jump to part 1
· 2 ·
3 · 4
· 5 ·
6 · 7
· 8 ·
9 · 10
· 10b
Part 1
Two weeks after his collapse from a festering wound and exhaustion,
Faramir was still on restricted duties, orders of the King, and was
slowly going starkers. The young Steward had always avoided long visits
to Minas Tirith preferring the freedom of a ranger’s life in the
forests of Ithilien. Visits to Minas Tirith were invariably unpleasant
affairs, involving humiliation, indigestion, emotional pain and more
often than not, physical pain. So many unpleasant memories were associated
with Minas Tirith that Faramir could not enter a room without the little
buggers ambushing him. It was one of the reasons he had driven himself
past the point of exhaustion - the more active he was the less prone
he was to being ambushed by memories.
Feeling confined, useless and unable to find rest - yet again, the
young Steward walked to his desk, sat down and checked to see if there
was any paperwork he could complete. It was not long before Faramir
was immersed in reading, answering and writing memorandums. A knock
at the door startled the Steward. Faramir removed the paperwork quickly
and shoved it into the top, side drawer of the desk.
“Come,” Faramir said, in what he hoped was a normal tone,
as he tried to calm his heartbeat and look less like a startled rabbit.
The young Steward sighed in relief, smiling ruefully, as a young servant
brought in his evening meal - orders of the King no doubt. Faramir thanked
the young woman as she placed the tray of food on his desk and left.
Faramir took the paperwork out of the drawer and placed it back on
top of the desk. It was not long before the Steward was again immersed
in the paperwork.
“You are restless tonight my love,” Arwen said in her
soft lilting tone as she watched Aragorn toss and turn on the bed. “What
troubles you?”
Aragorn sighed. “I am not sure, dear-heart.” Aragorn answered.
“I think I will go out for some night air,” Aragorn said
as he got out of bed. “Rest well, my love.” Aragorn said
as he kissed Arwen.
The King pulled on his robe and then went out into the main corridor.
As he made his way to the door that led outside and into a private garden,
Aragorn passed by Faramir’s rooms and stopped abruptly -
seeing a faint light at the bottom of the door. Cursing silently, Aragorn
went back to his room to get ‘Faramir’s Bane’ and
returned to his Steward’s door. Opening the door as silently as
he could, Aragorn crept into the room. Faramir, in testament to how
tired he was and how engrossed in work he was, did not hear Aragorn
enter the room. The King watched his Steward for a few moments. Aragorn
saw how tired Faramir looked and then saw the tray of food on the desk
- untouched!
“Gandalf told me that you had the combined stubbornness of Finduilas
and Denethor, but I think, my young recalcitrant Steward, you surpass
them,” Aragorn growled.
In the silence of the night, Aragorn’s growl sounded like a bark.
Faramir started placing a hand on his chest as his heart felt as if
it was about to leave his body, it was beating so fast. Seeing the anger
in the King’s face and the bright red paddle in his hand, the
Steward’s face drained of blood and he whimpered softly. Surrounded
by so much damning evidence Faramir could only try to breathe again,
something his lungs did not appear to want to do any time soon, and
accept what he knew was about to happen.
Aragorn took a deep calming breath as he remembered Legolas’
words “we can but take this one step at a time, one day at a time”,
but at this rate Aragorn thought, ‘Faramir’s Bane’
will need a new coat of red paint within the month.
Still holding the paddle, Aragorn grabbed a chair that was in front
of the desk, moved it to the middle of the room and sat down. Faramir,
knowing that he had been caught red-handed, stood up, sighed resignedly
and walked over to Aragorn. Loosening the ties of his leggings, the
Steward pushed them down to his knees and lowered himself over his King’s
thighs. Aragorn pulled Faramir’s under-tunic up to his waist.
“What is this punishment for?” Aragorn asked his young
Steward.
Faramir, as always in this most embarrassing of positions, felt his
temper rise but this time was able to get it under control before it
made this chastisement more difficult than the young Steward knew it
would be.
“For working when on restricted duties and for not eating the
meal that was provided,” Faramir answered. “I fully intended
to eat the meal but I got side-tracked,” the Steward added, plaintively,
in his own defence.
“Side-track aside, my young Steward,” Aragorn said as he
struck Faramir’s buttocks with the paddle. “The meal remains
uneaten.”
Aragorn proceeded to paddle his Steward’s posterior in earnest.
Slap after slap was applied to Faramir’s posterior until it was
the same colour as the paddle. Faramir moaned as Aragorn moved the paddle
to the young Steward’s thighs. Aragorn continued to land blistering
slap after blistering slap until Faramir’s whimpers became sobs.
“Will you tell me young Steward, why you continue to disobey
my orders,” Aragorn asked in the hopes that Faramir would give
him some insight.
“Hateful…merciless…painful…memories,”
Faramir wailed in between gasps for breath and blistering swats.
Aragorn stopped the chastisement, immediately, upon hearing Faramir
voice the source of the pain that caused his aberrant behaviour. Faramir
slipped from Aragorn’s lap and onto his knees as he pulled up
his leggings, hissing in pain as he did so.
“I am sorry….so…sorry,” Faramir apologised
in between sobs.
Aragorn rubbed Faramir’s back as his young Steward regained his
composure. Aragorn assisted the very tired young man to his feet and
guided Faramir into his bedroom. Faramir lay on his stomach as Aragorn
moved a chair to the side of the bed and sat down. The King leaned forward
and brushed hair away from his Steward’s face as he had done so
recently.
“Speak to me Faramir.” Aragorn encouraged in a quiet soothing
tone, as he continued to stroke his Steward’s hair.
“I feel the weight of the walls closing in on me,” Faramir
answered in a dream-like voice. “In this very room, I feel my
father’s judgment and his coldness. I feel his punishments as
clear as when they occurred. I feel the emptiness of Boromir’s
room matching the emptiness in my heart,” the young Steward continued
in the same detached quiet voice.
With tears in this eyes Aragorn moved over to the bed, gathered his
young Steward in his arms and rocked him. It was not long before Faramir
fell asleep. Aragorn looked up and saw Arwen, also with tears in her
eyes, looking down upon his Steward. Aragorn held out a hand to Arwen
who grasped it with strength, lending her strength to Aragorn, as he
continued to rock his sleeping Steward.
Faramir awoke late the next morning. Memory of the night before returned
quickly and he groaned in embarrassment and pain. His arse was on fire
and his head felt thick - as it always did after he cried. That thought
made him groan again. He had done more crying in the last month than
he had in ten years, Faramir thought dismayed and embarrassed.
“And how fare you this morning, my Steward?” Aragorn enquired
as he brought a tray of food over to Faramir and laid it on the bed.
“Embarrassed - my arse is on fire and I feel like several small
Gimli’s have been let loose in my head and are playing with axes
on anvils. But apart from that, Sire, I feel fine,” Faramir whined.
Aragorn laughed making Faramir cringe with pain.
“Sire, for Eru’s sake, take pity on your poor beleaguered
Steward,” Faramir begged as he buried his face in his pillow.
“If you had but come to me, my stubborn young Steward, we could
have circumvented most of these ill symptoms,” Aragorn chuckled.
“Now eat!”
Faramir groaned again but did as he was ordered.
Part 2
The Steward of Gondor, arse still throbbing painfully, made his way
to the private garden that was only accessible from the wing that contained
the King and Steward’s apartments. Faramir’s mother, Finduilas,
had created the garden. It was one of the few places in Minas Tirith
where Faramir sought solitude. The tower and library, the Steward’s
other haunts, were precluded as both venues involved sitting, something
the young Steward did not wish to do any time soon. Faramir walked around
the garden, albeit not with his usual almost elven grace, in quietude.
The Steward felt closest to his mother in this garden. It was almost
as if some of her essence had infused into the very trees and plants.
Faramir remembered little of his mother - just scents and touches.
“Mae govannen, mellon-nin,” a musical elven voice greeted.
Legolas was sitting cross-legged on a bench under the tallest of the
trees that graced the garden. The same tree that Legolas had sought
recently, in an attempt to escape an angry Gandalf. “Come, sit,”
Legolas invited, indicating the space beside him.
“Ah…I think I would like to stand…” Faramir
stammered, blushing to the tips of his ears. Given the young Steward’s
fair complexion, this proved rather spectacular. Legolas looked at his
friend intently. Under the elf’s unwavering scrutiny, Faramir
blushed ever more fiercely.
“Ai, mellon-nin!” Legolas exclaimed as he recognised the
young human’s rather pained movement and Faramir’s unwillingness
to meet his eyes. “What have you done now?” Legolas queried
in a quiet, exasperated tone.
Faramir sighed.
“The King caught me working at my desk last evening and registered
his displeasure, most forcefully,” Faramir replied, hoping the
old adage about confession being good for the soul was true, as he walked
towards the elf and leaned against the trunk of the tree. “I had
also forgot to eat, the evidence of which, was still on my desk,”
Faramir concluded self-condemning.
Legolas’ eyes took on a distant look for a moment and then he
laughed in delighted amusement.
“I am so pleased that my pained situation provides such amusement,”
Faramir responded petulantly.
“I am sorry, mellon-nin,” Legolas apologised though still
chuckling merrily. “It is just that this tree wants to know why
her ‘elfling’ is walking so strangely, Legolas explained
whilst trying to contain his mirth.
The young Steward stood stunned. Wide-eyed, Faramir looked at Legolas
then up into the tree and back to Legolas again - trying to comprehend
what the elf had just said. Comprehension finally dawned and Faramir
groaned, chagrined.
“Wonderful, just wonderful,” Faramir said quietly, blushing
again and shaking his head. “Even the very trees are party to
my embarrassment.”
Legolas laughed heartily.
“You are a rare man, mellon-nin,” the elf said as his laughter
calmed to chuckles. “You should feel honoured. It is not often
that a human finds favour with a tree and less so again, to be adopted
by one. For you are hers, mellon-nin…according to her that is.”
Faramir chuckled in shy embarrassment.
“I suppose she has been my confidante over the years,”
Faramir reflected, patting the trunk of the tree affectionately as he
remembered the number of times he had cried or fumed beneath this very
tree.
“She does not like to see you in pain,” Legolas said with
the same distant look in his eyes, hearing the tree’s concern.
“Then I feel sorry for her,” Faramir sighed. “For
she has seen little else from me. How I wish to be away from this city,”
Faramir railed softly. “I have very few fond memories of Minas
Tirith, my friend, and my thoughts of late turn ever bleaker. How I
long for the forests of Ithilien and freedom.”
Legolas rose from the bench and put a hand on Faramir’s shoulder
and tightened his grip in support.
“I can see why she thinks you are an ‘elfling’, mellon-nin,”
Legolas said as he smiled at Faramir. The young Steward returned the
smile shyly, in thanks.
A short time later Faramir and Legolas were summoned to meet with
Aragorn in the King’s private study, adjoining the throne room.
Aragorn greeted the pair and invited them both to take a seat in one
of the chairs around the fireplace. Faramir glared at the King and Legolas
laughed prompting the Steward to turn his glare on the elf, causing
Legolas to laugh even harder. Faramir’s eyes turned heavenward
for a moment and he sighed in resignation.
“I would prefer to stand, Sire,” Faramir said with as much
dignity as he could muster as he leaned against one of the high backed
chairs.
“As you wish my Steward,” Aragorn said with just the hint
of a smile. “I know the both of you have discussed the creation
of a haven in the forests of Ithilien for the elves who wish to remain,
for a time, in Middle Earth,” Aragorn began without preamble.
“I would like the two of you, representing Gondor, to travel to
Mirkwood and negotiate agreement to the creation of the haven with King
Thranduil.”
Legolas and Faramir shared a glance and both smiling broadly, silently
reached agreement.
“When do we go?” Legolas asked, his enthusiasm showing.
“Within the week,” Aragorn replied, smiling at the twin
looks of excitement on the two young Princes. “Prince Imrahil
will be arriving in two days to attend the council meeting. I will be
asking him to stay a for a few weeks to govern Gondor, as Gandalf and
I will be accompanying the two of you as far as Ithilien, to look at
the site you have chosen for the haven.”
Preparations were made, horses were made ready, farewells were exchanged
and the party of four got underway within the week. Aragorn noted with
sadness that Faramir’s spirit lifted further with every additional
mile that was put between the young Steward and Minas Tirith. Aragorn
realised that the Faramir he was seeing now was one that only Boromir
and the Ithilien Rangers ever got to see. Aragorn also realised that
he would have to help his Steward heal of his aversion to the White
City, as he would like to see this lighter, more carefree Faramir in
Minas Tirith.
The four riders reached the proposed site for the haven on the ninth
day. Aragorn could see immediately why the site was chosen. The area
was beautiful to the sight, undulating hills with trees as far as the
eyes could see and a river meandering through the hills. This place
would indeed be a haven for the elves, Aragorn thought. The day was
very warm so the four decided to stop for lunch beside a pond, under
the shade of some trees.
