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Part 7
Faramir finished enough of the light broth and bread brought to him
by Maglor to satisfy both Thranduil and the Seneschal but not risk the
food reappearing unexpectedly. The young Steward, at the insistence
of Maglor, laid back down and rested; closing his eyes and falling quickly
into a light doze. Thranduil stood and looked down upon his human son;
concern etched clearly in the flawless elven features. Faramir was still
deathly pale, clearly struggling with the memories of the days prior
to falling to a Southron dart. The elven King was torn between insisting
his son rest and wanting to get him as far away as possible from Osgiliath
and all the horror and distress it engendered.
"I wish to get him away from this place," Thranduil whispered.
"I also, Sire," Maglor, agreed quietly. "But he will
need to rest here awhile. We should be able to travel on the morrow."
"I will need you, mellon-nin. He will need you," the elven
King added as he looked from Maglor back to Faramir.
"I know. You and I have seen this before in both humans and elvenkind,"
the Seneschal said meaningfully, as he looked at the elven King gravely.
"Aye, and you helped me through, mellon-nin," Thranduil replied
wanly.
"I need to check on our supplies," Maglor said as he looked
once more at the sleeping human and taking his leave walked out, passing
Legolas who was entering. Maglor smiled as the elven Prince made straight
for his human brother.
"How fares he?" Legolas asked in a whisper almost immediately
upon entering as he stopped beside his father.
"He fares fine," came the soft, groggy response from Faramir
as he raised his arms above his head and stretched. The young Steward
brought his bandaged hands to his face and rubbed his eyes in a way
that seemed… childlike. Legolas chuckled at the thought, garnering
a questioning look from Faramir.
"There are things to which I must attend," Thranduil said
as he looked at Faramir.
"Changing of the guard more like," Faramir muttered in annoyance,
stemming more from his own recent behaviour than that of his family.
"What was that ion-nin?" Thranduil asked with a stern look
that was tempered by the glint of humour in the elven King's eyes.
"Nothing, ada," Faramir replied with a look of such innocence
that Legolas had the sudden irrational urge to cause his brother physical
bodily harm.
Shaking his head and chuckling at the astonishing resilience of humans
in general and his son in particular, the elven King left.
"Guess who I spied in the city?" Legolas asked in a quiet
voice as he perched on the end of Faramir's camp bed with a grace only
an elf could manage, as soon as their father had left. "Lord Atiel,"
Legolas added as he saw his young brother was attempting to gather sleep-fogged
thoughts.
Faramir's eyebrow rose skyward in surprise.
"Well… his conscription must be concluding soon," Faramir
mused, trying to remember how long he had sentenced the idiot to the
rank of a private in the Gondorian Army for his impolitic comments about
the elves, dwarves, halflings, and especially the Queen. Faramir smiled
at the image that sprang to mind at the mention of Atiel, of Legolas
causing havoc with an arrow and a wasp's nest. "What was he doing?"
"I think he was headed for a tavern just inside the city gates,"
Legolas answered. "The twins decided to go to the tavern as well,"
the elven Prince added in passing.
The hairs on the back of the ranger's neck stood up at the mention
of the Elrondion twins.
"Do the twins know of your altercation with Atiel?" Faramir
asked in what he hoped was a calm voice, sending up a silent prayer
that his brother answered in the negative.
"No," Legolas answered confidently but then all colour drained
from his face. "Yes," the elf corrected on a rising, panic-filled
inflection. "They somehow sensed a story after I told you and Aragorn.
They would not leave it be. I knew Atiel had already been sent away
so I told them thinking there would be no harm. And just now I mentioned
his name!" the elf said berating himself silently for his stupidity.
Faramir let forth a number of very elaborate curses in a variety of
languages in quiet bursts, as he scrambled to get out of the camp bed
and dress as quickly as he could. With his outer tunic slung over his
right shoulder the young ranger moved to the back of the tent, lifted
up a section from the bottom, crawled under and out, followed by Legolas
and then ran with the elf stealthily, towards the city gate and tavern
whilst putting on his over tunic.
Neither Atiel nor the twins were at the tavern. The tavern owner advised
them that Lord Atiel had departed about an hour before and the twin
elves soon after. Faramir tracked the elves by asking people in the
street if they had set eyes upon the twins. The Steward's heartbeat
increased significantly upon hearing from one soldier that the elves
were carrying a rather large sack. The trail ended in a deserted section
of the town. Legolas' keen elven eyes saw movement in a dilapidated
warehouse.
The scene that met the ranger and elf upon entry into the warehouse
made both gasp. A white-faced, panic-stricken, Lord Atiel was pinned
- spreadeagle - to the remnants of a wooden wall by several elven knives
piercing his clothing. The Elrondion twins had been using the man for
target practice. Elven arrows outlined the human's form, all within
a finger-span of the terrified man.
"Oh Faramir, am… I… glad… to… see…
you," Atiel blubbered in relief at seeing the Steward. "These
two… have been… threatening… me… for no….
reason… and…" the man continued to stammer but then
his eyes widened in fright and he fell silent as arrows were pointed
straight at him. One aimed at his head and the other at his family jewels.
"That is Lord Steward to you Atiel and you are lying through those
rotting teeth of yours," Faramir growled dangerously. "What
did you say? Did you perchance say something against the Queen?"
Faramir asked eyes boring into the human.
"It was only in… jest and I…I…did not know these
elves could hear," the man mumbled, shifting uncomfortably, knowing
that the Steward would find out the truth anyway and that he was in
deep, deep trouble.
Faramir shook his head at the man's congenital stupidity.
"I would have thought you would have learned the lesson by now
but I was expecting too much from you it seems. May I introduce you
to Lords Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Lord Elrond and brothers of Arwen,
Queen of Gondor," Faramir introduced the twins, exasperated by
the entire situation.
The pinned man turned an interesting shade of green as he finally realised
the extent of the trouble that he was in.
"I hope you like Osgiliath Atiel, for you will be spending a long,
long time here. And if I ever get a whiff of you having said anything
derogatory about the Queen of Gondor again, you will be banished!"
Faramir said in his most quiet and dangerous tone. "Now release
him!" the Steward barked.
To Legolas' surprise the Elrondion twins both started in astonishment
and then released the human as ordered with alacrity. As soon as he
was freed the terrified man ran away as quickly as he could manage.
Faramir turned on the Elrondion twins, his face flushed and eyes blazing
fire.
"You will not use citizens of Gondor for target practice, regardless
of the provocation! Lord Atiel is an idiot. The whole of Gondor knows
that Lord Atiel is an idiot. Your sister is Queen of this human realm
and does not need you two to metre out elven justice on her behalf -
mayhap causing her grief. Do. You. Both. Hear. Me?" Faramir growled
as he glared at each twin in turn. Legolas smirked at the twin looks
of chagrin from the sons of Elrond. "And you had better pray that
ada does not find out about this!" the Steward exclaimed quietly
in exasperation.
"Your ada knows already," Maglor said in a calm and dangerous
voice as he walked out of the shadows followed by King Thranduil.
Faramir groaned, bowing his head in defeat. Legolas cringed at the
look of anger in his father's face and the sons of Elrond resembled
twin rabbits caught in a very bright light. Colour drained from the
Steward's face and a small whimper escaped when he saw that Maglor was
holding 'Faramir's Bane'.
"You and you!" Thranduil instructed indicating Faramir and
Legolas. "Back to the camp." Both sons nodded and turned to
leave for the tent. "Faramir," Thranduil said, his expression
softening, stopping his human son who turned around. The elven King
slowly and gently embraced his son. "A hand spanking only, ion-nin,"
the King whispered into Faramir's ear. The young Steward mumbled something
into his father's tunic. "What was that, ion-nin?" Thranduil
asked as he pushed Faramir to arms length so that he could hear him
better.
Faramir was just about to repeat the comment when Legolas clamped a
hand over his brother's mouth and dragged him by the arm from the warehouse.
Biting the inside of his cheek to stop a grin that wanted to break
out at his human son's temper, Thranduil and Maglor turned on the Elrondion
twins.
"You two are about to find out why the implement that Maglor is
holding, engenders such a fear-filled reaction in Faramir. I assume
we do not need to discuss why you deserve this punishment?" the
Elven King asked the frightened elves. Both gulped and shook their heads
in the negative.
Maglor passed the red paddle to King Thranduil who, taking the paddle,
walked over to a wooden crate and sat down. Maglor took the other twin
outside whilst his brother received his punishment. The elven King motioned
to Elladan who walked over to the elder elf reluctantly, loosened the
ties of his leggings, pushed them down to his knees and lowered himself
gingerly over the elf's knees. Thranduil started Elladan's punishment
immediately with a series of stinging whacks to the elf's exposed posterior.
The young elf gasped at the stinging pain caused by the red paddle.
The elder elf kept up a blistering pace until Elladan was whimpering
and squirming on his lap. Outside, Maglor put both comforting and restraining
hands on Elrohir's shoulders as the young elf heard his brother's whimpers.
Inside, Elladan began to sob and the sobs turned to howls as the elven
King continued to land blistering blows. Thranduil stopped the punishment
when Elladan's buttocks were the same colour as the paddle.
Elladan remained over the elven King's knees as Thranduil pulled the
young elf's leggings up and rubbed his back in comforting circles. When
Elladan had regained a measure of calm, the elven King assisted him
to his feet and walked him outside so that Maglor could see to his twin's
punishment. Thranduil continued to embrace and comfort Elladan as he
passed the paddle to Maglor who escorted a reluctant Elrohir into the
remains of the warehouse. Leggings pushed down to his knees, Elrohir
took his brother's place on the wooden crate across Maglor's lap. The
young elf had only a moment to remember Estel's story about Maglor hitting
harder than Gandalf and how unfair it was that he always came second
because Elladan was born a couple of minutes earlier than him, when
the first of many blistering blows landed on his posterior. It did not
take long for the younger twin to be howling as loudly as his brother
had howled. Maglor also did not stop until Elrohir's buttocks were the
same colour as the paddle. On stopping the chastisement, Maglor pulled
up the young elf's leggings and pulled him into a comforting embrace,
soothing the distressed younger twin.
A short time later, just on nightfall, the well and truly chastened
young elves were escorted back to the camp. The twins took refuge in
their tent immediately.
Thranduil entered the tent that he shared with Faramir and saw both
sons sitting in silence, each perched on the edge of a camp bed. It
was obvious by the nervous and dejected demeanours of his sons, that
the time spent waiting had been hard on both. Unfortunately, Faramir
would have to wait a little longer as he dealt with Legolas, Thranduil
thought.
"Elfling," The elven King summoned Legolas who rose from
the camp bed and followed his father out of the tent passing Maglor
who was entering, and into an old courtyard that contained a stone bench.
