Elves, Orcs and the Road to Recovery 
Written by KC06 November 2004 | 58662 words
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to Tolkien.
Series: This is number six in the series that started with ‘Grief’, ‘Elf, Wasps and an Angry Wizard’ and ‘Stubborn Stewards and Bright Red Paddles’, ‘Human King, Elven King & One Stubborn Steward’, and ‘Sweet Revenge or Let Licking Dogs Lie’.
Please let me know what you think of this story at drasnia@optusnet.com.au
Part 1
After the incident of the sweet-toothed hunting dogs and the barefooted King, Faramir had decided it was in his own best interests to lay low, as they say and so he had concentrated on dealing with the backlog of paperwork that seemed to have procreated during his absence. It was no wonder the King had sorely missed him, Faramir thought as the mountains of paperwork on his right had been reduced, bit by bit, over the days as he answered correspondence, organised materials and resources and dealt with the myriad of administrative tasks that was the lot of any Steward's existence. The King was obviously a man of action and not paperwork, Faramir though irreverently.
To Faramir's relief, the reconstruction of the White City was going well. Gimli's dwarves and Lord Elrond's elves, albeit not without much squabbling, were assisting the people of Gondor in returning the city to grander than its former glory. Gondor's Queen had surprised Faramir, when he arrived back in the city and after waking in his mother's garden having suffered a heavy chastisement session with Lord Elrond, Mithrandir and Elessar, by taking the young Steward, Legolas and their elven father to the his apartments and standing a little nervously at the door before opening it and revealing the changes that she had wrought within. Faramir was both astonished and moved. Gone were all the belongings of the old Steward his father and in their place a mixture of furniture from his old quarters and new pieces he had never seen before. The rooms of the Steward's apartment looked nothing like they had when his father had resided in them. Faramir realised that each room had been decorated with him in mind and with great affection. His study was now filled with bookshelves and his favourite books. Arwen must have sought advice from Gondor's Scholars. Faramir could see that new books he had never seen before had been added to the collection.
Overwhelmed, the young Steward stood speechless.
"Are you pleased with the changes?" Arwen asked tentatively, in her beautiful lilting voice, as she was not sure of the nature of Faramir's emotions.
"Oh, yes my Queen!" Faramir exclaimed quietly after some moments, tears filling his eyes. "Thank you," he added in a harsh whisper filled with emotion as he looked at the Queen.
"You are welcome, mellon-nin" Arwen whispered into the young Steward's ear as she embraced him. Faramir stiffened slightly. "I have left Boromir's room untouched," Arwen added, this time sensing Faramir's concern. Faramir relaxed again.
Unseen by Faramir, Thranduil and Legolas both smiled their thanks to Arwen.
As Faramir dealt with the mountain of administrative tasks and without realising it, he had slipped into old habits that had got him into trouble before. Habits such as working excessively long hours, not eating regularly, and not sleeping. The major cause for this slide into old coping habits was a letter from Éowyn in which she explained that, due to pressing matters in Rohan, she would not be able to join him for eighteen months. The only consolation for Faramir was Éowyn's obvious vexation at not being able to join him immediately, for his love's sentiments came through clearly in her writing. To make matters worse, Aragorn had enlisted the aid of the elves including the four Mirkwood elves, Thranduil, Legolas, Finrod and Maglor to drive off orcs that were harassing workers trying to restore Osgiliath. Faramir had wanted to go but had been overruled by Aragorn who was feeling trapped inside the White City and wanted to taste freedom, if only for a short while. So while Aragorn played, Faramir worked.
The King and company had been gone for two weeks and was expected back within days. Faramir, having just completed the last piece of paperwork, having worked through most of the night and most of the day, heard the bells of the tower ringing, heralding the return of the King. The young Steward stood from his chair quickly and almost lost consciousness as a wave of vertigo hit him. This is not good, Faramir thought as he held onto the back of the chair in which he had been sitting for support and waited for the dizziness to pass. Gingerly, he made his way to his wash chamber to apply some cold water to his face. After dousing himself thoroughly with cold water from a jug that he poured into a basin, Faramir looked up into the mirror that was situated just above the water basin. This is definitely not good the young Steward thought as he saw the black rings below his eyes and his pallid complexion. Not having enough time to truly panic, Faramir made his way to the courtyard just outside the palace to greet the King, and the elves including his elven father.
The Steward moved down the stairs and into the front courtyard. Arwen was already standing in the courtyard and watched as Faramir walked to stand beside her. The Queen of Gondor shook her head at the ill condition of the young Steward as he bowed to her. Both turned on hearing the horses reach the courtyard. Faramir could see Legolas and Maglor shaking their heads, much as Arwen had done and then saw the look of anger on his elven father's face. Cursing the acuity of elven eyesight, Faramir tried not to wince at the same time he tried to swallow past his suddenly dry mouth.
Aragorn dismounted from his horse and handed the reins to the stable boy who was at hand as did the elves. The King eyed his steward with growing displeasure and went and greeted his wife with an exuberant embrace and a heartfelt kiss. Aragorn turned back to his Steward as Faramir went down on bended knee.
