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Part 13
Faramir awoke the next morning in his usual sluggish manner. He was
vaguely aware that he was lying on his stomach in a nest of blankets
on the floor of the cave in which he and his elven companions had slept
the past few nights, and that his hindquarters ached. Groaning at the
injustice of the world in general, the first words out of the young
Steward's mouth came in the form of a growl, threatening his elven brother
grievous bodily harm if he were so much as to squeak in anything that
resembled, ever so distantly, a cheerful manner. Legolas laughed brightly
and deftly dodged the ranger-issue boot that came flying his way.
"I thought that ring was upon your right hand?" Legolas asked
as he looked at mithril ring with the blue stone on the ring finger
of his brother's left hand.
Faramir looked at the ring now residing on his left hand and growled
in frustration as he tugged at it in an attempt to remove the contrary
object.
"It was!" the young Steward growled as he continued to twist
the ring. "I swear this contrary thing has a perverse sense of
humour. Be off with you!!" Faramir barked as he tried in vain to
remove the ring.
Legolas turned and walked from the cave chuckling and shaking his head
at his brother's one-sided but virulent argument with the ring. Eventually
the young Steward emerged from the cave with a thunderous look upon
his face, glaring down at the ring on his hand and muttering curses
in a variety of languages that would have made an orc blush. It was
obvious to Legolas, who was standing with his father, Aragorn and Maglor,
that Faramir had lost his argument with the ring.
Still muttering foul curses the young Steward continued to walk towards
the four, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were standing there.
This was born out in the next instant when Faramir stopped abruptly
as if aware suddenly that was not alone. Head still bowed as he had
been glaring at the ring on his finger, the Steward looked up through
the hair that had fallen in a curtain over his face and winced when
he saw who was standing before him. His eyes narrowed when he saw Legolas
grinning from ear to ear, shaking his head and Aragorn standing with
his arms crossed and a very unkingly smirk on his face. His eyes softened
when he saw his father's tolerant expression and winced at the decidedly
annoyed look from Maglor. The Mirkwood Seneschal twirled his finger
and pointed to the cave in a mute command for Faramir to turn around
and go back into the cave. Heaving a huge sigh and knowing that escape
was impossible, if not suicidal, the young Steward followed the unspoken
command with Maglor close behind.
"Leggings down and bend over that rock, pen-neth," Maglor
said, indicating a large, smooth rock that stood about waist height
located against the far wall, as he bent down and retrieved 'Faramir's
Bane' from one of the supply packs. Berating himself silently yet again
for his foul temper and habit of 'verbalising' his annoyance, Faramir
did as he was bid. "Ten swats pen-neth. You will count each one
in the hopes that you will remember eventually, to keep a civil tongue
in your head!" Maglor exclaimed as he landed the first hard, stinging
whack.
"One!" Faramir yelped as the paddle landed on his still bottom
still sore from the previous night's chastisement.
"Two!…three!…four!…five!…" the young
steward sobbed out by the fifth stinging, biting whack of the dreaded
red paddle. Maglor felt for his young charge but was determined to get
the message home. "Six!…seven!…eight!…nine!…ten!"
Faramir yelled between gasps for breath.
The elf pulled up the young human's leggings eliciting a pained hiss,
gathered the repentant man into an embrace and rubbed his back as Faramir
sobbed quietly. A short time later, the Steward felt himself being turned
by another and gathered into a firm hug, which Faramir returned.
"Oh, tithen-pen. What am I to do…?" the elven King
crooned as he held his human son and smiled at his Seneschal.
"You could burn that bloody red… 'thing'!" Faramir
snapped out in annoyance, burying his face further into his father's
shoulder and eliciting chuckles from both Thranduil and Maglor as the
Seneschal passed a jar of numbing salve to the elven King.
Later that morning the Steward of Gondor, walking a little stiffly,
met with Aragorn, Gandalf and the Mirkwood elves for a council of war
by a section of the old ruin where several large parts of the original
wall had fallen to the ground creating a semi-circle of natural seating.
Elessar smiled at his Steward and offered the young man an empty 'seat'
opposite. Faramir declined the offer, glaring at his King, eliciting
another unkingly smirk from Aragorn. The young Steward looked at each
of the others, daring any of them to smirk. It was then that he noticed
the absence of the twins.
"Where are Elladan and Elrohir?" Faramir asked as he looked
around him for the sons of Elrond.
"Out hunting orcs, against my orders I might add and in trouble
when they arrive back," Thranduil growled.
Faramir was just admonishing himself silently for hoping the twins
would arrive back before nightfall in the vain hope that his father's
attention would be diverted from his own promised punishment, when he
staggered back as if from a physical blow; blood draining from his face
by the sheer power of the images flashing before him.
"What is wrong, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked as he and Legolas
both leapt up and rushed to Faramir's side.
"Nooooooooo!!!!" Faramir yelled, casting his eyes about him
as if searching for something.
"Faramir, what is wrong?" Aragorn asked in a commanding voice
trying to get through to his distressed Steward.
"The twins are in mortal danger!" the Steward exclaimed as
he turned, grabbed his bow and ran towards the horses tethered a short
distance away.
"Faramir Thranduilion, cease!" both Thranduil and Gandalf
bellowed but the young Steward either ignored or did not hear their
angry calls to stop.
Mounting a saddled horse, Faramir rode at full gallop through groups
of soldiers who, in some cases, had to leap out of the Steward of Gondor's
way or be mown down. The Ithilien ranger rode out past the ruins and
onto the ravine pass road on the edge of which Minas Morgul was located
and led thence into Mordor.
"Legolas! Take Finrod with you and go after that young fool of
a brother of yours! Keep him in sight and mark your way so that we can
follow quickly." Aragorn yelled torn between fear for his brothers
and fear for his Steward. Legolas and Finrod mounted their horses and
galloped after Faramir. "Lieutenant!" Aragorn yelled to a
soldier who was already hurrying towards him as the two Kings, Wizard
and Seneschal strode towards the horses. "Gather a company of your
best warriors and follow me."
The Lieutenant gave a salute, turned and ran to do as the King ordered.
"When I get my hands on him…" Thranduil growled as
he strode towards his horse.
"With all due respect, mellon-nin, this time you will have to
stand in line, for *I* want the first piece of my Steward," the
King of Gondor promised retribution against a certain headstrong and
oft soft-headed Steward as they mounted their horses.
Faramir continued to ride at full gallop, driven by the absolute certainty
that he knew where the Elrondion twins were and that they were in mortal
peril. Looking behind him briefly the young Steward could see Legolas
and Finrod following for which he was grateful as he realised, with
a sudden lurch of his stomach, that he did not tell anyone where he
was going. If truth be known, he did not know exactly why he knew where
he was going, just that he…knew. Faramir's thoughts wandered briefly
to the trouble in which he was likely to be before he forced his thoughts
back to the task at hand.
Legolas and Finrod finally caught up with Faramir as the ranger stopped
his horse, dismounted and grabbed his bow and a length of elven rope.
Looking at Legolas and Finrod with a rueful expression as they both
looked at him intently shaking their heads, he made his way up the ravine
wall to higher ground in silence with both elves in tow. Moving quickly
along the top of the ravine around a bend towards noise that could be
heard up ahead, the ranger stopped, went down onto all fours, and crawled
to the edge of the ravine to look over the edge. The sight that greeted
Faramir made his stomach drop for it was one of the images of the vision
that he had seen back at the ruins. Elrohir was down and unmoving as
Elladan fired arrows at the orcs that had them pinned down in some rocks,
and were advancing. Legolas and Finrod began firing down upon the orcs
to stop their movement towards the twins whilst Faramir tied one end
of the elven rope to the trunk of a tree and threw the other end over
the edge of the ravine.
"What in Eru's name do you think you are doing?" Legolas
yelled as he saw his brother throw the rope over the edge.
"Sorry," Faramir apologised as he scampered over the edge,
down the rope with bow in hand and into the ravine before Legolas had
a chance to stop him.
"Aieeeeeeee! Your arse is toast! Do you hear me muindor tithen?
Your arse is toast!" Legolas shouted after his brother as he disappeared
over the edge, his voice a mixture of anger and fear.
At the bottom of the ravine, Faramir let go of the rope and made his
way over to Elladan.
"How is Elrohir?" the ranger asked as he fired arrows at
the orcs.
"Alive, but knocked unconscious," Elladan replied, his relief
evident. "And I am glad to see you."
"You may be glad to see me, my friend," Faramir said as he
continued to fire arrows, "but neither of us is going to be too
pleased to see ada, I think."
"Very angry?" Elladan asked tentatively.
"Oh yes," Faramir replied in a resigned tone.
Elrohir, at the feet of his twin, began to stir and both the attention
of Elladan and Faramir was diverted to the Rivendell elf struggling
towards consciousness. When Faramir looked up again he gasped, for the
image that had caused his panic at Minas Morgul was about to happen.