Thranduil sat down upon the bench and patted his knee. Legolas sighed
and after following the age-old routine, lowered himself over his father's
knees presenting his bared posterior for chastisement. "What is
this punishment for, my elfling?" Thranduil asked.
"For not telling you and Maglor before going after the twins and
for getting Faramir into trouble," Legolas replied contritely.
"You did not get Faramir into trouble, my elfling, for he like
you, excels at that particular skill. You would not have been able to
stop him for he has a stubbornness that matches mine, and you know how
stubborn I am," Thranduil chuckled. "But you should have come
to me or Maglor," the elven King said as he landed the first of
many stinging swats. Although enough to make Legolas whimper and squirm,
the elven King did not metre out a harsh punishment to his elfling as
both he and Faramir had tried to save their friends from trouble.
"I am sorry ada," Legolas said as Thranduil, completing the
chastisement, pulled up his son's leggings, turned him over and enveloped
him in a hug.
"I know my elfling. I do love you so much," Thranduil crooned
as he embraced his son. "I must needs see to your brother,"
the elven King sighed as he pondered on Faramir.
Thranduil walked back to the tent in which Faramir was situated and
saw that Maglor was sitting beside the dejected young man with his arm
around the young one's shoulders. Faramir looked up into his father's
eyes and Thranduil's heart almost shattered at the pain he could see
in his son's eyes. Those Numenorean eyes were indeed a window into his
son's soul and that soul was hurting, deeply, the elven King thought.
Faramir rose from the camp bed slowly and stood before his father.
Thranduil opened his arms inviting his son into a hug. In the blink
of an eye the young Steward was in the arms of his father and being
held in a tight, comforting embrace. Elven father and human son stayed
like that until some of the tension had drained from Faramir. Still
maintaining contact, the elven King walked his son to the courtyard
and sat down upon the bench pulling his son to sit down beside him.
"Do you know why you are to be punished, ion-nin?" Thranduil
asked in a quiet, calm tone.
"For going after the twins and not coming to you first,"
Faramir replied.
"Yes, that is part but I must admit you handled the situation
perfectly," the elven King said with pride. "But what else
are you to be punished for, ion-nin?" Thranduil questioned. The
young Steward wracked his brain for another possible reason but came
up blank. The elf looked at his son's bewildered expression and sighed.
"You are alarmingly intelligent and canny, ion-nin, but in matters
pertaining to self preservation you are as thick as a cave troll,"
Thranduil admonished, chuckling at the look of indignation that graced
his son's features. "You have just been through a very traumatic
experience with a battle memory and immediately put your health at risk
again, by going into an unknown situation involving the Elrondion twins."
Thranduil patted his knee in a silent command. Faramir sighed, much
as Legolas had and standing, loosened ties, pushed his leggings down
and laid over his father's lap. Thranduil wasted not time in landing
the first of a series of stinging slaps to his young human son's buttocks.
Although not as light as the punishment he gave Legolas, Faramir's chastisement
was not as heavy as that of the twins.
"I love you, ion-nin," Thranduil said hoping words with physical
reinforcement would penetrate his son's stubborn adherence to the notion
that his life was not worth that of others. "The pain you feel
about the deaths of those who followed you into that doomed child of
Denethor's madness, would mirror my own at losing you before your time.
And remember, ion-nin, I will carry that sadness in my heart for all
eternity," the elven King said in a choked voice as he landed blistering
slap after blistering slap to his son's posterior.
On hearing his father's choked words Faramir burst into sobbing, fed
from the very depths of his soul, where the pain severest. On hearing
the change in the tenor of the sobs, Thranduil stopped the chastisement,
pulled his son's leggings up, gathered him into an embrace and rocked
the sobbing young man as the floodgates opened. Wracking sob after wracking
sob came from the young Steward. Although there would, no doubt, be
more rough times ahead, Thranduil felt the glimmerings of hope that
his son would recover. The elven King rocked his son for a long time
until exhausted; Faramir's sobs became hitching and shuddering breaths.
A goblet appeared before Thranduil as he continued to cradle his son
in his arms. The elven King smiled up at Maglor through tear-filled
eyes as the Seneschal held the goblet to his young charge's mouth.
"I honestly think… you need to talk to someone… about
this drugging habit of yours… Maglor," Faramir muttered as
he drank the sleeping draught offered. Both elves chuckled. It was not
long before the young Steward was fast asleep, cradled protectively
in the arms of his father.
"I think this may be a pivotal point, mellon-nin" Maglor
mused as he looked at his young charge and sat down beside the elven
King.
"What do you think are his chances of not putting himself at risk
needlessly?" Thranduil asked seeking his friend's considered opinion.
"Honestly? Naught…as he will still be inclined to do things,
dangerous to himself that is, without thinking. We simply have to work
on reversing his instincts. You know, run *away* from orcs, run *to*
family," Maglor chuckled at his young charge's instinct to flee
from any possibility of physical chastisement by family and friends
but run directly into danger when others are threatened.
"And how likely do you think it would be to teach him not to flee
from family when he is in danger of having his posterior blistered?"
Thranduil asked amusement showing in his voice and eyes.
"Naught… but we can try," Maglor replied with a similar
twinkle of humour in his eyes.
Part 8
As was his wont in regard to mornings in general, Faramir, who was
lying on his stomach on a camp bed, awoke slowly and in stages. From
his position perched on the camp bed in which their ada had slept, Legolas
watched his brother's battle to consciousness with amused affection.
During the journey of the Fellowship, Boromir had regaled them with
stories of his little brother. The burly man of Gondor had warned all
that if they should ever chance upon his little brother awakening upon
the morn, they should allow Faramir to wake completely before attempting
to engage him in conversation for his brother could not be considered,
under any current or past definition, a morning person. Should any be
foolish enough to attempt such a feat he warned, they would find themselves
in their respective ancestral halls so fast as to be wondering just
how they came to be there in what seemed to be between one moment and
the next.
The first thing of which Faramir became aware on gaining consciousness
was the scents and sounds associated with being housed in a tent. The
second was the soreness in his hindquarters. Memory followed immediately
upon cognisance of pain and Faramir groaned into his pillow. Before
Legolas had a chance to bestow his most musical greeting on his brother,
Faramir's pillow hit the elf squarely in the face. Light elven laugher
greeted the brothers from the tent's entrance. Legolas greeted their
father with a smile whilst Faramir looked at him blearily, still obviously
attempting to awake fully as the young Steward turned onto his side
and used his arm, bent at the elbow and resting on the bed, to prop
up his head. Thranduil and Legolas shared a knowing smile as the elven
King walked towards his human son, kneeling down beside him.
"How fare you this morning, tithen-pen?" Thranduil asked
quietly, looking at Faramir intently as he gently brushed hair back
from his human son's face.
"I am fine, ada," Faramir replied in a whisper. The elven
King continued to look at his human son. Faramir blushed averting his
eyes downward under his father's intense scrutiny. "As well as
can reasonably be expected given the circumstances," the young
Steward amended in an even quieter whisper.
"That is good to hear, tithen-pen," Maglor said in a booming
voice as he entered the tent carrying a tray filled with food.
Faramir startled putting the hand that his head had been propped up
by upon his heart, which he felt might leap from his chest any moment.
"Really ada! Have you ever considered putting a bell around that
elf's neck?" the young Steward admonished in a harsh whisper, trying
to catch his breath and calm his furiously beating heart as he sat up.
"And I hope you do not expect me to eat all that? I am a man not
a hobbit." Faramir complained in a louder voice, glaring at the
Seneschal.
Maglor raised an eyebrow. Faramir groaned. Legolas chuckled earning
a glare from his brother.
After the young Steward had eaten, washed and dressed, preparations
were completed for trip to Northern Ithilien. As Faramir exited the
tent he had shared with his father, followed by Legolas, he saw the
Elrondion twins moving to secure their sleeping gear to their horses.
Both seemed subdued and still in pain evidenced by the stilted way in
which they moved. The young Steward knew that both been given a taste
of his dreaded namesake but was surprised that they still seemed so
pained. Legolas saw the look of concern and bewilderment on his brother's
face as he looked at the twins and deduced its cause.
"Lord Elrond is half human. They are a little slower in healing
than other elves," Legolas informed quietly.
"Ouch," Faramir winced in sympathy. "I do not envy them
this day's ride then. I know what that feels like after a session with
that… that…'thing'."
Legolas smirked at his brother's inability to say the word paddle.
"Aur Vaer (good day)," Faramir greeted the twins as he walked
over to his own horse to secure his sleeping gear.
"Mae govannen," the twins greeted in unison. The young Steward
winced in sympathy when Elrohir winced from what was obviously a flare
of pain from his abused rear. Elrohir graced Faramir with a small, chagrined
smile.
"That…" Elrohir frowned searching for a word to best
describe 'Faramir's Bane'.
"Thing," Faramir supplied.
"Thing," the younger twin repeated, "has the bite of
an orc!" he confided in a whisper. Elladan nodded in agreement
wincing as he felt a flare of pain from his own hindquarters. "How
often have you faced that… monster?" the younger twin asked.
"Between the elvish version and the equally painful older human
version over the years, enough times to require several new coats of
paint," Faramir replied in a beleaguered tone.
The twin's eyes widened in both alarm and in newfound respect for their
young human friend.
Faramir searched through his medicinal supplies for the jar of numbing
salve that Maglor had given him, knowing - or rather hoping - that the
Seneschal would have stocked more.
"Apply this salve. It will deaden the pain enough to make riding
bearable… almost," the young Steward corrected as he handed
the jar to Elrohir. The twins smiled their thanks and scurried back
to the tent in which they had slept, with little of their elven grace
in evidence. Faramir turned around to Legolas whom he could hear chuckling
behind him. "I do hope Maglor packed a goodly supply of that salve,
brother. I have a feeling it is going to be needed."
Faramir and Legolas walked their horses to where Thranduil, Maglor
and Finrod were waiting, ready to depart. The twins arrived a short
time later walking with more elven grace than they had previously. Mounting
their horses the company set out for the forests of Northern Ithilien.
The company rode at a steady pace stopping briefly for a noonday meal.
The Elrondion twins were glad for the short respite for their respective
rears still ached. Both elves disappeared into the forest with the jar
of salve that Faramir had given them. The young Steward and his elven
brother shared a knowing look and smiled. Faramir, in his own opinion
if not that of Maglor, was presented with enough food to satisfy even
Pippin Took. The young Steward ate the meal, although not without much
grumbling and protesting, under the watchful eye of the Seneschal. After
the meal was concluded and the twins had returned with much-relieved
looks on their faces, the company remounted and continued their journey
until almost nightfall when they stopped in a clearing near a stream,
just off the main track.