"Greetings my King," Faramir said as he rose slowly in the hopes that he would not be hit by another wave of vertigo. "I hope the hunt went well?" Faramir asked, hoping against reasonable hope that Elessar would be distracted.
Thranduil, Legolas and Maglor joined Elessar. All looked at Faramir intently. The Elrondion twins and other Rivendell elves stood in the background obviously interested in the proceedings. Every part of the Steward's being wanted to turn tail and run but logic dictated that he could not outrun Ioreth the old healer, given his current level of energy, let alone the elves and ranger.
Moving over to Faramir Aragorn reached behind his Steward, fisted the back of the young man's tunic and pulled it taut.
"You have lost weight my Steward. You have not been eating regularly," Aragorn said in a dangerously quiet voice. "You have not been sleeping by the dark circles under your eyes, so I can only assume you have been working long hours." Aragorn sighed, still fisting the back of Faramir's tunic. Aragorn turned to Thranduil who was looking livid at his human son's condition. "I will hand your son over to you, King Thranduil. I know you will be able to deal with him appropriately," Aragorn said as he let go of his Steward's tunic and walked past the pale young man to take his wife's hand, gracing him with another 'displeased' glare.
Thranduil stood in front of his human son continuing to examine him closely. The elven King did not like what he saw. Faramir grew paler under his elven father's glare.
"You are in much trouble, ion-nin," the elven King growled. "Follow me Faramir Thranduilion," Thranduil commanded as he passed his wincing human son.
Sighing in resignation, Faramir turned and followed his elven father. Shaking his head, Legolas put a comforting arm around his brother's shoulders as they walked behind their father. Neither spoke. Maglor, as usual, brought up the rear.
Thranduil walked into his human son's apartments followed by Faramir. Legolas and Maglor waited outside and Maglor closed the door. Faramir feeling frightened and ashamed stood with his head bowed, eyes glued to the floor and his arms wrapped around himself protectively. A combination of great worry, anger and pity passed across the elven Kings features as he looked upon his young human son.
Taking a deep breath, Thranduil stood before his son and slowly and gently gathered the despondent young human into a hug. Faramir flinched at the contact but Thranduil held his human son until his trembling ceased and the young human had relaxed somewhat.
"I am sorry, ada," Faramir whispered into his elven father's tunic. "I am sorry to have disappointed you and King Elessar," Faramir whispered with a quiet sob.
Thranduil sighed.
"Our disappointment stems from worry, ion-nin," the elven King explained as he continued to embrace his human son. "Estel worries at how you lose weight and withdraw from others every time you reside in the White City. He wants his Steward to thrive in this city not withdraw and wither away," Thranduil said as he released his son and walked over to Faramir's desk, taking one of the chairs in front of the desk, placed it a few paces away from the desk and sat down.
Berating himself severely for getting into this predicament, Faramir moved over to his elven father, loosened the ties on his leggings, pushed them down to his knees and lowered himself over his father's lap.
"What is this punishment for, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked as he landed the first stinging swat to his human son's buttocks.
"For losing weight!" Faramir yelped at the hard stinging swats.
"Wrong answer, ion-nin," Thranduil retorted as he landed swat after stinging swat to Faramir's posterior. "The loss of weight is not the issue but what you do not do to lose weight, pen-neth."
"For forgetting to eat," Faramir gasped between blistering swats.
"As you seem to be in the habit of forgetting to eat, we will have to think of methods to ensure that you remember, ion-nin. Perhaps a nightly meeting with Faramir's Bane will aid you in remembering, pen-neth," the elven King suggested as he moved from his young son's buttocks, which were turning a deep shade of red, to his thighs.
"That…will…not…be…necessary," Faramir ground out between swats his temper perversely, on the rise.
"We will see, ion-nin. What else is this chastisement for?" Thranduil asked as he continued to blister his son's thighs.
"For…working…too…hard," Faramir managed to gasp out in between blistering slaps. "But given the paperwork I came back to," Faramir spat out gasping for breath, "and who was left when you all went off orc-hunting, what else could I do!" Faramir added in anger and indignation.
"You are an intelligent man, with notable exceptions, ion-nin," Thranduil corrected, "you could have found a solution. Now why did you spend so many hours working," Thranduil demanded.
"I…cannot…sleep," Faramir whimpered as the pain in his thighs overtook the pain in his posterior.
"Now why can you not sleep, ion-nin?" Thranduil questioned as he concentrated again on Faramir's buttocks.
"Éowyn will not be joining me for another eighteen months," Faramir whined.
Thranduil looked at his son in sympathy even as he continued to blister the young man's posterior.
"And?" the elven King encouraged.
"Nightmares. You left me alone!" Faramir shouted as he squirmed and struggled on his father's lap.
"Why it takes so much with you, to get to the crux of the matter…" Thranduil began as he continued to spank his son's buttocks.
"You did not ask!" Faramir howled in anger.
"Would you have admitted your anger to me if I had?" Thranduil asked.
"No!" Faramir sobbed out in anger.
Thranduil stopped the chastisement and pulled up his son's leggings causing Faramir to howl in pain. The elven King gathered his son into his arms and rocked the sobbing young human.
"Oh tithen-pen! You may not be of my flesh, but you are of my soul," Thranduil chuckled softly as he continued to rock his human son.
