Faramir Fiction Archive

Elves, Orcs and the Road to Recovery

Written by KC

06 November 2004 | 58662 words

Part 24

"Faramir!!" the Prince of Dol Amroth admonished his nephew as he stood forcing the heavy chair upon which he was sitting to scrape along the floor behind him as he rose to his not inconsiderable height. The young Steward took a step back reflexively on seeing the annoyance in his uncle's face, put a fisted hand with his thumb extended to his mouth and bit down on the tip of his thumbnail. "Do not make this situation any the worse, foxling," Imrahil warned, shaking a finger at his nephew as he recognised the age-old gesture of Faramir's, one that always preceded an ill considered and oft times extremely inappropriate comment.

Removing his thumb nail and clamping his mouth shut, the Steward of Gondor backed away from his uncle and glaring King, eyes darting about for an escape route. Unfortunately he moved to within reach of Gandalf who swung his staff at the Steward's ankles and brought the young man down on this rump with a resounding thump. Wincing from both the pain of the fall and the pain of defeat the Steward brought his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them keeping his eyes lowered and awaited his doom.

"Well, foxling!" Imrahil exclaimed quietly as he walked slowly over to Faramir having made a silent request of the King to allow him to handle the situation and receiving a nod of approval in return from Aragorn. "That was quite a display of temper," the prince added in a deceptively light tone that made Faramir wince as Imrahil removed a chair from the table and placed it before his sister's son. "We have a *number* of issues to address. Do we not?" the Prince asked in the same light tone that did not fool the Steward one wit. "Do we not, foxling?" Imrahil asked again in the same calm manner.

"Aye, sir," Faramir squeaked, swallowing hard in an attempt to rid his throat of the Arda be-damned mouse that was intent on lodging there.

Aragorn moved back to his seat at the head of the table and sat down, enthralled by the interaction between his two princes. Apart from the first reprimand, Imrahil had not raised his voice; however, Faramir was positively subdued and more importantly was actually listening to his uncle. The King thought fleetingly of asking the Prince of Dol Amroth later how he managed such a feat when his attention was drawn back to the scene before him by the prince's next words.

"Now, foxling. Let me see if I can decipher what has occurred here today, hmmm? Please correct me if I am wrong in any of my conjectures," Imrahil said as he looked down upon his dejected nephew, a sympathetic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Faramir hated it when his uncle did this to him, for the man was invariably correct in all that he said and made any misbehaviour sound all the worse for its calm recounting. "You came to this meeting still suffering the ill-effects of your indulgences at the tavern yesterday. I have no doubt that you had a particularly gruelling session with Mithrandir," Imrahil added as he pinned the wizard with a look that made the wizard clear his throat and slide his gaze away. "You became angry at the councillor's words and lost your temper leading to the astonishing visual display to which we were all witness. Feeling ill, angry and trapped, foxling, you then lashed out at the King when he attempted to stop you and again in keeping you here," the prince concluded calmly, evoking a whimper from Faramir. "Do you disagree with anything that I have said?"

"Nay," the Steward replied in a small, whispered voice as he buried his face further into his drawn knees.

"So, foxling. That brings us to the issue of punishment," Imrahil said as he leaned forward, stroked Faramir's hair and brought his hand around to cup his nephew's chin thus raising the young man's head gently so that their eyes met. Faramir looked at his uncle's gentle expression and nodded his head once in acceptance. "Now let us address your temper tantrum and inappropriate use of your wizard powers. I am sure that Mithrandir will be able to conjure up an appropriate punishment that does not involve direct chastisement of your rear end," the prince said as he again pinned Gandalf with a 'look', receiving a slightly 'put out' look from the wizard in return. Faramir relaxed imperceptibly at the thought that his posterior may be spared double the amount of pain, although this thought was followed by the rather disheartening thought that the King was more than capable of making up for the wizard. "Unfortunately your posterior will not be spared for the disrespect you showed the King. But I am sure, given the King's forgiving nature, he will forego the use of 'Faramir's Bane' on this occasion and settle for a thorough hand-spanking instead," Imrahil concluded as he pinned Aragorn with a similar 'look' to the had one he had used on the wizard.

Aragorn had always suspected that Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth would prove to be a powerful advocate or conversely, a dangerous adversary. He was just beginning to realise how dangerous he was and why Faramir was so formidable in intellect, with notable exceptions, and cunning, with the glimpses he himself had seen and if half the tales Boromir had regaled the fellowship with about the war of wits his brother had raged against the Haradrim in Ithilien were true, he thought. Intellect was strong in both Adrahil and Ecthelion, Faramir's grandsires. Sneakiness, though, had obviously bred true on Adrahil's side for both Imrahil and Faramir possessed that particular trait in buckets, Aragorn thought as he reappraised the two princes.

"Come, foxling," Imrahil sighed as he held out a hand to his nephew. "Time to see this incident concluded."