Aragorn settled under a tree and took a few moments to relax. Gandalf
had gone back to where they had tied the horses to retrieve his pipe
and leaf. Legolas was standing by the pond looking out over the scenery.
His Steward, to Aragorn’s astonishment, was stalking Legolas.
Faramir, with a look of unbridled mischief, motioned to Aragorn to create
a diversion. Aragorn called out to Legolas who turned and was immediately
blind-sided by Faramir and knocked into the pond. Legolas came up spluttering,
indignant, and to Aragorn, looking like a wet cat. Faramir was laughing,
the same light and musical laughter that Aragorn had heard when Legolas
recounted the story of the wasps. Retribution was swift and Faramir
found himself in the pond as well. Aragorn laughed at the antics of
the two princes. Gandalf who had arrived back with his pipe and leaf,
looked at the young human and elf wrestling in the pond and raised a
questioning eyebrow to Aragorn.
“The children are playing,” was all that Aragorn said as
he continued to watch the pair in amusement.
Four days later the company parted. Farewells made, Aragorn and Gandalf
turned back to Minas Tirith and Faramir and Legolas continued onto Mirkwood.
Aragorn turned again to watch the young princes leave.
“Why do I have such a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach,
as if I have let something loose on Middle Earth for which it is not
quite prepared?” The King asked the wizard, shuddering as he continued
to watch the two departing figures.
“That is because you just may well have, my friend,” Gandalf
said sagely.
Part 3
The journey to the southern most tip of Mirkwood proved pleasant and
uneventful. Legolas was amazed by the change in his young human companion.
Whilst still quiet, which was Faramir’s nature, and still prone
to periods of sombreness, Faramir seemed lighter in spirit and less
burdened than in Minas Tirith. Elf and man found pleasure in each other’s
company and spent much of the journey sharing stories - both joyous
and sad. As the journey progressed, Legolas came to think upon Faramir
as a brother, which was rather novel to the elf as he had no siblings.
Legolas unbeknownst to him had become more protective of Faramir - more
attuned to the young human’s moods. The same was true for Faramir.
On entering Mirkwood Legolas led Faramir along an elven path, accessible
by horse, which skirted Dol Goldur, once inhabited by Sauron in the
form of a Necromancer and from whence the darkness in Mirkwood had spread.
At noon on the second day, Legolas stopped suddenly.
“Orchs!” Legolas exclaimed, unnecessarily as it turned
out for Faramir’s heightened ranger sense also detected the presence
of orcs up ahead.
Given the narrowness of the path there was no way to take the horses
around the orcs, so Legolas and Faramir led their horses off the path
and a short distance into the forest. The horse’s reigns were
secured to a tree so that they would not bolt. Creeping through the
forest growth, the fully armed elf and ranger discovered a band of about
a dozen ors ahead in a gully by a stream. Since the war of the ring,
dwindling bands of orcs still roamed Middle Earth, becoming more desperate
and consequently all the more dangerous. Legolas and Faramir made their
way upwards to an outcropping above the band of orcs.
Armed with elven bow and longbow it did not take elf and ranger long
to dispense with the orcs below. On returning to their horses, Legolas
and Faramir encountered more orcs that they could not escape. Hand to
hand combat ensued with Legolas using his knives to great effect and
Faramir using his sword. Legolas was impressed with the human’s
skills with both bow and sword. Elf and ranger danced, sliced and jabbed
their way through orc after orc but still more of the fell creatures
came. Elf and ranger found themselves fighting for their lives as more
orcs arrived. Legolas could see that Faramir was tiring but the young
human continued to fight with a stubbornness that surprised the elf.
As soon as the thought entered his head, Legolas corrected it -
it was not surprising at all! Unseen by the elf, Faramir took a blow
to his side but continued to fight on, doggedly. Twisting and whirling,
knives cutting and stabbing, Legolas made his way to Faramir who was
beginning to falter.
The situation seemed hopeless when arrows came from everywhere felling
orc after orc. A few moments later elf and ranger were surrounded by
dead and dying orcs and several wood-elves.
“Finrod!” Legolas exclaimed as one of the wood elves came
forward. “Your arrival has been most fortuitous,” Legolas
added ruefully as he turned to check on Faramir who waived off the elf’s
concern indicating that he was winded only.
Finrod snorted.
“You, my Prince, grow more like your sire as time passes,”
Finrod laughed merrily. “We must get away from here before we
are set upon by more orcs for they grow more desperate and more bold.
We need to tell the King,” Finrod added turning serious.
After gathering their horses, elves and human continued on to the Halls
of Mirkwood. The elves, of course, needed little rest but Faramir was
past weary and fast on his way to exhausted. Legolas, seeing that the
young human was tired but far to stubborn to admit it, called for the
others to stop and rest occasionally. It took several days to reach
the Halls. Totally exhausted, Faramir followed Legolas, slowly, into
the cave that was the elven Prince’s home. The young ranger looked
upon the interior of the Halls of Mirkwood in awe, for the rooms were
vast and filled with natural light, coming from where - he could not
tell.
Legolas led his friend into his father’s throne room. Faramir
almost bumped into the elf when he halted - he was so concentrated
on putting one foot in front of the other and not falling flat on his
face. Legolas looked around for his father but the King was not there
as yet. The elven Prince looked back to Faramir and saw the young human
pale even more and almost pass out. Legolas grabbed Faramir’s
arm and pulling it over his shoulder, assisted Faramir over to a bench.
Faramir sat down heavily and could not suppress a wince and a groan
of pain as he clutched at his side. Legolas crouched down immediately
and pulled at Faramir’s belt to release the young human’s
leather outer tunic.
“Why did you not tell me you are hurt?” Legolas demanded
as he released Faramir’s belt and started pulling off the over
tunic, none too gently.
“Stop fussing,” Faramir said as he tried to swat away the
elf’s hands “I am alright.”
Having divested Faramir of his outer tunic, Legolas finally managed
to pull up the young human’s under tunic to see what damage had
been done.
“Ai, you stubborn…” Legolas could not finish the
sentence he was so angry, when he saw the massive bruise that covered
the right side of Faramir’s torso. Legolas felt Faramir’s
ribs gently, eliciting a pained hiss from the young human. The ribs
appeared bruised only. “What do you have to say for yourself,
you stubborn human?” Legolas asked as he glared at the young human.
Faramir looked Legolas straight in the eyes.
“Pot. Kettle. Black,” the Steward of Gondor enunciated
every word in a harsh whisper, as he glared back at Legolas.
Light elvish laugher stayed any further display of temper on the part
of either prince. Both looked immediately to the source of the laughter.
A tall, blond elf approached. Faramir could see the resemblance between
father and son. As with most elves, Thranduil did not look old enough
to have fathered Legolas. It was only the look of the ages in the eyes
of the King that marked him as much older than Legolas.
“The human is right ion-nin. It is a case of the pot calling
the kettle black,” King Thranduil chuckled as he took in the sight
of his son. The King was pleased to see his son looking well, despite
the visible bruises and orc blood that seemed to be splattered everywhere.
Thranduil was surprised to see his son fussing over the young human
and both squabbling like siblings.
“Ada!” Legolas exclaimed as he rose from his crouched position
in front of the Steward of Gondor. Faramir tried to rise as well but
Legolas kept a heavy hand on the young human’s shoulder, preventing
him. King Thranduil gathered his son in a hug, which Legolas returned
one armed, as the hand of the other arm was still pressing down on Faramir’s
shoulder keeping the human off his feet.
Faramir had a momentary childish impulse to bite the hand on his shoulder
but settled on glaring at the elf instead.
“Ada, this is Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, Steward of Gondor
and the most stubborn being I have ever met,” Legolas said in
way of an introduction, as he continued to hold the human down firmly.
Faramir again felt an impulse to bite but simply sighed in resignation.
Thranduil laughed seeing the play of emotions, from annoyance to resignation,
which crossed the young human’s face.
“Mae govannen, Prince Faramir, Steward of Gondor,” Thranduil
greeted the young Steward, nodding his head in acknowledgement.
Faramir, still restrained by Legolas, could only nod his head.
“Mae govannen, King Thranduil. I bring you greetings from King
Elessar,” Faramir returned the greeting.
“Now pen-neth,” Thranduil said as he crouched down in front
of the young Steward. “Let me see what has been done to you.”
“I have simply bruised a couple of ribs. There is not need to
concern yourself…” Faramir started to explain.
Thranduil winced in sympathy as he examined the colourful bruise that
graced Faramir’s side.
“You need to a healer pen-neth, for I do not like the look of
that bruise,” Thranduil concluded as he rose again. “Take
him to the spare quarters next to yours, ion-nin,” the elven King
instructed as he assisted Faramir to his feet.
Upon standing, Faramir felt a wave of dizziness. To the young man’s
utmost mortification, King Thranduil of Mirkwood swept him up into strong
elven arms and proceeded to carry him to his intended quarters. Legolas
went to get the healer.
Not long after Thranduil had deposited the embarrassed Steward of Gondor
on the bed, the healer arrived. On concluding the examination the healer
pronounced that Faramir had two bruised ribs - none broken. After applying
a soothing cream to the bruise, the healer instructed Faramir to rest
in bed for a day or two. Legolas took the healer aside to impress upon
him that the only way to keep Faramir in bed and resting was to drug
him. The healer prepared a sleeping draft that Legolas made sure his
friend drank, much to the young human’s annoyance.
It was not long before Faramir was sound asleep. Legolas sat cross-legged
on the end of the human’s bed. Thranduil sat on a chair by the
bed.
“You worry for him ion-nin,” Thranduil stated as he watched
his son watching the young human.
“Aye, I do ada,” Legolas replied with a sigh.
As father and son sat vigil over the sleeping human, Legolas recounted
all that Faramir had faced over the last months. Legolas explained about
the fall of Osgiliath and how Denethor had blamed Faramir. Legolas also
told of the death of Boromir and the heir’s father like relationship
to Faramir. The Prince recounted Denethor’s descent into madness
and his attempt to immolate Faramir whilst the young human still lived.
What neither Prince nor King knew during the telling of this tale was
that very unfriendly ears were listening.
Part 4
Through a variety of enticements, threats and sleeping drafts, Legolas
was able to keep Faramir abed for two days. Thranduil checked on the
young human a time or two. When Faramir was not sleeping he was quietly
snapping and snarling at Legolas for not allowing him out of bed, much
to the amusement of Thranduil. On the third day Faramir was released
and immediately began exploring the Halls of Mirkwood.
The Halls were a series of vast caverns tunnelled into a mountain.
The mountain itself was located in the middle of the Forest River that
started in the grey mountains to the northwest as a single river, forked
around the mountain, converged back into a single river and continued
southeast to end in Long Lake Esgaroth. Unlike the dwarven caves, with
their emphasis on stonework, the elven caves were lighter with an emphasis
on wood, cloth and colour.
After a lengthy exploration of the halls, Legolas and Faramir went
to see the King Thranduil to put forward their idea for an elven haven
in the forests of Ithilien. There were benefits to both elves and humans.
The elves, prior to leaving Middle Earth, would be able to live in peace
in a forest that was not tainted by darkness, as was Mirkwood. The elves
would be able to build boats as the haven was near a river. This would
enable them to sail west easily when they succumbed to the urge to depart
from Middle Earth. The benefit for humans would be the restoration of
the Ithilien forests to better than their former glory. Thranduil approved
of the idea would help with the construction by sending elves and materials.
A feast, in honour of Legolas’ return and Faramir’s arrival,
was organised for the evening. News of the human’s offer had quickly
spread so there was much joy and celebration. Dressed in light elven
leggings and tunic, supplied by Legolas as his were too warm, Faramir
met Legolas in the main dinning hall. The food was plentiful and the
wine kept flowing. It was not long before Legolas was peppered with
questions about the fellowship and the destruction of the ring. It was
inevitable that the subject of Boromir would arise. Legolas told about
the death of Boromir, leaving out the part about him being tempted by
the ring. At the mention of Boromir, Faramir’s sombreness returned
full force. To deal with the emotional pain, Faramir consumed more wine
than was his wont. The young Steward of Gondor, feeling decidedly hot
and thick headed, waited for a lull in the story telling, made his apologies
indicating that he needed to step out for a few moments and made his
way outside the halls. Faramir, given the amount of wine he had consumed,
weaved his way a short distance into the surrounding forest. It had
been raining for some days and the bed of the forest was covered in
mud puddles. The rain had moved on revealing a bright full moon. Faramir
navigated, rather unsteadily, around the puddles of mud towards a bench
that was beneath a tree. Sitting down the young human took a deep breath
and started listening to the sounds of the forest.