When it seemed safe to do so, Legolas and Maglor entered the room. Maglor was holding a goblet. The Seneschal handed over the requisite sleeping draught, which Thranduil accepted with a smile and held to his human's son's mouth. Faramir was almost asleep as it was.
"Unsavoury habit, Maglor," Faramir grumbled making all three elves chuckle.
It did not take long before the Steward was deeply asleep in the safety of his elven father's arms.
With elven ease, Thranduil carried his human son into the young man's sleeping chambers. Maglor pulled down the covers as the elven King and Legolas stripped Faramir and changed him into night attire. Both shook their heads sadly at the weight Faramir had lost. They turned Faramir onto his stomach. All three elves turned when they heard someone approaching.
"Mae govannen, Estel," King Thranduil greeted.
"Mae govannen, Thranduil, Legolas, Maglor," Aragorn greeted each in turn. "How is our young charge?" Aragorn asked quietly as he made his way over to the bed and sat down on the end.
"Sore and very sorry," Thranduil replied as pulled the covers up over his human son and then sat down on a chair by the bedside. Legolas sat beside Faramir on the side opposite his father and Maglor remained standing. "Éowyn will not be able to join him for another eighteen months," Thranduil informed them. Aragorn and Legolas both winced at the news. "He was not happy about being left in the city 'alone' as he put it. He has been suffering from nightmares and you left him the perfect excuse to avoid dealing with his unhappiness by leaving him a mountain of paperwork," Thranduil criticised the King of Gondor, as he looked directly at Aragorn.
"Oh," Aragorn winced seeing his own culpability in the matter.
Faramir made a small whimpering sound as if in the midst of a nightmare.
"Shhhh, muindor tithen," Legolas soothed in a quiet voice as he stroked his brother's hair. "You are not alone. Never again," Legolas added quietly but wincing as he realised that he had assured his brother before that he would not be left alone. "I am sorry, muindor tithen. It will not happen again"
As if having heard his elven brother's assurances, Faramir settled into a deeper sleep.
"I know you were torn between attending me and leaving this young one behind mellon-nin," Thranduil said to Maglor. "I suggest you follow your keen instinct in future, my Seneschal."
Maglor nodded his head in agreement. Legolas winced, for a Maglor given free rein not always a good thing he remembered from past, vast, experience. Poor Faramir, Legolas thought as he looked down upon his sleeping brother, he does not know what he is in for.
Part 2
The exhausted young Steward of Gondor slept for over a day. On the morning of the second day he roused from his deep slumber, albeit slowly. First Faramir became aware that he was ensconced, very comfortably, in his own bed. His ranger sense picked up on sound and movement so he knew that he was not alone. A small smile came to his face as he could guess who was there with him.
"Finally he awakens!" Thranduil teased from his seated position in the chair by the side of Faramir's bed. "I thought you would sleep this day away as well, ion-nin."
Faramir's smile brightened as he rubbed his eyes in much the same manner as he had when a child.
"How long have I been asleep, ada?" Faramir asked softly as he yawned widely, scrubbed at his face and ran his hands through his curly red-gold locks.
"Almost a day and a half!" the elven King announced.
"Oh c…" the young Steward began to curse as he sat up suddenly. Before any more words issued forth, a hand clamped over his mouth muffling any further words. Startled, Faramir looked up and into the eyes of Maglor. The young Steward blushed profusely at the amused look on the Seneschal's face.
"None of that pen-neth. We do not wish to start this day with a wallop now do we," Maglor admonished his young charge mildly. Faramir's eyes widened as he continued to look at Maglor and then to Legolas who was sitting on the windowsill to his left. The young Steward's eyes narrowed as he could see Legolas' shoulders shaking with mirth even as the elf tried to hide a grin. "I will go see what I can find for you to eat," Maglor said as he released Faramir's mouth, turned and walked out of the room.
"Ada has let loose the reins on Maglor, muindor tithen," Legolas informed Faramir with a giggle as soon as the Senschal had left. "You are in for some very interesting times," the elf added enigmatically.
Thranduil stilled his elven son with a mock glare.
"Ada?" Faramir asked in a tone that sought clarification.
"Maglor will simply be more…attuned…to your needs ion-nin. That is all," Thranduil reassured his human son.
"Ada!" Faramir exclaimed quietly, seeing through to the core of the situation with his usual acuteness. "I am a grown man. I am hardly in need of a nanny!" the young Steward implored in a harsh whisper.
Thranduil graced his human son with a raised eyebrow and a look of scepticism. The young Steward had the grace to blush and duck his head in embarrassment in the realisation that his recent behaviour gave lie to his assertion that he did not need a nanny. Legolas laughed. Faramir glared.
After complaining that there was enough food on the tray to feed a small army, Faramir ate most of the food that Maglor had brought back. On finishing the meal, the young Steward bathed, dressed and made his way to the King's study to which he had been summoned. Faramir entered Elessar's study not knowing what his reception might be.
"Ah, there you are," Aragorn smiled and motioned Faramir to sit in a chair by the fireplace. The King studied his Steward intently much to his Steward's discomfort. "You are looking well rested, my Steward," Aragorn said smiling slightly at his Steward's obvious embarrassment.