Faramir took hold of his uncle's hand and was pulled to his feet. Imrahil pushed the young Steward gently towards the King who had moved his chair further back from the table. Taking a deep breath as he stood beside the King, Faramir loosened the ties of his leggings, pushed them down to his knees and lowered himself over Aragorn's lap. The King pulled up his Steward's over-tunic and held it bunched at the young man's waist, exposing the intended target.

"What is this punishment for my young Steward?" Aragorn asked and awaited Faramir's response before beginning the punishment.

"For being disrespectful to you and your office," the Steward replied in a voice just above a whisper.

On ensuring that Faramir was indeed 'with' him Aragorn began the chastisement, monitoring his Steward's reactions closely. The King landed stinging slap after stinging slap to his Steward's buttocks. It was not long before Faramir was whimpering and squirming, attempting to reduce the severity of the slaps to his rear. Whimpers eventually turned to sobs as the King continued the punishing and painful pace.

"I am s-sorry... Sorry...s-so s-sorry," Faramir cried out between gasps for breath.

Taking pity on his Steward who was still obviously feeling the effects of his inebriation of the night before, landed a few more punishing whacks before ending the chastisement. It took Faramir a few moments to realise that the punishment had concluded and that the King was rubbing his back in soothing circles, crooning softly. Slipping from Aragorn's lap, the Steward dropped to his knees as he pulled up his leggings. Aragorn slid to his knees and enveloped his Steward in a comforting hug.

"All is forgiven, my Steward," Aragorn crooned as he continued to hold Faramir. "I do admit fault in this situation as well. I know that you are feeling overwhelmed at the moment and my behaviour yesterday was not helpful, something your father brought to my attention - rather forcefully I might add," an admission that elicited a small smile from Faramir

After several long moments the King got to his feet pulling the Steward up with him. Prince Imrahil approached, turned his nephew around and surrounded him with his long arms and pulled Faramir into a tight embrace. The Steward melted into his uncle's embrace.

"I think it is time to leave, foxling, to get something for that ache in your head, not to mention the other end," Imrahil said as he smiled and guided his embarrassed nephew out of the room via a private hallway that led to the King and Steward's apartments. On opening the door, Imrahil and Faramir were met by Thranduil and Maglor. It was obvious to Imrahil that the elves had been 'snooping' and had in all likelihood heard everything. Smiling, Imrahil released Faramir to the arms of King Thranduil who hugged his son tightly.

"Ion-nin," Thranduil said affectionately as hugged his son, "we will *have* to work on that temper of yours." The elven King gave his son another hug before releasing him to the care of Maglor who shepherded his young charge towards the Steward's apartments.

"You heard everything that transpired I trust?" Imrahil asked impishly as he looked at the elf intently.

"Aye. We did. Maglor has not had his charge out of his sight all day and was worried about my son's condition on entering the meeting. I must admit that you handled the situation - impressively. I assume through much practice?" Thranduil asked in an equally impish tone.

"Aye. The stories I could tell you about my sister's foxling. It was all Boromir could do to keep him in line," Imrahil smiled as they walked to Faramir's apartments. "Many thought Faramir the weaker of my two nephews but they were wrong. Faramir, in his way, is every bit as strong as Boromir was, even more stubborn and far more cunning. I do hope you know what you have taken on in fostering the little fox?"

"I have a fair idea, mellon-nin," Thranduil said as they reached the entrance to Faramir's apartments, "which is why I have assigned Maglor to care for my son also."

"I am given to understand that Prince Legolas can also be quite a handful," Imrahil said as he and Thranduil stood outside the entrance to Faramir's apartments.

"Aye, that is true but my elfling has grown since acquiring a younger sibling to look out for. Although I expect my elfling will behave as such from time to time still," Thranduil chuckled as he gestured for Imrahil to enter the Steward's apartment before him.

Faramir had been ushered into bed by Maglor and given a brew to reduce his still considerable headache. Sleeping brew or brew for pain both had the same effect on the Steward with the exception that a brew for pain took a little longer to send the young man into the realm of dreams. He was just dropping off to sleep when his father and uncle arrived to bid him good rest.

Thranduil and Imrahil spoke long into the night, forming the foundation of an extremely strong friendship built on the love that both held for the slumbering Steward of Gondor.

The next morning Gandalf, denied access to his normal means of disciplining his pupil by, in his learned opinion, a very devious Imrahil, decided on a punishment that would meet two purposes, that is, to ensure that his pupil rued his temper tantrum of the previous day and allow the wizard to achieve something that he had hitherto not had the time to achieve.

The White Wizard took his rather nervous wizarding up to the roof of the tower whereupon he had Faramir remove his overtunic, causing momentary panic on the Steward's part before telling him to levitate stone benches, moving them from one location to another. This task he made more difficult by Galdalf exerting his own will on the benches making them far harder to move. It was not long before the Steward had worked up quite a sweat and was trembling with exhaustion. Still Gandalf would not relent.

