Faramir Fiction Archive

Elves, Orcs and the Road to Recovery

Written by KC

06 November 2004 | 58662 words

Part 18

Faramir awoke the next morning lying half on his side and still being held in his father's arms. Thranduil, eyes glazed over and deep in reverie, was leaning back against the large roots of the tree beside which Legolas had prepared Faramir's bed the night before. The young Steward felt his arse afire but made no noise, as he did not want to wake his father for he was still feeling emotionally fragile from all that had happened the previous evening and was enjoying the comfort gained from being held close by someone whom he cared for deeply and who also cared for him.

Out of the corner of his eye Faramir could see Gandalf sitting on the large root of a tree on the other side of the campfire and Maglor cooking over the fire and also heard the faint sound of voices whispering in the distance. The voices sounded somewhat angry which was confirmed by Gandalf's owlishly amused look and Maglor's annoyed expression as they looked in the direction from whence the whispering voices originated. Not being yet awake enough to care who was squabbling, Faramir snuggled into his father's chest.

"You are awake, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked as he pulled his son into a tighter embrace.

Faramir made what he thought was a sound in the affirmative but sounded more like the sleepy mewling purr of a cat, causing Thranduil to chuckle. Faramir noted the angry whispering seemed to have stopped. His father sighed.

"Who was squabbling, ada?" Faramir asked around a yawn.

"All three sons of Elrond," the elven King replied in a voice that sounded at once annoyed and resigned.

"What about?" Faramir asked finally taking some interest in his surroundings.

"You to be precise, ion-nin. The twins are not at all happy with Estel. And Estel is not very happy with Estel either for that matter," Thranduil answered.

"Oh for Eru's sake!" Faramir moaned as he moved from his father's embrace, rolled to his knees, being careful of his very sore posterior and stood. "Where are they?" the young Steward asked in a world-weary tone as he looked down at his father.

"Legolas *impelled* them to take their squabbling deeper into the forest, that way," the elven King replied pointing to his left.

Faramir sighed, turned and walked in the direction indicated by his father, all the time muttering about how easily the sons of Elrond angered and squabbled and how it must be the human influence for he was sure he had not seen the same tendency in other elves. Thranduil, Maglor and Gandalf shared a look of amusement as they watched Faramir walk, without his usual grace, into the forest.

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The young Steward heard the sounds of a scuffle before hurrying out into the clearing ahead. Stopping abruptly, Faramir stared at the sight before him. Elessar straddled Elrohir's chest pinning the twin to the ground and Elladan had his human brother in a headlock trying to pull him off his twin. Legolas was sitting in the branch of a tree calmly watching the sons of Elrond fight.

"Oh for…" the Steward of Gondor began. "Cease and desist!" he bellowed in a voice that would have made Boromir proud and his rangers snap to attention at the same time as they tried to look as inconspicuous as possible thereby not drawing the individual attention of their Captain.

The fight stopped immediately and all eyes turned to the flushed Steward as he strode towards them. Blushing and wincing, the sons of Elrond rose quickly to their feet and brushed dirt and leaf litter from their clothing. Legolas laughed merrily from his perch in the tree at the sight of the Elrondions, looking for all the world as if they had been caught fighting by Lord Elrond himself.

"Mae Govannen, mellon-nin," Elladan began tentatively on seeing his friend's furious expression.

"We were just discuss…" Elrohir continued but then faded out and gulped as he too was pinned by Faramir's glare.

"I am sorry, my friend," Aragorn said as he looked down at the ground not able to meet his friend's eyes.

Faramir took a deep breath, counted to ten and then exhaled slowly. His mood was not improved by the powerful ache in his hindquarters.