Elves and human set about making camp and preparing a hot meal. Faramir
was again presented with what seemed to the young human to be a double
sized portion of stew by Maglor, which, after protesting yet again,
much to the amusement of all, that the Seneschal was mistaking him for
a hobbit, he ate. After the meal Thranduil, Maglor and Finrod dispersed
into the forest taking the first watch, leaving the young members of
the company to relax around the campfire. Faramir and Legolas were sitting
side-by-side, leaning back against a fallen log. Elrohir was lying on
his stomach, as his posterior was still sore although not as sore as
it had been, to the left of the young Steward. Elladan was in the same
supine position as his twin for the same reason on the side of the campfire
opposite to his brother and to the right of Legolas.
Elrohir looked at Faramir intently as if he would like to ask a question
but had chosen to puzzle it out instead. Faramir was aware of the intense
scrutiny but had chosen to ignore it for the moment.
"I would suggest that it would be easier to ask, for your curiosity
seems almost bordering on painful," Faramir suggested in a gentle
though amused tone as he continued to look straight ahead and into the
fire.
All three elves started and Elrohir blushed to the tips of his pointed
Noldor ears and smiled in chagrin at having been so obvious.
"I was just curious…" Elrohir began.
"That much is glaringly obvious, my friend," Faramir chuckled
wryly.
"We had heard about that…" Elrohir said, again searching
for the word.
"Thing," Faramir supplied, knowing exactly to what the younger
twin was referring.
"Thing," Elrohir smiled wryly in agreement. "But Estel
would not tell us about its creation."
"There must be a story there," Elladan concluded for his
brother, much in the manner of twins.
"Yes…there is," the young Steward sighed and smiled
wanly as his thoughts turned to the past and to Boromir.
At seventeen, Boromir had reached a man's height and after his first
battle campaign against forces of Mordor in the defence of Osgiliath,
was fast filling out in heavy muscle. Boromir returned to the White
City victorious after several months away and was looking forward to
spending three months in Minas Tirith with his little brother. Upon
riding through the city gates, Boromir expected to be greeted by Faramir
but the youngster was nowhere in sight. The heir to the Stewardship
rode through the winding streets to the top level of the city and into
the courtyard in front of the palace whereupon his father and other
members of the court greeted him.
"Greetings father," Boromir said somewhat distracted as he
searched amongst the faces for his little brother.
"Welcome home my heir, my first born," Denethor crowed as
he embraced is son. "You return victorious from your first campaign!"
"Where is Faramir, father?" Boromir asked quietly, "I
would have expected him to meet me at the gates as he always does".
The heir did not miss the slight flinch and look of disgust on his father's
face before the Steward's impassive mask returned.
"Somewhere sulking I expect. But come, my son, we should celebrate
your victorious return!" Denethor exclaimed as he guided his son
to the palace.
"My pardon father but I need to freshen, for the journey was long,
hard and hot and I must smell of horse and sweat. I will meet you in
the great hall later," Boromir promised as he ran ahead towards
the living quarters in search of his brother.
Faramir was nowhere to be seen. After much searching Boromir came upon
his brother asleep on his stomach, beneath the oldest tree in the private
garden their mother had created. Boromir crouched down beside his little
brother and put a hand on his brother's back but was not prepared for
the reaction from his younger sibling. Faramir woke abruptly yelping
in pain and scrambling backwards on hands and knees as if to escape.
"Easy little one, easy," Boromir soothed quietly.
"Boromir," Faramir's face light up with a smile of such love
and adoration and then he fainted.
Lifting his brother gently, Boromir hurried back to his quarters with
his precious burden. Upon arrival he placed Faramir gently on the bed
and removed the young one's shirt. The heir of Gondor swore mightily
when he saw the thin red stipes that covered his brother's back; stripes
the heir knew were created by a cane - his father's cane. Boromir cleansed
his brother's wounds, for some of blows had broken the skin and had
subsequently become infected. It was obvious that the caning had occurred
a few days ago.
Faramir, fevered from the infection, woke briefly and graced Boromir
with another beautiful smile reaching out to touch his brother's face
as if to test he was real and not a vision. Boromir choked back tears
as he fed his brother something for the pain and to allow his little
one to sleep. Boromir smiled as Faramir fell quickly into a slumber.
Sleeping draughts had always had that affect on his little brother.
Boromir wondered briefly if he would ever outgrow the tendency.
Knowing that Faramir would sleep for some time, Boromir bathed and
changed into fresh clothes before going back to his bedroom to check
on his brother. When the heir entered he saw Denethor looking down upon
his youngest son with something akin to guilt for Boromir had not yet
applied bandages and the welts were plainly visible.
"I did not realise I had been so harsh for he made not a sound
when I punished him. He has become so unruly, so defiant," Denethor
said in a harsh whisper in a mixture of regret and anger.
"He is but twelve years old father and still has the stature of
a child. You cannot continue to be so harsh with him father, for you
risk damaging him," Boromir pleaded on his brother's behalf.
"I do not know what else to do," Denethor replied.
"I do father. If you trust me enough to turn his discipline over
to me, whilst I am resident in the White City," Boromir implored.
Still looking down upon Faramir, Denethor nodded his head in agreement.
The Steward held his hand just above his youngest son's head as if to
pet him but pulled his hand back abruptly, turned and left the room.
Two weeks later Faramir was healed fully and in trouble again. Denethor
was looking out of the window of his study and had just told his youngest
son in no uncertain terms that he would not be allowed to accompany
Boromir on the morrow for his brother would be spending time with his
men. Alarmed, Boromir recognised the signs of his brother's impending
explosion and clamped a hand over his young sibling's mouth and dragged
him to the door, opening it and shoving his struggling brother into
the hands of Beregond, who was standing guard. Beregond, understanding
the situation immediately, clamped his hand over the young Lord's mouth
before the young one had a chance to say anything and held him tightly.
"He will not accompany me father. I will make sure of it,"
Boromir said as he popped back into the room and then left again to
see to his brother.
Denethor smiled as he had seen what had just transpired in the reflection
from the window. The Steward trusted his first-born and knew that Boromir
would handle the situation.
The Steward's heir grabbed his younger sibling by the scruff of the
neck and marched the cursing spitfire down to the carpenter located
in the commercial district in the second level of the city.
"Master carpenter," Boromir asked the startled carpenter
as he all but threw his cursing brother onto a box, "can you please
assist my brother in creating a paddle that would prove very effective
on a bared behind?"
Faramir's cursing stopped abruptly and his eyes narrowed as he took
in the meaning of his brother's words to the carpenter. In a flash the
young Lord was up and running but unfortunately his move was anticipated
by his brother. Boromir caught his cursing younger sibling around the
waist and threw him back down onto the box.
"Yes, my Lord," the carpenter acknowledged trying not to
show his amusement.
Under the watchful eye of the heir of Gondor and with the assistance
of the carpenter, Faramir, cursing in various languages the whole time,
finally finished the paddle. Boromir tested the paddle on his hand,
much to the embarrassment of this brother, and was satisfied with the
resulting sting. Boromir then asked the carpenter if he had any red
paint. The carpenter answered in the affirmative and went to look for
the paint. In the carpenter's absence, Boromir explained that he would
be taking over his brother's disciplining whilst he was in the White
City and that whenever he was forced to chastise his brother, he would
not stop until Faramir's buttocks were the same colour as the paddle.
The carpenter overheard the conversation and chose a deeper shade of
red than he had originally intended. Again under the watchful eye of
his brother, Faramir painted the paddle in what he considered to be
an alarming shade of red. The young Lord continued muttering curses
in a variety of languages as he set about painting the 'thing'. The
carpenter knew some of the languages in which the young Lord was cursing
and could guess the meanings of some of the words. Overall, he was very
impressed by the young Lord's fluidity and ability with languages if
not the actual content.
It took about an hour for the paddle to dry upon which Boromir grabbed
his young brother, laid him over his lap and pulled down his brother's
leggings.
"What is this punishment for little one?" Boromir asked.
Faramir's stubbornness manifested itself in silence. Boromir let loose
a mighty slap to his brother's bared behind.
"Owwwwww!" Faramir cried out in pain.
"I ask again little one. What is this punishment for?" Boromir
asked again.
"For arguing with father and cursing at you," Faramir growled
through gritted teeth.
"And Master carpenter," Boromir prompted
"And Master carpenter," Faramir mumbled contritely.
"Good, now that we are on the same page…" the Gondorion
warrior said as he continued to land blistering slaps to his brother's
posterior. Boromir maintained a fast pace as he landed whack after whack
to his brother's ever reddening buttocks. Faramir's whimpers turned
to sobs and sobs to howls as his brother continued to blister his rear.
"I… am… sorry…sorry," Faramir repeated
over and over as Boromir continued the slaps unrelentingly. "Why
does he hate me so?" Faramir wailed in abject bewilderment and
pain.
On hearing the words, Boromir stopped the chastisement immediately,
pulled up his brother's leggings, turned him over, enveloping his little
one in a comforting embrace.
"Shhhh, little one," Boromir soothed. "Shhhh. He does
not hate you. I know he has been harsh with you little brother but you
must not push him, for he does not know how to deal with you. I will
not see you hurt so again because you have pushed him too far, even
if I have to paddle you every day that I am in the White City. Do you
hear me little brother?" Boromir asked holding his brother more
tightly.
"Yes," Faramir whispered in a hoarse voice as he put his
arms around his brother's neck and cried into his brother's shoulder.
"I… love…you," the young one said between gasps
for breath as he cried out his pain for his father's inability to love
him and his loneliness now that Boromir was a soldier.
"And I you, little brother, I you," Boromir crooned with
unshed tears in his eyes, as his brother fell asleep in his arms.
The heir of Gondor carried his brother and red paddle back to his apartment
and placed his younger sibling in his bed. When Faramir woke the next
morning, Boromir was still there, asleep beside him on top of the bed
and still fully clothed. He smiled at his brother and then winced and
hissed at a flare of pain from his much-abused bottom. The young lord
saw that the red 'thing' was on the bed as well. At some stage during
the night Boromir had carved the words "Faramir's Bane" into
the wood. Of all the times for the great oaf to develop a sense of humour,
the young lord thought as he watched his sleeping brother affectionately.
Legolas and the twins whilst appalled at Denethor caning a little one
of but twelve years old, could not help laughing at Boromir's attempt
to get his brother out of Denethor's presence before the young one had
a tantrum and the antics of sons of Gondor at the carpenters.
"Your brother must have loved you dearly," Elrohir said as
he looked at Faramir.
"Yes he did," Faramir replied with unshed tears in his eyes.
"And does, muindor tithen," Legolas said in a whisper hoarse
with emotion as he patted his human brother's knee in a gesture of comfort.