An Uruk-hai stood with bow drawn, aimed directly at Elladan. Faramir
pushed the elf aside and stood directly in front of the Uruk-hai as
the fell creature let loose the arrow. The ranger held his left hand
in front of him as if attempting to stop the arrow in mid flight. A
bolt of blue light shot from the ranger's hand and knocked aside the
orcs directly in its path. The Uruk-hai's arrow hit the blue bolt and
bounced off it as if hitting a physical wall. Faramir had but a moment
to register the strange events when he dropped like a stone, unconscious
before he hit the ground.
Part 14
Faramir regained consciousness slowly and painfully, as the first thing
to register with the young Steward was a massive, pounding headache.
He was aware that he was lying on his side and his head was being cradled
in someone's lap. Voices, that sounded at first muffled and distant,
became more distinct.
"He will be all right will he not, Mithrandir?" Faramir recognised
the concerned voice of his father directly above him, which answered
the question of the owner of the lap in which his head rested.
"Yes, yes. He will recover, though I expect that he will have
somewhat of a headache when he awakes," came Gandalf's response.
*Somewhat* of a headache, thought the Steward indignantly almost snorting
and giving away the fact that he was both awake and aware, was like
saying the fires of Mordor were *somewhat* warm. Faramir felt as if
a small Gimli was using the inside of his skull as a giant bell, banging
his axe from side to side; indifferent to whatever brain matter he was
slicing through in the process.
"What happened, Gandalf? What was the blue light? Was it the ring?"
Faramir heard Elessar ask.
"I would not have thought that he would have been able to do that
as yet," the Steward heard his father say.
"He should not have been able to, just as he should not have come
into contact with the ring for many years but as it always has been
with this young one, he has somehow managed to do so," came Mithrandir's
almost petulant response.
"Why did he fall unconscious?" Elessar's voice again.
"My young wizardling here took the power from within himself to
channel through the ring. A dangerous manoeuvre if you do not know how
to control its flow."
Took the power from within myself? Faramir thought. The young Steward
could not remember doing anything except push Elladan out of the path
of the Uruk-hai's arrow unfortunately putting himself in its path. Faramir
sent up a silent but probably fruitless prayer that his father had not
witnessed that particular event.
A spike of pain in his head caused the Steward to moan. He opened his
eyes and closed them again quickly as the overly bright light felt like
knives stabbing through his eyes and into his head. Rolling over slightly
and onto his knees Faramir retched. As he had had nothing much to eat
the retching was a series dry heaves. He felt his father's hands pulling
his hair back from his face and supporting his forehead, as he felt
sure his stomach was attempting to vacate his body.
Maglor passed a brew for the relief of pain to Aragorn who crouched
beside his ailing Steward and pressed the cup to Faramir's lips. Scrunching
up his nose at the odour emanating from the noxious brew but offering
no other objection, the Steward drank; surprised that the liquid stayed
down. Thranduil eased his son back down onto his side, placed his head
on his lap and brushed the auburn locks out of his son's face.
"You look awful, muindor tithen," Legolas said as he crouched
down beside Faramir examining his brother's pale and sweaty face.
"Thank you, brother, I would indeed hate to think I felt this
ill and it *not* show." Faramir replied sarcastically. "Was
anyone hurt? Are the twins alright?" the young Steward asked quietly
as he continued to lay still with his eyes almost closed to minimise
the light and thus the pain resulting.
"Nay, no one was hurt. Well…with the exception of you of
course. The twins are fine and looking decidedly better than you do
at the moment," Legolas said with his usual forthrightness.
Faramir sighed.
"I am in trouble, ada?" the young Steward asked in hushed
voice. Gandalf, Aragorn and Legolas all snorted.
"Be assured, ion-nin. You are in deep, deep trouble," Thranduil
replied quietly as he stroked his son's hair.
"What happened?" Faramir sighed, although he really wanted
to ask what his father had witnessed.
"From when we arrived?" Thranduil clarified.
"Yes, ada," Faramir replied.
"We arrived not long after you climbed down into the ravine apparently,
for Legolas was still shouting down at you in anger. I saw you push
Elladan out of the way just as the Uruk-hai loosed an arrow…"
Thranduil related shuddering, his voice becoming coarse with emotion.
"You raised your hand and a blue bolt stopped the arrow before
it hit you."
"I am sorry, ada," the Steward apologised contritely, curling
his arm around his father's knees as the fear of what his father had
witnessed was realised. Faramir wanted to say that he reacted again
without thought but knew, with his usual acuteness, that it would not
calm but incite his father's anger.
"You 'reacted', I know," Thranduil said sternly as he looked
at his son but continued to stroke his hair. Faramir winced and wondered
in passing if his father could read thoughts. "Back at the ruins
when you had the vision, did you hear Mithrandir or I call out to you
to cease, ion-nin?"
"Not at that moment, ada, only later when I was in the ravine
with Elladan, did it register," Faramir replied truthfully.
"Thank you for your honesty, ion-nin. That has saved your posterior
an extra discipline session on top of your current, considerable tally,"
Thranduil said.
"How considerable, ada?" Faramir asked quietly as he had,
in all honesty, lost count.
"Well, let us see, ion-nin. You were to receive a hand spanking
from Estel tonight, myself tomorrow night, Estel the following night
and myself the night after that. You have now earned more than a hand
spanking from myself, Estel and possibly Legolas for he was most vexed
with you. Were you not ion-nin?" Thranduil asked Legolas who was
still crouched beside Faramir.
"Very," Legolas replied, glaring down at his brother.
The young Steward groaned wondering if he would be ever be able to
sit comfortably again.
"When, ada?" Faramir asked in a resigned tone.
"Later, ion-nin. You are as yet unwell and Maglor and I have the
Elrondion twins to deal with first," the elven King replied. Faramir
did not miss how his father growled the words 'Elrondion twins' in a
way that promised very unpleasant happenings to come for the sons of
Elrond.
Thranduil signalled for Legolas to exchange places with him so that
Faramir's head rested on his elven son's lap.
"Rest now, ion-nin," Thranduil said as knelt by his son's
side and placed a kiss on Faramir's forehead but the still drained Steward
had already fallen asleep.
"I know you wished to blister your Steward's behind at the first
opportunity, mellon-nin, and though he has undoubtedly earned such,
I ask that you wait until the morrow" Thranduil requested of Aragorn
who was sitting opposite Legolas with his back against a rock. Aragorn
nodded his head in acceptance "For after the fright he gave me
this day, I need access to that particular target myself! And now for
the 'duo horribus'..." Thranduil growled as he strode off to where
the twins were being watched over by Maglor and Finrod.
Legolas shared a look with Aragorn both wincing.
The Elrondion twins were sitting on the ground near the wall of the
ravine, leaning back against a large rock. Maglor and Finrod were sitting
with them.
"How fares Faramir?" the twins asked in unison.
"He will be alright, once the ache in his head abates," Thranduil
replied as he crouched down beside Elrohir. "And how are you, pen-neth?"
the elven King asked as he cupped and lifted the elf's chin, looking
at him intently and moving his head from side to side.
"I am fine. We did not mean to involve Faramir," Elrohir
responded, concern and regret evident in his eyes.
"As you are no doubt aware, tithen-pen, both my sons excel at
getting 'involved' in situations in which they should not. But I am
thankful that Faramir saw your plight and we were able to assist,"
Thranduil said as he released Elrohir's chin. "However, this whole
situation would not have occurred if you two had not disobeyed my instruction
not to go after the orcs by yourselves." the elven King added sternly.
Both twins cringed at the elven King's tone.
"All right, Elrondion," Thranduil said as he stood and held
a hand out to Elrohir. "Time to pay the piper, as the humans say."
Elrohir gulped, took hold of the elven King's hand and was pulled to
his feet. Elrohir whimpered softly as he saw Maglor hand 'Faramir's
Bane' to the elven King. Thranduil walked to a stand of rocks that would
offer privacy. Sitting down on rock of suitable size and height, Thranduil
patted his knee in a silent command. Elrohir sighed, loosened the ties
of his leggings and leaned over the elven King's knees. Thranduil wasted
no time in starting the punishment as he let loose with a whack that
made Elrohir yelp. The elder elf kept up a blistering pace until the
younger elf was howling and sobbing in earnest. Thranduil added a few
harder whacks to the elf's 'sit-spot' before ending the chastisement.
Elrohir slid from the elven King's knees and pulled up his leggings.
"Come here, elfling," Thranduil said gently as he held his
arms open. Elrohir flew into the elder elf's arms and sobbed out apology
after apology as Thranduil crooned comforting words to the repentant
twin.
The elven King guided the younger elf back to where his brother awaited
his punishment. Thranduil smiled when he saw Maglor sitting beside Elladan
with his arm around the young elf's shoulders. Elladan looked up and
on seeing his twin, sprang to his feet and ran to hug his distressed
brother. Thranduil handed the paddle over to Maglor who guided Elladan
to the rocks where his brother had been chastised. Sitting on the same
rock that Thranduil had, Maglor patted his knee in the same mute command.
