Downfall 
 
Author: ophirianne, ophirianne@yahoo.com  
Feedback and flames- bring 'em on! 
Pairing: Gandalf/Pippin, implied Gandalf/everyone else.  
Rating: R for very very squicky situations and inferences. See warning below. 
Summary: The Gray Wanderer has been around. 
Warning:  Nasty!Gandalf plays a prominent role in this story. 
Disclaimer:  Although Tolkien didn't write the characters this way  
due to his times, his position at Cambridge, his Catholicism, blah  
blah blah, I know for a fact this is EXACTLY how he intended them to  
be. All in fun! 
Auth. note:  This is my first completed LotR's slash story and I am  
ashamed.  I have not read the books since I was 14 so I have no idea  
how old Pippin is supposed to be.  In other words cannon-schmannon!   
Turns out to be more movie-verse I think.  BTW- un-beta-ed so all  
mistakes are mine.  ALSO- this is not the kind of fic I plan to  
normally post- i have several long elf/elf BDSM-esque sagas in the  
works and a few A/L's 
Archive: Moria, Everywhere, if you will have it.  
 
Warning: Child molestation.
 
Frodo sat by the fire with the rest of the fellowship.  They had all  
set out together from Rivendale three days earlier.  'What a  
eccentric bunch we make,' he thought to himself. He stretched his  
hairy hobbit feet towards the flames and looked over his traveling  
companions. 
 
He was sufficiently impressed with  Mr. Strider to feel much safer  
that he was leading them.  The man had saved his life twice already  
and there was a nobility and sincerity to him that Frodo couldn't  
help but to admire.   
 
His eyes fell to Borimir, a hothead to be sure.  Frodo could see that  
the man was struggling.  At the Council he had heard the call of the  
ring but Frodo felt without a doubt that clearer, purer voices would  
have a greater sway inside him. And his ability as a warrior was  
without question.   
 
His companions from the Shire sat huddled beside him sharing the  
warmth of the fire.  Frodo looked to Sam, dear Sam, where would he  
ever be without his best friend Sam?  And Pippin and Merry, those  
sweet cousins.  At first he had been reluctant to let them come along  
when he realized the gravity of his task.  But now he saw that the  
goodness and steadfast determination they had in their hearts was  
exactly the kind of weapon they needed to fight the evil along they  
way in order to destroy this ring. 
 
Legolas- he had no doubts about Legolas.  Legolas was the picture of  
self-control.  No action the elf ever took was anything less than a  
deliberate conclusion to faultless moral decision-making. The elf may  
very well have heard the call of the ring, but having signed on to  
destroy its evil the ring would never hold sway in his heart. 
 
The same was true for Gimli.  Gimli was simple in a dwarf's way.  He  
used his axe to destroy his enemies and right now his enemies were  
those who hindered their progress to bear the ring to Mount Doom to  
destroy it. Everyone who helped them was their ally- simple. Nothing  
short of the end of Middle Earth could convince him otherwise. 
 
Gandalf sat by the fire smoking his pipe. Gandalf's power a sorcerer  
would help them overcome any number of evils they would come across  
along the way when steel and arrows were no longer effective.  As a  
frequent visitor to the Shire Gandalf had known him his entire life.   
Bilbo was always happy to take the wizard as a guest into his house.  
Gandalf had always shown a special interest in Frodo and Frodo  
couldn't help but suspect that this was one of the reasons he was  
along on this mission.  He was a little disappointed when Elrond had  
declared that Gandalf would lead the fellowship, though he realized  
his skills would be irreplaceable.  
 
Frodo thought back to when he was younger how Gandalf used to make  
him sit in his lap and how he would tell him stories.  He remembered  
how those stories always made him feel... sort of uncomfortable.  So  
often these stories would recount how in the towns of men it was not  
unusual for lads to offer certain comforts to travelers for a small  
coin or a trinket.  He remembered Gandalf's rude laugh when he  
recalled how often he took comfort from these cheap dirty lads and  
how they were always surprised that "an old man had more vigor than  
the bull and more to milk than the dairy cow." 
 