Even intoxicated, Faramir’s ranger heightened senses alerted
him to a presence nearby. Looking up he saw an elf. The moonlight was
bright enough for Faramir to see the elf’s face and what he saw
made him inhale sharply, for he could see malicious glee in the elf’s
eyes and it was aimed at him. Of greater concern, the elf also held
a knife. Faramir schooled his features to neutrality and waited for
the elf to speak.
“Human,” the elf spat out with distaste.
“Do you have an issue with humans in general or me in particular?”
Faramir enquired after a few moments of silence, looking every bit the
son of Denethor.
“Humans are weak,” the elf continued in a quietly dangerous
tone.
“So it is humans in general that you have issues with. You are
not telling me anything I have not heard before,” Faramir replied
in his normal quiet tone, feeling more annoyed than threatened by the
elf.
“You mock me human,” the elf said in the same quiet dangerous
tone.
“You are an elf of few words and fewer wits it seems. Of course
I am mocking you. You appear before a guest of Mirkwood and insult him,”
Faramir said in a conversational tone belying his increasing annoyance.
“Your parents are not perchance first cousins are they or perhaps
your grand sires? Hmmm?” Faramir continued, seeing the similarity
between this situation with what Legolas had faced in Minas Tirith with
the idiot Lord Atiel.
“Your father was weak. I understand that he descended into madness
after succumbing to the Palantír,” the elf mocked, looking to
see the effect of his words on the human. The elf smiled when he saw
that his words had hit the target.
For a moment Faramir sat stunned.
“You seem to know much about me,” the young Steward said
as he tried to regain his outward composure whilst his mind worked on
the mystery of how the elf knew.
“I also know your father tried to kill you twice over, once in
sending you to reclaim Osgiliath and again when he tried to burn you
on his own pyre. Tell me human what weakness did he see in you that
would prompt such extreme acts on his part,” the elf said looking
intently to see if his words had the desired effect.
Anyone who knew Faramir would have seen the warning signs, indicating
an imminent explosion. Faramir’s eyes went cold as his face flushed.
Every muscle in his body tensed.
“Your brother, I understand, was as weak as your father, succumbing
to the power of the ring. Perhaps it is better for Middle Earth to be
rid of such…”
Before the obnoxious elf could finish the sentence, Faramir, cursing
in Sindarin and with a speed that stunned the elf, launched himself
from the bench upon which he was seated and barrelled into the elf.
The knife the elf held flew out of his hand as Faramir knocked the obnoxious
creature onto his back and into a puddle of mud that was situated behind
the elf.
Elf and human grappled in the mud and in but a few moments both combatants
were covered from head to toe in mud. Faramir, still intent on choking
the life out of the elf, did not hear the arrival of others.
“What in Arda’s name is going on here,” Thranduil
bellowed as he saw an elf in the mud straddled by a very angry Steward
of Gondor, who seemed to be doing his utmost to pummel the elf into
unconsciousness. Both elf and human were covered in mud.
Recognising that the young human was in such a rage that he was oblivious
to anything else, Thranduil pulled Faramir off the elf and tried to
contain the young human. Faramir was cursing fluently in several languages
seemingly unaware that he started a curse in one language and finished
it in another.
“Of course, Amras!” Legolas growled as he hauled the well-known
troublemaker to his feet. “What did you say to him,” Legolas
demanded of the muddied elf.
Faramir was still struggling to escape Thranduil’s hold. Seeing
his enemy on his feet, Faramir, with renewed vigour, wriggled out of
the muddy elven tunic that Thranduil was using to hold him and flew
again at the elf. Both human and elf landed in the puddle of mud again.
Exasperated, Thranduil attempted to pull the muddied, cursing spitfire
of a human off the elf. Faramir was struggling so hard that the elven
King slipped and fell into the mud but managed to maintain his hold
on the young human, giving Legolas enough time to haul the elf to his
feet and send him away.
“I will talk to you later,” Legolas threatened as he glared
at the muddy elf.
Faramir on seeing his foe leaving growled in anger, a sound that made
the muddied elf move away from the human with alacrity.
“Mithrandir thought my rages were impressive!” Thranduil
exclaimed as he maintained his hold on the cursing and struggling human.
“He has obviously not seen this young one in full flight!”
Legolas stood dumbfounded as Faramir continued to fight Thranduil’s
hold on him. The Prince would never have believed that quiet, gentle
Faramir had such a temper. Finally, after several more minutes, Faramir’s
struggles eased as he panted for breath.
“Who are you really angry at pen-neth,” Thranduil asked
of the young human, as he sat in the mud holding Faramir.
Faramir, turning sullen, remained silent.
“Sire, I think you may have need of this,” Maglor, the
King’s Seneschal, said as he offered the item to Thranduil.
“Why thank you Maglor,” Thranduil replied calmly.
Faramir, on seeing the item handed to Thranduil, howled in anger and
fear as he tried to scramble away, for in the elven King’s hand
was a red paddle, the colour bright enough to be distinguished in the
moonlight. Legolas’ keen elven sight detected that his father
did not hold ‘Faramir’s Bane’ but a paddle that was
more ornate, with elvish carvings and writing. Legolas could not hold
back a choked laugh as he saw that the elvish words translated to ‘Faramir’s
Bane’.
The paddle’s namesake continued to struggle as King Thranduil,
still sitting in the mud, turned the Steward of Gondor over his lap
and proceeded to pull down the young human’s elven leggings. Taking
up the now muddy paddle, Thranduil proceeded to whack the wet buttocks
of the young human with zeal.
“I repeat my question pen-neth,” Thranduil asked as he
blistered the young human’s posterior. “With whom are you
angry?”
Faramir remained stubbornly silent as the paddling progressed. As the
blistering continued, Legolas willed his stubborn friend to say something.
Anything!
“Denethor!” Faramir yelled finally as the pain in his arse
overcame his anger.
“Why?” Thranduil demanded of the young human.
“For not loving me! For sending Boromir on the quest when it
should have been me! For leaving me when I was but five!” Faramir
sobbed out between gasps for breath.
“Who else pen-neth?” Thranduil interrogated the young human,
sensing another at whom Faramir was angry.
“Boromir!” Faramir wailed after a few moments of stubborn
silence.
“Why, pen-neth?” the elven King asked gently.
“For dying! For leaving me alone!” Faramir yelled in a
hoarse voice.
Thranduil, on hearing the pained words, stopped the paddling. The King
passed the paddle to Maglor and turned Faramir over and held the young
human tightly as he sobbed. When the young Steward of Gondor had all
but cried himself out, Maglor passed the king a brew.
“Sleeping draft,” Maglor informed the King.
Thranduil held the cup Faramir’s lips and the young human drank
the brew without complaint, as he was very thirsty. Not long after Faramir
fell asleep still held in the arms of the elven King.
Legolas approached the sleeping Steward, bent down and gathered his
young friend in his arms. Thranduil rose from the mud puddle gracefully.
Father and son took Faramir to his room. Stripping the young Steward
of his muddied clothing, the King and Prince bathed the young human,
dressed him in a nightshirt and put him to bed on his stomach.
After bathing to remove all the mud, Legolas took up his now familiar
cross-legged position on the end of Faramir’s bed and King Thranduil
sat in the chair by the bedside.
“This human is special,” the elven mused as he leaned forward
and gently brushed the young human’s red-gold locks back from
his face, in a move reminiscent of another King. “He is filled
with such spirit and such sadness.”
Legolas smiled as he saw the tenderness in his father’s eyes
as the King continued to stroke the young human’s hair.
“Aye, that he is ada,” Legolas agreed as he continued to
watch his father watching his friend.
Faramir came to consciousness slowly and painfully. He felt abysmal.
Oh why, why, why do I drink he admonished. The familiarity of these
feelings and thoughts made Faramir’s memory of the previous night
return quickly. The young Steward of Gondor groaned in both pain and
what he hoped was terminal embarrassment, as it would save him having
to make many grovelling apologies.
“Aur Vaer,” (Good day) greeted a familiar and altogether
too cheerful elven voice.
“I cannot move, my arse is throbbing so much. I have several
thousand small Gimlis wreaking havoc in my head with axes and anvils
and I will have to eventually explain all this to King Elessar only
to have my arse blistered yet again! So what pray tell is so good about
this day!” Faramir grumbled into his pillow.
Twin elven laughter greeted Faramir’s surly comment. Faramir
groaned again burying his face into his pillow as he realised the second
laugh must belong to King Thranduil. Oh, had Boromir been an only child
Faramir bemoaned. Turning onto his side, carefully, Faramir looked at
the Prince and then the King.
“If there is any way that I can further embarrass or disgrace
myself or my office, I beseech you to let me know for although I think
I have mastered the ability, I may yet find room for improvement,”
Faramir said in weary earnestness.
“Rest easy Faramir,” Legolas laughed. “Ada cannot
say to much.”
Faramir raised a questioning eyebrow.
“In your own words. Pot. Kettle. Black,” Legolas laughed
as he saw the stern look from his father.
Part 5
Figuring that he would get the story behind Legolas’ comments
later, Faramir turned his attention to the elven King. The young Steward
of Gondor studied the King intently as the pieces of the puzzle he had
been working on fell into place suddenly.
“What, pray tell, apart from the instructions for constructing
that…that…thing,” Faramir could not bring himself
to say paddle, “is in the correspondence you received from King
Elessar prior to our arrival?” Faramir demanded quietly with as
much assertiveness as he could muster given the throbbing in his arse
that competed for dominance over the pounding in his head and his supine
position on the bed.
Thanduil laughed heartily, impressed by the young human’s intelligence
and spirit. He was right, the King thought, this one is special. The
elven King sat down on the end of the bed and Legolas, looking a little
confused, sat down on the chair beside the bed.
“Firstly, the King of Gondor apologised profusely for foisting
the two of you on me ill-prepared and with such short notice. He did
so only because, he knew I knew of what my son was capable,” Thranduil
chuckled as he saw the twin looks of indignation pass between the two
princes. “But he thought you should present your idea in person
and felt that his Steward could do with some time away from his duties
at Minas Tirith.”
“But not away from that bloody red torture device,” Faramir
snapped quietly, the colour of his face rising spectacularly.
“No, he thought that it would be needed. A wise man is Estel,”
Thranduil smiled. “He also left detailed instructions for the
care and maintenance of one Steward of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien. Maglor,
my seneschal, has studied the instructions and committed them to memory,
including the construction of ‘that...thing’, as you call
it. Estel was very specific about dimensions and colour but left its
decoration to us,” Thranduil concluded with a smirk, noting the
look of promised retribution against a certain human King in the young
Steward’s eyes. “Now rest, pen-neth for tomorrow we go orc
hunting,” Thranduil said to Faramir as he rose from the bed and
left.
“Do you think Gondor would notice if its King went missing?”
Faramir asked of Legolas, hopefully, after the elven King had left the
room.
Legolas chuckled in evilly.
“Gondor may not but Arwen definitely would; however, I am sure
we can come up with some form of reprisal that does not involve Aragorn
going missing, for long anyway,” Legolas said with a mischievous
twinkle in his eyes, the same twinkle that graced Faramir’s eyes.
Faramir sighed as his thoughts turned to the events of last evening.
“What, my friend, is that elf’s problem?” Faramir
asked, perplexed.
“Aye, Amras. Tis a sad story, mellon-nin,” Legolas replied.
“The love of his life, a she-elf named Tari, fell in love with
and married a human; a human of slim build with red-gold hair, not unlike
yourself. When the human died in an orc attack the young she-elf faded
away from grief. Amras did not fade from grief; his anger against humans
maintains him. I am sorry mellon-nin, I thought he was out on patrol
otherwise I would have warned him off,” Legolas apologised.
“If I had known, I may have been better able to control my temper,”
Faramir conjectured as he felt anew the throbbing in his arse.
Legolas laughed in astonished disbelief at what he had witnessed the
night before.
“I did not know that you harboured such a temper, mellon-nin.
My father was impressed and that is saying something for his temper
is legendary,” Legolas chided gently.
Faramir ducked his head in embarrassment.
“It is something Boromir tried his hardest to paddle out of me,
as they say,” Faramir said, shaking his head ruefully.
“And your father?” Legolas asked gently.
“Never saw a display. He almost did though, several times. Once,
Boromir dragged me out onto a balcony and threw me physically over the
balcony rail and into a pond below, before my father entered the room.
On another occasion he clobbered me with the hilt of his sword, rending
me unconscious, telling my father, as my father came through the door,
that I had been taken ill, suddenly. It took me some time apparently
to regain consciousness. Boromir paddled me severely because I scared
him, when it was the brute, himself, that used the hilt of his sword
to knock me unconscious,” Faramir chuckled as he remembered other
occasions when Boromir, through nefarious and usually painful, to his
younger brother that is, means, had protected him from their father.
“Mostly though, father wanted me out of his sight so it was not
a problem,” Faramir added sadly.