Following in his brother's footsteps, Elladan found himself bare-bottomed
over the Mirkwood Seneschal's knees. Eru! Thought the elder twin on
feeling the first couple of whacks from the Seneschal, Aragorn and Elrohir
were right, Maglor does hit harder. It was not long before Elladan was
howling as loudly as his brother had and offering the same apologies.
Maglor added a few very hard whacks to the younger elf's thighs before
ending the punishment and gathering the equally repentant young elf
into his arms.
Faramir slept through the Elrondion twin's howls until late afternoon,
his head still cradled in his brother's lap. Upon awakening the Steward
was pleased to find that his head had stopped aching and his stomach
had stopped wanting to divest itself of all content therein. Then the
thought that he would be considered 'fit' for punishment made him groan.
"Your head still aches, muindor tithen?" Legolas asked as
he examined his brother's face.
"No," Faramir grumbled blushing fiercely. "I was just
thinking of another part of my anatomy and how sitting with any degree
of comfort will not be an option soon."
Legolas smiled ruefully and stroked his brother's hair. After several
long moments, Faramir sat up.
"How fare you, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked as he crouched down
in front of his sons.
"If I could lie worth a damn, I would tell you miserably,"
came Faramir's surly reply as he looked down at his hands.
Thranduil smiled at his son's temper and Legolas just shook his head
in bemusement.
"Well, ion-nin. I think we should conclude this evening's proceedings
before your mood turns ever more sour," the elven King said as
he stood and offered a hand to his son and pulled him to his feet.
Faramir bit the knuckle of the index finger of his right hand to stop
a totally inappropriate comment about sour moods and their cures from
springing forth. Thranduil saw the action and guessing its cause, shook
his head and chuckled as he guided his son to the rocks where the twins
had received their punishments. The elven King sat down upon the rock.
Faramir walked over to his father, loosened the ties of his leggings
and lowered himself over his father's lap.
"What is this punishment for, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked.
"I am not entirely sure," came Faramir's plaintive response.
"This is the first of the four hand spankings you are due for
your escapade with the orcs in the gully and at Minas Morgul,"
the elven King explained. "The other discipline sessions will begin
when these are concluded."
Faramir groaned and glared at the ring, willing it to do something
to assist but alas, the ring remained idle. Thranduil landed blistering
slap after blistering slap to his son's buttocks until they turned from
pink to red. Faramir squirmed and moaned as his father kept up a fast
pace. Thranduil moved to Faramir's thighs. His son was yelping and sobbing
now but still the elf continued the punishing slaps to his son's thighs
until he deemed the punishment enough.
"I…am sorry… ada… sorry… sorry,"
Faramir repeated over and over.
The elven King ceased the punishment and pulled up his son's leggings,
turned the young human over, careful of his abused bottom and crooned
soothing words of forgiveness as he hugged his son tightly.
Faramir, still drained from the day's events, fell asleep in his father's
arms as the elf continued to rock him. Thranduil smiled down at his
son and bestowed another kiss on his forehead and carried him to where
they were camping for the night.
Maglor met Thranduil and showed his King where he had prepared a bed
for his young charge.
"I am afraid we have a long, long road ahead of us, mellon-nin,
in teaching this one to take care of himself, especially with his newly
discovered wizarding powers" Thranduil sighed as he and Maglor,
divested Faramir of his over-tunic and boots.
"How long do wizard's live for, anyway?" Maglor asked in
a hushed voice so as not to wake Faramir as they turned him onto his
stomach and covered the young one with blankets and cloaks.
Part 15
"Good morning, my wizardling," Gandalf greeted the bleary-eyed
Steward in a deceptively mild voice that sent shivers up Faramir's spine,
upon his awakening the next day. The Steward, who was lying on his side
in a nest of blankets and cloaks, swallowed and looked at the Wizard
sitting on a rock beside him with an expression that was half wince,
half cringe, as if he expected Gandalf to start yelling at him at any
moment. "You and I need to have a long…long talk." Faramir's
wince-cringe became even more pronounced on hearing the Wizard's words;
for long, long talks in the past invariably ended with him upended,
bare bottomed and yelling over Mithrandir's knees, having his behind
well and truly blistered.
"Wha…" Faramir squeaked then coughed. "What about
exactly?" the young Steward asked in a voice that sounded a little
firmer.
"You, my wizardling," Gandalf replied mildly as he looked
at Faramir.
"Mithrandir, why do you insist on calling me that? I cannot be
a wizard," the young Steward said adamantly as he moved to sit
up, wincing as he did so from the pain caused by his father's chastisement
of the previous evening.
"And why not?" Gandalf asked mildly, amusement tugging at
the corners of his mouth.
"I am human, I am not of the Istari and I am not an old man,"
Faramir added the final point as he looked directly at the Wizard. Gandalf
chuckled at his wizardling's facetiousness.
"I grant that it is true that you *are* still human and you are
*not* of the Istari but you are a wizard…a wizard in-training
shall we say, and a *ring bearer*," Gandalf replied, emphasizing
the words 'ring bearer'.
Faramir looked down upon his left hand only to find that the ring had
once again moved to the right hand.
"Why does it keep doing that?" the young Steward growled
as he glared at the ring.
"Doing what?" Gandalf asked.
"Moving from one hand to the other as if it cannot decide where
it wants to reside."
The White Wizard looked perplexed for a moment but understanding came
and he laughed.
"If you were right-handed it would settle on your left hand so
as not to interfere when you are fighting with a sword. The converse
would be true if you were left-handed. You, my unique young friend,
fight with a sword in your right hand but draw a bow with your left.
The ring is simply confused," Gandalf explained.
"Oh, Mithrandir. Why me?" Faramir asked plaintively, looking
from the ring to his mentor.
"You and the ring were destined to be; just not this soon. I was
to depart for the West with the other ring bearers in a decade or two,
prior to which I would have introduced you to the fascinating subject
of sorcery, which you would, with your usual dedication, study over
the coming decades. As your knowledge and understanding grew over those
*decades* you would begin to feel the pull of and object of power and
would *eventually* find a ring of power. By this time your wizarding
powers would have developed enough to allow you to listen to the ring,
which would guide you in 'wielding' it with confidence. But…"
Gandalf paused in the telling of his story to look sternly at his wizardling,
causing the young Steward to wince anew, "in your usual inimitable
style, you have jumped to the conclusion of the story," the Wizard
said alluding to Faramir's tendency as a child to read the conclusion
of a mystery before reading the remainder of the story, "thus necessitating
a change in the order and length of proceedings."
Faramir had the grace to look chagrined as Gandalf continued to look
at him sternly.
"What changes would they be, Mithrandir?" the young Steward
asked tentatively knowing that he was probably not going to like the
answer.
"Well, let us see, my wizardling," Mithrandir began; staring
intently at his young charge with an expression Faramir imagined a cat
would display to a mouse, just before pouncing and devouring the poor,
doomed little creature. "In addition to your duties as the Steward
of Gondor, you will be apprenticed to me so that you may learn what
you will need to learn and I can keep a close eye on you for the sake
of Middle Earth," Gandalf said as he watched Faramir's reaction
with a degree of unwizard-like glee.
"Mithrandir!" the young Steward whined, "between the
duties of Steward and being apprenticed to you, I will have no time
to pursue…" Faramir's voice faded out and he blushed furiously.
"Yes…my wizardling? Pursue what?" Gandalf asked in
feigned ignorance.
"Other… things. Oh, how am I to explain this to Éowyn as
to keep my bodily parts intact enough to father children! Unless you
have not noticed, my Lady is very apt with a sword and would not hesitate
in using it to register her displeasure!" Faramir moaned as he
lowered his face into his hands, shaking his head.
"You should have thought of that before you went off… gallivanting,"
Gandalf huffed as he waved his hand in vague gesture.
"Mithrandir," Maglor admonished as he crouched down beside
Faramir, handing him a bowl filled with food. "I hope you have
not put him off his feed for he has a few meals to make up for."
Faramir groaned at the unexpected twists his life was taking. His stomach
was registering its own displeasure at the thought of being an apprentice
wizard to Mithrandir, of telling Éowyn and at the food foist upon him
by Maglor. However, given that both Gandalf and Maglor were looking
at him intently he managed to force down the food. When he had finished,
the Mirkwood Seneschal, smiling, took the empty bowl from his young
charge and he and Gandalf left the Steward in peace. Faramir looked
up and saw the Elrondion twins walking, albeit stiffly, towards him.
"Aur vaer," Faramir greeted the sons of Elrond warmly. The
twins presented identical tentative smiles in return, still feeling
guilt over getting Faramir into trouble.
"We have come to apologise, Thranduilion," Elrohir began.
"For causing you trouble," Elladan finished the sentence
as in the way of twins.
"And to thank you," Elrohir said as he looked at the young
human.