He remembered how Gandalf would pick up his small hobbit hand and  
place it over his thigh as he told these stories, and how through his  
robes he could feel more than just his thigh.  Gandalf would force  
his hand to stay there. Sometimes he would repeat the same lines of  
the stories over and over and shake his thigh back and forth while  
forcing Frodo's hand to remain still.  He remembered how he would  
sometimes stop the stories and just make little noises until finally  
Frodo could feel a wetness seeping through the robes.  This always  
made Frodo feel so unclean afterwards, though it seemed to bring the  
Mithrandir a great deal of satisfaction. 
 
When Frodo reached puberty the Mithraindir had asked him,  "Show me  
boy what little treasures you keep tucked inside your trousers  
there."  After that he had made a special point of avoiding him   
whenever he came to the Shire for visits- or at least avoiding being  
alone with him. Later when he came to understand the birds and the  
bees he realized the full disgusting nature of Gandalf's behavior   
and it nauseated him even more.   Now he had to spend all day,  
everyday in his company.  And every night they would have to sleep by  
the same fire.  But thank the Valar he didn't have to be alone with  
him.  There were seven others watching him like a hawk- or at least  
watching that little ornament of gold that hung around his neck. 
 
Right now Gandalf was staring at Legolas.  Finally the old man  
spoke. "Legolas, I remember when you were a mere elfling... how long  
ago was that my lad- where did all the years go?"   
 
Legolas shot him an hateful look.  "That was over twenty-five hundred  
years ago Gandalf.  And please recall that in the intervening years I  
have spent my time learning to be quite deadly with bows, swords and  
knives - so I can dispatch my enemies from a distance or at a close  
range." 
 
Gandalf continued. "Legolas, remember how I used to give you and your  
brothers piggyback rides into the forest?" He puffed on his  
pipe.  "Yes Legolas those were some of the happiest times, in the  
forest during those rides.  You haven't really changed that much you  
know.  Here in the firelight I can still see the scared little  
elfling you were that day."  He chuckled and readjusted his robes  
over his lap. 
 
Legolas growled to himself then pulled out one of his larger knives  
and began sharpening it on a rock. Gandalf, temporarily lost in  
thought, puffed on his pipe contently.  "Ah to be able to relive  
those times- that would bring such joy to this old wizard's heart." 
 
"Gandalf you lead my mother and I to safety in Rivendale when I was a  
mere babe."  Aragorn was talking now, but there was a strained anger  
to his words.  "And then you made a point of visiting us every single  
year all the way until I reached adulthood."  
 
Gandalf removed the pipe from his mouth, knocked out the tobacco ash  
and nodded while fond remembrances flooded back to him.  
 
"The way you grew into a man amazed me Estel." He smiled "And in the  
blink of an eye all those happy memories of that robust sunny child  
so eager to impress the old wizard, well, they became just that...  
memories, ...sweet sweet memories." 
 
Frodo rolled his eyes.   
 
Borimir began to speak.  "Gandalf I recall your many visits to Gondor  
as well- I am sure you do too.  Remember how you broke your arm that  
one time?"  The Gray Wanderer certainly had been around. 
 
"Yes but even though I 'broke my arm' as you put it, it was worth the  
entire visit just to see the look of joy on your little brother's  
face when I gave him that special coin I'd been saving since the  
Second Age.  By the Valar that little chap sure was grateful."  With  
a lascivious chuckle Gandalf drifted into thought.  
 
Gimli rose from where he was crouching and muttered something  
about "... ever set foot in Erebor again... axe to the head Gandalf."  
He threw his cup down and stomped off. 
 
And so the next day the fellowship traveled on.  After a few days  
their way became more perilous as they approached the mountains.  It  
was difficult going for those of a smaller stature- or at least for  
the hobbits- even though he was shorter and moved more slowly, Gimli  
seemed to hold his own with the taller folk.   
 
The hobbits took turns riding on Bill the pony but with Bill's heavy  
load he could only handle one passenger at a time. The fellowship  
still fell further and further behind. It was Legolas who first  
suggested that it might be necessary to carry the hobbits- not that  
he actually offered to carry them himself.   
 
And so at the very next turn when they encountered a particularly  
steep section of the path it was Aragorn who scooped Frodo up into  
his arms and instructed Sam to climb onto his back before he made his  
way up the mountain.  Borimir picked up Merry and Gandalf picked up  
Pippin. And thus the party made their way up the steep slope.   
 
Strider carried Frodo by wrapping his arm around his waist and  
hauling him along while Sam road on his back.  Borimir made a seat  
with his arm for Merry to perch so that the hobbit could wrap his  
little arms around his neck and hang on.   
 