"Well…yes…being drugged tends to have that affect on one," Faramir replied in annoyance and chagrin.
"A sleeping draught does not put one to sleep for a day and a half, my Steward. You were exhausted," Aragorn admonished with a stern glare.
"Yes, sire," Faramir admitted, sighing in quiet defeat.
"What am I to do with you," Aragorn said shaking his head at his young Steward.
"You could banish me to Rohan," Faramir quipped, only half in jest.
"I am sorry that Éowyn will be gone from you for so long," Elessar said with genuine regret.
"From what I could read between the lines of Éowyn's letter, King Éomer, although undoubtedly a great warrior, has the diplomatic skills of an orc - one of the less intelligent and more belligerent ones at that," Faramir complained, unkindly, in quiet exasperation.
Aragorn laughed well knowing the young King of Rohan's…limitations.
"Shame on you Faramir," Aragorn admonished but with a small smile that softened his words. "Not a very charitable assessment of your future brother-in-law."
"No, but true nonetheless, Sire," the young Steward replied.
"On a different subject and the reason you were summoned," Aragorn began. "You will be leaving again soon to take your father to view the elven haven. I need someone to assist with the damn paperwork. You were sorely missed, my Steward."
"That much was blindingly obvious," Faramir muttered.
"What was that?" Aragorn asked with a stern look at his Steward.
"Nothing, Sire," Faramir replied with the same look of innocence that sent shudders down the spine of Legolas. It had the same affect on Aragorn.
"Alright," Aragorn said with a sceptical look. "Who would you recommend to assist me in your absence.
"Beregond!!" Faramir exclaimed with a smile. Elessar looked at his steward intently.
"This would not be a form of revenge against the poor man, would it be?" Aragorn asked as he studied his young Steward, knowing that Faramir still harboured a grudge about 'Faramir's Bane' and Beregond was instrumental in bringing the instrument's existence to his attention.
Faramir smirked.
"Beregond really is the best man for the job, Sire," the young Steward answered honestly.
"But if it is work not to his liking, you would not find it in your heart to pity him," Aragorn guessed.
"No, I would not" Faramir admitted smirking.
Faramir spent the next two weeks handing over the administrative duties to Beregond who had, at first, thought the duties a form of punishment. Faramir assured the poor beleaguered man that even though it appeared punishment it was actually an honour. The young Steward laughed when Beregond had looked at him in disbelief.
Maglor spent the two weeks ensuring that his young charge was provided with meals at regular intervals. On the second night, Maglor arrived with a tray of food to Faramir's study where he was tutoring the human Beregond in the duties that he would perform. Some time later, unbeknownst to either Faramir or Beregond, the elf had returned and was glaring at the uneaten meal.
"Beregond?" Maglor asked impassively. "Would you leave us alone, please?"
Startled, Faramir looked up at Maglor. The Steward's eyes darted to the tray of uneaten food and then back to Maglor. Beregond, sensing some undercurrent, looked at Faramir who nodded his head in agreement and then left the Steward and elf with alacrity. Beregond was pretty sure what was about to happen and although one part of him rejoiced that the Steward was being cared for, another part wanted to seek out the deepest darkest hiding place for fear of the Steward's temper.
"I am sorry Maglor, I meant to eat the food. It just slipped my mind…" Faramir pleaded in his own defence as he rose from the chair in which he had been sitting. The young Steward's eyes widened and his face paled when he saw what the Seneschal was holding in his hand.
Faramir groaned.
"Elflings are very flighty and prone to periods of not eating. The standard cure for this condition is to spank the elfling lightly on the first offence and to greater and greater degrees on subsequent offences. Most elflings, with a few exceptions, learn very quickly," Maglor said as he walked slowly towards his young charge. "I wonder, pen-neth, how long it will take you to learn?" the Seneschal asked as he stopped in front of the Steward.
Faramir's eyes darted about for an escape route but none was available. Taking a deep breath the Steward braced himself for what was about to happen.
"Where do you want me?" Faramir asked in a pained whisper.
"Leggings down and across the desk, pen-neth," Maglor answered briskly. Faramir sighed again and did as instructed. Leggings down and draped across the desk, Faramir awaited the punishment. "Twenty swats with the paddle, pen-neth," Maglor said as he pulled Faramir's tunic up to his waist.
"Twenty is not a light punishment!" Faramir's exclaimed indignantly and would have straightened had Maglor not been holding him down.
"You are not an elfling, pen-neth. Now I want you to count each one so that each is imprinted on your mind as well as your behind," Maglor instructed the young human as he landed the first swat.
"One," Faramir yelped at the stinging swat. "Two… three… four… five" Faramir ground out, his temper rising. "Six… seven… owww… eight… nine… ten," Faramir continued, whimpering with each stinging, biting swat from his bloody red nemesis. Temper taking control over mouth again, the young Steward made the mistake of cursing softly in Rohirrim. "OWWWW!!!!!!" Faramir yelled as Maglor landed an all-powerful swat to his abused rear-end.
"I am also fluent in many languages, pen-neth," Maglor said as he stopped for a moment.