"And does."
Part 9
Two days more of easy riding found the company of elves and human at
the site of the elven haven just after midday. Camp was made and the
members of the company sat down to share a meal. Maglor again presented
his charge with a double portion of dried fruits and meat. Faramir looked
at the Seneschal with a much-bemused expression.
"My dear elf. I am aware of my reputation for the ability to consume
as much as a hobbit at times but I generally do not do so at every meal.
If you keep feeding me this much food it will not be long before I am
unable to mount my horse and you will needs roll me back to Minas Tirith
like a barrel." Faramir explained in his normal quiet, measured
tone but with a hint of amusement, eliciting chuckles from the other
elves, as he looked up at Maglor who was standing in front of him holding
a bowl filled with food.
"You are still too thin," the Seneschal retorted.
"I do admit that I am a few pounds short of the weight I once
was but I am not overly thin," the young Steward argued.
"You are still four notches short on your belt," Maglor replied
looking at the well-worn hole on Faramir's belt.
"Ahhhh," Faramir chuckled as understanding came. "I
am one notch short of where I was but four notches short of Boromir
- it was his belt."
The other elves chuckled but Maglor stood unruffled.
"A compromise then. You are two notches short. Eat!" Maglor
ordered as he handed the bowl to his young charge eliciting even greater
chuckles from the other elves.
Shaking his head and sighing in resignation, Faramir took the bowl
from the elf and ate the food without further verbal protest.
After the meal was concluded Faramir and Legolas took great delight
in showing the elves the land they had chosen for the elven haven. Thranduil,
Maglor, Finrod and the twins stood with Faramir and Legolas on the top
of the highest hill in the vicinity, looking down upon hills, vales
and gullies covered with trees.
"What think you, ada?" Faramir asked shyly.
"It will do us well, ion-nin" Thranduil smiled as he looked
down upon the hills, gullies, trees and the river that meandered through
the hills.
"Easily defended," Finrod said as he looked up into the trees
around them. Maglor and the twins nodded in agreement.
"Water, food aplenty," Maglor added as he to looked around.
"Free of spiders," Legolas said with a grin. The Mirkwood
elves shared the Prince's grin.
"Plenty of timber for building boats…" Elladan mused.
"For those wishing to depart for the west," Elrohir finished
his twin's sentence.
Faramir felt a sudden overwhelming feeling of great loss. The thought
that all the elves would leave Middle Earth one day was nearly unbearable
for the young Steward. Thranduil and Legolas both saw the pain and despair
flash across Faramir's suddenly pale features. The elven King gently
enveloped his human son in an embrace.
"Legolas and I will never leave you whilst you still walk Middle
Earth, ion-nin," Thranduil promised, whispering into his son's
ear.
Faramir relaxed into his father's embrace, his breath hitching as he
battled to control his emotions.
"Thank you, ada," Faramir replied in a hoarse whisper as
he returned his father's embrace.
Legolas shared a smile with his father as Thranduil continued to hug
his human son.
Soon after, as the sun set, the elves and human returned to camp. Faramir
rolled his eyes but made no other comment as Maglor gave him another
bowl full of food. Legolas and the twins sniggered earning a glare from
the hapless human.
Thranduil, Maglor and Finrod again took the first watch. Well after
midnight they woke Faramir, Legolas and the twins to take the second
watch with the intelligence that there appeared to be three human families
camped a fair distance away in the gully below. The elves took to the
trees and Faramir moved out onto an outcropping. All was quiet until
almost the end of their watch at dawn. Legolas was the first to see
movement in the distance.
"Orcs!!!" Legolas exclaimed as he jumped lightly from the
tree and ran to Faramir on the outcropping. "They are heading for
the humans!"
"Go tell ada and the others," Faramir ordered. "If I
remember correctly there is a bridge in that direction" Faramir
said pointing in the direction, "that spans the gully. Located
beyond that is another gully that has but one entrance. Meet me at the
top of that gully." Faramir said as the twins arrived. "Go!
You are a faster runner than I," Faramir ordered when he saw Legolas
hesitate. "Go!!"
Legolas turned reluctantly and ran back towards the camp whilst the
Steward of Gondor and sons of Elrond ran towards the bridge. The bridge
thankfully, was still intact and the human and elves crossed quickly.
The twins followed Faramir as he ran through the forest and straight
to the blind gully and then moving stealthily towards the edge. The
orcs were approaching.
"Stay here and ready your arrows," Faramir ordered in a whisper
as he turned and ran along the top towards the entrance of the gully.
The young ranger quickly scrambled down into the gully below just as
the orcs turned a corner a few hundred yards away and came into view.
On seeing the human the orcs bellowed and gave chase. Faramir turned
tail and ran as fast as he could into the blind gully. By the time the
young ranger reached the end, elven arrows rained down upon the orcs.
The Steward reached for a thick rope that was tied to a massive boulder.
The rope ran up the side of the gully and around an overhanging tree.
At the other end of the rope was a large rope net containing rocks -
suspended above the gully. Gripping the rope firmly the ranger whipped
out his knife and cut the rope just below where his hand was situated.
No longer secured to the boulder, the rope net filled with rocks fell
to the gully floor propelling Faramir upwards. The young Steward felt
a sharp stinging pain at his side as he jumped the short distance to
solid ground at the top of the gully.
Winded, Faramir fell to his knees and panted for breath as he held
a hand to his back where he had felt the stinging pain. The young ranger
removed his hand and saw that it was covered in blood. An arrow had
obviously nicked him the Steward thought. As thought returned Faramir
realised that he was, in all likelihood, in deep, deep trouble. Finally
daring to look up the young Steward's suspicions were confirmed when
he saw his father's thunderous look as the elven King and Maglor came
storming towards him with Legolas following. He could see the twins
and Finrod in the background. Anger turned to concern when Thranduil
saw the blood on Faramir's hand.
"What has been done to you? Where are you hurt, ion-nin?"
the elven King asked as he crouched down beside his human son, looking
for where the blood had originated. Legolas crouched down on the other
side.
"Back," Faramir winced as the pain worsened. "Am I in
deep trouble, ada?" Faramir asked in a tiny voice as Maglor inspected
the wound, concern evident.
"The deepest, ion-nin," Thranduil growled as he put an arm
around his son's shoulders and the other behind his knees and lifted
Faramir off the ground and carried him back to the camp quickly.
By the time the elven King reached the camp, Maglor had started a
fire, filled an iron pot with water, set it on the fire to heat and
had put the blade end of an elven knife into the fire. The twins had
gathered medical packs, Finrod was using some of the herbs to create
a poultice and Legolas had laid blankets down on the ground. Thranduil
laid Faramir on the blankets and with the help of Legolas, stripped
his human son of his leather over tunic and shirt and rolled him onto
his side. Both King and Prince winced at the three-inch long gash that
started on Faramir's back just above his waist and curled around his
side. Blood was flowing freely and the black tendrils that were beginning
to radiate from the wound showed that the arrow had been poisoned.
"Is it poisoned, ada?" Faramir asked as if he had picked
up on the thoughts of his father and brother.
"Yes it is ion-nin," Thranduil confirmed in grave voice as
Maglor cleansed the wound, eliciting a gasp and pained moan from Faramir.
"You know what it is we have to do?" the elven King asked
as he removed his leather belt.
"Yes, ada" the ranger replied in a distant voice.
Thranduil folded the belt in half and slid it between Faramir's teeth
so that he would not bite his tongue. He then took hold of his human
son's hands. Legolas braced his brother's back and the twins held down
his legs and body. Maglor took the red-hot knife from the fire and placed
it against the wound both to cauterise the wound and to stop the spread
of the poison. Faramir, biting down on the leather belt went rigid,
every muscle in his body pulling taut as he fought to contain the scream
that wanted desperately to find voice. He squeezed his father's hands
tightly and felt his father's grip tighten in support. Just when Faramir
thought he could take no more, the searing hot pain stopped replaced
by a more bearable aching throb.
Faramir panted for breath still holding his father's hands. Legolas
removed the belt from between his brother's teeth and stroked his hair,
which was damp from sweat and pain. Finrod applied a poultice and he
and Maglor bound the wound, eliciting pained moans from Faramir. The
twins brought over their cloaks and placed them over their friend. Maglor
brewed a tea for both fever and pain and fed the brew to his young charge.
Faramir gave the Seneschal a look that spoke volumes about Maglor's
drugging habits, making the elf smile. It was not long before Faramir
sighed in relief and fell into a deep slumber.
The young Steward remained fevered for two days as the remnants of
the poison took its course. Faramir was not left alone for one moment
as the elves took turns in nursing him through the fever and nightmares
and changing the poultice and bandages. On the morning of the third
day Faramir, feeling much better, was able to sit up and eat a light
meal. Having just arrived back from his watch, Legolas sat down beside
his brother and smiled knowing that Faramir was on the mend.
"How fare you this morning, muindor tithen?" Legolas asked.
"Much better," Faramir replied as he smiled at his brother.
"Is ada still *very* angry?" Faramir asked quietly his expression
turning sombre.
Legolas patted his brother's knee, a gesture that spoke of the answer
before it was confirmed in words.
"I am afraid he is, muindor tithen. He saw that stunt you pulled
in the gully. You scared him and like Aragorn, he does not react well
to being scared," Legolas replied in sympathy.
"Elessar," Faramir groaned as he remembered the King's parting
words about being careful and the very explicit and painful ramifications
of not doing so.
"Oh yes, muindor tithen. There is that," Legolas said as
he looked at his brother with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner
of his mouth.
"When is ada likely to…" Faramir began his voice trailing
off in embarrassment.
"When you are feeling better," Legolas replied.
"Where is the incentive to get better in that?" Faramir muttered.
A familiar chuckle drew the attention of both Princes. Legolas smiled
at his father wanly and Faramir attempted a smile that looked more like
a pained grimace. Thranduil gestured for Legolas to leave them alone
for the moment, smiling at his elven son as he stood and left. The elven
King took Legolas' place as he sat down beside his human son. The young
Steward looked down at his hands. Thranduil put an arm around his son's
shoulder and pulled him close. Faramir rested his head on his father's
shoulder.
"I am sorry, ada. I reacted…" Faramir began in way
of explanation.
"And it is this tendency to react without thinking that we need
to work upon, ion-nin," Thranduil said as he continued to hold
his son. "Tell me, ion-nin. Did you know that the rope and rocks
were still intact?"
"No. I did not," Faramir replied in a whisper.
"Did you think about waiting for Legolas to return with us?"
Thranduil asked quietly already knowing the answer.
"No. I saw the people in danger and I…reacted" Faramir
said as he continued to look down upon his hands.