"For saving our lives," Elladan said gauging Faramir's reaction.
Smiling, Faramir waved the twins to join him. Not daring to sit on
their very sore posteriors, the twins lay on their sides beside the
young Steward. Faramir winced for he knew immediately that they had
had another painful run-in with the dreaded red 'thing'.
"You both appear not to be aware that I am more than capable of
getting myself into vast amounts of trouble, unaided," the young
Steward said ruefully.
"Yes, we have noticed but thought it polite not to mention, mellon-nin"
Elrohir replied, matching Faramir's wryness. Faramir chuckled.
"Do either of you know what Elessar plans to do now?" the
young Steward asked, hoping that riding horses did not figure prominently
in the King's plans for the immediate future, or anytime within the
next five or six days for that matter he thought despondently.
"No he has not, mellon-nin. He is still vexed with us," Elladan
replied quietly.
"As well he should be, pen-neth," Thranduil responded in
a stern tone startling the two elves and human, as they had not heard
his approach. The King's stern tone was softened by a twinkle in his
eyes.
"Aur vaer, ada," Faramir smiled at this father, extending
his hand in an unspoken request to be pulled to his feet. Thranduil
hauled his son to his feet and into a tight hug which the young Steward
returned.
"How fare you this day, ion-nin?" the elven King asked not
relinquishing the hug.
"Confused… bemused… bruised. I have had a bit to contend
with recently," Faramir replied in his usual quiet, understated
and calm manner as he sighed and burrowed his face into his father's
shoulder, eliciting full-throated laughter from Thranduil as he continued
to embrace his son.
"Oh, ion-nin! You have captured my heart completely! I have two
wonderful sons and I would not change it for the world," the elven
King said with passion as he bestowed a kiss on his son's forehead.
Faramir clung to his father, praising the Valar for their kindness in
granting him the love of a father.
Aragorn watched the scene between elven father and human son, feeling
the smile spread across his face and tears well in his eyes, as he watched
the bond, which had been steadily growing between the two, finally lock
and cement into place. The King of Gondor could see Maglor in the distance
also watching the pair with a broad smile on his face and what looked
suspiciously to Aragorn like tears in the Seneschal's eyes and the twins,
lying on the ground a short distance away, both smiling, happy for the
young human. Aragorn waited until father and son had parted before approaching
his Steward.
"Good morning, Faramir," Aragorn greeted his Steward and
acknowledged Thranduil with a smile and a nod.
"Good morning, Elessar," Faramir replied shyly, still overcome
with emotion.
"I have sent Legolas and a company of soldiers east towards Mordor
and Finrod and a company westwards, back through the pass, to scout
for signs of orcs or Saruman. We and the few remaining troops will make
our way back through the pass to a point just off the Harad Road and
await Legolas and Finrod's return before deciding our next course of
action," Aragorn informed his Steward.
Faramir moaned at the thought of riding a horse. Similar moans were
heard from the Elrondion twins behind him. Maglor, who walked towards
them rummaging around in a supply pack, found what he was looking for,
threw a jar of numbing salve to the twins and passed another jar to
Faramir, eliciting a 'thank you' from each twin and a spectacular blush
from his young human charge.
By nightfall the company arrived at the Harad Road and made camp in
a clearing by a stream located a few hundred yards into the forest on
the other side of the road. Exhausted, Faramir dismounted stiffly, saw
to his horse and unpacked his bedroll, before making his way to where
the camp was being prepared. The Steward unrolled his bedding, lowered
himself onto his side gently and rested. It was not long before Maglor
presented Faramir with a bowl filled to the brim with food. Faramir
raised a questioning eyebrow but decided against saying anything on
seeing the determined look in the Seneschal's eye. Sighing in resignation,
the Steward ate the food under the amused eye of his father who sat
close to him.
After the meal Faramir dozed on and off until a presence in front of
him brought the young Steward back to full consciousness. Looking up,
Faramir saw Elessar standing over him with his hand extended. Obeying
the silent order, the Steward grabbed his King's hand and was hauled
to his feet. Aragorn turned and walked into the forest. Faramir followed.
The King of Gondor continued to walk purposefully into the forest.
Faramir, on the other hand, kept darting glances about seeking possible
escape routes. Admonishing himself silently for his foolishness, the
ranger concentrated on gaining control over his reflexes and not give
in to his instinct to take one of the many escape routes presented and
bolt. So focused was Faramir on controlling his ranger flight instincts
that he did not notice Elessar had halted until he almost walked into
his King as he sat on the trunk of a fallen tree. Aragorn patted his
knee. Sighing, Faramir loosened the ties of his leggings; pushed them
down to his knees, lay across Aragorn's lap presenting his bared and
still very sore posterior for chastisement. The King of Gondor pulled
his Steward's over tunic up to the young man's waist.
"What is this punishment for?" Aragorn asked, waiting for
Faramir's response.
"For reacting without thinking it through. Although I may just
point out, in my own defence, that it is very hard to stop a reaction,"
Faramir added testily but then winced on the realisation that his comment
was perhaps not a wise one given his current upended position. This
was born out when Elessar let loose a mighty stinging, blistering slap
that made Faramir yelp.
"To stop such reactions as you have displayed, my young Steward,
we just have to make the association with its ill consequences that
much stronger!" Aragorn growled as he laid blistering slap after
blistering slap upon his Steward's bared buttocks.
Aragorn maintained a blistering pace that had his Steward writhing
and whimpering in a very short space of time. Still Aragorn would not
relent on either strength of the slaps or their frequency. Soon, whimpering
gave was to yelps that then gave way to howls and still the King of
Gondor did not relent.
"Please… Elessar… please… I… am…
sorry… sorry… please," Faramir gasped out between sobs.
Aragorn gave his Steward a few more blistering slaps before ending
the chastisement. Faramir slid from his King's knees and pulled up his
leggings, resting his head his sire's thigh as he continued to sob.
Aragorn slid down onto the ground beside his kneeling Steward and gathered
the repentant young man into his arms, stroked his hair and crooned
soothing words as he rocked his Steward. Exhausted from the events of
the past week, Faramir fell asleep as Aragorn sang an elvish lullaby,
in his deep, soft tones.
The King of Gondor was just wondering how he would get his sleeping
Steward back to the camp when a soft rustle drew his attention and looking
up, he smiled on seeing Thranduil. The elven King sat upon the fallen
log and looked down at his sleeping son.
"He is a handful, mellon-nin," Aragorn said ruefully looking
up at Thranduil and shaking his head in bemusement.
"And I would have it no other way. There is such fire in this
one. He will be a powerful wizard one day," Thranduil said fondly.
"Yes, he will," Aragorn replied his affection for his Steward
written clearly in his expression. "All we have to do is keep him
alive long enough to see him gain full power," the King added,
letting out a whoosh of air indicating how difficult he thought it would
prove to be.
"Yes, mellon-nin. We will be busy and depending on how his self
preservation skills develop, he may have trouble sitting down for the
next millennia or so!" the elven King agreed, sharing a wry look
with Aragorn.
"As I will have gone to the halls of my ancestors by that time,
that will be your worry, mellon-nin," Aragorn said, chuckling.
Part 16
Thranduil carried his human son as he and Estel walked back to the
camp. The elven King smiled when he saw that Maglor had added blankets
and cloaks atop Faramir's bedroll to make it more comfortable for his
young charge. Aragorn removed two of the cloaks and then covered his
young Steward after Thranduil had laid his son down gently onto the
nest of blankets.
"He is exhausted," Aragorn said, concern evident in his tone
as he tucked the blankets around the Steward and then sat down beside
him.
"That is only to be expected after his little performance with
the ring at Minas Morgul," Gandalf responded quietly from where
he was sitting near the campfire a short distance away.
"What have you done to him Estel?" Elrohir asked, as he looked
down upon the sleeping human, seeing tear-tracks running the length
of Faramir's face.
"I blistered his behind for his recent reckless behavior if you
must know," Aragorn said defiantly.
"That was not his fault Estel!" Elladan added his voice to
that of his brother as he stood next to his twin.
"We are to blame!" Elrohir hissed.
"Whilst I do not dispute the truth of your assertions, his motives
are not in question. His actions, his propensity towards forging headlong
into danger, alone and without due thought to the consequences to himself,
are. And I will not lose him because we did not bring him to account!"
Aragorn added adamantly, looking very much the son of Elrond. "And
besides, he has yet to be brought to account for that incident because
he is still being punished for his reckless actions at the elven haven
and Minas Morgul!"
"Peace, sons of Elrond," Thranduil interjected, "or
you will wake him and he will be mortified to be the cause of dissention
between you."
Elladan looked as if he wanted to pursue the argument when Faramir
stirred in his sleep. Conceding defeat for the moment, Elladan and Elrohir
went back to their bedrolls on the other side of the campfire.
The next morning Faramir awoke lying on his side. Bleary-eyed and
yawning widely, he made the mistake of rolling onto his back. Hissing
and cursing under his breath, he moved quickly again onto his side.