"I can guess the subject of your… discussion," the Steward began as he looked at each of them in turn. "It was not Elessar's fault. You two," Faramir said quietly looking at Elladan and Elrohir, "were not here. You were not witness to what happened. I thank you for your concern and your friendship but Elessar was not to blame for I learned as a child, and learned exceptionally well, to hide my feelings deep inside so as to deprive Denethor of ammunition to be used against me or Boromir and in the hope of lessening the pain of the Steward's barbs and indifference. Occasionally when punishments were harshest, or I was wounded emotionally, I withdrew inwardly as I did last evening. I once withdrew whilst Boromir was chastising me and like ada did last night, he coaxed me and waited for me to return. But unlike ada, he then proceeded to blister my arse until I was wailing, all the time telling me not to scare him like that again," Faramir added with a small chuckle at the memory of his brother's oft contradictory responses. "So please, do not let me be the cause of dissention between you."

"We are sorry, mellon-nin," Elladan apologised as he moved to embrace the young Steward.

"We anger because we care," Elrohir said as he too embraced Faramir.

"I know, my friends. And I do thank you, most sincerely." The Steward's reply was somewhat muffled by the strength of the twins' embrace.

The twins departed, leaving Faramir to deal with the third and youngest son of Elrond. Aragorn had tears in his eyes when he finally looked at his Steward.

"I am sorry, mellon-nin. It will not happen again," the King said as he looked at Faramir.

"I know it will not. It never did with Boromir as he always ensured that he had my full attention when he blistered me with that… that… 'thing'," Faramir said as he embraced his King. Aragorn returned the embrace, feeling the burden of his guilt lifting. "And why pray tell did you not stop the fools fighting?" Faramir asked as he noticed Legolas, over the King's shoulder, still perched on the branch of the tree. The King and Steward broke their embrace and looked up at the Mirkwood Prince.

"Ada sired no fools, muindor tithen," Legolas replied as he looked down upon the two humans. "One does not 'break up' a fight between the sons of Elrond for one simply gets absorbed into the melee or worse, they unite as one and attack."

Aragorn blushed and chuckled; remembering times that Legolas had tried to intercede in their fights and suffered such consequences.

"Come elf, we need to eat the morning meal Maglor has prepared or he will be in a royal snit," Aragorn said eliciting a smile from Faramir.

"Brave words, human," Legolas replied as he jumped lightly from the tree to the ground and walked to stand beside his brother. "When he is not within earshot."

Chuckling, the trio walked back to the camp.

After another large morning meal was consumed under the watchful eye of the Mirkwood Seneschal, Gandalf took his young wizardling aside to begin his training whilst the company continued to await the return of Finrod and the rest of the Gondorian troops.

Gandalf walked with his young pupil to a quiet spot downstream from both the soldier's camp and the camp that had been set up for the rest of the company.

Motioning for Faramir to sit with him on a convenient rock formation, Gandalf chuckled when his young wizardling simply stood with his arms folded, glaring at him.

"I daresay my young wizardling, you have managed, in your own quiet way, to keep us all exceedingly busy," Gandalf admonished mildly.

"You would not hear me complain to have less attention paid me and certain parts of my anatomy," Faramir snapped out the tart rejoinder still feeling his arse throbbing. Gandalf raised an eyebrow as he looked at his wizardling intently. Faramir blushed under his mentor's scrutiny. "I do not wish to sound ungrateful. I am - grateful that is. But it is all a bit overwhelming at times. I mean - to go from being almost invisible except to Boromir and you and Uncle Imrahil on your visits, to everyone it seems, looking out for me and at my actions. I find it unsettling at times."

"You have not been as invisible as you imagined, my wizardling. Your men cared for you deeply but few could bring you to account for your actions, although many wanted to do so. Mablung and Damrod, I am given to understand, managed to bring you to account on several occasions," Gandalf said with a sly smile.

"How did you… who… what…" the young Steward blustered as his mind raced ahead of his mouth. "Boromir!" Faramir exclaimed eyes narrowing.

"Aye, 'twas Boromir who told me. Mablung and Damrod were operating under his instructions," Gandalf replied with a chuckle at the look of horror on his wizardling's face.

"That great oaf! No wonder Mablung and Damrod always seemed unaffected when I threatened to tell Boromir. Although I never would have for I knew Boromir would probably applaud their efforts. Little did I know he was behind them!" Faramir huffed and then sighed wistfully as he leaned against a large man-sized rock. "I miss him, Mithrandir."