"Eleven," Faramir spat out trying desperately to regain control over his mouth.
"That one does not count, tithen-pen," Maglor informed the Steward, as he resumed the paddling.
"Eleven," Faramir growled. "Twelve… thirteen… fourteen… fifteen," Faramir managed to say, between sobs and gasps for breath. "Sixteen… seventeen… eighteen… nineteen… twenty…owwwww" Faramir howled as Maglor made the final swat a memorable one. "I am sorry… sorry," the young Steward said over and over.
Sobbing, Faramir remained leaning over the desk as Maglor pulled up his young charge's leggings. The young Steward hissed at the pain this action caused him but preferred the pain to the embarrassment of having his leggings down round his ankles. Maglor rubbed Faramir's back gently in circles. Pulling the human up gently Maglor enveloped Faramir in a hug and rocked him as the Steward sobbed out his pain. The Seneschal held Faramir until the young man had regained some calm.
"Are you alright?" Maglor began. "Stupid question, I know," the Seneschal chuckled at the glare from his young charge. "Has the message reached you mind as well as your behind, tithen-pen?"
"I am not about to say no am I," came Faramir's surly answer.
"Oh, tithen-pen! It is no wonder that Thranduil is so taken with you. Two peas in a pod!" Maglor laughed leaving Faramir to wonder.
Part 3
"Now sit and eat," Maglor instructed, but then laughed at the glare he received from his young charge. "Eat," the Seneschal corrected.
Maglor watched as the Steward ate the meal - standing - and placed the remnants of the meal on the tray and carried the tray to the door passing Legolas as the elf entered the room. Faramir walked from the desk over to the chair situated near the fireplace that was closest to him. One look at his human brother's rather stilted movements informed Legolas loudly of what had transpired recently.
"Oh, muindor tithen!" Legolas exclaimed quietly. "What have you done now?" the elven Prince asked in exasperation as he approached his brother.
"I forgot to eat the meal that was provided to me by Maglor, I was so concentrated on providing Beregond with the information that he will need to assist King Elessar whilst I am away, Faramir replied still berating himself silently for his stupidity. "Egad! But that elf packs a wallop!" the Steward exclaimed, wincing as he could feel his arse throb painfully in time with his heartbeat.
Legolas winced as he sat down in the chair opposite the one on which Faramir was leaning.
"Yes…well… I do admit that Maglor is very strict in matters pertaining to eating. He and everyone you know are of the opinion that you are too thin," Legolas chided his brother.
Faramir stared at his elven brother in disbelief.
"The bit about Maglor being very strict in matters pertaining to eating, would have indeed been very useful intelligence up until about an hour ago, brother," the Steward admonished as he frowned at Legolas.
"Sorry," the elf apologised having the grace to look chagrined.
"Maglor mentioned something about elflings being flighty and prone to periods of not eating," the pained young Steward remembered. Faramir's eyes narrowed and a smirk grew as he caught the scent of a good and hopefully very embarrassing story behind the Seneschal's words. "He also mentioned how most elflings learn quickly but not all…" Faramir's voice trailed off as he studied his elven brother intently.
Legolas cringed under the intense stare and blushing to the tips of his elven ears, lowered his eyes to the floor.
"Given that a little judicious forewarning from you may have spared me the inability to sit down this from this night to the next…and probably the day after," Faramir added feeling another flare of pain from his tender hindquarters. "I think you owe me what I am sure is a very amusing story."
Legolas remained silent.
"I could always go to ada," Faramir said giving his brother the wide-eyed innocent look that sent shudders down the elf's spine but Legolas knew would ignite their father's sense of mischief.
"And ada would delight in telling you," Legolas sighed in defeat.
"Upon my honour as the Steward of Gondor and not as your brother, for there I admit I have less honour and would delight in relaying the story to Gimli, amongst others, I promise not to tell another soul," Faramir swore.
"Alright, I will tell you but this is tantamount to blackmail," Legolas admonished his smiling brother.
"Blackmail was a tactic that proved very effective against Boromir also," Faramir responded.
Sighing, Legolas settled back into the chair in which he was seated and began.
"It all started in Rivendell…"
"So we are in agreement?" Lord Elrond asked as he walked beside King Thranduil down the long corridor that led eventually to the dining hall, where they both would partake of a noonday meal.
"Yes, the trade terms are acceptable, mellon-nin," Thranduil replied.
A slight movement in the rafters above caught Elrond's eye. Looking up, the elven Lord detected a small blond-haired elfling sitting on the top of a wooden beam where two of the beams intersected, with his knees drawn up to his chest. Thranduil looked up to see what had drawn his friend's attention. Both elves stopped just below where the elfling was huddled.
"Leg-o-las. What are you doing up there, my elfling?" the elven King asked gently, as he could see his young son was distressed. "Will you come down, tithen-pen?" Thranduil coaxed softly.
Within a split moment, Legolas jumped from the very high rafter and straight into his father's arms. Wood-elves! Elrond thought as his heart leapt into his mouth.