“Your father did love you Faramir,” Legolas said as he
squeezed his friend’s shoulder.
“My head knows that, my friend, but my heart…” Faramir
shrugged, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging as he placed a hand
over his sore heart.
“Rest, mellon-nin,” Legolas instructed as he watched his
friend’s eyelids droop.
As Faramir rested, Legolas went in search of the troublesome elf,
Amras. On sighting the elf, alone, in his father’s throne room,
the Prince of Mirkwood stalked the elf and grabbed him from behind,
forestalling any attempt by the elf to escape.
Looking very much the son of Thranduil, Legolas warned Amras to leave
Faramir alone. The elf in a fit of false bravado, as he had truly been
frightened by the intensity of the human’s anger, stated that
he would do what he pleased. Amras turned and walked towards the exit.
As he reached the archway he stopped, suddenly, as he felt something
pass by his ear. The elf looked to his left and his eyes widened as
he saw a knife, still quivering, in the wood of the archway not a fingerspan
away from his ear. The elf, having taken the warning, left quickly.
Legolas went to collect his knife, the one that he kept in his boot,
from the archway.
“Leg-o-las!!” came a familiar angry growl.
Legolas cringed and scrunched up his face in dismay at the sound of
anger in his father’s voice. The elven Prince removed the knife
from the archway and returned it to his boot. Taking a deep breath and
returning his features to a more neutral look, he hoped, Legolas turned
around to face his father.
“What have I told you about throwing knives within the hall and
especially at anyone?” Thranduil asked sternly as he stopped in
front of Legolas.
“Not to,” Legolas answered succinctly, eyes lowered to
the floor.
“Come elfling,” Thranduil commanded as he walked into his
private study that was adjoined to the throne room.
The study was quite small. It contained a desk, with one chair behind
and two in front. Four large, comfortable looking chairs arranged around
the fireplace to the side of the desk. Thranduil grabbed one of the
chairs in front of the desk, turned it around. Legolas was still hovering
around the doorway, debating on whether he would run or not.
“Come here my elfling,” Thranduil said gently as he looked
at his son, hovering by the doorway. “What am I going to do with
you pen-neth?” the elven King said as he pulled his son into his
arms and into a hug. “I saw that you were trying to help your
friend, ion-nin, although from what I saw last evening of the Steward
of Gondor’s temper, Amras will think twice about causing any more
trouble,” Thranduil chuckled and Legolas smiled. “I will
break you of this habit of throwing knives indoors,” Thranduil
said seriously as he opened his arms allowing Legolas to stand. The
King sat down on the chair.
Having done this on more occasions than he wished to remember let alone
try to count, Legolas loosened his leggings and pushed them down to
his knees. The elven prince lowered himself over his father’s
lap. The first slap from his father’s hand always made Legolas
gasp, this time was no exception. His father’s hand rivalled that
of Gandalf. Slap after stinging slap landed on the young Prince’s
buttocks. It was not long before Legolas was whimpering and wriggling,
trying to get away from the stinging, burning swats. Yet the chastisement
continued. Whimpers turned to sobs as Legolas gasped for breath between
slaps.
“I am sorry ada, please…please I am sorry…sorry,”
Legolas cried out in pain and shame.
Thranduil hated disciplining his son but hardened his heart and landed
a serious of very hard swats before concluding the punishment.
Thranduil pulled up his son’s leggings, as he knew how embarrassing
it was for Legolas to remain over his father’s knees with his
leggings down. Legolas had yet to regain his composure and was sobbing
softly. Thranduil rubbed his son’s back until the sobbing eased.
With elven strength, Thranduil lifted his son, turned him over and wrapped
his arms around his elfling and hugged him tightly. Legolas snuggled
into his father’s arms and sighed.
“That hurt,” Legolas complained, miffed.
“As it is supposed to ion-nin,” Thranduil chuckled. “Be
thankful I did not use ‘Faramir’s Bane’ on you, my
elfling.”
Legolas’ eyes widened making him look all the more like an elfling.
“You would not, would you ada?” Legolas pleaded. “That
thing looks diabolical!”
“To which, I am sure, the young Prince of Ithilien can attest,”
Thranduil laughed.
Part 6
“Speaking of the young Steward of Gondor, have you found out
what Amras said to him?” Thranduil asked as he continued to hug
his son.
“Nay ada, Faramir is not saying and neither is Amras but whatever
was said hurt Faramir deeply,” Legolas sighed.
“Given Faramir’s words I suspect that Amras overheard our
conversation the other night,” Thranduil voiced his suspicions.
“Aye ada, spied more likely,” Legolas growled, thinking
murderous thoughts towards the elf.
Thranduil shook his son gently on seeing the dark looks.
“Behave elfling,” Thranduil admonished with a twinkle in
his eye.
Legolas sighed.
“I worry for Faramir, ada. I cannot seem to get through to him
that he is not alone, that many care for him,” Legolas said as
he snuggled back into his father’s arms unconsciously.
“He will, ion-nin, it will just take time,” Thranduil replied
as he hugged his son tighter. “Faramir is adrift at the moment.
In the light of Denethor’s coldness and indifference towards his
youngest, his brother was his anchor. He will find safe harbour again
but it will take more grieving before he heals.”
“I love you ada,” Legolas whispered as he hugged his father.
“And I you, my elfling, and I you.”
Faramir, well rested, if still somewhat sore around the hindquarters,
made his way to the feasting hall as he had promised both Prince and
King that he would join them for the evening meal. All the elves that
the young human passed on his way to the hall reacted to his presence.
Most reacted in awe and respect, a few in mirth and a very few in a
mixture of anger and fear. With each reaction Faramir’s embarrassment
increased. By the time the young Steward of Gondor reached the feasting
hall, his face was a red as ‘Faramir’s Bane’, human
or elvish version, and as hot as a furnace.
Swallowing his discomfort and holding his head high, Faramir entered
the hall and made his way towards King Thranduil. The elven King was
already seated at the main table. Faramir on seeing the twinkle in the
King’s eyes, so like his son’s, groaned inwardly. Thranduil
waved his hand indicating that Faramir should sit on the chair to his
left. Faramir could see that a cushion had been placed on the chair.
The young Steward of Gondor, feeling that all eyes in the hall were
glued to his flushed face, blushed again and sat upon the cushion on
the chair, resigning himself to being flaming hot from constant embarrassment
for the entirety of his stay in Mirkwood. No heating would be required
in this hall tonight, he thought dejectedly.
Legolas arrived not long after. Faramir saw that something seemed to
be amiss with his friend, that the elf was not moving quite with his
normal grace. The young Steward saw the same twinkle in the evlen King’s
eye as he looked upon his son. Legolas approached the chair to right
of his father, looked down and then looked up glaring at his father.
The reason for the glare was a very colourful cushion on the Prince’s
chair. Faramir caught Legolas’ eye. The elf’s eyes went
heavenward for a moment as he shook his head in clear indication that
he did not want to talk about it and sat, carefully, upon the cushion.
Embarrassment aside, the evening meal was had and plans were made to
travel south to Dol Guldur to deal with troublesome orcs that were gathering
there. Judging that he would get no information from Legolas about the
elf’s pained condition and knowing he would need sleep this night
to keep up with the elves on the morrow, Faramir bid goodnight to all
and went to his bed.
The next morning a band of twenty-five fully armed elves and one human
made their way by horse, to Dol Guldur. Faramir marvelled at the annoyingly
adept recuperative powers of the elves. Legolas showed no sign of the
discomfort that he had last evening whist he, the poor human that he
was, still felt decidedly tender in the hind region. It took three days
of hard riding, unfortunately for the tender young Steward, to reach
the outer region of Dol Guldur. On the morning of the third day the
horses were tethered and Legolas, Faramir and Finrod scouted a short
distance ahead on foot to see what was happening in the ruins of the
Dol Gudur stronghold.
A quick reconnoitre by the trio revealed a band of about sixty orc,
hungry and desperate by the look of them, gathered within the ruins.
Further inspection revealed a lone elf who had obviously been captured
recently, as he was still alive if somewhat battered. The trio had to
act quickly or they would have a dead elf on their hands. Legolas, Faramir
and Finrod ran back to where the others were gathered and explained
the situation.
“I have a plan,” Faramir said as he jumped upon his horse.
“Take to the trees in the forest at the front of the ruins and
wait for my signal.” Before either Prince or King could stop him
to ask questions, Faramir was gone.
Sharing a look that promised retribution against the over zealous human,
Prince and King did as they were bid.
At the edge of the forest, Faramir stopped and dismounted from his
horse. The young Steward proceeded to remove all his protective leather
clothing quickly, stripping down to his under tunic, leggings and boots.
Taking a small skin filled with wine from his medicinal pack, Faramir
poured the contents over his upper torso. Reeking of wine and with only
his sword as protection, Faramir remounted his horse and cantered into
the open and towards the orcs.
As requested, the elves had taken to the trees and watched the young
human in various degrees of astonishment, bewilderment and horror. From
the same tree, Legolas and Thranduil were watching the young human.
“What in sweet Eru’s name is he doing?” Legolas growled
as he saw his unarmed friend’s horse falter.
Just outside the range of the orc bows, Faramir, swaying as if he was
drunk, dismounted from his horse and bent down to grab his horse’s
forelock and pulled it up as if to check the hoof for stones. Giving
his horse a silent command to run, the horse obeyed, reluctantly it
seemed, and galloped off into the forest.
By this stage the orcs had smelled the wine and one of their favourite
foods, manflesh.
Legolas realised, suddenly, what Faramir was doing and his heart, which
was already beating too fast, jumped up into his mouth.
“Ai! He had better survive this for I want the pleasure of killing
the idiot myself!” Legolas stated vehemently.
“You will need to stand in line ion-nin,” Thranduil growled,
not able to take his eyes from the young Steward.
The smell of wine and manflesh had the hungry and desperate orcs whipped
into a frenzy in next to no time. Almost as a single entity the orcs
ran towards the lone, unarmed and tasty looking human. Faramir waited
a few moments more then turned tail and ran, as fast as he could, for
the cover of the trees that held the waiting elven archers.
Faramir reached the trees and kept on running as he knew the elves
would wait until most of the orcs were in the forest before they started
to cut down the fell creatures. The elven archers made short work of
dispatching the majority of orcs. Breathless, Faramir stopped and turned
around to see that only two orcs had escaped the elven archers. Drawing
his sword, Faramir entered into combat with both orcs. Dancing, parrying
and lunging, Faramir fought for his life, very aware of his lack of
anything in the way of armour. Finally the young Steward was able to
dispose of one orc but was tiring fast after his earlier mad dash for
the woods. The remaining orc managed to hit Faramir in the back with
the flat of its sword, in a spot still tender from his last encounter
with an orc. Only this time he did not have the protection of his leather
over tunic. Faramir doubled over in pain and was just attempting to
raise his sword to block a strike when the orc fell dead at his feet,
a familiar elven knife sticking out of its neck.
As the battle rush left his body, Faramir’s legs gave way and
he sat down heavily upon a fallen log. Head bowed the young Steward
tried to get his breathing under control. When he was finally able to
look up to thank Legolas the sight that greeted him made him wince and
gulp for there standing before him, were three very angry elves.
Part 7
“You doused yourself in wine!?”, Legolas asked in shocked
disbelief, “knowing the affect wine on human flesh has on orcs!?”
“Well…yes. Otherwise the orcs would not have chased me,”
Faramir replied tentatively in way of explanation, as he could not understand
why Legolas, Thranduil and the Seneschal, Maglor, were so angry with
him. Unless…
“The elf, the one who was prisoner…he is alright is he
not? My plan worked…did it not?” Faramir asked in trepidation,
a knot forming in the pit of his stomach at the thought that the elf
had been killed.
“Galdor is fine if a little bruised, though he will suffer much
jesting for being caught in the first place,” Legolas answered.
Faramir sighed with relief. “For such an intelligent man Faramir,
you can be decidedly obtuse at times. Do you not know why we are angry
with you?”
“I know I did not explain what I was going to do but we had to
work quickly and it has worked before…” Faramir’s
voice trailed off as he saw all three elven jaws drop.
“Please mellon-nin, tell me that you have not done this before,”
Legolas begged.
“Well…y..y..yes,” Faramir stammered. “Onc…twice,”
the young Steward corrected almost forgetting the first time he had
used this trick, when he was twenty-one. He really did not want to remember
that first time for when Boromir found out his brother blistered his…
“Oh,” Faramir whimpered softly as he realised finally,
what might be the cause of the anger directed at him.
“Aieeeeeeee!” Maglor exclaimed as he turned, threw his
hands into the air and stormed off in disgust, muttering under his breath
about idiot humans with no sense of self-preservation.
“You could have been killed you young fool of a human,”
Thranduil growled dangerously.
“I do admit that there was an element of risk…” Faramir
began trying to placate King and Prince.
