Deprecated: Optional parameter $contents declared before required parameter $value is implicitly treated as a required parameter in /home/karre/faramirfiction.com/textpattern/plugins/glz_custom_fields/glz_custom_fields.php on line 1615
Elf, Wasps and an Angry Wizard | Faramir Fiction Archive
 

Home » Fiction

Elf, Wasps and an Angry Wizard Print

Written by KC

30 March 2004 | 5535 words

[ all pages ]

Part 3

Elven flight instincts pushed Legolas to seek higher ground and the cover of trees. There was only one slight problem - although there was higher ground, Minas Tirith did not boast much in the way of ‘cover of trees’. It did not take the elf long to reach the highest level of the city. A tree, sensing the distress of a wood-elf, called to him. Legolas followed the call and found a small private garden that had a few trees. The oldest and tallest was the one that had called to the elf. Legolas made his way quickly to the top of that tree.

Once in the safety of its limbs, thoughts other than escape were able to make their presence known. Legolas realised suddenly what he had just done. He had run away from Gandalf. I am in such trouble the miserable elf thought as he looked down into the city to see if he could see the Wizard.

The tree, again sensing the elf’s distress, whispered to him drawing the elf into its story. Legolas listened as the tree spoke of its fondness for two humans. One was a woman with elven blood and the other was her son, also with elven blood. The woman had created the garden around the few trees that were already there. The woman had overseen the placement of every garden bed and every piece of garden furniture, including the stone bench directly below. But alas, longing for her home near the sea, the woman wasted away and died. Her son often sought comfort in the garden of his mother. It was the young man who kept had the garden alive although he was away much of the time.

Legolas’ communion with the tree was broken abruptly by a familiar voice.

“Aha!” Gandalf said as he spied his quarry at the top of the tree. “There you are you half-wild wood-elfling!”

Legolas moaned softly at the tone in Gandalf’s voice. Gandalf sounded like Legolas was sure a cat would sound, if given voice, when having caught the mouse’s tail with his paw - could play with said mouse at his leisure, all the while knowing that the mouse could not escape. He was in such trouble!

“Well elfling, are you going to come down?” Gandalf asked in quiet, almost playful tone as he looked up at the recalcitrant elf.

“No!” Legolas replied petulantly, knowing that he was digging himself in even deeper.

“And why not?” Gandalf asked in that same quiet, almost playful tone.

“Because I know what is going to happen and it is not fair!” Legolas railed, realising that he was sounding like an elfling.


“Well, it seems we have much to discuss Thraduilion. We have until Aragorn’s coronation to do so,” Gandalf said as he sat down on the stone bench beneath the tree and made himself comfortable. Legolas groaned, Aragorn’s coronation was still some days away.

Gandalf took out his pipe, filled it with tobacco and set it alight with the pointing of a finger. The Wizard leaned back and looked out on the garden. Gandalf sat in quiet contemplation for, what seemed to the elf, an eternity.

Gandalf’s silence finally got to the elf.

“The human deserved it!” Legolas said, indignant.

“Ah yes…the human,” Gandalf mumbled around his pipe. “I spoke to some of the townsfolk who had heard your argument with the human. All confirm that you had reason to be angry. It may interest you to know that I dealt with the human. I sent him to Faramir to explain his words.”

Gandalf could almost feel the question Legolas wanted to ask.

“I did not send him to Aragorn because I thought he would show mercy. Faramir, son of Denethor, will not. Faramir will think of a suitable punishment,” Gandalf replied to the unspoken question.

Legolas sighed. Maybe he would get out of this with his posterior intact, he thought.

“You had reason to be angry for sure...” Gandalf confirmed. Legolas tensed as he felt once again like the mouse with its tail under the cats paw.

Gandalf pounced.

“I ask you Thraduilion. Was it anger or blind rage that had hold of you when you loosed the arrow? Hmmm?” Gandalf asked as he turned to look up at Legolas.

Legolas, head bowed, looked everywhere but at the Wizard.