"Aur vaer," Thranduil said in a soft and solemn tone careful
not to incite his son's morning wrath as he approached and sat down
beside his son. The solemn tone was belied by the glint of humour in
the elven King's expression.
Faramir took one look at his father's expression and groaned as he
rolled over onto his stomach and attempted to bury his head in his bedding.
"There is nothing remotely good about this day, ada," the
young Steward's words were muffled by the blankets beneath him. "As
well as my duties as the Steward of Gondor, not to mention the Prince
of Ithilien, I find I am to be apprenticed to Mithrandir, Éowyn will
emasculate me when she finds out, I am to have my arse blistered yet
again this evening and I have no doubt that Maglor has gone out hunting
for an Oliphaunt to feed me for my break of fast!"
"Not quite, pen-neth," the Seneschal chuckled as he crouched
beside his grouchy charge. "But a hearty meal nonetheless,"
he added as he passed the bowl to Faramir who sat up in such a way as
to minimise the pressure on his very sore posterior.
"I want you to rest this day, ion-nin," Thranduil said, not
liking the dark circles under his human son's eyes. "Do you understand
me?" the elven King added to forestall any argument.
"Yes, ada," Faramir sighed, realising that he did not need
any more trouble at the moment and could, if truth be known, use the
rest.
The young Steward dozed until Maglor brought him another 'hearty' meal
at midday, which was accepted with as much grace as was the morning
meal.
The Elrondion twins, who had been restricted to the camp by both Thranduil
and Aragorn, joined Faramir as he finished his very filling meal.
"I do swear," Faramir said as the twins sat down beside him,
"that elf is not going to be satisfied until I run out of notches
on this belt."
"That will take some doing, mellon-nin, as you are still four
notches short," Elladan retorted, smiling broadly.
"How fare you this day, mellon-nin?" Elrohir asked as he
looked at Faramir intently, as only an elf could.
"Sore around the hind quarters but apart from that I am fine,"
the young Steward admitted, blushing as he did so. "And you two?"
Faramir asked discerning an undercurrent.
"We have been forbidden to leave camp," Elrohir harrumphed,
looking darkly towards where Aragorn was talking to Gandalf.
"As if we were elflings!" Elladan added, equally indignant.
"So, we have decided to get our revenge on Estel and entertain
you in the story's telling," Elrohir smirked. "The story relates
to Estel when he was but a lustful lad of fifteen…"
"Who is she?" Estel asked as he looked down from the balcony
attached to his father's study upon the most beautiful she-elf he had
ever seen.
"Her name is Nienna Elensar and she is from Lórien" Elrohir
replied.
"Nienna," the young human sighed the name as he continued
to look down on the she-elf with long flowing blonde hair, legs that
went on forever and the most beautiful tinkling laughter.
"Oh do shut your mouth little brother, or we will have a puddle
of drool on the floor," Elladan teased as he saw the dreamy look
in his brother's face.
Estel shut his mouth with an audible snap, turning his head to glare
at his brother.
"You need to prepare for the evening meal, Estel. We will be feasting
in honour of our Lórien guests," Elrohir said as he shared a knowing
look with his twin. He doubted their little brother had registered the
other Lórien elves that were standing with Nienna.
Estel entered the feasting hall only to be met by laughter from his
brothers and a surprised look from Lord Elrond. The young man had washed,
groomed and dressed in his finest clothing without repeated threats
from their father. The young man glared at his brothers as he walked
to the table before catching sight of Nienna. The Lórien elf looked
even more stunning, having changed from her travelling clothes into
a dress that clung in all the right places, or so thought Estel, as
his eyes remained transfixed even as his legs continued their journey
towards the table. What the young human did not see was an elf carrying
a platter of hot venison and gravy cross in front of him. The inevitable
occurred as elf went one way, Estel went another and the platter flew
into the air only land on the sprawled young human on its final descent.
The visual display by Estel was made more spectacular by his uncoordinated
efforts to save himself from falling. Having experienced another recent
growth spurt, he seemed all arms, legs and odd angles as he eventually
fell backwards with a thump onto his posterior.
All went silent in the hall with the exception of laughter coming from
the Elrondion twins, as every head turned to watch the youngest son
of Elrond, covered in meat and gravy, struggling to get to his feet.
Blushing violently, the young human glared at his laughing elven brothers
and then saw the incredulous expression of his father as the elven Lord
lowered his head into his hand, shaking his head as he did so. Turning
abruptly, Estel walked back out of the hall to go bathe, change and
find somewhere to hide, all the while wondering if, or rather hoping
that, one could die from embarrassment, thus save him from the relentless
teasing of his brothers.
The next morning Estel was coaxed out of his self imposed exile by
soothing and comforting words from his father about growth spurts and
their unpredictable and unfortunate affects at times, to attend the
morning meal. The young human experienced no mishaps during the meal
and the expected teasing from his brothers did not eventuate. Estel
suspected the hand of their father, literally, when he saw the shadow
of a wince from Elladan. Somewhat mollified, Estel ate his meal stealing
surreptitious glances, from time to time, of the beautiful elf from
Lórien.
After the morning meal Estel walked with his father along a corridor
when the young human caught sight of Nienna ahead and walked straight
into a wooden support.
"Estel! Do be careful, or you will end up breaking something."
Elrond scolded. "You have archery practice do you not?"
"Yes, ada," the young human answered as he rubbed the lump
forming on his forehead.
"Until you can concentrate and stop falling down and banging into
things, I suggest that you forego archery practice," Elrond said
as he stopped and cupped his son's chin so that he could look to see
what damage the young man had managed to do to himself.
"Adaaaaa," Estel whined. "I will be fine and I do not
want to miss the lesson. Glorfindel will be teaching us today."
"Well, I still advise against going to practice today. Just be
careful, ion-nin," Elrond called after his son who was bolting
down the corridor towards the exit to the archery field.
The archery lesson was going well for Estel as he hit the targets consistently
and received welcome advice from Glorfindel about his archery technique.
The Rivendell Seneschal went to retrieve the spent arrows and Estel
used the time to line up on the next set of targets that were in a different
direction. As he nocked his arrow, fitting it to the bowstring, his
attention was diverted by the same tinkling laughter he had so admired
the previous day. Turning his head in the direction from whence the
sound had come, Estel saw Nienna dressed in leggings and tunic, doing
some stretching exercises. The young human was so engrossed in the beautiful
she elf that he did not notice that his still nocked arrow was now pointing
in a different direction. The she elf upon which Estel's gaze was so
transfixed, performed a manoeuvre that so excited the young man that
he let loose the arrow accidentally. A yell of pain came soon after.
"And!?" Faramir asked not liking the break in the story at
all. "Whom did he shoot?"
"Estel, pale, shocked and looking as if he was about to die of
fright, turned to see his arrow sticking out of Glorfindel's left buttock,"
Elladan replied, smirking at the memory.
"Mind you, to this day Glorfindel swears it was his upper left
thigh," Elrohir chuckled.
"The Glorfindel? Slayer of the balrog? You jest," Faramir
said disbelievingly. "Elessar shot Glorfindel; slayer of the balrog,
in the left buttock?"
"Aye, he did," the twins replied in unison.
Stunned for a few more moments, the Steward of Gondor finally threw
his head back and burst out into gales of laughter. It was the twins'
turn to look stunned for they had never heard the young Steward truly
laugh before. The sound was so delightfully musical that they each vowed
they would do more to incite their friend's laughter in the future.
Faramir laughed so hard and so long that it hurt. Tears streamed down
his face and he held his sides in hopes of reducing the pain of the
spasms that his laughter was causing. It took the Steward a long time
to regain control enough to ask. "What happened then?"
"Let us just say that neither ada nor Glorfindel were at all amused
by our young brother's adolescent lapses," Elrohir replied.
"Estel ate standing up for about two weeks, if I remember correctly,"
Elladan smirked.
"And Glorfindel is ever wary of Estel when our brother has a bow
in hand," Elrohir chuckled.
Elrohir's comment set off the young Steward's laughter again and it
was a long time before he could stop.
Part 17
Exhausted from laughing so hard and left in peace by the Elrondion
twins who went in search of other mischief no doubt, Faramir dozed for
a while. He must have dropped off into a deep sleep, the young Steward
realised upon awakening, as he had not heard his father approach or
sit down beside where he lay.
"Well, ion-nin," Thranduil said as he smiled at his son.
"You are looking much better, I must say. It must have been all
that laughter earlier, hmmmm?" Thranduil teased but had been delighted
to hear his son's laughter for he had not realised that Faramir could
laugh so delightfully and wished to hear him laugh more often.
Faramir smiled shyly as he sat up, seeing his father's teasing for
what it was - affection, and basked in its warmth.
"They must have been a handful for Lord Elrond when they were
elflings," the young Steward said affectionately.