"And you have done this before, ion-nin?" the elven King
continued the questioning.
"Yes," Faramir answered truthfully knowing he was condemning
himself.
"Oh tithen-pen! How have you managed to stay alive this long and
how did your ranking officers keep you alive?" Thranduil asked
in exasperation. Faramir went silent suddenly blushing furiously. "Ion-nin?"
the elven King prompted looking askance at his human son.
"Much cursing and sometimes similar methods to Boromir,"
Faramir mumbled reluctantly. "When will you…" Faramir
began not able to say the words 'paddle me'.
"The choice is yours, ion-nin. Now or when you are feeling stronger."
Thranduil replied.
Faramir hated waiting for punishment. It was something that Denethor
had used to his advantage in punishing his second born.
"Now," the young Steward requested in a whisper.
Thranduil assisted his son to his feet and guided him a short distance
to a fallen log. The elven King sat down and Faramir loosened the ties
of his leggings and pushed them down to his knees. Carefully, as he
was still sore, he lowered himself over his father's knees. 'Faramir's
Bane' appeared before Thranduil who smiled up at Maglor in thanks. Faramir
also looked up and groaned when he saw the look on the Seneschal's face.
It was obvious to the young Steward that Maglor would have preferred
to be the one wielding the 'thing'. Maglor turned and walked away.
The elven King wasted no time in beginning the chastisement. Faramir
felt a succession of very hard swats hit his exposed posterior. The
young Steward gasped at the anger that was driving the swats. It was
not long before Faramir was whimpering and moaning in earnest.
"Now, ion-nin, if we can get you to stop and think before you
go off saving the world, we will be making progress," Thranduil
said as he continued to land blistering blows to his son's buttocks.
Faramir's whimpers turned to sobs and howls of pain and still the elven
King did not relent.
"I will not lose you, ion-nin," Thranduil said as he landed
several memorable whacks to Faramir's 'sit-spot' before stopping.
The young Steward sobbed in earnest as he lay across his father's lap.
The elven King pulled up his son's leggings, turned him over and embraced
his son, careful of his well-chastised bottom and the wound on his son's
side. Faramir continued to sob as his father rocked and soothed him.
"I…am…sorry…ada," the young Steward kept
repeating.
"Shhh…ion-nin. I do not want to lose you from my life, just
as I have found you," Thranduil crooned to his chastened human
son.
A goblet appeared before Faramir and the young man drank the draught,
shooting dark glances at Maglor.
"It is a good thing Boromir did not learn of this trick to keep
me out of trouble. Otherwise I would have spent most… of…
my… life… aslee…." Faramir said as he dropped
off to sleep, again cradled in the secure and loving arms of his father.
Part 10
The young Steward of Gondor awoke later that day and felt his arse
afire, throbbing painfully in time to the beat of his heart. His ada
had been deceptively angry, something Faramir made a mental note to
remember in future. The second son of Denethor had always known how
angry Denethor and Boromir were at any time, Denethor by expression
and Boromir by expression, posture, colouring and a variety of other
indicatives. When his brother gave him a certain dark look, his body
tensed in a certain way or he turned a certain shade of puce, Faramir
knew that it was in his own best interests to turn tail and run as far
away as fast as he could. Feeling another flare of fiery pain, the young
Steward groaned into the bedding that consisted of blankets placed over
leaves beneath him. Faramir felt a hand brush hair back from his face
and opened an eye to confirm that it was indeed whom he thought it was,
ada.
"Adaaaa. My arse is on fire!" Faramir whined wondering why
it was that he had been able to take harsh thrashings from Denethor
in absolute silence but punishments by those who cared for him seemed
to reduce him in years to a whinny, needy adolescent.
"I am sorry, ion-nin," Thranduil apologised as he continued
to stroke his human son's hair.
"I was angrier than even I realised. When I saw you in that blind
gully and then saw the orcs firing arrows upon you…" the
elven King could not continue as images of his son's danger flashed
before his eyes again.
Faramir looked up at his elven father and saw tears in the elven King's
eyes. Turning onto his side carefully, the young Steward reached out
and touched a tear that had freed itself of the others and rolled down
his father's face. Thranduil's heart faltered at seeing the bemusement
and something bordering on awe pass across his human son's features.
"You have found your way into this old elf's heart, ion-nin, and
I *do* love you," Thranduil stated firmly, willing Faramir to accept
the truth of his words.
Faramir continued to look into his elven father's eyes, using his oft-times
cursed 'ability' to look into the depths of the elf's soul. What he
saw there made him gasp for he knew that he loved his elven father dearly
but just now realised the depth of his father's love for him. Thranduil
saw comprehension dawn in his human son's eyes and smiled a watery smile.
"I love you too, ada," Faramir whispered as he continued
to touch his father's face. "But my arse is still on fire!"
he moaned as another flare of pain from his much abused rear-end made
its unwelcome presence felt.
Thranduil chuckled as Maglor arrived with a very large jar of numbing
salve. The elven King's eyebrows went skyward at the size of the jar.
"The trio 'horribus' and this young one on the same journey,"
Maglor said in way of explanation as he removed the lid from the jar.
"I have secured three such jars and was seriously contemplating
a fourth."
The Seneschal lifted the blanket covering his young charge and winced.
Unseen by Faramir Maglor threw Thranduil a look of astonishment with
a flash of annoyance at the colouring of the young human's posterior.
The elven King had the grace to look chagrined. Maglor applied the salve,
as gently as possible, to Faramir's buttocks eliciting pained hisses
and moans from the young human. After several long moments Faramir sighed
in relief and settled into a light doze.
Some time later and as if from a distance, Faramir heard Legolas arrive
and Thranduil depart. He felt the blanket lying atop of him lifted followed
by a small sound of distress and then a whispered…
"Ada was *very* angry."
"Ai!" came the hushed exclamation of one of the Elrondion
twins. "I have not seen that particular shade of vermilion since
that time in Lórien when grandfather was so vexed with us and Haldir."
"I would appreciate it very much if you would stop examining my
arse as it is becoming decidedly chilly down south," Faramir drawled
in a sleep-ridden voice, feeling the cold around his hindquarters as
the heat radiating from his posterior clashed with the cool air of the
surrounds.
"Sorry, muindor tithen," Legolas apologised quietly as he
lowered the blanket. "Do you need more salve?"
"Not for the moment, thank you. Some was applied by Maglor not
long ago," Faramir replied around a gigantic yawn. "But I
am in need of distraction from the throbbing. A story about certain
elves in Lórien perhaps?"
The twins looked as if they would refuse the request.
"I would do what he asks," Legolas advised when he saw twin
looks of refusal. "He will only resort to asking ada, and you would
be surprised what ada knows about the exploits of the 'duo horribus'.
He feels guilty enough at the moment to indulge any of this one's whims."
"Alright, tithen-pen. But if any of this should get back to Estel,
there will be a reckoning… a long and painful one," Elladan
warned as he sat down beside the young Steward next to Legolas. "Where
to begin…"
Faramir had to bite his lip, eliciting a wince at the sharp pain, to
stop the comment 'at the beginning is generally thought advisable' springing
forth from his mouth. Legolas, as if having read his brother's thought,
laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.
"Behave, muindor tithen!"
Faramir gave his elven brother a small, wry smile.
The Lórien elves braced themselves, as they were wont to do with this
particular threat to the serenity of their wooded realm, for the arrival
of the twin sons of Elrond. At the present moment they were enjoying
the calm before the inevitable hurricane. Not that they did not like
the Elrondion twins. It was just that they could never predict exactly
what was going to happen during the twin's occupation of their realm.
And happen - something always did.
"Where *are* the little…" Haldir fumed as he waited
at the rendezvous point on the very edge of the realm for the twin balrogs,
so that he could escort them to Lórien.
"My...my…" came a familiar young elven voice from above.
"He does appear to be in a bit of a snit," a second familiar
and equally young voice from above but slightly to the right of the
first voice.
Haldir closed his eyes, clenched his fists, took a deep breath and
counted to fifty, then thought maybe he should continue on to one hundred.
The proud Marchwarden was not going to give the young orcs the satisfaction
of asking how long they had been in the trees. Turning abruptly, Haldir
marched back towards Lórien. The twins jumped lightly from the trees
they had occupied and sharing a wide grin, marched after the annoyed
elf.
Haldir continued his march into the heart of the realm and then climbed
the many stairs to the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Lord Celeborn
took one look at the thunderous expression on the face of his Marchwarden
and the ingenuously innocent smiles on the faces of his grandsons, and
rolled his eyes. The twins had indeed…arrived.
Elrohir and Elladan ran to their grandparents and hugged them each
tightly in greeting. The twins were as tall as Lady Galadriel and Lord
Celeborn although yet to reach their full height and just short of adult
age.
Haldir bowed to Galadriel and Celeborn, turned and was about to take
his leave when Lord Celeborn stopped him with a small 'clearing of his
throat' cough. The Marchwarden winced and then gave a sigh of resignation
before turning back to his elven Lord, for he just knew what was about
to be asked of him and he would rather peel vegetables the cook for
three hundred years.
Celeborn for his part was smiling inwardly at Haldir's…pained
reaction, although only the hint of a twinkle in his eyes could be seen
outwardly. He had been trying, over the centuries, to teach his proud
young ward the virtues of empathy and patience, both of which were sorely
lacking in his Marchwarden.
"Haldir. I release you from your current duties and ask that you
*entertain* the twins during their stay in Lórien," Celeborn requested
in his usual calm and quiet manner. If anyone could test his ward's
patience, the elven Lord thought, it was his grandsons.
The Marchwarden turned slightly green as he stood ramrod straight and
nodded his understanding of the *order*. 'Entertain' was a code word
for; ensure that they do not wreak mayhem and devastation on the inhabitants
of the Golden Wood. The twins looked at each other and burst into wide,
mischievous grins - grins that would have had their father turning out
every available warrior in Imladris to watch their every movement. They
were going to have such fun they thought.
Generally, by their very existence, the sons of Elrond tested the calm
and patience of the young Marchwarden. It did not take much to send
him over the edge. The first such incident occurred the very next day.
The three young elves were practicing their archery skills. Haldir was
very proud of his skills and smirked as the twins made shots that did
not match his own in accuracy. Elladan and Elrohir were getting very
tired of the smirks and condescending comments made by the haughty elf.
Haldir went to collect his spent arrows and was just pulling one from
the 'bullseye' of the target in front of him when an arrow whizzed by
over his head. Shocked and annoyed at first but then amused that the
arrow was nowhere near the target, he continued to remove his arrows,
turning slightly to smirk yet again at the twins. He had but a moment
to register that the twins were sporting smirks of their own when he
found himself covered suddenly in a foul smelling white liquid. It took
a moment to register what covered him from head to toe. Whichever of
the twins had fired the shot, severed the rope that was holding a skin
filled with cream that had been hung in the tree to sour naturally for
subsequent use in a variety of elven dishes.