"Oomph!" Thranduil grunted as his arms were suddenly filled with distressed elfling. Legolas wrapped his little legs around his father's waist and wrapped equally small arms around his father's neck, burying his face in his father's shoulder. "You are getting a little too big for that manoeuvre, my elfling," Thranduil whispered into his son's overly large elfling ear. "Whatever is the matter with you ion-nin?" the King asked as he pulled his son's arms from around his neck so that he could better look at the elfling's face. Two large tear-filled blue eyes could be seen peaking out from the mass of blond-hair that had fallen over the elfling's face. "What is it?" Thranduil asked as he brushed the hair back from Legolas' face.
"Maglor sp-spanked me," the young elfling replied in a very quiet and trembling voice.
"What did he spank you for, my elfling?" Thranduil questioned gently.
"Nothing," Legolas replied.
"Nothing? Are you sure it was for nothing?" the elven King questioned as he looked at his son.
Legolas nodded; mouth turned down, lips trembling and eyes still filled with unshed tears. Under his father's gentle but unwavering look, Legolas' nodding turned, reluctantly, into shaking.
"Why were you spanked, my elfling? Thranduil asked his son, trying to hold back a smile that was threatening to break out across his face.
"I was not hungry," Legolas muttered as he put his arms back around his father's neck, burying his face and runny nose, in his father's over tunic. Thranduil and Lord Elrond exchanged knowing looks as the elven King crooned softly to his elfling as he hugged him. A universal constant in the world of elves was the battle to get elflings to eat. Thankfully, it was usually a very short-lived phase that all elflings went through.
Thranduil and Elrond walked into the dining hall and sat down at the main table. Maglor was seated at another table. Unbeknownst to Legolas, the elven King signalled Maglor asking the Seneschal if his elfling had eaten. Maglor signalled back - yes. After the meal, which Thranduil ate still holding his sleepy elfling, the King retired to their quarters and put his son down for a nap.
No problems were encountered in getting Legolas to eat the evening meal but the morning meal the next day was a different matter.
Elrond and Thranduil had gone out to inspect goods that had been brought back by elves who had just returned from a trading expedition to a few human villages known for exceptional quality goods. Legolas, as usual, was left in the care of Maglor.
Maglor knew there would be trouble when his young charge declared adamantly, in what the Seneschal had to admit was a very good imitation of Thranduil in a snit, that he was not hungry. Taking a deep breath, Maglor picked up the young Prince and carried him into the dinning hall. No sooner had he placed Legolas in a chair at the main table, when the wood elfling was out of the chair and off and running. As a very experienced warrior, it did not take Maglor long to catch the recalcitrant young one. Taking another deep breath he carried the wriggling elfling back to the dining hall and sat him down on the same chair but this time maintained a firm hold on Legolas.
In the interim Glorfindel, the Seneschal to Lord Elrond, had sat down at the main table, opposite to where Maglor was just taking a seat as he still held on to his young charge. Glorfindel was grinning from ear-to-ear as he remembered his own battles with the "duo horribus" also known as the Elrondion twins.
Maglor's hold on the elfling loosened for a moment when the Seneschal reached into the centre of the table to pull a tray of fruits closer to him. Legolas wriggled out of the hold, scampered under the table and came out at an opening beside Glorfindel. The Rivendell elf grabbed a fist full of the elfling's tunic and held the struggling elfling off the floor. Thwarted yet again, Legolas launched into a very impressive temper tantrum, kicking and hitting. Glorfindel simply held the elfling far enough away so that no target, in the way of sensitive body parts, presented itself.
"There is no way that Thranduil could own that this one did not belong to him," Glorfindel said in a conversational tone as he continued to hold the red-faced, struggling elfling off the floor by the back of his tunic.
"That is very true," Maglor replied in a similar conversational tone as he walked around the long table and wrapped his arms firmly around the kicking, hitting elfling, pinning Legolas' arms to his side.
"There is a room back there," Glorfindel said as he pointed to a doorway at the back of the hall, "I think you will find will meet your needs."
"Thank you, mellon-nin," Maglor said as he carried the still struggling elfling through the doorway and into the back room.
The room was small and contained a chair and two small elfling-sized beds. Sitting down on the chair, Maglor placed the struggling elfling facedown over his lap and waited until Legolas' blind rage abated enough for the elfling to realise the trouble he was in. It took a surprisingly long time but the young elfling finally stopped struggling.
Maglor pulled down his young charge's leggings. Legolas whimpered as realisation struck.
"What is this spanking for tithen-pen?" Maglor asked wanting to assure himself that the elfling was indeed rational again, or as rational as an elfling ever got.
"For not eating," the young elfling whimpered.
"And?"
"For getting angry," Legolas answered in a trembling, tiny voice.
"Not for getting angry but for hitting and kicking, tithen-pen," Maglor corrected.
Maglor proceeded to spank the young elfling, a little harder than the spanking the day before. It did not take long for the cheeks of Legolas' buttocks to turn a rosy pink. Legolas sobbed saying he was sorry. After a few more spanks, Maglor stopped, pulled up his young charge's leggings, turned him over and gave him a comforting hug. Legolas' tiny arms went around Maglor's neck as the young elfling cried out his pain.
"I do love you, tithen-pen. You do know that do you not?" the Seceschal asked.
"Yes," Legolas answered.