“An element of risk!” Legolas exploded. “You remove
all your protective armour, douse yourself in wine whipping several
dozen orcs into a frenzy, wait till they are almost upon you before
you turn and run for your very life! And you call that an element of
risk!! If you had slipped or faltered the orcs would have torn you limb
from limb before we could have aided you!”
“I owe you an apology ion-nin,” Thranduil said to Legolas
although he continued to glare at the human. “You are not the
most stubborn, troublesome being in Middle Earth.”
Thinking again of rabbits, Faramir cringed under the intense glares
of King and Prince.
Knowing what was likely to be in his immediate future, Faramir’s
fight instincts took over. With highly developed ranger reflexes, Faramir
jumped up from his seated position on the fallen log, dodged several
elves and fled towards where they had tethered their horses, as fast
as his legs would carry him. Sharing a glance of resignation, Thranduil
and Legolas were about to give chase when a familiar voice muttering
curses followed by a familiar yelp drew their attention.
“You will keep a civil tongue in your head pen-neth,” Maglor
commanded as the elf walloped the young human’s posterior hard,
with a familiar red paddle. Faramir, still struggling, was slung over
the elf’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Why thank you Maglor,” the elven King said conversationally.
“And how far did our young charge get?” he asked curiously.
“To the horses, sire,” Maglor admitted ruefully.
“That far you say. My, my, he is very fast - for a human that
is,” Thranduil acknowledged as he continued to glare at the young
human dangerously.
Faramir groaned on hearing the tone in the King’s voice. My arse
is toast, the frightened young human thought. Maglor put the young man
on his feet but continued to hold him by the scruff of the neck. Faramir
went very still as he looked anywhere but at the three elves or that
bloody paddle. Thranduil sat down upon the fallen log that Faramir had
been sitting on not long before.
Maglor passed the bright red elvish paddle to Legolas who then passed
it to his father. Faramir could not stop a small whimper at the sight
of the paddle in the hands of the King for he knew of what the King
was capable in wielding said paddle. Maglor released his hold on the
young human and pushed him towards the King, surprisingly gently.
Faramir, who had faced much harsher punishments from his father in
absolute silence, could not find that same place within himself now
when confronted by the elven King. He knew that he would not be able
to take this chastisement in silence even if it proved less harsh and
he could not understand why this was so.
Taking a deep breath, although it did not calm him, Faramir loosened
the ties of his leggings, pushed them down and lowered himself over
the elven King’s knees. Thranduil lifted Faramir’s under
tunic gently for he had seen the blow the young man had taken. He hissed
at the sight of the extensive, painful looking black bruise, in the
shape of a sword, which decorated the young human’s back. Anger
growing but judging that he could still proceed with the chastisement,
Thranduil landed the first whack with the paddle to the young human’s
buttocks.
“What is this punishment for,” the elven King demanded
as he landed stinging whack after stinging whack to the human’s
posterior.
“I am not entirely sure! Yes, I did put myself at risk but I
am a soldier. It is what soldiers do!” Faramir sniped, temper
on the rise as the blows to his posterior continued.
Legolas winced as he saw the colour in his father’s face rise
to a dangerous shade of magenta.
“Aieeeee!!” Thranduil exclaimed as he continued to land
blistering blow after blistering blow to Faramir’s buttocks. “Would
you have allowed any of those you have lead to do as you did?”
Thranduil demanded as he moved his attention to Faramir’s thighs,
as the young man’s posterior was as red as the paddle.
“No!” Faramir yelled defeated.
Thranduil stopped for a moment, put the paddle down beside him and
looked at Legolas.
“I think you need to send this message home to him ion-nin,”
Thranduil said gently.
Legolas nodded and sat down upon the fallen tree.
“No…no…no,” Faramir repeated as he struggled
to get away from Thranduil.
The elven King easily moved the struggling human to his son’s
lap as he laid Faramir’s head on his own lap to offer some comfort.
Thranduil passed the paddle to his son.
Legolas steeled his heart for what he must do by thinking about what
the orcs would have done had Faramir faltered in his run towards the
woods.
“What were you thinking, mellon-nin?” Legolas asked as
he landed the first swat to Faramir’s already well-paddled posterior.
“An elf was in danger,” Faramir whimpered as Legolas continued
to blister his thighs.
“And your life is not worth as much as that of an elf?”
Legolas asked already knowing what Faramir felt in his heart.
“No it is not!!” the young Steward sobbed.
“And you would not let anyone under your command do the same
as you did for your life is not worth as much as that of your men?”
Legolas asked, tears forming in his eyes, as he knew what Faramir would
say.
“No…it…is…n-not!” Faramir sobbed out
between gasps for breath as Legolas continued to land blistering blows
to his buttocks.
“You are wrong, muindor tithen (little brother), you may not
value your life but others do and if I have to paddle you every day
of your life to show you how much it means, I will!” Legolas promised,
tears streaming down his face as he continued to paddle his brother.
Judging that Faramir had had enough for one day, Legolas stopped the
paddling, pulled up his brother’s leggings and rubbed back in
gentle circles. Faramir continued to sob. After a few moments Legolas
and Thranduil sensed a presence for they felt - love. Faramir could
also sense the presence and turned his head that was still cradled in
the elven King’s lap.
“Boromir!!” Faramir cried as he stretched an arm out towards
his brother’s image that stood but a few paces away.
The elves, tied to Arda, could not see what Faramir saw but they could
feel the love that emanated from the position that the young human had
his eyes fixed upon.
“He is leaving me. He has come to say goodbye,” Faramir
whimpered as he sensed his brother’s love and his farewell. “Do
not leave me Boromir, please do not leave me alone,” Faramir sobbed
out, his heart shattered.
Legolas gathered Faramir into his arms.
“You are not alone, muindor tithen. I will be with you always.
Let Boromir go…he has stayed long enough…let him go,”
Legolas crooned as Faramir continued to sob. “I will take care
of him Boromir,” Legolas said towards the position that Faramir
looked upon.
Boromir looked upon his brother with such love and such sad regret.
He mouthed the words ‘I will love you always little brother. Until
we meet again’. And then he faded away. Faramir wailed and then
sobbed harder than he had ever sobbed in his life.
Legolas continued to rock his brother as the young human cried.
“You are not alone, muindor tithen, never alone,” Legolas
soothed over and over.
Legolas, tears continuing to stream down his face, looked to his father
seeking comfort as he tried to soothe Faramir. Thranduil, moved to tears
himself, took Faramir from Legolas and cradled the young man in his
arms. Faramir, sensing that it was Thranduil that held him, wrapped
his arms around the elven King’s neck like a child would and sobbed
out his young heart.
“Let it out ion-nin, let it out,” Thranduil soothed unaware
that he had called the young human ‘my son’. After a long
time Faramir’s sobs turned to hitched breaths as he remained cradled
in the arms of the elven King. Maglor held out a cup to the King.
“Sleeping draft?” Thranduil enquired softly as continued
to rock Faramir. “You are a wonder Maglor,” Thranduil complemented,
as his Seneschal nodded in the affirmative. Thranduil took the cup from
Maglor and held it to Faramir’s mouth. The young Steward drank
the brew without complaint, still in a state of shock. It was not long
before the young human had fallen asleep.
“I see you have acquired a human brother, ion-nin?” Thranduil
asked, eyebrow raised.
“I see you have acquired a human son, ada,” Legolas replied,
eyebrow also raised.
“Did I really? A human?” Thranduil asked with a twinkle
in his eye.
“Poor Faramir,” Legolas said as he watched his sleeping
brother fondly. “An elf for a brother, an elven King for a father
and a tree for a mother,” Legolas chuckled. His chuckle turned
to a laugh at the look of bewilderment in his father’s eyes.
Part 8
In the company of Legolas, Thranduil carried his newly acquired human
son away from the orc carnage to a camp that Maglor had established
a fair distance away. The Seneschal had obviously hurried before them
and made a bed for the young human in a sheltered section between two
enormous roots of a mighty tree. Leaf litter had been gathered and blankets
thrown over to make a very comfortable looking bed. On the bed was a
pot of healing salve for the bruise on Faramir’s back.
“I do believe my Seneschal has taken to this young one,”
the elven King chuckled as he lowered Faramir onto the makeshift bedding
and then carefully turning the young man onto his stomach. The King
then proceeded to pull up the tunic up to apply salve to the bruise.
“I am not sure that Faramir would agree,” Legolas laughed
softly as he covered his human brother with a blanket that had been
placed at the end of the makeshift bed, after his father had finished
applying the salve and sat down beside him. “You have taken to
him too, ada,” Legolas said, looking slyly at his father as the
older elf sat down upon a root like a natural stool and with his back
braced against the tree, on the other side of Faramir. “I thought
you did not like humans.”
“I would have to have the heart of stone, that some believe me
to have, not to respond to this young one, human or not, ion-nin. There
is so much fire in this one, such strength but also such anguish and
hurt. Such depth in a human I have not seen before but for Estel, which
I attributed to him being raised by Elrond,” the elven King replied
as he looked down upon Faramir thoughtfully.
Legolas sighed as he brushed red-gold locks back from Faramir’s
face. “Ada, if Denethor were here, right this moment, I would
gut him, for whether the man loved his son or not in the end, he hurt
Faramir consciously, maliciously and constantly,” Legolas intoned,
deadly serious as he continued to watch the sleeping human.
“Estel wrote that he was worried that the young one had not love
for himself. Recent events have proven his concern. We will have much
work to do keeping this one out of trouble and teaching him the value
of his own life, ion-nin,” Thranduil predicted as he also watched
Faramir sleeping.
“That missive Aragorn sent you is sounding more like a book!”
Legolas exclaimed softly.
“I do admit that Maglor and I did have trouble deciphering some
of its content as it was obviously written in haste, and yes, there
were several dozen pages in Estel’s tiny scrawl,” Thranduil
chuckled. “You would think that a scholar of Elrond’s stature
could have taught Estel to write more clearly.”
Faramir began to moan seemingly in the grip of a nightmare.
“Shhh…muindor tithen…sleep…you are not alone…sleep,”
Legolas soothed Faramir quietly as he stroked his human brother’s
hair. Faramir quieted and fell into a deeper slumber.
The young Steward of Gondor slept all afternoon and well into the
next morning.
The first thing that registered with Faramir upon waking was the pain
and heat around his hindquarters, nothing new there he thought dejectedly.
His head was pounding, also nothing new - blast those damn Gimli’s
he thought as a small movement sent painful reverberations through his
head. He was outside for he could smell the forest. All the painful
events of the last two days came back to Faramir quickly and he groaned.
“One aur vaer (good day) out of you elf and I will strangle you
with your own braids,” Faramir groaned knowing that Legolas was
sitting beside him and not caring whether anyone else was there or not.
Light, musical laughter from more than two elves greeted the surly comment
from the dejected piece of humanity lying upon the makeshift bed.
Faramir turned onto his side, carefully, to see the gathered elves.
As he suspected, Legolas was sitting beside him, King Thranduil was
sitting on the other side and Maglor and Finrod were standing in front
of him. All four were grinning from ear to ear. The young Steward of
Gondor graced each elf with a son of Denethor glare but to no avail
as the silly creatures simply grinned all the more. Faramir sighed in
resignation.
“Apart from the obvious, how are you feeling muindor tithen?”
Legolas asked in an amused tone but with an underlying seriousness.
Faramir was just about to snap out a sarcastic reply when he registered
the two words muindor tithen - little brother. Faramir eyes widened
as he looked at Legolas in astonishment. Thranduil laughed heartily
at the stunned look on his human son’s face.
“Your brother Boromir loved you so much that he stayed until
he was sure that you were placed in safe hands. Those hands are ours,
ion-nin,” Thranduil said gently.
At the mention of Boromir, Faramir’s eyes filled with tears.
Tear-filled eyes widened further when the words ion-nin, not directed
at Legolas but at him, finally registered with Faramir. The young Steward
looked at Maglor and Finrod to gauge their reaction to the Prince and
King’s pronouncements. Maglor was still grinning but Finrod seemed
as stunned as he was.
“Oh muindor tithen, you look like a startled rabbit,” Legolas
laughed.
Faramir, still speechless, moved onto his knees and then launched himself
at Legolas who caught him into a hug, laughing and almost toppling backwards.
After some moments Faramir released Legolas and looked around to the
elven King who was now standing. Faramir rose from his kneeling position
with as much grace as he could, given the powerful throbbing in his
hindquarters and moved towards the King tentatively. Seeing the shyness,
Thranduil pulled the young human into a King-sized hug. The elven King
could feel Faramir trembling with suppressed emotion. Thranduil held
the young Steward of Gondor until the trembling ceased and smiled at
his human son.
“We have dallied here long enough I think. We should return home,”
Thranduil commanded.
Faramir thought immediately of the prospect of sitting on a horse and
groaned.