One look at the almost feral glint in the Marchwarden's expression
convinced the twins that they should remove themselves from sight…
and with much haste. Haldir counted to five hundred as he went to remove
the foul smelling white liquid from his hair, ears, face, tunic, leggings,
underthings, boots…
Whilst the first incident caused a crack in the wall of the dam, the
second incident was to precipitate it's bursting.
Clean, dry but in an extremely foul mood, Haldir found the two young
demons running in the opposite direction having seen him coming. Pride
having been assaulted mightily and temper boiling over, Haldir gave
chase. Sensing a trap as he weaved past a tree the young warrior managed
to throw himself sideways, just in time to dodge a missile that then
burst on contact with the tree, spilling its contents over the forest
floor. A burst of very powerful smelling floral perfume assaulted Haldir's
sensitive elven nose.
Before the twin still holding a skin filled with perfume could launch
the missile Haldir sprang to his feet, lunged and grabbed the young
elf managing to wrestle the perfume-filled skin from him. Elrohir, the
twin in question, turned and bolted. Fuming, Haldir threw the skin at
the young elf just in time to see the goblin dodge around… Lord
Celeborn. The missile hit the elven Lord in the centre of his chest
and burst spilling its contents all over the elder elf.
Haldir, eyes wide, stood frozen as did the twins who looked like identical
startled rabbits peeping around a tree.
Taking a very deep, calming breath the Lord of the Golden Wood turned
around and began to climb the stairs back to his talan.
"Come," he commanded in a quiet voice, one that no elf would
dare disobey.
After removing what he could of the intensely powerful floral perfume,
Celeborn retuned from the bedchamber to the centre part of the talan.
All three young ones were where he had left them, each in a corner.
After hearing the explanations, the elven Lord decided on the punishment.
Taking a wooden paddle from the top drawer of an ornate wood cabinet
that stood against the east wall, Celeborn walked over to a desk that
was situated to the side of the room near the west wall. Deciding that
it would be unfair to punish either twin first, the elven Lord decided
to punish them together and called them over to him.
Gulping as they turned around, the twins cringed as they saw the paddle
their grandfather was holding.
"Come, elflings," Celeborn sighed quietly. "I would
like to see you two get through just one visit to Lórien without the
need for disciplinary measures," the elven Lord continued as he
waved the twins towards the desk.
Both twins walked to their grandfather from different corners, pulled
down their leggings and lowered themselves over the desk side-by-side.
Although gentle by nature, Celeborn was known for being very strict
in terms of discipline. The elven Lord wasted no time in starting the
chastisement as he methodically paddled each of his grandson's buttocks
alternately. It was not long before both twins were promising anything
they could think of in the hope of stopping the punishing whacks to
their rear-ends. After a few more whacks to their 'sit spots', Lord
Celeborn stopped the punishment and rubbed each back in gentle circles.
When they had calmed enough, he turned them around and hugged them both
tightly. After several long moments Celeborn instructed his grandsons
to go into his bedchamber. The twins both pulled up their leggings,
eliciting identical sounding hisses and did as their grandfather asked.
The elven Lord moved the tall backed chair from its place at the desk
and moved it into the centre of the room and sat down upon its cushioned
seat.
"Haldir," Celeborn said as he sniffed at the still very powerful
smell of perfume that seemed to have soaked into his very skin.
The young Marchwarden stiffened, turned around, walked over the elder
elf and stood at attention.
"The twins have been punished for their culpability in this matter.
What is yours, pen-neth?" Celeborn asked as he studied his young
ward.
"Pride. Not being understanding of their lack of archery skills,"
Haldir replied in a serious and proud manner.
"Well, whichever let loose the arrow that cut the rope securing
the skin to the tree, displayed admirable skill," Celeborn retorted
with humour. "We have been through this before pen-neth and I forsee
we will again," Celeborn added, his expression turning very serious
as he gestured towards his lap.
Haldir responded to the unspoken command, pushing down his leggings
and lowering himself over the elder elf's knees.
Disappointed that Haldir did not truly see his culpability and smelling
another powerful wave of perfume assault his sensitive elven senses,
Celeborn let loose with a mighty whack of the paddle to the young Marchwarden's
behind.
"Owwwww!!!!" Haldir yelped as he began to understand how
angry Lord Celeborn was at his behaviour. The elven Lord continued to
land stinging whack after stinging whack. Proud as always, the young
Marchwarden tried to take the punishment stoically after his initial
outburst. Pride gave way eventually as the paddling continued at a fast
and furious pace. Soon Haldir was wimpering, then sobbing and finally
howling as the relentless paddling continued.
"I am sorry…please…stop…sorry," the young
elf sobbed out contritely between gasps for breath.
Finally taking pity on the young one, Celeborn stopped the punishment
and offered what comfort he could to his young ward. The elven Lord
smiled at how his proud elfling always sought hugs after being well
chastised - hugs that he was always willing to provide.
By the end of the story, Legolas, Faramir and both twins were laughing
merrily.
"Haldir fell into a deep slumber that night and we were able to
see the damage that grandfather had inflicted. His arse was about as
colourful as yours is at present, Faramir," Elrohir concluded the
story his brother had begun.
"Thank you for the reminder, my friend," Faramir admonished
gently as he winced as yet another flare of pain was felt.
Thranduil arrived back and the three younger elves departed, smiling
down at Faramir as they did so. The elven King sat down beside his human
son, wincing slightly as he did so.
"Ada!" Faramir exclaimed quietly. "Are you alright?"
"Yes…yes…nothing is wrong, ion-nin," Thranduil
replied as he smiled down at his son.
The young Steward of Gondor's eyes widened as he considered the possibilities
but wisely kept his thoughts to himself.
Part 11
Faramir continued to recuperate over the next three days. No more orcs
were seen, however Thranduil decided that the company would ride further
northeast on the morrow to see if more signs of orc movement could be
detected. On the night of the third day, Thranduil was brought back
from his reverie abruptly by the sound of his human son rising from
his bedding and walking away. The elven King jumped up gracefully and
followed Faramir as the young Steward walked straight towards the outcropping
in the distance. Maglor, also brought back from his reverie by the sounds
of movement, caught up with Thranduil and both followed the young human
as he walked resolutely.
"He still sleeps," Thranduil whispered as looked askance
at his Seneschal as they walked with Faramir.
"I assume this is not a recent aberration on the young one's part?"
Maglor whispered as he looked at Faramir with concern. "How did
he survive at Amon Hen with its treacherous drops and water-filled pools
with sharp rocks?"
Both elves moved past the young Steward and stopped just short of the
edge of the outcropping so they could stop Faramir if he wandered too
close. As if knowing where the edge lay, Faramir stopped and 'looked'
out across the hills to the southwest.
"What do you see Faramir?" Thranduil asked in a soft voice
so as not to startle or wake his son.
"Feel…do you not feel it? Faramir responded in a distant
voice as he held his right arm stretched out in front of him, moving
his hand as if touching something physical.
"Feel what, ion-nin?" the Elven King asked, feeling the hairs
on the back of his neck rise.
"Evil," the young Steward replied in a soft moan, swaying
slightly.
Thranduil and Maglor shared a look of concern and bewilderment.
"What evil can you feel, pen-neth?" Thranduil questioned,
looking in the same direction as his son.
"Sar…u…maaannn," Faramir drawled in a deep, hoarse
whisper. "He is seeking an object of power…it calls to me…it
is frightened for Middle Earth…it cannot fall into the hands of
the evil wizard," Faramir whispered in ever growing distress. "I
come!" the young Steward shouted.
The shout turned into a scream of pain as Faramir clasped his head
with his hands and collapsed. He would have fallen heavily to the ground
had Thranduil not lunged forward catching his son. The elven King lifted
him gently and turned around to go back to the campsite. Legolas and
the twins ran towards him.
"Ada, what happened?" Legolas asked concerned by his brother's
paleness that his keen elven sight could discern even in the moonlight.
"He has had a vision, my elfling…an evil one," Thranduil
replied as he walked quickly back to the campsite. On reaching the camp,
the elven King put his human son back abed and sat vigil until morn.
Faramir came to consciousness slowly. His head felt thick and he felt
a familiar pounding behind his eyes. 'Oh why, why, why, why, why do
I drink', was the first conscious thought the young Steward of Gondor
had upon awakening. 'I do not remember drinking', was the second conscious
but perplexed thought of the morning. 'Oh crap…a vision', was
the third thought as he moaned at the injustice of it all.
"Are you alright tithen-pen?" Thranduil asked as he brushed
hair back from his human son's face. The young Steward looked around
him blearily still attempting to order his thoughts. He could see Maglor
in the distance squatting down by the campfire and Legolas and the twins
walking towards him. He assumed that Finrod was still on watch.
"Except for the pounding in my head mimicking a hangover and that
had without at least the pleasure of getting drunk," Faramir answered
in a beleaguered, war-weary tone. "It is Middle Earth that may
not be alright. I cannot believe that Saruman is gathering orcs yet
again!"
"You have had visions before?" the Elven King asked gently
as Legolas and the twins squatted down beside the young human.
"Yes. Same as the old Steward; yet another reason for him to have
felt uncomfortable about me. I 'saw' too much and he thought me a threat,"
Faramir replied around a yawn with a mixture of bitterness and sadness.
"Where do you think Saruman is gathering the orcs, ion-nin?"
Thranduil continued his questioning.
"I am not certain, ada but I got a vague sense of Minas Morgul,"
the young Steward replied in a distant voice, wincing from the pounding
in his head.
"You mentioned an object of power last evening whilst you were…"
the Elven King began.
"Sleep wandering again was I?" Faramir groaned with a shake
of his head, then moaned at the pain the gentle shaking caused in his
head. "I have not had a vision since the Ring of Power was destroyed.
I thought the benighted 'gift' gone from me."
"Maglor wondered how you managed to steer clear of the deadly
obstacles at Amon Hen," Thranduil said as he continued to stroke
his son's hair.
Faramir blushed spectacularly. Thranduil raised an eyebrow in question
and looked at his human son intently. After several long moments under
the intense scrutiny, the young Steward relented.
"Boromir found me once sleep-wandering close to the edge of a
drop into the forbidden Pool. He left a decree that I was to be secured
to the wall of my sleeping quarters when-ere I slept there. I tried
to argue with him that I had managed not to fall in as yet and was confident
that I could continue to do so but he would not listen," Faramir
related, annoyance at the indignity of the situation sounding clearly
in his tone.
"So you were secured by…?" Thranduil prompted with
a twinkle of amusement.