"I... am... sorry... for... losing... my... bloody... temper, Mithrandir," Faramir wheezed gasping for breath as he wiped sweat from his brow, barely able to stand.

"Not sorry enough by the sounds of it, my wizardling," Gandalf replied. "Keep going."

Faramir groaned and continued until he could take no more and fell to his knees, placing his forehead on the ground. Feeling that his wizardling was just about ready, that is, barely able to string two rational thoughts together, Gandalf relented and allowed the exhausted Steward to sit cross-legged on the ground. The White Wizard coached Faramir through breathing and mental exercises designed to free his wizardling's mind and focussing it ever inwards, seeking his calm centre and a voice. Faramir made contact finally with the voice, which responded with joy that its young one could finally hear.

"That, my wizardling," Gandalf said with a certain amount smugness at the puzzled look on Faramir's face, "is the voice of the ring. I am still at a loss as to explain how you have managed to focus through the ring without being aware of that voice."

---

The days that followed fell into a pattern for Faramir. A portion of the mornings under the tutelage of Gandalf was devoted to meditation, breathing and listening to the teaching songs of the ring. Afternoons were spent seeing to the myriad of duties assigned to the Steward. Faramir had the continued assistance of Beregond, who had finally warmed to his new role having suspected for the longest time that he was being punished by the Steward for alerting the King to the existence of 'Faramir's Bane'. So the duties were not as overwhelming as Faramir had anticipated.

Over the weeks Faramir grew more confident in both his wizard powers and his role as Steward. Much to his relief, Faramir found that he still had time to be with his family and friends. The extended visit of his uncle added to his growing happiness.

It was at an informal dinner hosted by the King and Queen for family and friends that Imrahil realised that his foxling was indeed on the road to recovery. Present at the dinner was of course Aragorn and Arwen, Lord Elrond, the twins, Gandalf, King Thranduil, Legolas, Maglor, Finrod, Gimli, Prince Imrahil and Faramir. Stories, laughter and wine abounded, not necessarily in that order. Faramir enjoyed himself thoroughly, laughing musically as only a few had heard before and Imrahil had not heard for a long, long time and despaired ever hearing again.

At the conclusion of the meal the party gathered around an enormous fireplace to continue the revelry. The elves and dwarf sang songs. At one point having just ended a song, Gimli looked at Faramir speculatively as he remembered comments he had heard from the Ithilien rangers he had met whilst assisting with rebuilding the White City.

"I understand from your Rangers that you have a fine voice yourself, laddie," Gimli said as he looked at the startled Steward. "Will you not sing for us?"

Blushing in embarrassment, Faramir declined the invitation mumbling that the rangers were wrong, that they were probably very drunk at the time and that he had it on good authority that his voice was indeed woeful. The elves present took up the cause and began to badger the flustered young human. In the end it was Arwen who finally coaxed the Steward into at least trying - for the honour of men. Clearing his throat nervously Faramir began to sing, at first tentatively and then with greater confidence. The song he sang was one of love, joy and peace. All around mouths dropped open and eyes widened in astonishment as the resonant and clear tones of a tenor gave life and feeling to the song.

When Faramir finished singing he ducked his head in embarrassment as the silence continued, giving him the impression that his voice was indeed pitiful.

"You have a beautiful voice, Faramir," Arwen said in awe, the first to break the silence. Soon other voices affirmed Arwen's words causing the Steward further embarrassment.

Thranduil and Aragorn noticed tears running down Imrahil's face as the Prince watched his nephew.

"What is wrong, mellon-nin?" the elven King asked in a hushed whisper as he moved to shield the distraught prince from the others in the room. Aragorn also moved to shield the prince.

It took Imrahil a moment to regain control over his emotions.

"When he was a child, before his voice changed into that of a man," the prince began haltingly, "Faramir had the most astounding, crystal clear voice, a voice that sounded so much like Findulas' when she was alive. In those days my sister's foxling sang constantly for the sheer joy of it. I suspected that it hurt Denethor to hear a voice so like that of his departed wife. Instead of explaining to Faramir why it hurt him to hear him sing, that his singing reminded him of his mother and he missed her dearly, he told his youngest that he had a woeful voice, a voice that should not be heard in public. He told his son who loved reading and singing above all other pursuits that he should be more like his brother and turn his attention to more useful pursuits such practicing with a sword. If Boromir had been there that day it may have been different but he was not and on that day my foxling ceased singing. I tried to tell him that Denethor was mistaken but my foxling in his utter dejection would not or could not hear my words or Boromir's when he returned and discovered what had taken place. My foxling never sang again in the Steward's presence or my own. I thought never to hear it again nor his wonderful unguarded laughter. My little one *is* truly on the road to recovery and my heart sings in gladness," Imrahil said smiling through his tears.

The two Kings and Prince sat in silence as Faramir was coaxed into singing another song, his face beaming and his eyes shining brightly.

The End

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Please let me know what you think of this story at drasnia@optusnet.com.au

Next in the Series - War of the Wizards

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