“Maglor, do you have something that will numb this young one’s
posterior for the ride home?” Thranduil asked sensing what his
human son was thinking.
Faramir blushed spectacularly, much to the amusement of the elven King.
“Ada!!” Legolas admonished his father. “I am sorry
Faramir. You will get used to his sense of humour in a century or three.”
“That would be all well and good if I had three centuries which
I might point out now, so that there is no misunderstanding, that I
do not!” Faramir complained as the elves were moving to break
camp and Finrod clapped him on the back, grinning from ear to ear, as
he walked past.
The ride back to the Halls of Mirkwood took five days. Five days too
long for Faramir’s liking for even with the salve that lessened
the pain in his posterior, if it increased his embarrassment every time
it was applied by Legolas or Thranduil, the trip was still painful.
Upon reaching the halls at midday on the fifth day Faramir was able
to bathe finally in something warmer than freezing and soak his numerous
bumps and bruises. The young Steward of Gondor was still trying to come
to terms with seeing his brother one last time and gaining an elven
brother and father. After bathing Faramir enjoyed a kip before dinner.
After resting, Faramir dressed for the evening meal and made his way
to the feasting hall. Thranduil and Legolas had already arrived and
were sitting at the main table. The Steward groaned as he saw the mischievous
twinkle in Thranduil’s eyes. Sure enough a pillow graced the chair.
Faramir blushed and glaring at Thranduil sat down upon the cushioned
chair.
Before the meal began, Thranduil rose and took up his glass of wine.
“I wish to acknowledge publicly, that I have formally taken Faramir,
Prince of Ithilien, Steward of Gondor as my son,” the elven King
announced to all.
Legolas stood and taking up his glass of wine toasted to his new brother
as did all but a few of the elves in the feasting hall. Legolas noted
the elves that did not join in the toast, as did Thranduil. Even Faramir
who was at once flustered and honoured by the announcement saw that
the elf Amras was seething.
After the meal was concluded, Faramir made his way to his room next
to Legolas’. As the young Steward turned a corner he came face
to face with a very angry Amras. Before the elf could say a word, Faramir
grabbed the elf’s wrist, twisting the arm thus forcing the elf
to turn around, wrestled Amras to the floor and was straddling him when
Legolas came running around the corner having heard the commotion. Legolas
laughed.
“You might stop with the frivolity brother and help me with this
fool,” Faramir said in his normal quiet, modulated tone as he
continued to pin the elf to the floor. “And one more word out
of you and I will gag you,” Faramir snapped quietly at the vocal,
struggling elf.
Legolas disappeared into an empty room for a few moments and returned
with a piece of cord used to tie back curtains and the curtain to which
it had been attached. The elven Prince proceeded to tie Amras’
hands behind his back with the cord.
“You do realise that we are both likely to get our arses blistered
for this,” Faramir said as he caught onto what Legolas intended
to do with the curtain.
“Only if we are caught, muindor tithen,” Legolas said as
he wrapped now frantically struggling elf in the curtain.
“And how likely is that given how much this fool likes the sound
of his own voice?” Faramir asked quietly as he helped Legolas
encase the struggling elf in the curtain with just his face showing
so the elf would not suffocate.
“Father is already aware that this one listened in when I told
him about your past. He is aware how this one then used that knowledge
against you,” Legolas said as he looked at the now very frightened
elf.
They dragged the now secured elf into the empty room and waited.
The next morning, Legolas met Faramir and they both walked to the
feasting hall for their break of fast. Thranduil was not there as yet
so both Princes sat down at the table. Food and drink was placed before
them and they began to eat. Thranduil arrived at the table and looked
at his elven son and human son intently. Both Princes maintained impressively
impassive expressions. Legolas was used to dealing with his father and
Faramir had learned at a very early age, under the tutelage of Denethor,
to hide in plain sight. Thranduil sat down between the two Princes.
“There was the strangest occurrence this morning,” Thranduil
said in a conversational tone as he proceeded to eat the food that had
been placed in front of him. “Amras was found naked, tied hand
and foot to the highest wooden rafter in the great hall. Frightened
the life out of the poor she-elf who went in there to do some cleaning.”
Legolas had been impressed with Faramir’s climbing skills as
they climbed to the very top of the wooden support, which was a high
as a tree, with Amras between them.
“That is indeed strange, ada,” Legolas replied.
“He will not tell us how he found himself in that predicament…positively
quailed when I asked him,” Thranduil said with a twinkle in his
eye.
Legolas did not doubt this for when they had waited in the empty room
until most of the elves had bedded down for the night, Faramir had spent
the time going into graphic detail, in his normal quiet voice, about
the various torture methods used by the Harads and Easterlings and how
they could be modified for elven physiology. At that point Legolas felt
mildly sorry for Amras, for the elf could not see the twinkle of humour
in the eyes of the Steward that belied his very grim and graphic words.
“I really should paddle the both of you,” Thranduil said,
shaking his head, as he looked at both the Princes in turn, “but
given how much trouble Amras has caused and given that I cannot prove
the two of you were involved, I cannot bring myself to punish you.”
Both Legolas and Faramir sighed in relief at the reprieve and went
back to enjoying their morning meal.
“I have decided to send the two of you back to Minas Tirith,”
Thranduil informed the two Princes. The elven King did not miss the
wave of sadness that passed over his human son’s features before
the impassive mask returned. “I will be accompanying you though
for I want to visit Estel, I have much to discuss with him, and I wish
see the site the two of you have chosen for the elven haven.”
Thranduil almost laughed the alternating expressions of delight and
panic that graced Faramir’s features. Thranduil suspected that
the look of panic on his young human son’s face stemmed from the
possible topic of his conversation with Estel. And well he should worry
for Estel will not be pleased.
After finishing his meal, Thranduil left the table leaving the two
Princes to talk.
“What is the matter, muindor tithen, you look pale suddenly.
I would have thought you would be looking forward to the journey home,”
Legolas said, seeing the panicked look.
“Do you think King Thranduil…ada,” Faramir corrected
as he saw ‘the look’ from Legolas, “would tell King
Elessar about…” Faramir could not bring himself to say ‘the
paddlings’.
“I am sorry, muindor tithen, I cannot lie to you as I know ada.
Ada knows that Gandalf entrusted you to Aragorn as well as myself. He
also agrees with Aragorn that you put yourself in harm’s way without
thought. I am afraid he will tell Aragorn everything,” replied
gently as he placed a comforting hand on Faramir’s shoulder.
Faramir whimpered softly as he imagined what Aragorn’s reaction
would be.
Part 9
A few days later preparations had been completed for their departure
for Gondor. Thranduil left his kingdom in the care of a trusted senior
advisor and he, Legolas, Maglor, Finrod and Faramir departed for the
White City. Faramir sighed with relief at being able to sit on a horse
comfortably for the first time since arriving at the Halls of Mirkwood.
The Journey to Minas Tirith began pleasantly enough, allowing Faramir
to bond further with his elven father. Growing up in the White City,
the young Steward of Gondor had had little in the way of physical affection
except from Boromir and Gandalf and his uncle Imrahil on their infrequent
visits to the city. When Faramir had arrived at the Halls of Mirkwood
he envied the relationship that Legolas enjoyed with his father, tactile
and gentle. The elven King was not reluctant to show his obvious affection
for his son in public. Faramir now found himself on the receiving end
of the elven King’s affection. The young Steward could not stop
his tendency to flinch when his elven father raised a hand suddenly,
as a raised hand from Denethor never ended in a caress but slap or much,
much worse. Every time it happened a look of sadness would cross Thranduil’s
features. The King however, would not withdraw but wait patiently for
a sheepish look of apology from Faramir, before slowly and gently enveloping
his human son in a hug.
The closer the Steward of Gondor got to Minas Tirith, the more subdued
he became. All four elves noted the change in their human travelling
companion but were at a loss as to what to do about the situation. Thranduil
and Legolas suspected the causes of Faramir’s sombreness but could
do nothing to alleviate them, except to offer comfort where they could.
One week from the White City the travellers came to a small town and
decided to stay at an inn for the night. The unusual sight of so many
elves created much excitement in the otherwise quiet town. The inn chosen
was a very old wooden and stone structure that had seen better days.
Surprisingly though, when the travellers entered the inn, it proved
to be warm, inviting and most importantly for the fastidious elves,
clean. The bar was a wooden, three sided, oblong shaped structure with
an empty centre that allowed the bartender to serve drinks on three
sides by walking up and down the centre. The ‘fourth’ side
of the bar led into the kitchen. Long wooden tables with bench seats
surrounded the three sides of the bar. The inn contained two fireplaces
against the walls on opposite sides of the longer sections of the bar.
As it was chilly this night both fires were alight.
It was still early so there were very few locals in the establishment
as yet. The five travellers sat at one of the tables near the fireplace
on the side opposite to the entrance of the inn. Legolas sat down beside
Faramir. It was not long before a young barmaid approached them to take
their order. The elves and human enjoyed a fine meal with good wine
as the inn’s cook turned out to be very good indeed. As the travellers
ate, the inn began to fill with locals. It seemed that word had spread
quickly about the presence of elves. Encouraged by the locals the elves
sang songs and told stories, providing entertainment for all.
Quite late into the night the three older elves, Thranduil, Maglor
and Finrod bid Legolas and Faramir a goodnight and went to their beds.
Before leaving, an unspoken command passed from Thranduil to Legolas
to look after Faramir or else, for it was obvious that his human son
had imbibed too much wine.
Dreading both the memories that would resurface in Minas Tirith and
the inevitable confrontation with the King, well confrontation on Aragorn’s
part for he, the Steward of Gondor, could offer no defence, Faramir
decided that the most appropriate thing he could do right now was to
get blind drunk, in a word - to get legless with Legolas. That thought
gave Faramir the giggles and he put a hand over his mouth in attempt
to stop them or at least muffle the undignified little beasties. Shaking
his head, Legolas looked askance at his obviously drunk, giggling human
brother in amusement.
“I think you have had enough, muindor tithen. I suggest we go
for a walk to clear your head,” Legolas instructed as he took
the goblet of wine away from Faramir.
Faramir made a movement to grab the goblet back but thought better
of it as the room began to spin. Seeing the familiar green tinge to
Faramir’s face, Legolas practically carried him out of the inn
and into the chill night air. The young Steward took a few deep breaths
as he attempted to regain some control over his stomach’s insistence
that it wanted to divest itself of all content therein. Legolas helped
Faramir to sit down on one of the benches that were dotted about for
guests of the inn for use during the day.
After some time, Faramir overcame the urge to be sick and decided that
Legolas’ suggestion of a walk was not a bad idea, so they set
out down the road that led in the opposite direction from whence they
had come. A group of ten young men walked towards them. Still very much
under the influence of the wine he had consumed, Faramir stumbled and
would have fallen if Legolas had not caught him around the waist and
held his human brother until he regained his balance.
“What do we have here? An elf and his lover,” came the
snide remark from the leader and by far the largest member of the pack,
as the ten young men circled Legolas and Faramir. The other’s
laughed as they eyed Legolas in particular. Faramir, not feeling so
drunk suddenly, bristled at the lustful looks that were being directed
at his elven brother.
“Pretty enough,” the youth with the long scraggly hair
and bad acne, standing to the right of the leader, leered. “I
wonder if he is a good lay? Maybe we should try…”
Before the youth could finish the sentence Faramir exploded into action.
Taking out the young man with the bad acne with an uppercut to the jaw,
Faramir set his sights on the leader of the pack. Taken by surprise
it took a few moments for the youths to gather wits enough to fight,
by that time Faramir had taken out another young man with a combination
punch to the midriff followed by an uppercut to the jaw and Legolas
had laid out another with a double handed chop to the back of the youth’s
neck. Faramir took a few blows in the exchanges but not enough to slow
him down as he took out another youth with a right-left combination.
The young Steward of Gondor just about had his hands on the leader
of the pack when all of sudden, they were surrounded by members of the
constabulary. The young men still conscious ran in every direction chased
after by constables. Legolas and Faramir remained to face the consequences.
Both were marched off the local gaol.
Faramir made his way over to one of two cots in their cell and sat
down heavily and Legolas crouched down in front of him.
“What damage has been done to you, muindor tithen,” Legolas
said as he cupped Faramir’s chin to raise his human brother’s
head.
“I am sorry Legolas, I have got you in trouble,” Faramir
apologised.
“Do not apologise, muindor tithen,” Legolas said as he
tore a piece of his under-tunic and used it to stop the bleeding of
a cut above Faramir’s left eye and wipe away the blood that had
tricked down his dejected brother’s face. “You were defending
my honour,” Legolas chuckled, getting a small smile from Faramir
in return.
Before long the bleeding from the gash above Faramir’s left
eye abated and Legolas moved to sit on the other cot. All they could
do now was wait. Neither felt like talking. It was not long before King
Thranduil came in answer to the summons made by the sheriff of the town.