But Gandalf handled Pippin in a most peculiar manner.  While the  
Mithrandir's right hand never left his staff, his other arm was  
wrapped around the little hobbit's body pulling him against his chest  
with his palm splayed directly across the hobbit's crotch, thus  
supporting his entire weight.   It seemed to work efficiently  
enough.  Unlike Borimir and Aragorn, the Mithrandir never had to set  
the hobbit down to readjust his position.  But Pippin had a troubled  
look on his face the entire time he was being held. 
 
After they reached a level clearing up the side of the mountain they  
broke for lunch, or "second breakfast."  Gandalf didn't set Pippin  
down until he found a comfortable rock to sit upon, and that was not  
found until he had tried at least a dozen.  When he did sit down he  
placed the hobbit on his knee. 
 
Sam was off with Borimir making lunch while Merry and Frodo shared a  
rock a few feet away from where the Mithrandir sat.  Thus Frodo was  
able to overheard their entire conversation. 
 
"Are you numb down there, where I held you young Pippin?"  Gandalf  
asked with concern. "I can do a little wizard magic with my hands and  
make it all better."  He held up his hand and made a display of  
flourishing his fingers. 
 
Pippin looked worried but the Mithrandir r didn't wait for a reply.  
He wrapped his arm around the hobbit's waist and began to massage  
between his legs.  Pippin started and let out a shocked gasp in  
response. 
 
"Whoa! You're sliding off. Place your hand on me to steady yourself  
lad."  Gandalf grabbed Pippin's palm and placed it between his own  
legs. Pippin began to squirm, "I'm really not numb Gandalf, really  
not numb at all."  
 
"Oh I can tell, *much* less numb now little Pippin- little indeed!!  
Now you have to let me finish or else the magic won't work."  With  
two fingers he rubbed back and forth the front of Pippin's trousers. 
 
"Oh! Oh!"  Pippin squeaked.  
 
"Now you see the difference between Hobbits and wizards young Pippin!  
Yesssss!" The Mithrandir was swaying back and forth on his rock, his  
eyes rolled upwards in pleasure... "Yes about 7 inches." 
 
"oh!" Pippin was no longer squirming to get away from the wizard, but  
was practically rubbing himself against the old one's hand.  After  
just a few seconds Frodo glanced over and noted a deepening wet spot  
on the front of his friend's trousers. 
 
"See the magic works Pippin, and the amazing thing is you can work  
the same kind of magic on me.  I became a little numb carrying you,  
you see.  Use both hands my lad... and let me tell you a story about  
the last time I was in Bree."   The wizard chuckled.   He had begun  
sway with his eyes rolled up skyward.  "A lad came running up to me  
when I entered the town,  oh yes!  Ummmm. Right there young Pippin.  
Up and down, just like that. Within about ten minutes that lad had  
lead me into an ally. Those lips and that tongue!"  Gandalf was  
rocking back and forth, holding both of Pippin's hands in a vice-like  
grip between his leg.  "Yess, yes Pippin.  I bet you could be just a  
clever as that human boy." 
 
Despite having had his own numbness relieved Pippin had a look of  
shock on his face while the Mithrandir forced his hands back and  
forth between his legs. He tried to squirm off the wizard's lap but  
Gandalf twisted his arm and pulled him back roughly. 
 
"Master Gandalf please!  You're hurting me." 
 
"Numbness almost gone Pippin.  Oh that lad in Bree, that mouth, oh  
yes, oh! ARRGH, ummmm."  Gandalf growled and threw his head back in  
pleasure. 
 
A look of confused disgust quickly settled over Pippin's face, and  
Frodo, watching him, now in speechless horror, quickly surmised the  
reason why. 
 
When Gandalf was back to himself he adjusted his robes, lifting the  
front of them and shaking them dry. "How old are you young Pippin." 
 
"Eighteen Sir,"  Pippin eagerly answered him, relieved to have to  
conversation turn back to a seemingly normal topic.  Pippin slid down  
from Gandalf's lap but for the time being the wizard kept him trapped  
between his legs. 
 
"An eighteen-year-old halfling.  But you could possibly pass for a  
human boy of eight or nine?"  The Mithrandir hummed thoughtfully. He  
suddenly smiled. "But an eighteen-year-old halfling is fully ripe,  
isn't he, down here I mean lad?"  
 