It was not long before the exhausted young elfling fell asleep in the Seneschal's arms. Maglor pulled back the covers on one of the tiny beds, laid his elfling down, pulling the bed covers up and tucking them around Legolas. Taking a seat in the chair Maglor watched over his elfling as he slept, looking once again like an innocent.
Maglor chuckled.
Faramir laughed as Legolas finished the story. He could imagine Legolas as a very cute little elfling causing havoc for Maglor and their father. Faramir's thoughts turned sombre as he thought of his relationship with Denethor. The Steward thanked the Valar for Boromir, the one constant in his life that made his childhood - bearable. Faramir realised how lucky he was to have found Legolas and Thranduil.
"I do not believe that is the end of the tale, brother," Faramir teased.
"No but it is enough for this night, muindor tithen," Legolas replied.
"Before we retire for the night, are there any other pieces of intelligence concerning Maglor of which it would be in my own best interests to be aware? Hmmmm?" Faramir asked.
It was some time before either brother saw their bed that evening.
,h3>Part 4Faramir, as he had predicted the previous evening, was still unable to sit comfortably the next morning. The pained young Steward made his way to the King's dinning hall for the morning meal. Upon arrival Faramir blushed, as it was obvious that most if not all who were already gathered knew of his 'sit-uation'. The young Steward groaned at his mind's ability to make jest even when the 'butt' of the jest was himself. Faramir groaned again trying to think of other things thus depriving his already fertile mind of further fodder. Despite the twin mischievous expressions of his elven father and brother, Faramir was grateful for the pillow that graced the empty chair between them.
After the meal all guests left with the exception of Aragorn, Legolas, the Elrondion twins and Faramir. The King had the morning free and wanted to share it with his 'brothers', although the twins in their boredom had been driving him mad of late. The five retired to a small private room that had several chairs and a lounge on which Faramir could stretch out. Aragorn and the Elrondion twins smirked as the Steward did just that.
"Maglor has lost none of his strength I see, mellon-nin," Elladan commiserated. Faramir blushed fiercely.
"He rivals Gandalf, if I remember correctly," Elrohir added smiling at the young human.
"What say you Estel? You have felt the hand of both more recently than us, what say you?" Elladan teased.
Faramir's eyes widened in astonishment, Legolas laughed and Aragorn blushed to the tips of his ears as he glared at Elladan. Faramir's eyes turned mischievous as he looked at his King intently. Aragorn winced.
"You had better tell him the story, mellon-nin or he will just ask ada or Gandalf," Legolas advised upon seeing the devious look in his brother's eyes. Faramir's expression turned instantly into one of wide-eyed innocence. "Stop that!" Legolas chided, shuddering.
"This is blackmail, you do realise do you not?" Aragorn admonished as he looked sternly at Faramir, shuddering at his Steward's expression of innocence.
"Yes he does. Effective is it not?" Legolas replied as he glared at his brother.
Aragorn sighed conceding defeat.
"It was many years ago on a visit to Mirkwood with Gandalf…" Aragorn began.
"Estel, there are more recent examples than that," Elladan chided.
"Not with both Maglor and Gandalf there are not," the King retorted.
Elven and human eyes widened and eyebrows went skyward.
"As I was saying. It was many years ago on a visit to Mirkwood in the company of Gandalf…"
Sixteen year old Estel was on his first trip away from Imladris in the company of someone other than his father or brothers. Gandalf thought it would be good for the boy to venture into the wider world and meet elves other than the Noldor. Elrond agreed reluctantly for he would have preferred to keep his fledgling cosseted for a few more years. The Lord of Rivendell kissed his human son goodbye, with strict instructions to heed Gandalf at all times.
Gandalf and Estel made their way by small wagon through the misty mountains. On the other side of the mountains they took the Old Forest Road. On the fifth day, Gandalf and Aragorn made camp in a small clearing not far off the main road. The young human had been under strict instructions not to wander far from camp. In typical adolescent fashion and because the instructions had not been reinforced on a daily if not hourly basis, Estel had wandered quite a distance away from the camp his attention drawn by slight movement and sound that always seemed to be ahead of him.
A sound above caught Aragorn's attention. Looking up he saw a sight that would give him nightmares for some time to come, for there above him was the biggest spider he had ever seen in his young life coming down on a thread straight for him. The young human drew his elven sword as he shouted.
"Gandalf!!!!"
Estel fought the spider stabbing, slashing and dancing around the arachnid, looking always for a chance to escape. Just when he thought he was in deep, deep trouble a brilliant light followed by Gandalf scared the spider away.
"Are you alright, child? Did the spider bite you? Are you hurt?" Gandalf fired off questions, as he looked his young charge over frantically.
"Yes, no and no," Estel panted as he tried to regain his breath after the fight and the fright.
"Good!" the wizard growled as he grabbed the young human by an ear and dragged him back to the camp.
"Owwww! Gandalf!" Aragorn whined as the wizard continued to drag him by the ear.
Gandalf spied a fallen log near the fire that he had started earlier and pulled the squirming child over to it and sat down, letting go of Estel's ear as he did so.
Rubbing at his ear furiously to temper the sting, Aragorn gulped when he saw the look of anger on Gandalf's face. The young human knew he was in for it.