From the other side of the cell door, the elven King looked down upon
his wayward sons. The sheriff stood to his right and Maglor to his left.
Both sons looked up at their father and winced at the thunderous expression
on his face.
“I have but one question to ask the both of you, who threw the
first punch?” Thranduil asked as he noted the condition of Faramir’s
clothing, rumpled and torn and the nasty gash above his left eye. Faramir
winced again and swallowed trying to moisten his suddenly dry mouth.
“I did sir…ada,” Faramir corrected shyly, ducking
his head, on receiving ‘the look’ from his elven father.
“Ada. Faramir was defending me…” Legolas’ voice
trailed away as he received a quelling look from his father.
“Faramir!! As in the Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien?”
the sheriff, wide-eyed and face draining of blood, asked as he looked
from Thranduil to Faramir and back again.
“Thranduil, Sire. I think we need to get these two out of here
and resume this discussion in a more appropriate location,” Maglor,
ever the voice of reason, advised his King.
“Thranduil!! As in King Thranduil of Mirkwood?” the sheriff
all but squeaked in distress.
“The sheriff here has been kind enough to release you both into
my custody, given that the young human’s you fought are known
to the law,” Thranduil explained as the panic-stricken sheriff
fumbled with cell keys and cell doors in an effort to release its occupants
as quickly as possible.
Finally the panicked sheriff was able to open the door. Legolas walked
out of the cell and past his father. Faramir followed head bowed. The
elven King stopped his human son and put a finger under Faramir’s
chin to lift his human son’s head, so that he could examine the
gash. Satisfied that it would not need stiches, Thranduil looked at
Faramir critically.
“You are in trouble Faramir Thranduilion,” the elven King
whispered into his human son’s ear as the young Steward passed
by.
Faramir, both frightened and reassured by the words, let out a trembling
sigh as he made his way back to the inn with his elven father close
behind him. On reaching the inn the young Steward made his way to the
room he and Legolas were sharing for the night and sat down upon the
bed. Legolas had been directed to another room. Thranduil looked in
on Faramir a few moments later.
“I am going to deal with Legolas first, ion-nin. I will be…”
“Please…a-ada,” Faramir interrupted, stammering over
the word. “It was my fault, not Legolas’. He should not
be punished,” the young Steward added, voice thick with remorse.
Feeling the raw emotion emanating from his human son, Thranduil sat
down beside him and in slow and gentle movements gathered the distressed
young man in his arms.
“Legolas will be punished for not calling to us for assistance.
My elfling and I have had this conversation before and will, no doubt,
have this conversation again,” Thranduil explained. “I am
afraid he received too much from me in the way of pride,” the
elven King added with a chuckle eliciting a small smile from Faramir.
“And you ion-nin, do you know what you are being punished for?”
Thranduil asked as he continued to hug his human son.
“For losing my temper and throwing the first punch,” Faramir
replied dejectedly.
“Ion-nin, I could never punish you for losing your temper for
that would indeed be pot, kettle, black, for I have lost my temper more
times than I care to remember and have suffered the consequences, for
I had no brother to keep me in line,” Thranduil confided. “You
are to be punished for attacking first and not using your considerable
intelligence and diplomatic skills to find a solution. You really should
not drink ion-nin, for you do not have the head for it.”
Faramir groaned for Boromir and Gandalf, not to mention most of his
Ithilien rangers, had told him the same thing in virtually the same
words.
“I must see to Legolas, ion-nin,” Thranduil said as he
released Faramir, rose and left the room.
Thranduil walked into the room across the hall and looked at his elven
son who was standing by the only window in the room. Legolas looked
at his father in concern.
“How is Faramir, ada?” Legolas asked as soon as he saw
his father.
“Upset at having got you into trouble, elfling,” Thranduil
replied as he walked over to the bed and sat down.
“Ai! He is so stubborn! I have tried to explain to him that I
am more than capable of getting myself into trouble. I do not need his
help…” Legolas blushed and bowed his head as he realised
that not asking for help was the reason he was in trouble now.
“You are right ion-nin, you are exceptionally skilled at getting
into trouble. Come elfling,” Thranduil said as he patted his lap.
Legolas walked over to his father, pushed down his leggings and lowered
himself over his father’s knees. “And what is this punishment
for, elfling?” Thranduil asked as he landed the first blows to
Legolas’ buttocks.
“For not calling for assistance,” Legolas gasped as his
father continued to spank him.
Faramir was the picture of abandoned dejection when Finrod entered
the young human’s room with water, salve and bandages to treat
the young one’s wound. Faramir was sitting on the edge of the
bed, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Startled,
Faramir looked up and sighed in relief when he saw that it was Finrod.
“Greetings Finrod,” Faramir greeted the elf morosely.
“I have come to see to the gash above your eye, pen-neth,”
Finrod explained as he set about cleaning and bandaging the wound.
Finrod tried to divert Faramir’s attention away from the sounds
emanating from the room across the hall but could see by the young human’s
flinches that his hearing was acute.
“I am sorry, ada,” Legolas pleaded as his father continued
to blister his thighs and buttocks. A few more stinging slaps and Thranduil
ceased the chastisement, pulling his elfling’s leggings up and
gathering his son into his arms.
“I love you elfling,” Thranduil reassured his repentant
son. “I need to see to Faramir now pen-neth. I think he has been
stewing long enough,” the elven King added as he released Legolas
and moved gracefully to the room where Finrod was seeing to Faramir.
In the hallway between the two rooms, Maglor stopped Thranduil.
“Do you wish me to get ‘Faramir’s Bane’?”
Maglor asked hesitantly.
“No, mellon-nin. I think a hand spanking is in order for his
offence,” Thranduil replied.
Maglor sighed in relief. Thranduil chuckled at his Seneschal’s
obvious affection for his human son.
“Thank you, Finrod,” Thranduil said as he entered the room.
Finrod rose, gave Faramir a comforting pat on the shoulder and left.
Faramir, head bowed would not look at Thranduil. “Oh ion-nin,
you do take the world’s troubles onto your own shoulders,”
Thranduil said as he again sat beside Faramir and gathered his dejected
young human son into a comforting hug.
Releasing Faramir after several long moments, the elven King patted
his lap. Faramir, taking his elven father’s cue, stood, loosened
the ties to his leggings, pushed them down to his knees and lowered
himself over the elven King’s lap.
“A hand spanking only today ion-nin,” Thranduil said as
he landed the first stinging slaps to Faramir’s posterior.
“Well that is a relief,” Faramir replied sarcastically
before his mind could stop the words coming forth from his mouth.
“Oh, ion-nin,” Thranduil chuckled even as he continued
to blister Faramir’s buttocks and thighs, “you will be a
challenge.”
Faramir berated himself severely and at great length.
Thranduil continued a blistering pace until Faramir’s whimpers
became sobs and he judged the chastisement enough. The elven King pulled
up his human son’s leggings, gathered him in his arms and soothed
the young man as he cried out his remorse and guilt.
“Sorry…a-ada,” Faramir sobbed, again stammering over
the elven word for father.
Thranduil smiled in gentle understanding of his human son’s hesitance
over the word for it must have been heartbreaking to say the word father
in love and receive none in return.
Legolas, knowing that Faramir’s chastisement had concluded, entered
the room just as his father released Faramir from his lap. Faramir looked
at Legolas in such dejected repentance that the elf walked over to his
human brother and gave him a much-needed hug, which Faramir returned
apologising, yet again, over getting Legolas into trouble. Legolas accepted
the words in silence, knowing that words would not allay Faramir’s
feelings of guilt, hoping that his actions would speak for him.
“I think you two should get to bed for we have a long ride ahead
of us on the morrow,” Thranduil stated as he rose from the bed
upon which he was sitting.
Faramir groaned.
“Maglor do you…” Thranduil began with a familiar
twinkle in his eyes but before he could finish the sentence, Maglor
was there with a large pot of healing salve.
Faramir blushed furiously but sent a shy smile of gratitude to the
Seneschal as he took hold of the salve.
“I packed extra,” Maglor stated succinctly.
Thranduil laughed heartily and giving his human son another comforting
hug and his elven son a hug bid them a goodnight.
Part 10
Early on the morrow Maglor came to the room of the inn occupied by
Legolas and Faramir to wake the sleeping Princes. The elven Prince,
as was his way, came back from his reverie quickly at the Seneschal's
light touch and greeted the morning with a smile, despite the ache he
could still feel in his hind region. Faramir on the other hand, was
not a morning person. At the Seneschal's light touch, Faramir ignored
the summons and buried his face further into his pillow. Legolas, who
was now sitting on the edge of the bed in which he had slept, smiled
brightly at Maglor's bemused look, as it was obvious the Seneschal was
used to being obeyed immediately. Maglor pulled the bed covers off the
young human. Still with his face in his pillow, Faramir groped behind
him to retrieve the covers at the same time he muttered a very inventive
elvish curse.
"Owww! Owwwwww! I naegrant (that hurt)!" Faramir yelped,
waking suddenly at the very hard swats to his exposed posterior and
turning over to glare at the perpetrator, then groaning at the pain
his sudden movement caused in his head.
"I have warned you before, pen-neth, to keep a civil tongue in
your head," Maglor admonished the young human. "Now get you
ready - for we ride out soon," Maglor instructed as he left the
room.
`Oh why, why, why, why, do I drink', Faramir berated silently as he
buried his face yet again in his pillow. Legolas laughed merrily at
his brother's current difficulties.
"You do realise brother," Faramir grumbled into his pillow
emphasising the word `brother', "that you have a very unelvish
- almost orchish steak that is as wide as the Anduin!"
"Aur Vaer (good day)," Legolas greeted in his most musical
tone as he ran for the doorway, laughing, thus narrowly avoiding the
pillow that followed him out the door.
King Thranduil had planned to visit the site of the elven haven and
then Minas Tirith but given the change in his human son's demeanour,
decided to visit Minas Tirith first so that Faramir could put the meeting
with Estel behind him, so to speak.
The remainder of the journey to Minas Tirith was without further incident.
On reaching the White City the bells of the city rang out clearly, heralding
the return of the Steward of Gondor. Faramir was at once embarrassed
and touched by the people and cheers that greeted him as he and the
Mirkwood elves wove their way through the city to its highest level.
In the courtyard at the front of the palace, it seemed to the young
Steward of Gondor that all it’s current occupants were there to
greet them. Faramir could see The King and Queen, Lord Elrond and his
sons, Elladan and Elrohir, Gandalf and the remaining members of the
fellowship.
Dismounting and giving the reigns of his horse over the waiting stable
boy, Faramir strode over to where the King and Queen were standing and
went down on bended knee before his King.
"Greetings my King and Queen," Faramir said, rising from
his kneeling position.
Shaking his head and smiling at Faramir's formality, Aragorn embraced
his Steward.
"I am glad you are back, my Steward. You have been sorely missed,"
Aragorn greeted as he maintained his grip on Faramir's shoulders but
pushed the Steward away slightly so that he could look at him. "You
look well and you have gained some weight, though still not enough I
judge."
Faramir blushed and ducked his head in shyness at his King's comments.
"We have done our best Estel but it would have taken more food
than was available in Mirkwood to put weight on him. Your Steward can
put more away than a hobbit when the mood takes him, can you not, ion-nin"
Thranduil teased, looking at his human son.
"Ada!" Faramir whispered chagrined. Legolas smiled from ear
to ear.
Elven, human and wizard jaws dropped, eyes widened and eyebrows went
skywards. The elven King and the other Mirkwood elves laughed and Faramir
blushed spectacularly.
"Mae Govannen, King Thranduil," Aragorn was finally able
to get out when he had recovered from the shock. "It seems we have
much to discuss," Aragorn added as he released Faramir.
Arwen took the opportunity to embrace Faramir and kiss him on the cheek.
The young Steward found himself, all of a sudden, surrounded by elves,
hobbits and a dwarf, all greeting him. Legolas greeted Gimli and introduced
his friend to his father. Both he and Faramir had worked on Thranduil
arguing that if the elven King could accept a human for son, then he
could accept a dwarf as a friend of his sons. Both elven King and dwarf
eyed each other with something akin to suspicion but were at least civil
to each other. Legolas and Faramir - who kept as sly eye on the exchange,
shared a knowing glance and sighed in relief. Thranduil smiling at his
human son's discomfiture at being surrounded took the opportunity to
greet Elrond and Gandalf. Aragorn invited all to join them for refreshments
in the King and Queen's private rooms.
The room chosen by Aragorn was one of his favourites. Whilst large
enough to accommodate all, it was still quite homey. It contained a
large fireplace at either end had enough lounges and comfortable chairs
for everyone to have a seat if they so chose. A very excited Pippin
led Faramir to one of the lounges and the rest of the group gathered
around them. Legolas sat beside Faramir. Aragorn invited King Thranduil,
Lord Elrond and Gandalf into a smaller room adjacent, accessible by
a connecting door. The smaller room contained a few comfortable chairs
around a small table. The departure of the two Kings, elven Lord and
wizard did not go unnoticed by Faramir and Legolas. Legolas patted his
brother's knee in a gesture of comfort and both returned to the conversation
at hand.