“Rage,” Legolas finally answered in a voice barely above a whisper.

“We have had this conversation before, my young elf.” Gandalf said, not without understanding. It was not Legolas’ fault that he had inherited Thranduil’s temper the Wizard conceded but he would help the young elf master it – even if it killed the young elf. “Anger is acceptable because, although angry, you are still able to think about the consequences of your actions. You choose whether you want to ignore the ramifications of those consequences or not. But when you allow blind rage to take over you have no thought but your rage, let alone thought about consequences.”

Legolas sighed, conceding defeat. Again he had let blind rage take over and had been lucky not to have hurt others severely as a consequence.

“What did I tell you last time we had this conversation my Princeling?” Gandalf asked.

Legolas blushed furiously.

“If you could not get the message through one end…you would try the other.” Legolas mumbled in reply.

“Exactly. Now, will you come down from that tree and face the consequences of your actions?” Gandalf asked the unhappy elf.

Legolas climbed down from the tree slowly wanting to delay the inevitable. On reaching the ground he stood beside the seated Wizard. Gandalf could not help but smile when Legolas scanned the surroundings to ensure that none would witness him chastised.

Having confirmed that they were indeed alone, Legolas loosed his leggings, pulled them down to his knees and lowered himself over the Wizard’s lap.

As soon as Legolas was settled Gandalf landed the first slap. Legolas gasped at the suddenness and force of the slap and its stinging aftermath. Slap after slap landed on Legolas buttocks. It was not long before Legolas could feel heat and pain building in his bottom.

As the spanking progressed Legolas began to squirm and whimper. And still the Wizard continued. Gandalf having concentrated on the elf’s butt cheeks moved his attention to his thighs. Gandalf increased both the intensity and frequency of the slaps until Legolas’ whimpers became hitched breathing and hitched breathing became quiet sobs.

Gandalf wanted Legolas to learn to control his temper. Legolas’ father had had a cursed life at times due to his blind rages and their consequences. Unlike his son, Thranduil had not been receptive to Gandalf’s attempts to aid him with his temper. Gandalf had a fondness for Legolas and he did not want the young elf to suffer as the elf’s father had.

Legolas’ quiet sobs became louder and the squirming more violent but still Gandalf continued to spank the elf’s thighs and buttocks.

“I am sorry…sorry…sorry,” Legolas stammered between gasps for breath. It never ceased to amaze Legolas how much stamina the Wizard had or how hard he could hit. He wondered if the Wizard was ever going to stop.

“Take heed elfling,” Gandalf said as he continued to land blistering slaps to Legolas’ posterior. “If you allow blind rage to overtake you again, you will face my wrath, or when I have gone West, Aragorn’s wrath.”

Gandalf ended the session with a quick succession of truly memorable slaps to the juncture of the elf’s legs to bottom. Legolas howled at this new pain. Gandalf stopped the spanking and rubbed the elf’s back whilst Legolas regained as much composure as was possible under the circumstances.

With none of his usual grace, Legolas removed himself from Gandalf’s lap and pulled up his leggings, hissing as they came into contact with his very sore posterior.

Gandalf looked at the forlorn elf and opened his arms inviting Legolas into a hug. In the blink of an eye the Wizard’s arms were full of elf. Gandalf rocked Legolas and stroked his hair until both had regained their composure. Gandalf hated disciplining his favourite elf.

Legolas looked at Gandalf and smiled his thanks. Although the punishment was painful it was done out of love and Legolas truly did not want to suffer as his father had done.

“Now be off with you elfling,” Gandalf shooed Legolas as he rose from the bench. “And I beseech you, please stay out of trouble. I do not think either of us could handle another session like this soon.”

“Never!” Legolas promised as he walked, rather ungainly for an elf, out of the garden. Gandalf laughed, shaking his head at the young elf’s confidence, for he knew that trouble would find Legolas again and that trouble would lead the elf to another trip over his knees.


Aragorn was laughing so hard that he was sliding out of the chair in which he was seated and tears of mirth rolled down his face.