"Oh aye! The 'duo horribus' were and *are* a handful, there is
no doubt," the Elven King replied, chuckling. "And speaking
of handfuls, ion-nin. I have a proposition to put to you."
Faramir looked askance at his father, feeling that he was not going
to like this conversation.
"I do not like protracted punishments ion-nin, however much deserved,"
Thranduil said looking at his son intently, "as I am sure you do
not. I propose to proceed with both punishments owing to you by now.
If you so choose."
Faramir was right; he did not like the conversation at all. The young
Steward contemplated both equally distasteful alternatives, have his
arse blistered for the next two nights or blistered for the next three
nights. Realising that Legolas and Finrod could arrive back at any time,
Faramir decided on the lesser of two evils.
"Now," came Faramir's piqued response in a voice barely beyond
a whisper.
"All right, Faramir Thranduilion," the elven King said as
he stood and offered his son a hand up. "Come with me."
Faramir followed his father into the forest and to the clearing where
the fallen log was located. The young Steward's eyes were drawn to a
familiar red 'thing' atop the log. Eyes narrowing, he glared at his
father but chose the wise course of keeping his mouth in check. Thranduil
sat down upon the log and signalled Faramir to sit beside him.
"Before we begin, pen-neth. I want you to tell me why you are
to be chastised and what you need to do in future to stay any further
punishments?" Thranduil asked gently as he put his arm around Faramir's
shoulders.
"To think before I act," the young Steward mumbled as he
looked at his feet, which had seemed to become fascinating.
"And?" the elven King prompted.
"Not to go alone," Faramir mumbled again as he continued
to stare downwards.
"Yes, ion-nin," Thranduil said as he gave his son a hug.
"Let us get his over with, tithen-pen," Thranduil said to
get his son moving.
Faramir stood, loosened the ties of his leggings and lowered himself
over his father's knees. Thranduil wasted no time in warming his son's
buttocks, laying stinging slaps with his hand. Faramir, still sore from
the other chastisements, was soon whimpering and squirming. Thranduil,
feeling lenient towards his son for the poor boy had been through some
very rough days, landed a few more hard spanks to Faramir's buttocks
before taking up 'Faramir's Bane'. The elven King proceeded to paddle
his son's buttocks and thighs until the young Steward's whimpers turned
into howls of pain. It did not take long for Faramir's posterior to
turn the same shade of red as the paddle. Landing a few more blows to
Faramir's 'sit spot', Thranduil ceased the punishment, pulled up his
sobbing son's leggings and gathered the young man into his arms.
"Shhhhh, tithen-pen. All is forgiven," the elven King crooned
to soothe his son who was babbling apologies in between gasps for breath
as he continued to sob. Thranduil remembered Faramir's musical laughter
of earlier in the day and lamented the necessity for the punishment
just now metered out.
The elven King guided his very tired human son back to the camp where
Faramir laid down upon his bedroll on his stomach and fell almost instantly
into a deep slumber. Thranduil covered his son with two warm cloaks,
tucked them around him and sat down beside his son. The twins, who had
arrived back from whatever mischief they had been about, looked at Thranduil
accusingly on seeing the condition of their young friend. Maglor looked
at his young charge and then at the bowl of food he was carrying. Sighing,
the Seneschal turned around and placed the food back into the pot in
which it had been cooked.
When Faramir awoke the next morning, Thranduil was there to greet
him. When the young Steward managed to slowly emerge from his normal
early morning fog, he gave his father a small shy smile. The elven King
ordered Faramir to rest again that day for he was concerned about the
dark circles under his son's eyes, although relived that the circles
were not as dark as they had been. Faramir spent the day resting and
being stuffed with food by Maglor, which was accepted by the young Steward
with as much grace as he could muster. Which, in actuality, was not
much.
Legolas arrived back that evening and was walking towards the camp
when his elven eyes detected his father and Faramir. He stopped and
watched. His brother was standing and being held in an embrace by Thranduil
who whispered something into Faramir's ear that made him laugh in the
same musical way Legolas had heard so rarely.
On seeing the look of adoration his father's eyes, Legolas felt both
anger and fear. The elf saw Faramir walk away from the camp. Giving
an elf whistle that would be answered by his father alone, Legolas waited.
Thranduil soon arrived and was taken aback by his son's agitation.
"What is it, my elfling?" Thranduil asked in alarm. "What
has happened?"
"Oh ada! He is human. A mortal. You cannot give your heart to
a mortal," Legolas said, anger and fear vying for dominance as
he paced up and down in front of his father.
In their agitation, neither elf saw the distressed eyes of a young
human looking out from the cover of trees. Backing away quietly until
he could no longer see Thranduil or Legolas, Faramir turned, walked
back to the camp and sat down where his bedroll lay near the campfire.
Stunned, falling back into old habitual coping behaviours, the young
Steward kept his features schooled to neutrality, all the while feeling
his heart shattering anew. Oh what a fool he had been, the young man
berated himself silently as he looked deeply into the flames of the
campfire. What a fool he had been to believe that he was deserving of
love, the unwanted, unloved, second son of Denethor.
So engrossed was he in the inner dialogue and his inner turmoil, Faramir
did not hear the approach of his King.
"Faramir?" Aragorn asked as he looked down at his young Steward.
"Faramir," he said a little louder on seeing his Stewards
distant look. When the Faramir seemed to come back to himself, Aragorn
asked. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Faramir answered, using the skills he had developed
as a child to keep all emotion from his features, thus hiding his pain.
"Are you ready for the last of your punishments?" Aragorn
asked.
"Yes," the young Steward replied as he rose and followed
his King into the forest.
Walking in silence King and Steward came upon the clearing and the
fallen tree where Faramir had received his other punishments. Aragorn
sat down upon the log, laid 'Faramir's Bane' beside him and waited for
his Steward to move. Operating without conscious thought, Faramir loosened
the ties of his leggings and lowered himself over Aragorn's lap.
"What is this punishment for, my Steward," the King asked
as he laid the first whacks to his Steward's buttocks.
Faramir felt the compulsion to tell the King what was in his heart.
That he cared not what he was being punished for but just wanted to
cease to exist. Not to enter the halls of his ancestors. Not to meet
with Boromir again but to simply enter oblivion, where there was no
love, no hate and no feeling. Going ever deeper into himself and detaching
from what was happening to him, as he had done during the punishments
metered out by Denethor, Faramir fought the ring's compulsion to speak.
Aragorn mistook Faramir's silence for stubbornness and kept demanding
that his Steward answer him, his anger growing and the blows to Faramir's
buttocks and thighs becoming harder. It was not until Faramir's rear
was as red as the paddle did the King realise that something was amiss
for his young Steward had made not a sound. Warning bells clanged in
Aragorn's head and he stopped the punishment abruptly, releasing his
Steward. Faramir, still eerily silent, slipped from Aragorn's lap, pulled
up his leggings and knelt beside his King, eyes cast down.
Aragorn slipped from the log and down onto his knees beside his young
Steward.
"Faramir," the King said quietly. "Faramir. Look at
me," Aragorn said in a louder voice as fear began to grip his heart.
The young Steward did as he was commanded and 'looked' at his King.
Aragorn gasped when he saw the glazed and vacant expression in Faramir's
eyes.
"Thranduil!" Aragorn called out in alarm as he took both
of Faramir's hands into his own, hoping that physical contact would
bring his Steward back from wherever it was that he had gone.
Thranduil, who was embracing Legolas, heard the alarmed call from
Estel. Both elves broke the embrace and flew in the direction from whence
Aragorn's voice had come. Bursting into the clearing where Estel knelt
beside Faramir, they met with Maglor who arrived at the same moment.
"What happened, Estel?" Thranduil asked as he signalled Legolas
and Maglor to stay back as he approached his human son quietly.
"I… I do not know," Aragorn replied, shaking his head.
"Tell me what happened, Estel? From the beginning," Thranduil
asked as he stroked Faramir's hair growing more concerned at his son's
continued unresponsiveness.
Aragorn explained all that had occurred; that he thought Faramir a
little subdued back at the camp but did not think on it overmuch.
"…I thought his silence was stubbornness, or I would never
have continued," Aragorn assured Thranduil.
"I know you would not have, mellon nin," the elven King responded
reassuringly. "Maglor?" Thranduil waved his Seneschal to approach.
"Oh, mellon nin. He is a long way away," Maglor said in a
quiet tone as he saw his young charge's unfocussed expression.
"I doubt this is the first time he has done this and I suspect
this was how he coped with Denethor's punishments," Gandalf said
gravely, causing all eyes except Faramir's turn to him, as he walked
into the clearing and stood beside Legolas.
"I do not understand," Aragorn said, his confusion and concern
apparent in both his voice and expression. "He has not reacted
to any other punishment this way. What was different this time…?"
Legolas groaned, closing his eyes against the image of his brother
before him, lost within himself.
"Oh, ada! He heard what I said to you," Legolas said with
absolute certainty, tears welling in his eyes.
