing at his neck, his
face. Delicious it smelled to him, blood mingled with
sweat on the man’s skin. His tongue shot forward,
eager to taste. It became black before Faramir’s eyes
as it dawned on him what the creature wanted. Lurtz’
grip tightened around Faramir’s neck, and he dug his
hand into the man’s hair. *So fair*, the Uruk-hai
thought, running his fingers through the filthy
strands that seemed so appealing to him. *So soft.*

Most unexpected, Faramir’s body jerked under him,
trying to extricate himself from Lurtz’ grip. The
man’s hand shot up, his nails digging deep into the
fresh wound at Lurtz’ shoulder, tearing at the flesh.
The Uruk howled with pain, but this time he would not
be distracted. He caught the man’s wrist, forcing it
away from his bleeding shoulder, twisting it backwards
until Faramir cried out. Lurtz let go, slamming his
elbow into the man’s face. Faramir fell back, choking
as fresh blood filled his mouth, flowed freely down
his chin. Lurtz knelt on his chest, pinning his arms
down. “I enjoy a good fight as much as anyone”, the
Uruk hissed at him. “But do you not desire a change in
our game?”

With that the Uruk-hai flipped him over, forcing him
down on his face, twisting his right arm backwards, to
the point where the man thought he might actually
break it. And as he lay there, his forehead against
the cool, mossy earth, Faramir felt that he was tired.
His body shivered, cold from the loss of blood, the
long hours without food or rest, and he knew that he
could not fight any more. 

Lurtz pushed the man’s head down with one hand, the
other sliding around his waist in a rough caress.
Faramir choked as the Uruk-hai’s hand moved over the
wound his arrow had caused, and Lurtz let his hand
stay there, calloused fingers stroking torn flesh. “Do
you feel it”, he hissed, satisfied as the man stifled
a cry, almost a sob, “the sweet pain”. And again, as
if something in his dark mind wished for the man to
understand, “Good pain”. But then the thought passed,
and he desired only victory. 

The Uruk’s breath was hot against Faramir’s neck,
greedy now, impatient as he tore at the lacing of his
pants, stripping the man down to his knees. Faramir
braced himself as he felt the Uruk-hai behind him, and
yet cried out at the first feeling of agony as Lurtz
took him. And then it became his fight to stay silent,
to bite down on his lip until he tasted his own blood,
lest his screams told the Uruk-hai how much he hurt
him. The man kept his eyes open, staring at the muddy
ground before him. He was grateful for the blood that
trickled down his face, for the rocks underneath grass
and mud that scraped open his cheek as Lurtz shoved
his head down against the ground, and he thought,
*This is my pain. This I will remember.*  

The Uruk-hai shifted, pulling the man’s body up
against his own to claim him fully, and at last
Faramir screamed, at last acknowledged his defeat.
Lurtz felt him shudder beneath him, and it was all
that he needed. *Weak you are, after all*, the
Uruk-hai thought. He lowered his weight on the man who
finally lay utterly still, rested his face in the damp
tangles of his hair. Oddly at ease, he touched
Faramir’s face, lightly stroking a cheek that was
moist with blood and tears. *What a pleasant game.* 

A moment later he stood, fastening his belt, and
strode down towards the clearing. Darkness fell. 

At long last, Faramir lifted his head. For a while he
just lay there, listening to the muffled sounds from
the Uruk-hai camp, and then it seems he suddenly
remembered, for he turned to one side and was sick,
his body shaking violently. Cold he felt, so cold. His
hands fumbled for his clothes, but they were cold and
damp also. He forced himself up on all fours, crawling
on hands and knees towards the sheltering darkness of
the forest, hoping against all hope that this time,
they would not come after him. And only there, under
the silent branches, did he allow himself to curl up,
trembling, with fear or cold he did not know. 

Epilogue

A pale ray of sunlight touched Faramir’s face, and he
opened his eyes. *I must have slept after all*, he
thought. Around him was deep silence, but as he looked
up there was a man, watching him.

He must have been there quite some time, for he just
sat very still, sword across his knees, dark eyes
studying Faramir. The man was clad in the colourful
fashion of the Haradrim, cruel men from the south who
had taken service with the dark lord, and now Faramir
remembered dimly that he had seen a couple of those
men among the Uruk-hai.

Seeing that Faramir struggled to his feet, the man put
down his sword, and hurried over, kneeling down beside
him. 
“They are gone”, he said, and his thick accent as he
spoke the Common Speech told Faramir that he was
indeed one of the Southrons. “Rest.” Faramir stared at
him. 

“The Uruk-hai. They are gone”, the man from Harad
repeated, gesturing in the direction of the camp. “You
can rest.” And then, as if he found it difficult to
speak of it, he said: “Your wound. It was bleeding
while you slept.” 
Faramir looked down on himself, saw that there was a
dress around his side, where the arrow had struck him.
“You did this? What do you want?”, he said hoarsely. 

An expression almost of pain appeared in the dark
man’s eyes. “Do not fear me, Gondorman.” *I am not one
of them. I am a man, like you are.* He fell silent,
waiting for Faramir to speak. At last he added softly,
“I brought water.” 
Despite himself, Faramir licked his cracked, bloody
lips. 
“You want?” 
Faramir nodded. The man knelt beside him again, waited
patiently for Faramir to raise himself up his elbows,
watched him drink deeply.
Then, when Faramir was done, he loosed the veil that
covered most of his face, revealing handsome, young
features, and drank, too, but timidly, only a little.
“I will leave this”, he said, eyes flickering over
Faramir’s face. “For you. It is almost full.”

Faramir looked at him, searching in those dark eyes
for some explanation, but he found none. “May the
Valar reward what you did for me, son of Harad”, he
said in a quiet voice.
“I have to go now”, the man answered, avoiding his
gaze. “I cannot stay back too long. I hope you will
find your way home.”

Faramir lay down again, and as he watched the young
man spring lithely towards the clearing, he saw the
sun rising in the east.


The End