“Only you mellon-nin, could cause such devastation with but one arrow. And how, pray tell, did you think you would escape the Istari?” Aragorn managed to say between gasps for breath, as he continued to howl with laugher.

“I was not exactly thinking at the time, was I,” Legolas grumbled petulantly, glaring at his friend for laughing at his discomfort.

Legolas heard a strange choking sound coming from the Steward in front of him. He leaned forward and looked at Faramir with concern. The Steward was on his side curled into a ball. At first Legolas thought that the young man was in pain but on closer inspection could see that Faramir was attempting not to laugh. Legolas raised his eyebrow as he continued to look at Faramir. Faramir looked at the elf apologetically but on seeing the raised eyebrow lost all control. The Steward broke out into hales of laughter interspersed with winces because of the pain his laugher generated in his head.

Legolas thought he should be annoyed but the sound coming from Faramir was so light and so musical that he could only smile in astonishment. The elf realised that this was the first time that he had heard the young Steward truly laugh and from the look of delighted astonishment in Aragorn’s face - the same was true for him.

Faramir was finally able to find voice as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes.

“I am sorry, my friend,” Faramir apologised, as he tried vainly to gain control over his laughter. “Mithrandir did indeed send the fool to me. Lord Atiel is said fool’s name. I know the Lord well as we are of age. He is testament as to why first cousins should not marry through successive generations. And he is a bully,” Faramir added, laugher ebbing from his voice.

On seeing the question in the elf’s eyes the Steward continued.

“I was always small for my age and Atiel, being a favourite of my father’s, felt he had leeway to make my life miserable. When Boromir found out what had been happening in his absence, my brother sorted the idiot out until I was big enough to defend myself.

He tried to lie about what had occurred between you and him but I got the truth, although he seems to have left out much. I would assume he was too busy playing in the horse’s trough to see what else occurred. He was a sight to see upon reaching me, still soaked from the dunking and his face covered with swellings from wasp stings,” Faramir chuckled at the memory.

Legolas covered his own laugh with a cough.

“What did you do to him?” Legolas asked with a little trepidation considering what Faramir had just told him about his own history with the human.

“Do not worry Legolas, Atiel and I came to an agreement the first time I broke the idiot’s nose and sent him flat on his arse, many years ago. For his crimes against you and for what he said against elves, dwarves, hobbits and especially the Queen, he is now a private in the Gondorian army and is currently part of the detail looking to re-establish Osgiliath,” Faramir said with a certain amount of relish.

Legolas made a mental note not to get on the wrong side of Faramir.

A knock was heard at the door and Aragorn rose to answer. A kitchen maid brought in a tray with broth and bread. Aragorn thanked the young woman as she left.

“Your break fast, Faramir,” Aragorn said as he brought the tray over to Faramir and lay it down on the bed beside his Steward.

“I am sorry Aragorn but I am not hungry,” Faramir said as he paled at the sight of the food.

“You will eat my young Steward,” the King commanded as he stood over the Steward, handing him a spoon for the broth.

“I am sorry…” Faramir began but was cut of by Aragorn.

“You will eat or suffer the consequences,” Aragorn said with a swing of his open palm at about arse height.

Legolas broke into laugher. Faramir looked very much like an elfling – all eyes, as the young Steward put his spoon into the broth.

 

On to Stubborn Stewards and Bright Red Paddles

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

Enjoyed this story? Then be sure to let the author know by posting a comment at https://www.faramirfiction.com/fiction/elf-wasps-and-an-angry-wizard. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!


1 Comment(s)

Thank you for the enjoyable read! One of the best LOTR spnk docs I’ve read.

— Treedweller    Sunday 13 January 2019, 7:30    #

Subscribe to comments | Get comments by email | View all recent comments


Comment

  Textile help

All fields except 'Web' are required. The 'submit' button will become active after you've clicked 'preview'.
Your email address will NOT be displayed publicly. It will only be sent to the author so she (he) can reply to your comment in private. If you want to keep track of comments on this article, you can subscribe to its comments feed.