"Aye, my elfling. I think you are right," Thranduil said,
closing his eyes and bowing his head for a moment.
"What? What was said…?" Aragorn began.
"We will explain later Estel," Thranduil replied as his thoughts
raced to determine the best way to help his human son. "Leg-o-las.
Go back to the camp and prepare a bed for Faramir," Legolas nodded
once in understanding, turned and ran back towards the camp. "Estel,
I suspect we will need a sleeping draught. Go," the elven King
instructed his friend in an effort to keep him occupied.
Reluctantly, Aragorn let go of Faramir's hands and did as he was bid.
Thranduil gathered his son into his arms and walked quickly back to
the camp with Maglor and Gandalf on either side. The elven King handed
his son to Maglor and sat down at one end of the bed prepared by Legolas.
The Seneschal lowered his young charge to the ground, leaning him against
Thranduil. Tears streaming down his face, Legolas crouched down beside
Faramir and wrapped two cloaks around his young brother.
"I am so sorry, muindor tithen," Legolas intoned quietly.
"I am so sorry!"
Thranduil cupped his elven son's chin gently, lifting it so that Legolas'
eyes met his own.
"It will be alright, my elfling," the elven King said soothingly.
"We will bring him back and explain."
Lips trembling, Legolas nodded and sat down on the other side of Faramir.
Thranduil put his arm about his human son's shoulders, drew him close
and waited all the while crooning softly in elvish. Twice, as they waited,
Maglor managed to get his young charge to swallow some water. Estel
hovered, alternating between periods of inactivity and frenzied activity.
Gandalf sat on the other side of the campfire waiting patiently for
Faramir to return.
Faramir did return to himself slowly and painfully, overwhelmed by
a feeling of shame for he knew what had happened. He had sought to hide
within himself again. Something he had not done since… He did
not want to remember the last time.
Thranduil sensed the change in Faramir and felt his son stiffen.
"Are you back with us ion-nin?" Thranduil asked in a whisper.
Faramir, not trusting the firmness of his voice, nodded once. An overwhelming
sense of shame was making the young Steward feel nauseous.
"You heard Legolas and I?" Thranduil asked gently even as
he held his son tightly.
Another nod.
"I do not think you heard the entire conversation, ion-nin,"
the elven King said as his mind raced to find the words to explain.
"When I told you that you had taken my heart completely, I meant
it. Legolas saw immediately upon his return that I had given my heart
to you. It was a shock to my elfling for two reasons but not for the
reason you think for you have won Legolas' heart as well. The first
reason is that Legolas has never had to share me with anyone and my
impetuous elfling felt momentary jealousy. The second reason is that
the bond between parent and child can be very strong. Such is the case
with the bond between my two sons and I. Legolas was afraid that when
you died, I might die also - of grief."
Faramir's breathing and heartbeat increased alarmingly as he digested
the implications of his father's words.
"No… no… you cannot die because of me… you cannot.
I am not worth… " Faramir stammered, tears welling in his
eyes.
"Finish that sentence, ion-nin, and I warn you, as sore as your
behind must feel right now I will turn you over my knee and blister
your arse until you are wailing," Thranduil growled dangerously.
"Do. You. Understand. Me!"
Tears overflowing, Faramir nodded.
Legolas moved from his position beside his young brother and knelt
in front of him, so that he could look into Faramir's eyes.
"I am sorry, Legolas. I did not mean for this to happen. I am…
so… sorry," the Steward sobbed, not wanting to meet the elf's
eyes.
"Shhhh, muindor tithen. Ada is right. I did feel jealously for
I have always had ada's full attention. But hear this. I do love you,
muindor tithen" Legolas said as he put a hand to each side of his
brother's face, looking Faramir directly in the eyes and forcing the
young human to do the same. "Look into me Faramir. See that I tell
you the truth. I know you have the gift. Look into me…"
Faramir did as he was asked, delving into the depths of the elf's soul
and on seeing the truth of Legolas' words, burst into wracking sobs.
"That is better, muindor tithen," Legolas said as he patted
his brother's shoulder even as Faramir curled into Thranduil, fisting
his father's tunic as he sobbed into his father's chest.
Legolas and Thranduil shared a teary smile, knowing that all would
be right again, that Faramir had accepted the truth of their words.
When the young Steward's sobbing reduced to hitching breaths, Maglor
handed the sleeping draught prepared by Estel to Thranduil who held
it to Faramir's mouth. The young Steward eyed the brew and then gave
Maglor a long dark look as he drank. Maglor smiled and sighed in relief
that his young charge was back again. As always, Faramir fell into a
deep sleep within moments.
"Well," Thranduil sighed in relief. "We seem to have
come out of that conversation relatively intact."
"What do you mean, ada?" Legolas asked perplexed.
"We did not have to explain how I was able to allay your fears
at the possibility of my dying an early death due to grief," the
elven King replied.
"Ada! Do you mean to tell me that he does not know?" Legolas
asked incredulously, his elven eyebrows going skyward.
"No, he does not know. Do you wish to tell him?" Thranduil
asked as his eyes widened.
Legolas thought about the issue from a mortal's point of view. How
would he react as a mortal, reconciled to the thought of one day dying
and going to the halls of his ancestors, to be told suddenly that you
will, in all likelihood, live as long as any elf. Then he remembered
the displays of temper that he had seen from his younger brother. This
coupled with the thought that Faramir was a somewhat unstable but very
powerful wizard in-the-making, made the elf cringe in alarm.
"Ah, no, ada. I will leave that to you," Legolas gulped.
All was quiet except for the chuckling heard from Gandalf.
Part 18
Faramir awoke the next morning lying half on his side and still being
held in his father's arms. Thranduil, eyes glazed over and deep in reverie,
was leaning back against the large roots of the tree beside which Legolas
had prepared Faramir's bed the night before. The young Steward felt
his arse afire but made no noise, as he did not want to wake his father
for he was still feeling emotionally fragile from all that had happened
the previous evening and was enjoying the comfort gained from being
held close by someone whom he cared for deeply and who also cared for
him.
Out of the corner of his eye Faramir could see Gandalf sitting on the
large root of a tree on the other side of the campfire and Maglor cooking
over the fire and also heard the faint sound of voices whispering in
the distance. The voices sounded somewhat angry which was confirmed
by Gandalf's owlishly amused look and Maglor's annoyed expression as
they looked in the direction from whence the whispering voices originated.
Not being yet awake enough to care who was squabbling, Faramir snuggled
into his father's chest.
"You are awake, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked as he pulled his
son into a tighter embrace.
Faramir made what he thought was a sound in the affirmative but sounded
more like the sleepy mewling purr of a cat, causing Thranduil to chuckle.
Faramir noted the angry whispering seemed to have stopped. His father
sighed.
"Who was squabbling, ada?" Faramir asked around a yawn.
"All three sons of Elrond," the elven King replied in a voice
that sounded at once annoyed and resigned.
"What about?" Faramir asked finally taking some interest
in his surroundings.
"You to be precise, ion-nin. The twins are not at all happy with
Estel. And Estel is not very happy with Estel either for that matter,"
Thranduil answered.
"Oh for Eru's sake!" Faramir moaned as he moved from his
father's embrace, rolled to his knees, being careful of his very sore
posterior and stood. "Where are they?" the young Steward asked
in a world-weary tone as he looked down at his father.
"Legolas *impelled* them to take their squabbling deeper into
the forest, that way," the elven King replied pointing to his left.
Faramir sighed, turned and walked in the direction indicated by his
father, all the time muttering about how easily the sons of Elrond angered
and squabbled and how it must be the human influence for he was sure
he had not seen the same tendency in other elves. Thranduil, Maglor
and Gandalf shared a look of amusement as they watched Faramir walk,
without his usual grace, into the forest.
The young Steward heard the sounds of a scuffle before hurrying out
into the clearing ahead. Stopping abruptly, Faramir stared at the sight
before him. Elessar straddled Elrohir's chest pinning the twin to the
ground and Elladan had his human brother in a headlock trying to pull
him off his twin. Legolas was sitting in the branch of a tree calmly
watching the sons of Elrond fight.
"Oh for…" the Steward of Gondor began. "Cease
and desist!" he bellowed in a voice that would have made Boromir
proud and his rangers snap to attention at the same time as they tried
to look as inconspicuous as possible thereby not drawing the individual
attention of their Captain.
The fight stopped immediately and all eyes turned to the flushed Steward
as he strode towards them. Blushing and wincing, the sons of Elrond
rose quickly to their feet and brushed dirt and leaf litter from their
clothing. Legolas laughed merrily from his perch in the tree at the
sight of the Elrondions, looking for all the world as if they had been
caught fighting by Lord Elrond himself.
"Mae Govannen, mellon-nin," Elladan began tentatively on
seeing his friend's furious expression.
"We were just discuss…" Elrohir continued but then
faded out and gulped as he too was pinned by Faramir's glare.