There was no denying the sticky evidence staining the front of  
Pippin's trousers.  He blushed and tried to move away but Gandalf  
held his arm. 
 
"I bet you have had some experience then, haven't you?  A little romp  
in the hayloft with a halfling girl?"  the Mithrandir chuckled.  
Pippin had turned bright red. 
 
"Or maybe a boy?"   
 
Suddenly a flash of metal reflected the bright sunlight into Frodo's  
eyes.  There standing behind the wizard was Borimir, in one hand his  
sword drawn and pointed directly at the wizard's neck, in the other  
hand a bowl of steaming hash.  "Let him go Gandalf, or I'll break  
both your arms and shove that staff where it will give you the kind  
of pleasure you so obviously crave." 
 
"What is the meaning of this!! Master Pippin and I were just  
exchanging stories."  Gandalf released the hobbit and Pippin scuttled  
away. 
 
Borimir growled. "I should end this right now, shouldn't I mighty  
wizard? So-called protector of all that is good in Middle Earth.  How  
dare you touch him!"  He pressed the sword blade a little tighter to  
his neck. 
 
"You are clearly mistaken Steward of Gondor.  But if I agree to  
lessen my contact with Master Pippin would you remove that infernal  
blade from my  neck?"  Across the clearing Gimili, Sam, Legolas and  
Aragorn were starting to look over. 
 
Borimir sheathed his blade. "Don't touch him again," was all he said  
before walking away. "oh yes, and lunch is served." 
 
 
 
Later 
 
The ran helter-skelter through Moria with the Balrog hot on their  
heels. Finally they reached the bridge at Khazad-dûm  Each ran  
across, Borimir and Legolas holding the Hobbits, while behind them  
the thundering vibrations of the Balrog's tremendous gait and bellow  
shook the cavern.  Already the ancient bridge was beginning to  
collapse from the strain, stone that had lain in place for thousands  
of years was falling piece by piece into the black abyss below.   
Aragorn was barely able to catch Frodo's waist before the piece of  
stone on which he stood fell and began its endless journey into  
nothingness. The Balrog with its infernal whip of flame thundered  
forward to the beginning of the bridge.  The evil red glow of its  
eyes alone illuminated the cavern.  The stench and heat of it bore  
down on them. One crack and its whip wrapped menacingly around the  
Ringbearer pulling him down towards the depths. Were it not for a  
quick arrow from Legolas's bow severing the end of the whip, Frodo  
would have been lost.   
 
Without hesitation the Balrog rushed across the bridge.  Mithrandir  
with his staff glowing and sword drawn stood steadfast, barring the  
monster's way at the other end.  
 
"Thou shall not pass," he shouted at the creature.  The Balrog  
hesitated, bellowing in frustration.  His screams of rage echoed  
through the caves so loudly rock from the  roof crashed downwards,  
falling all around, some smashing into the remaining span of the  
bridge. 
 
"Thou shall not pass!!!"  He shouted again.  The Balrog recoiled and  
screamed, the remaining span of bridge collapsed beneath him.  He  
began to fall, the fiery glow and shadow all around him collapsing  
down as he tumbled into the abyss.  With one last crack of his whip  
he caught the Mithrandir by the leg and they fell down together, the  
wizard with his sword drawn as he plunged after the beast. The rest  
of the Fellowship stood on the other side of the chasm aghast and  
horrified while they listened to the screams of the beast fading as  
it plunged deeper and deeper into the void.   
 
Finally they stood, the remaining eight together in darkness save for  
the eerie glow of the caves themselves.  All around there was silence. 
 
"Well, so much for the wizard," Frodo finally spoke. 
 
"Yep! I guess we won't have him traveling with us anymore,"  said  
Gimli. 
 
"Oh well!  Maybe we should get out of this cave or something, its not  
like he's going to climb out of there anytime soon."  Aragorn was  
almost smiling. 
 
Borimir broke out laughing.  "One less egg to fry." 
 
"Hey, if we get moving we can make it to Lothlorien by tomorrow  
night.  I hear the Lord and Lady put on quite a spread."  Legolas was  
practically chomping at the bit. 
 
And so the remaining members of the fellowship hastily made their way  
out of the caves. 
 
Fin