"A rope tied to my ankle," the young Steward of Gondor responded,
glaring at the smirking elves daring any of them to laugh and then wincing
again as the pounding in his head grew worse.
A goblet appeared before King Thranduil. Faramir moaned.
"Not another sleeping draught, Maglor, I only just now woke,"
the young Steward whined.
"No, young one, just something for the ache in your head,"
Maglor chuckled as Thranduil assisted his son to sit. Faramir sniffed
the brew and wrinkled his nose.
"Nothing that smells this bad can be at all good for one,"
Faramir whined again.
"Drink up, ion-nin. For I can assure you that you do not want
Maglor annoyed with you. Trust me on this," Thranduil said with
a wry smile.
With more dark looks at the Seneschal, Faramir drank the brew and sighed
in relief a short while later as the brew took effect.
Later that morning, the company of elves and human mounted their horses
and made for Minas Morgul. Just over a day's hard travelling found the
company within a short distance of the ruins of the old stronghold.
Faramir, Legolas and the twins scouted ahead moving along a high ridge
that overlooked the pass in which Minas Morgul was situated. What they
saw made their hearts sink for orcs were indeed gathering, hundreds
of them, the wretched creatures looking starved and desperate. The trio
made their way back to where Thranduil, Maglor and Finrod had stayed
with the horses.
Thranduil instructed Finrod to ride to Minas Tirith to warn Estel and
advise him to muster his army and rendezvous a few miles back at a unique
rock formation. Finrod nodded once in agreement, ran to his horse mounting
quickly and rode for the White City. The others hid their horses and
made camp in a cave that Legolas discovered a short distance away. The
cave afforded the company a view of the gathering orcs below.
When settling down for the night, Maglor looked at his young charge
in a musing manner and then disappeared abruptly only to reappear with
a length of elven rope.
"I absolutely, positively, let there be no mistake about this,
refuse to submit to being tied down like some errant dog!" Faramir
exclaimed upon seeing the rope. "That is a low blow, elf,"
the young Steward continued in a deeper, darker tone, glaring at Maglor
as the elf produced 'Faramir's Bane' as if from thin air.
For the next two days and nights they watched the ever-growing number
of orcs below and waited for sign of Aragorn.
Legolas, and the twins and Thranduil, Faramir and Maglor alternately
made forays out to where the orcs were gathering to check on orc movements
and to gather intelligence. On one such foray, Faramir, Thranduil and
Maglor fanned out to see if they could catch sight of Saruman. The young
Ithilien ranger's stomach fell into the depths when he realised the
orcs were alerted to his ada's position. Having just enough thought
left to realise that his arse was toast…if he survived, Faramir
threw a rock in the opposite direction but in doing so gave away his
own position.
Before the young ranger knew it, orcs were swarming over him and wrestled
him to the ground. Strangely though thought Faramir, they did not kill
him but pulled his arms roughly behind his back, tied his hands and
relieved him of all his weaponry. Pulling him to his feet, a large Uruk-hai
propelled the young ranger forward. In the trees to the right, Thranduil
was beside himself with near panic as he watched his human son at first
covered in orcs and then, hands bound, shoved towards the ruins of the
stronghold. Maglor had to restrain the elven King from going after his
son.
From their vantage point above the pass, Legolas and the twins saw
the incident with ever growing horror and clambered down to the pass
below. There they met with Maglor who was all but dragging the distressed
elven King back away from the orcs.
"We have to plan how we are going to get our young one back,"
Maglor, ever the voice of reason, said as a visibly distressed Legolas
moved to the other side of his father and helped Maglor guide the King
to the camp.
Faramir was pushed through the doorway of a stone structure so hard
that he fell to his knees and just managed to stay from falling onto
his face. Gathering his breath, the young ranger looked up and was greeted
by Saruman.
"If it is not Gandalf's pupil," came the smooth greeting
from Saruman. "I have been expecting you wizardling."
"I am so pleased not to have disappointed you," Faramir retorted
in a calm, even tone that he certainly did not feel, as he rose to his
feet and inclined his head forward in a small bow.
Saruman laughed suddenly but just as quickly his expression turned
dark.
"Show yourself," the evil wizard said in a smooth and commanding
tone, as he looked around, "show yourself or this young one dies!"
"I have heard it said that talking to oneself is the third sign
of madness," Faramir said in a conversational tone as he struggled
to remove a small knife from his leather wrist protector. "Have
you suffered the other two signs in order or…"
A punch to his back by the Uruk-hai sent the air from the young ranger
and sent him back down onto his knees.
"Show yourself!" Saruman shouted as the Uruk-hai grabbed
a fist full of Faramir's hair and pulled his head back, putting a nasty
looking sword to the young human's neck. "Ahhh, there you are,"
Saruman said in a silky voice as he moved to one of the stones in the
wall of the structure.
Feeling the grip of the Uruk-hai loosen as Saruman pulled the stone
from the wall and reached into take hold of its contents, Faramir cut
his bond and bounded out of the Uruk-hai loosened grip and ran past
Saruman grabbing the object from the wizard's hand as he did so. The
object turned out to be a ring that, in the middle of the melee, slipped
onto the ring finger of the young ranger's left hand. Saruman let out
a bellow of rage as Faramir ran for his life.
Just as the young ranger ran out of the stone structure all hell seemed
to break loose. Yells, shouts and sounds of fighting could be heard.
It took but a moment for Faramir to realise that the King had arrived
even as he kept running pursued by the Uruk-hai. Without any weapons,
except for the small knife that he still clutched, ranger instincts
sent the young Steward looking for higher ground. Clambering onto a
wall of the ruin, Faramir continued to climb as quickly as he could
still followed closely by the Uruk-hai.
The Steward heard a grunt from below and turned just in time to see
three elven arrows protruding from the creature that proceeded to fall
to the ground dead. Faramir sighed and sat down upon the stone on which
he had been standing. Looking down he could see that the fight was all
but over and that his father, Elessar and Maglor all had surprisingly
similar looks of anger on their faces. Legolas just looked at him shaking
his head.
"Ion-nin, will you not come down?" Thranduil asked in a deceptively
calm voice but one that did not fool Faramir one wit.
"No." the young Steward replied.
"Why not, ion-nin," the elven King asked in the same calm
tone, one that made Legolas wince.
"I have decided that I quite like it here," Faramir answered.
"I may even move here permanently. It does not look so bad from
a certain angle," he added as he looked up and around.
"Please come down ion-nin," Thranduil said in a calm, soothing
voice, this time making Aragorn wince.
"No. I know what is going to happen if I do and it is not fair,"
Faramir replied petulantly, eliciting chuckles from the elves and humans
gathered below.
Legolas chuckled, remembering a similar conversation he had had with
Gandalf whilst ensconced in a tree.
Losing patience, which was in short supply to begin with, Thranduil
jumped up onto the wall and quickly clambered to where his human son
was sitting.
"Bloody elves!" Faramir muttered as his father sat down beside
him. "Oh ada, I am so sorry. I was so scared for you," the
young Steward sobbed out in a harsh whisper as he threw his arms around
his father's neck and buried his face in the elf's shoulder.
"As was I for you ion-nin," Thranduil replied as he returned
Faramir's hug, to reassure himself that his human son was indeed alive
and safe - well from the orcs anyway, he amended as he alternated between
feeling relief and anger.
Part 12
After several long moments Thranduil broke the embrace to look at
his human son.
"How fare you, ion-nin?" the elven King asked looking at
his son intently.
"I am fine, ada," Faramir replied, looking down at his hands.
It was then that he saw the ring on the finger of his right hand. The
ring appeared to be made of Mithral with a blue stone of crystal clarity
at its centre and delicate scrollwork in the metal around the stone,
continuing around the ring. The young Ithilien ranger tried to remove
the ring but it would not budge. Looking from the ring to his father
and back to the ring again he was just starting to feel panic over the
situation when…
"Faramir Thranduilion you rapscallion! Get down here this instant!"
a familiar voice bellowed from down below.
"Mithrandir!" the Steward of Gondor squeaked and then cleared
his throat in an attempt to dislodge the mouse that seemed to have taken
up residence there. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Faramir
asked as he continued to tug furiously at the ring trying to remove
it but without success as he looked down at Gandalf who was standing
between Aragorn and Legolas, glaring up at him.
"Aragorn and I were attempting to keep you out of harm's way.
But with your usual skill, you ran headlong into it anyway," Gandalf
replied in a gruff tone as he continued to glare at his young pupil.
Legolas chuckled earning a glare from his human brother. "Saruman
could have killed you boy!"
"Speaking of Saruman. Where is he?" Faramir asked as he tried
to screw the ring off his finger, almost breaking it, his finger that
is, in the attempt. "And how did you and King Elessar get here
so quickly? Finrod has been gone but a little beyond two days."
"Saruman escaped unfortunately, as did some of the Uruk-hai and
orcs," Gandalf replied annoyed.
"And I had a dream in which I saw you surrounded by orcs. I knew
it to be a vision for I knew that my Steward was incapable of staying
out of trouble," Aragorn said as he too glared up at his young
Steward. Faramir winced at his King's glare but was somewhat distracted
by the growing pain in his finger caused by his continuing attempts
to remove the ring. "The army had been mustered by the time Finrod
arrived with news of Saruman. We arrived here just in time!"
"For which I am very thankful Estel." King Thranduil said
sincerely, emotion clear in the timbre of his voice. "Otherwise
I and Legolas might have lost him."
Faramir ducked his head, blushing furiously as he tried to wrench the
ring from his now extremely sore finger.
"You can stop trying to remove the ring, young one," Gandalf
said in a stern voice softened by a twinkle in his eye. "It will
not come off. You well and truly belong to it now. And now that it has
found you, it will not let you go." Faramir froze, his eyes widened
in growing shock. "Now get you down from there!"
Thranduil assisted his stunned son down from the wall and back onto
solid ground. Faramir looked at the stern faces of his father, Elessar,
Mithrandir and Maglor and sidled past them to stand on the other side
of Legolas who was also facing them. Once past Legolas, with ranger
flight instincts, if not mind, fully engaged, Faramir was off and running
hoping desperately to reach the horses he saw tethered a few hundred
yards away before being caught. The young ranger would have succeeded
too if it had not been for Finrod who cut off the panicked human before
he could mount a horse.
"I would not do that if I were you pen-neth," Finrod advised
in a quiet and serious tone but with what Faramir had termed a Mirkwood
glint of humour in the elf's eyes. "You are in enough trouble as
it is without adding to your considerable tally thus far."