"I am sorry, my friend," Aragorn said as he looked down at
the ground not able to meet his friend's eyes.
Faramir took a deep breath, counted to ten and then exhaled slowly.
His mood was not improved by the powerful ache in his hindquarters.
"I can guess the subject of your… discussion," the
Steward began as he looked at each of them in turn. "It was not
Elessar's fault. You two," Faramir said quietly looking at Elladan
and Elrohir, "were not here. You were not witness to what happened.
I thank you for your concern and your friendship but Elessar was not
to blame for I learned as a child, and learned exceptionally well, to
hide my feelings deep inside so as to deprive Denethor of ammunition
to be used against me or Boromir and in the hope of lessening the pain
of the Steward's barbs and indifference. Occasionally when punishments
were harshest, or I was wounded emotionally, I withdrew inwardly as
I did last evening. I once withdrew whilst Boromir was chastising me
and like ada did last night, he coaxed me and waited for me to return.
But unlike ada, he then proceeded to blister my arse until I was wailing,
all the time telling me not to scare him like that again," Faramir
added with a small chuckle at the memory of his brother's oft contradictory
responses. "So please, do not let me be the cause of dissention
between you."
"We are sorry, mellon-nin," Elladan apologised as he moved
to embrace the young Steward.
"We anger because we care," Elrohir said as he too embraced
Faramir.
"I know, my friends. And I do thank you, most sincerely."
The Steward's reply was somewhat muffled by the strength of the twins'
embrace.
The twins departed, leaving Faramir to deal with the third and youngest
son of Elrond. Aragorn had tears in his eyes when he finally looked
at his Steward.
"I am sorry, mellon-nin. It will not happen again," the King
said as he looked at Faramir.
"I know it will not. It never did with Boromir as he always ensured
that he had my full attention when he blistered me with that…
that… 'thing'," Faramir said as he embraced his King. Aragorn
returned the embrace, feeling the burden of his guilt lifting. "And
why pray tell did you not stop the fools fighting?" Faramir asked
as he noticed Legolas, over the King's shoulder, still perched on the
branch of the tree. The King and Steward broke their embrace and looked
up at the Mirkwood Prince.
"Ada sired no fools, muindor tithen," Legolas replied as
he looked down upon the two humans. "One does not 'break up' a
fight between the sons of Elrond for one simply gets absorbed into the
melee or worse, they unite as one and attack."
Aragorn blushed and chuckled; remembering times that Legolas had tried
to intercede in their fights and suffered such consequences.
"Come elf, we need to eat the morning meal Maglor has prepared
or he will be in a royal snit," Aragorn said eliciting a smile
from Faramir.
"Brave words, human," Legolas replied as he jumped lightly
from the tree to the ground and walked to stand beside his brother.
"When he is not within earshot."
Chuckling, the trio walked back to the camp.
After another large morning meal was consumed under the watchful eye
of the Mirkwood Seneschal, Gandalf took his young wizardling aside to
begin his training whilst the company continued to await the return
of Finrod and the rest of the Gondorian troops.
Gandalf walked with his young pupil to a quiet spot downstream from
both the soldier's camp and the camp that had been set up for the rest
of the company.
Motioning for Faramir to sit with him on a convenient rock formation,
Gandalf chuckled when his young wizardling simply stood with his arms
folded, glaring at him.
"I daresay my young wizardling, you have managed, in your own
quiet way, to keep us all exceedingly busy," Gandalf admonished
mildly.
"You would not hear me complain to have less attention paid me
and certain parts of my anatomy," Faramir snapped out the tart
rejoinder still feeling his arse throbbing. Gandalf raised an eyebrow
as he looked at his wizardling intently. Faramir blushed under his mentor's
scrutiny. "I do not wish to sound ungrateful. I am - grateful that
is. But it is all a bit overwhelming at times. I mean - to go from being
almost invisible except to Boromir and you and Uncle Imrahil on your
visits, to everyone it seems, looking out for me and at my actions.
I find it unsettling at times."
"You have not been as invisible as you imagined, my wizardling.
Your men cared for you deeply but few could bring you to account for
your actions, although many wanted to do so. Mablung and Damrod, I am
given to understand, managed to bring you to account on several occasions,"
Gandalf said with a sly smile.
"How did you… who… what…" the young Steward
blustered as his mind raced ahead of his mouth. "Boromir!"
Faramir exclaimed eyes narrowing.
"Aye, 'twas Boromir who told me. Mablung and Damrod were operating
under his instructions," Gandalf replied with a chuckle at the
look of horror on his wizardling's face.
"That great oaf! No wonder Mablung and Damrod always seemed unaffected
when I threatened to tell Boromir. Although I never would have for I
knew Boromir would probably applaud their efforts. Little did I know
he was behind them!" Faramir huffed and then sighed wistfully as
he leaned against a large man-sized rock. "I miss him, Mithrandir."
"I know, my wizardling," Gandalf commiserated, fascinated
as always by the mercurial nature of his pupil. Faramir could run the
gamut of emotions within a few heartbeats.
"Well, we will meet again in the halls of our ancestors,"
Faramir said philosophically. The canny young Steward did not miss the
uncomfortable silence that greeted his statement. Turning, he looked
directly at his mentor. "Mithrandir?" he asked, feeling his
stomach lurch.
"What… what was that my boy?" Gandalf spluttered.
"Mithrandir! You are even worse at lying than I am," the
Steward said in a dangerous tone. "Are you saying that I will not
be going to the halls of my ancestors?"
"No… no my boy. Just that it may take longer than you anticipate,"
the Wizard mumbled in way of explanation, knowing that Faramir was not
ready for the entire truth as yet.
"How much longer?" Faramir demanded to know.
"A few millennia or so… " Gandalf mumbled.
"Millennia!!" Faramir shouted his temper rising dangerously.
"Now… now calm down, my wizardling," the Wizard soothed.
"Calm down! CALM DOWN!!" Faramir bellowed. "Oh how am
I to explain this to Éowyn. Not to mention Éomer!" the young Steward
moaned as he paced back and forth like a lion caged.
"Now… now be reasonable, my boy. You have the blood of Numenor
in your veins. You were always going to outlive your White Lady of Rohan,"
Gandalf argued logically.
"By a few decades, Mithrandir! Not a few MILLENIA!!" Faramir
growled as he clenched his fists.
"Well. At the very least," the Wizard mumbled.
Anyone who had seen Faramir in a fit of temper would have seen the
warning signs, indicating an imminent explosion. Faramir's eyes went
cold as his face flushed. Every muscle in his body tensed. A blue haze
seemed to grow around the wizardling's body and what looked like small
bolts of blue-white lightening crackled around his body causing his
hair to stand on end, which in turn gave Faramir a slight look of insanity.
"Oh my," the Wizard said as he saw his sizzling, crackling
apprentice. "You need to release the energy that you are drawing
upon. Aim for the rock!" Mithrandir added as he jumped adroitly
out of the way.
Faramir raised his right hand only to find that the ring had moved
back to his left hand. Growling in frustration, Faramir raised his left
hand and focussed his attention on the rock several feet in front of
him. A bolt of blue lightening shot out from the wizardling's hand and
struck the rock. The force of the bolt cracked the rock and caused fine
pulverised rock to mushroom out into the air.
"Just keep doing that, my wizardling, until you calm down. Or
faint," Gandalf added under his breath.
The Steward of Gondor stormed off, blasting rocks indiscriminately
as he went.
The noise of the devastation brought elves and men quickly upon the
scene.
"What has happened, Gandalf?" Aragorn asked as soon as he
arrived, followed closely by the Mirkwood elves and a few of the higher-ranking
Gondorian soldiers.
"I have just had a demonstration of the Steward of Gondor's temper,"
the Wizard replied matter-of-factly. Those who had experienced the young
man's temper either winced or cringed. "And you are right, Thranduil.
It is a sight to see!"
"What is he doing?" Legolas asked as more loud noises could
be heard retreating into the distance.
"He is blasting rocks. I must admit, he does learn quickly. He
is not drawing the energy from himself this time or he would have fainted
some time ago," Gandalf said, obviously impressed.
"What should we do, mellon-nin?" Thranduil asked.
"Retrieve him when he ceases sizzling and crackling and finally
faints from exhaustion. Which does not appear as if it will be anytime
soon," the Wizard added as a particularly loud bang elicited a
variety of winces and cringes from those surrounding him.
"What set off my son's temper?"
"I am afraid he discovered that he will live a much longer life
than anticipated," Gandalf replied apologetically setting off another
round of winces. "Although he is yet to know the full extent. He
is thinking a few millennia only."
"Legolas, Maglor, go, keep him in sight," Thranduil instructed.
Both elves nodded and followed the sounds of the explosions. The rest
of those gathered returned to their respective camps.
It was several hours before Legolas and Maglor returned with an exhausted,
unconscious and faintly smoking wizardling cradled in arms of the Seneschal.
On to Part 19