"Aye. I have adopted Faramir formally," Thranduil answered
Aragorn's unasked question. "The missive you sent about Faramir
intrigued me, although it did take a while for Maglor and I to realise
it actually contained writing and not the random prints of a hopping
bird. Really Elrond! How could you let him get away with such an untidy
scrawl?" Thranduil chided as he turned to look at Elrond who was
sitting on the chair to his right. Aragorn blushed to the tip of his
ears.
"I did try mellon-nin but I could never get him to sit still long
enough," Elrond replied as he looked at his foster son intently.
"I thought you did not like humans," Aragorn said as he studied
Thranduil.
"Not all humans, I have always liked you Estel," Thranduil
replied with a twinkle in his eyes. The smile turned melancholy as Thranduil
remembered first seeing Faramir. "When I first saw him, exhausted,
thin and nursing a wound…"
"Nursing a wound!?" Aragorn exclaimed.
"Yes, on their way to the Halls of Mirkwood, he and Legolas encountered
orcs gathering at Dol Guldur. The stubborn young fool had been hit by
the flat of an orc's sword enough to bruise his ribs severely and did
not tell anyone until he almost collapsed upon arrival at the Halls,"
Thranduil said shaking his head at the memory. "When I first saw
him, something in me stirred and I felt immediately protective of him."
"He has that affect on many, although he does not realise it,"
Aragorn said.
"Such fire and such sadness war within him," Thranduil mused.
"You have seen the fire?" Aragorn asked remembering Beregond
blanching at the mere thought of doing something that would stir Faramir's
temper.
"Aye! And it is sight to see!" the elven King exclaimed.
"Stubborn I grant but a fiery temper? Gentle Faramir?" Gandalf
questioned incredulous.
"Aieeee Mithrandir! I thought you must not have seen your young
pupil in full flight. His temper rival's mine!" Thranduil stated
as he looked at Mithrandir's incredulous expression.
Thranduil recounted the fight between the young Steward of Gondor and
the elf Amras. Aragorn, Elrond and Gandalf could not keep from laughing
at the image of Thranduil, covered in mud, trying to maintain his hold
on an enraged, mud encased and therefore very slippery Faramir, as the
young Steward tried to reach the elf he wanted desperately to throttle.
They also laughed at the imaginative revenge taken by Faramir and Legolas
in tying a naked Amras to the highest rafter in the great hall. The
elven King then recounted the incident a week ago with the youths, Faramir
and Legolas' stint in gaol and the panicked Sheriff when he realised
who it was that graced his cell. By the end of the telling, human King,
elven Lord and wizard were wiping tears of mirth from their eyes.
Turning serious, Thranduil told them of what happened at Dol Guldur,
how his young human son doused himself with wine, whipping several dozen
orcs into a frenzy, waited until they were almost upon him before turning
and running for his very life into the forest whilst the elves waiting
in the trees, could only watch in horror.
The young Steward of Gondor was trying to concentrate on what was being
said around him and to listen for questions asked of him but his attention
kept wandering to the room that Aragorn and his elven father had gone
into.
"Faramir?" Arwen asked gently upon seeing the distant look
in Faramir's eyes. It took a moment for Faramir to respond to his name.
"Are you alright you look pale," Arwen continued when she
saw that she had finally gained the Steward's attention.
Faramir was just about to make a polite, if somewhat vague response
in the affirmative when…
"HE DID WHAT!!!?
Aragorn, Elrond and Gandalf's voices could be heard shouting the exact
same words at the exact same time so that every word was clear as crystal.
The room went deathly quiet as all conversation stopped abruptly and
all eyes turned as one, in the direction from whence the shouted words
had come. Faramir whimpered softly. The silence continued for several
long moments when Lord Elrond appeared in the doorway.
"Faramir, can you please join us?" Elrond asked in a deceptively
quiet voice that made Arwen and the twins, Elladan and Elrohir, cringe.
Faramir, turning even paler, winced.
"Do you want me to come with you muindor tithen?" Legolas
asked in a hushed whisper.
"No, thank you anyway brother. I think there will be enough witnesses
to my demise," Faramir replied in a tiny voice as he stood slowly
and like a man condemned to the gallows, walked towards Lord Elrond.
Part 10b
Sighing heavily Faramir walked past Lord Elrond and into the warg’s
den. The elven Lord followed the young Steward of Gondor, closing the
door behind him. The sight that greeted Faramir made him sidle as far
away from the angry trio as possible towards the opposite door that
led into a hallway. Aragorn was pacing he was so angry. The thunderous
glares from human King, wizard and elven Lord incited the young Ranger’s
flight instincts. With no thought as to what he was doing, let alone
the ramifications thereof, Faramir made for the other door, opened the
door moving into hallway quickly, closed the door behind him, grabbed
a pike that was mounted on the wall and jammed the pike into the doorway
so that the door could not be opened from the other side. The young
Steward then flew down the hallway.
Aragorn growled as he made his way to the door.
“He has barred the door! I cannot open it!!” Aragorn roared
in frustration as he rattled the door.
Thranduil, very calm and with a twinkle in his eye, held up a hand
to stay Aragorn.
“Leban (5)…canad (4)…neled (3)…tad (2)…min
(1)…” Thranduil counted backwards.
Looking very confused, Aragorn was just about to ask the elven King
what he was doing when a familiar sound followed by a familiar yelp
could be heard from the other side of the barred door.
“That language is not as dead as you think it is, pen-neth and
you will learn to keep a civil tongue in your head,” the elven
King’s Seneschal’s booming voice could be heard followed
by another whack and another yelp.
After much rattling the door was finally opened. Maglor, holding a
familiar red paddle, walked into the room with Faramir strung over his
shoulder like a very unhappy stack of laundry. The Seneschal dropped
the Steward onto his feet but continued to hold the young human by the
scruff of his neck.
To Thranduil, Faramir looked like a very frightened rabbit. Taking
pity on his human son the elven King rose from his chair, walked over
to the frightened young human and gathered Faramir into his arms.
“Ion-nin. You need to accept the punishment that is coming. You
need to understand how deeply you affect others when you place your
life at risk, needlessly,” Thranduil explained to his human son
in a quiet voice filled with gentleness and affection. Faramir calmed
somewhat in the arms of his elven father and nodded his head once in
understanding. Taking a deep, deep breath, Faramir turned around to
face the others.
Aragorn was moved by the scene between the elven King and his Steward,
amazed by the depth of feeling that had developed between the elf and
human in such a short period of time. Aragorn was thankful that his
Steward finally had a loving father in his life.
Maglor gave the elven paddle to King Thranduil quietly and moved out
into the hallway, closing the door behind him, to ensure that privacy
was maintained.
Aragorn moved to stand in front of his Steward and gathered Faramir
into his arms.
“I do not want to lose my Steward nor see him hurt. It would
wound my heart,” Aragorn explained quietly. “I cannot believe
you did what you did and you had done so before, not once but twice!”
Aragorn exclaimed in a harsh whisper as he continued to embrace his
young Steward. Faramir winced, as Aragorn’s embrace was getting
a little tight. My arse is toast the hapless young Steward thought.
“Alright my young Steward, leggings down and bend over the back
of that chair,” Aragorn commanded, indicating the plush lounge
chair that he had been sitting in, situated closest to the window.
With a tremulous sigh, Faramir made his way over to the chair, loosened
his leggings, pushed them down and leaned over the back of the lounge
chair as directed.
“Estel,” Thranduil said to draw Aragorn’s attention
and handed the human King the red paddle.
Aragorn examined the paddle, impressed by the workmanship. Faramir
saw the paddle and groaned.
“I warn you my young Steward. I do not want to hear of you doing
anything remotely akin to the madness you pulled in Dol Guldur. This
punishment, I hope, will be truly memorable, to ensure that you think
very wisely and very long before you jeopardise your life in such a
manner again,” Aragorn said sternly. “You will receive twenty
swats from Lord Elrond, then from Gandalf and then from myself,”
Aragorn said looking to Thranduil for confirmation. Thranduil nodded
his head in affirmation.
“Twenty!! But sire…” Faramir exclaimed, temper flaring
as he straightened in indignation.
“Twenty-five if you argue,” Aragorn declared with a raised
eyebrow reminiscent of Lord Elrond.
Knowing a lost battle when confronted with one, Faramir attempted to
swallow his anger and resumed his position over the back of the lounge
chair. Aragorn gave the paddle to Elrond.
“What is this punishment for pen-neth,” Lord Elrond asked
as he landed the first stinging swat.
“For outrunning the bloody orcs!!” Faramir snapped, his
temper taking control of his mouth yet again.
“I suggest you reign in that temper of yours pen-neth,”
Lord Elrond replied as he continued to land stinging swat after stinging
swat to Faramir’s hindquarters.
Legolas winced again, for like the other elves he could hear what
was happening in the other room. He knew that his young human brother
had mouthed off again. The hobbits and Gimli could not, thankfully,
hear what was going on although Legolas knew they suspected. The elven
Prince was forced to explain what Faramir had done at Dol Guldur, as
the hobbits, being the intensely curious creatures that they were, would
not accept evasive or vague responses to their numerous questions.
By the time Lord Elrond had reached twenty, Faramir’s buttocks
were as red as the paddle. The Elven Lord had shown no mercy. Faramir
was whimpering softly as Gandalf took the paddle from Lord Elrond.
“I have loved you as a grandson, my young pupil and I will not
see you lost to us,” Gandalf growled as he too showed the young
Steward no mercy in the hopes that the lesson would be learned. Gandalf
continued to paddle Faramir until the young man was sobbing. After the
designated twenty swats, Gandalf stopped and passed the paddle to Aragorn.
Thranduil moved to sit on the arm of the lounge chair that Faramir
was bent over; as he knew the next twenty swats would be the hardest
for his son to take. Thranduil stroked Faramir’s hair as he crooned
a litany of elvish words to his young human son.
“You have spoken of the emptiness in your life with the death
of Boromir. What you do not realise is that you would leave an emptiness
in the lives of so many if you were to die,” Aragorn said as he
landed the first blow to Faramir’s already abused bottom. “I
will not see that happen!! Aragorn growled as he continued to paddle
Faramir hard.
The young Steward by this stage was sobbing openly. After a count of
twenty, Aragorn ceased the punishment. Thranduil pulled his young human
son’s leggings up causing Faramir to hiss in pain. The elven King
gathered Faramir in his arms, sat down in the chair as he continued
to rock his distraught son.
With tears in his eyes, Aragorn bent down and kissed Faramir on the
forehead and saw that Thranduil also had tears in his eyes. Seeing Aragorn’s
distress, Lord Elrond gathered his human son into a hug. Aragorn, Elrond
and Gandalf left elven father and human son alone, leaving by the door
that led into the hallway.
Not long after, Legolas entered the room and closed the door behind
him. Kneeling down beside the chair, Legolas stoked his brother’s
hair in a comforting motion. Maglor entered from the hallway carrying
a goblet filled with a sleeping draft. Thranduil took the goblet, smiling
his thanks to Maglor and held the cup to Faramir’s mouth.
“You have got some very unsavoury habits Maglor” Faramir
grumbled as he drank the draft. “You are always in places you
should not be, you make that bloody red ‘thing’ appear out
of thin air and you are always trying to dr…ug ...m…”
Faramir fell asleep mid word.
The Seneschal looked down upon the young human and smiled, surreptitiously
wiping a tear from his eye.
Faramir awoke slowly and in stages. The first thing he was aware of
was the throbbing pain in his rear end and that he was lying on his
stomach. Oh joy he thought. Then he remembered why. Oh crap he thought.
The young Steward then realised he was outside. Opening an eye he saw
that he was lying on several blankets under his tree in the private
garden his mother had established.
“Do not even think of saying it, or I swear I will hang you by
your elven ears from the top of the tower,” Faramir grumbled into
the pillow someone was kind enough to have provided.
Elven and human laughter greeted the surly comment.
Faramir rolled onto his side to see who was gathered. Legolas was there
of course, as was his elven father, Aragorn, Mithrandir, Elrond, Finrod
and Maglor.
The eyes of the Mirkwood elves grew distant for a moment. Faramir knew
that they were communing with the tree. All four elves burst out laughing.
“She is scolding us for not looking after her elfling,”
Legolas giggled.
“Who is?” Aragorn asked
Faramir groaned in embarrassment covering his face with his hands.
“Who is? Aragorn demanded looking bewildered.
The elves laughed louder.
The End
Please let me know what you think of this story at drasnia@optusnet.com.au