"I know, my wizardling," Gandalf commiserated, fascinated as always by the mercurial nature of his pupil. Faramir could run the gamut of emotions within a few heartbeats.

"Well, we will meet again in the halls of our ancestors," Faramir said philosophically. The canny young Steward did not miss the uncomfortable silence that greeted his statement. Turning, he looked directly at his mentor. "Mithrandir?" he asked, feeling his stomach lurch.

"What… what was that my boy?" Gandalf spluttered.

"Mithrandir! You are even worse at lying than I am," the Steward said in a dangerous tone. "Are you saying that I will not be going to the halls of my ancestors?"

"No… no my boy. Just that it may take longer than you anticipate," the Wizard mumbled in way of explanation, knowing that Faramir was not ready for the entire truth as yet.

"How much longer?" Faramir demanded to know.

"A few millennia or so… " Gandalf mumbled.

"Millennia!!" Faramir shouted his temper rising dangerously.

"Now… now calm down, my wizardling," the Wizard soothed.

"Calm down! CALM DOWN!!" Faramir bellowed. "Oh how am I to explain this to Éowyn. Not to mention Éomer!" the young Steward moaned as he paced back and forth like a lion caged.

"Now… now be reasonable, my boy. You have the blood of Númenór in your veins. You were always going to outlive your White Lady of Rohan," Gandalf argued logically.

"By a few decades, Mithrandir! Not a few MILLENIA!!" Faramir growled as he clenched his fists.

"Well. At the very least," the Wizard mumbled.

Anyone who had seen Faramir in a fit of temper would have seen the warning signs, indicating an imminent explosion. Faramir's eyes went cold as his face flushed. Every muscle in his body tensed. A blue haze seemed to grow around the wizardling's body and what looked like small bolts of blue-white lightening crackled around his body causing his hair to stand on end, which in turn gave Faramir a slight look of insanity.

"Oh my," the Wizard said as he saw his sizzling, crackling apprentice. "You need to release the energy that you are drawing upon. Aim for the rock!" Mithrandir added as he jumped adroitly out of the way.

Faramir raised his right hand only to find that the ring had moved back to his left hand. Growling in frustration, Faramir raised his left hand and focussed his attention on the rock several feet in front of him. A bolt of blue lightening shot out from the wizardling's hand and struck the rock. The force of the bolt cracked the rock and caused fine pulverised rock to mushroom out into the air.

"Just keep doing that, my wizardling, until you calm down. Or faint," Gandalf added under his breath.

The Steward of Gondor stormed off, blasting rocks indiscriminately as he went.

The noise of the devastation brought elves and men quickly upon the scene.

"What has happened, Gandalf?" Aragorn asked as soon as he arrived, followed closely by the Mirkwood elves and a few of the higher-ranking Gondorian soldiers.

"I have just had a demonstration of the Steward of Gondor's temper," the Wizard replied matter-of-factly. Those who had experienced the young man's temper either winced or cringed. "And you are right, Thranduil. It is a sight to see!"

"What is he doing?" Legolas asked as more loud noises could be heard retreating into the distance.

"He is blasting rocks. I must admit, he does learn quickly. He is not drawing the energy from himself this time or he would have fainted some time ago," Gandalf said, obviously impressed.

"What should we do, mellon-nin?" Thranduil asked.

"Retrieve him when he ceases sizzling and crackling and finally faints from exhaustion. Which does not appear as if it will be anytime soon," the Wizard added as a particularly loud bang elicited a variety of winces and cringes from those surrounding him.

"What set off my son's temper?"

"I am afraid he discovered that he will live a much longer life than anticipated," Gandalf replied apologetically setting off another round of winces. "Although he is yet to know the full extent. He is thinking a few millennia only."

"Legolas, Maglor, go, keep him in sight," Thranduil instructed. Both elves nodded and followed the sounds of the explosions. The rest of those gathered returned to their respective camps.

It was several hours before Legolas and Maglor returned with an exhausted, unconscious and faintly smoking wizardling cradled in arms of the Seneschal.

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