Taking a deep breath, Faramir turned around only to see two angry Kings
and a Wizard bearing down on him. Backing up the young Steward bumped
into Finrod behind him. The elf put supporting hands on the young human's
shoulder. Faramir, head bowed, wrapped his arms around himself in a
defensive gesture that Thranduil recognised immediately. The elven King
extended and arm out to each side, stopping Aragorn and Gandalf. The
elf approached Faramir slowly and enfolded his distressed son gently
into a comforting hug.
"I am sorry, ada," Faramir whispered as Legolas came up beside
him to offer his brother some much-needed support.
"It is alright, ion-nin," the elven King crooned in a soft
voice. "You have been through much today, tithen-pen. Come, we
will take this one step at a time," Thranduil said as he and Legolas
guided Faramir away from the ruins and up to the cave where they had
camped the previous nights.
Faramir sat down upon a rock just outside the cave in which they had
slept. Legolas sat down beside him put a comforting arm around his brother's
shoulder. Thranduil went to find some water as he saw that Faramir was
still suffering shock from the day's events. Aragorn, who had followed
the two elves and human, approached his Steward slowly, crouched down
in front him and held Faramir's hands in his own.
"What am I going to do with you, my Steward?" Aragorn asked
softly as he looked at the young man whom he had come to rely on and
care for so deeply. "Boromir warned me that you attracted trouble
like dwarves to an ale barrel, but I thought he exaggerated. I now realise
he was the master of understatement," the King related, gaining
a tremulous smile from Faramir and a chuckle from Legolas.
"Ever it has been with him Aragorn," Gandalf chuckled as
he walked up to stand beside where Aragorn crouched in front of Faramir.
"How he has managed to see out so many years it quite beyond me,
and now this!" the Wizard exclaimed as he looked at the ring on
his pupil's hand, which Aragorn still held in his own.
"What is this ring Mithrandir?" Faramir asked, as Elessar
released his hands so that the Steward could accept the water offered
to him by his father as he sat down beside his human son.
"That you will find out in the fullness of time, young one,"
Gandalf replied in a tone that discouraged further questions.
As always, Faramir ignored his mentor's quelling tone.
"I felt its power in my vision but feel naught from it now. Is
it a ring of power?" Faramir asked as he looked from the ring to
his old mentor.
"If you mean is it one of the rings forged by the Dark Lord, no.
This one is much, much older," Gandalf replied enigmatically.
"Why me? I sense no evil in it but what does it want of me?"
Faramir asked, frustration growing at his mentor's evasive answers.
"That you will learn in the fullness of time," Gandalf replied
yet again.
"Mithrandir!" the young Steward whined. "I *hate* it
when you do that! One time you fobbed me off with that particular platitude
it took me twenty frustrating years to discover the answer I sought!"
Faramir added with growing annoyance, "only to realise there was
no reason you could not have told me when I first asked!"
"I would rein in that temper of yours, my young pupil. You were
not supposed to come into contact with that ring for many, many years.
Answers will come in their own time and you have current issues that
must needs be addressed," Gandalf said alluding to Faramir's current
predicament.
Faramir paled and winced as the Wizard's words brought his situation,
soon to be painful situation, to the fore of his bemused and confused
mind. Legolas' arm tightened around his brother's shoulders as he felt
Faramir tense.
"We can deal with this now or later, ion-nin." Thranduil
said quietly as he looked askance at his son. "The choice is yours."
"Oh, what a wonderful choi…" Faramir's surly response
began only to be muffled as Legolas' eyes widened and he clamped a hand
over his brother's mouth, eliciting chuckles and shaking heads from
elves, human and Wizard.
"Now, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked as he looked at the mutinous
look in his human son's eyes.
As Legolas' hand was still clamped over his mouth, Faramir, sighing
in defeat, could only *nod* his response in the affirmative.
"Follow me, ion-nin," Thranduil said as he, stood, turned
and walked into the forest beyond. "Estel, Mithrandir, if you will?"
Legolas released his brother's mouth and gave the despondent young
human a hug and a pat on the knee and sent his on his way. The young
Prince watched his brother disappear into the forest following the two
Kings and Wizard.
Maglor sat down beside Legolas both sharing a wry, long-suffering look.
"You were and remain a challenge, pen-neth but I have the distinct
feeling that that one will surpass even you," Maglor admitted ruefully
as he smiled at Legolas. "And I believe it will take all of our
effort to keep our young one from wandering off the path."
"And in the land of the living now that he possesses a ring that
is coveted by Saruman," Legolas said as he wondered about the ring
and what effect it will have on his brother.
In the forest beyond Faramir sat upon a rock that looked not unlike
a bench, before the two Kings and the Wizard, as Thranduil explained
his son's previous encounter with orcs, in great detail, far too much
detail in Faramir's opinion. By the time the story was finished, Aragorn
was flushed with anger and pacing, neither an encouraging sign the young
Steward thought. The King of Gondor was both frightened and angry over
the hair-raising stunt Faramir had pulled in the gully and at the young
Steward having received a poisoned arrow wound.
"So, by my reckoning my young Steward, you are owed one discipline
session from your father, two from myself and what say you Gandalf,
is this one owed one from you?" the King of Gondor asked as he
looked not at the Wizard but glared at his pale, wincing Steward.
"Nay, not from me Aragorn. It is true that he has come upon the
ring before his time," Gandalf said as he pinned his young pupil
with an intense look that made Faramir's mouth go dry, "but he
cannot go against his nature and it is I who encouraged his curiosity
so am therefore somewhat to blame."
"He is your son, mellon-nin," Elessar said looking askance
at Thranduil. "How say you? How should his punishment be metered
out?"
Thranduil looked down upon his very nervous son.
"His punishment for causing such anguish at his previous encounter
with the orcs was harsh indeed. Although he deserves to be paddled,
thoroughly," Thranduil said as he gave his son an intense glare,
causing Faramir to pale further, "I cannot in all good conscience
allow it. But he should feel our displeasure at his continued actions
and so I decree that he will receive a hand-spanking from both you and
I tonight and a hand-spanking each night from you and I alternately,
for the next four nights."
Faramir was about to protest the severity of his father's decree when
he was pinned by the equally intense glares of his father, King Elessar
and Gandalf. Teeth making an audible sound as his jaw snapped shut,
Faramir chose the very wise course of remaining silent.
Thranduil held his hand out to his son and hauled him to his feet when
Faramir took hold of his father's proffered hand. The elven King pulled
his son into an embrace as Aragon sat down upon the rock where Faramir
had been seated. Ending the hug the elven King turned his son around
to face his King and moved back a few paces.
Sighing a tremulous sigh, Faramir loosened the ties of his leggings,
pushed them down to his knees and leaned over Aragorn's lap. The King
pulled his Steward's over tunic up to the young man's waist.
"What is this punishment for, young one?" the King asked.
Faramir felt his temper rising and was doing his best to maintain control
over his mouth. "I am waiting for an answer, my Steward,"
Aragorn added after several long moments, as he landed the first stinging
whacks to his Steward's buttocks.
"For losing Denethor's love when I was but five, thus failing
Boromir and robbing you of the better Steward of Gondor!" Faramir
spat out and then gasped at the words that he had spoken, wondering
where they had come from and why he had spoken them.
Aragorn growled as he landed blistering slaps to Faramir's posterior.
"Denethor *did* love you but was incapable of showing or expressing
that love until the end. You did *not* fail Boromir and you *are* the
better Steward of Gondor!" Aragorn all but bellowed emphasising
each point with several searing whacks to Faramir's ever reddening buttocks.
Both Thranduil and Gandalf were surprised that Aragorn was able to bellow.
It was not something that the King of Gondor was prone to do.
"If I had not …lost… Denethor's love," Faramir
spat out between gasps for breath and stinging blows to his posterior,
"he would have…trusted me…to go to Rivendell…and
Boromir…would not… have died. I… am… to…
blame!" the young Steward wailed out between sobs. "Mithrandir…
what… is… happening…"
"It is the ring Faramir," Gandalf explained as Aragorn continued
to blister his young pupil, concentrating on his Steward's thighs. "You
are saying what is in your heart but, through your own stubborn nature,
remained unspoken except through your reckless actions. The ring understands
that you must give these thoughts voice so that you can deal with them
and move on with your life."
"I did… not… ask for this. It… is… not…
fair," the young Steward wailed.
"No, young one. But it is necessary. Do not blame the ring for
it knows the hurt in your heart and wants you to heal," Gandalf
said with quiet compassion.
Aragorn stopped the chastisement, pulled up his Steward's leggings
and gathered the sobbing young man into his arms.
"You were and are loved, my precious Steward," the King of
Gondor crooned as he rocked Faramir, tears welling in his eyes. "You
did not fail Boromir, Denethor did. Boromir would have agreed that you
are the better choice for Steward. I will keep telling you until you
believe me, which could be a long, long time as we both have the blood
of Numenor coursing through our veins."
Thranduil, also with tears in his eyes, sat down beside Estel and took
his son from the human King's arms. Sensing his ada, for he could distinguish
little through the tears and sobbing, Faramir put his arms around his
father's neck and sobbed into his father's shoulder.
"Oh, ion-nin, this has been an unpleasant day for you. I cannot
bring myself to add to your distress. Consider the debt paid this evening,
tithen-pen," Thranduil said as he continued to rock his distressed
but no longer sobbing son.
"What… of… tomorrow night?" Faramir asked between
hitched breaths, with perversely, a devious look in his teary eyes.
"That debt you will pay in full, ion-nin," the elven King
chuckled, again marvelling at the resilience of the human spirit and
his son.
"I am very tired ada," the young Steward sighed in a hoarse
whisper as he relaxed into his father's arms.
"I have no doubt that you are, tithen-pen," Thranduil said
as Gandalf leaned over Faramir placing his hand over his young pupil's
face.
"Sleep," the Wizard commanded and Faramir fell instantly
into a deep slumber.
"Thank you, mellon-nin," Thranduil said as he looked at his
son's peaceful expression.
Gandalf inclined his head in acknowledgement of the elven King's thanks.
"You know the ring and what it heralds for our young charge?"
Gandalf asked enigmatically.
"Yes I do, mellon-nin," Thranduil replied smiling from ear
to ear, the familiar twinkle in his eye at full force. "You have
lifted a great burden from my heart but I do not think this young one
will think so. I predict that my son, when he realises, will throw a
tantrum worthy of a son of Thranduil."
Gandalf chuckled whilst Aragorn looked perplexed.
"You will find out in the fullness of time," Gandalf admonished,
seeing the myriad of questions that the King of Gondor wanted to ask,
all but written in Aragorn's face. The King rolled his eyes and sighed
for he knew that he would be able to get no further answers out of the
Wizard. "But we all, especially my wizardling here, are in for
some interesting times indeed."
Aragorn's eyes widened and his eyebrows went skywards at the Wizard's
words.
On to Part 13