"Leggings down and over my knee. Now!" the wizard instructed, still furious from the fright of seeing the child almost bitten by a spider.
Aragorn did as instructed and lay over Gandalf's lap. Gandalf laid ten very hard stinging slaps with such speed that Aragorn could barely get a breath in before the next slap.
"What is this punishment for, child?" the wizard asked finally.
"For wandering away from camp…owwww! …and… n-not heeding… your… instructions… owwww!," Estel managed to say between sobs and gasps
The angry wizard continued to land blistering whack after blistering wack but careful not to inflict damage on the young one. Aragorn's began to sob in earnest.
"I a-am sorry… Gandalf. I am sorry!" Estel kept repeating.
"Think of your father child. Think of how he would have felt if you had been killed and how I would have had to be the one to tell him!" Gandalf exclaimed as he moved from Aragorn's posterior to his thighs.
Estel broke down into truly repentant sobbing. After a few more blistering whacks, Gandalf stopped the punishment and pulled up the child's leggings. With a strength that surprised most who witnessed it, Gandalf turned the young human over and gathered the sobbing, repentant young one and soothed him.
For the whole of the next day, Estel rode in the back of his wagon lying on his stomach, keeping his much abused posterior away from hard surfaces. Two days later they reached a little used elven path and turning north travelled towards the Halls of Mirkwood. It was not long after turning off the Old Forest Road that Gandalf and Estel encountered Mirkwood elves. One lone elf was blocking the path but Aragorn could see more elves in the trees about.
"Mae govannen, Mithrandir," a tall blond elven warrior greeted Gandalf though his eyes did not waver from the young human sitting beside the wizard.
"Well met, Maglor," Gandalf greeted in return. "This is Estel Elrondion," the wizard introduced his young travelling companion. "Estel this is Maglor, Seneschal to King Thranduil."
Maglor's eyebrow went up.
"Mae govannen, Estel," Maglor greeted the young human formally.
"Mae govannen, Maglor," Aragorn greeted the elf in return.
In the company of the elves, it took Gandalf another day and a half to reach the Halls of Mirkwood. The wizard could not help chuckling at Estel's wide eyes as the young human tried to take in the grandeur of the huge caverns dug out of the mountain that made up the Halls of Mirkwood. Estel's eyes darted about trying to see everything at once.
Gandalf and Estel stopped before the elven King who was sitting on his throne. Gandalf whacked the young human on his chest with the back of his hand, to bring the boy's attention away from the scenery and to the King who was sitting in front of them with a mischievous look in his eye. Aragorn started and then blushed when he realised that he had ignored the elven King.
"Mae govannen, Mithrandir," Thranduil greeted the wizard. "Mae govannen, Estel Elrondion," the elven King said, as he looked Estel up and down. "You have sprouted like a bean. The last time I saw you, tithen-pen, you were still in soiling cloths," Thranduil teased.
It had the desired effect as Aragorn blushed in embarrassment, adolescent pride bruised.
"Is Legolas here?" Estel asked after his friend.
"I am sorry Estel. Legolas is on patrol down near Dol Guldur and is not expected back for some weeks," Thranduil replied noting the look of disappointment on the young human's face that spoke of the human's genuine friendship with his son.
Wizard and human were invited to sup with the elven King after which Estel was allowed to tour the Halls. Estel went into the great hall. Looking up he saw that young elves were playing in the rafters.
"I would not climb up there tithen-pen," came a voice from behind the young human. Startled, Estel jumped and turned around to see Maglor. "I would hate to see you hurt," the Seneschal added as he continued on his way into another room.
Aragorn continued to watch the young wood elves enjoying themselves by jumping from one rafter to the next and swinging on bits of rope. He looked around to see if Maglor was about. When he could not see Maglor the son of Elrond decided to climb up a vertical support and into the rafters. Although not as graceful as the elves, Aragorn still managed the climb. After an initial hesitation the wood elves welcomed the human into their game. Aragorn was having such fun until he saw Gandalf below, obviously searching for him. As his attention was diverted, Estel did not see the elf swinging towards him until it was too late. The elf saw the human overbalance but could not save him. Aragorn fell from the rafter but had the presence of mind to grab onto a hanging curtain. The curtain ripped as the human descended but did manage to slow the descent. Unfortunately for the hapless son of Elrond, he landed on Gandalf sending the wizard sprawling onto the floor. The curtain that Aragorn held broke free of its moorings and floated down gently covering both sprawled wizard and human.
The great hall went silent as all watched the scene unfolding before them. All that could be heard was Mithrandir's cursing as he tried to free himself from the clinging curtain with the help of a panicked human boy.
"Estel Elrondion," Gandalf bellowed at the stunned human cringing before him.
"I will take care of this Mithrandir," Maglor said on seeing the wizard's anger. "Follow me tithen-pen," Maglor said before the wizard could lodge any objection he may have had.
Gulping, Aragorn followed the warrior elf. After a short walk, Estel found himself in a small room that contained a desk, couch and a few chairs around a fireplace. Maglor sat down on the couch.
"You understand why you are about to be punished, tithen-pen?" Maglor asked the young human.
"Yes sir," Aragorn answered with a sigh.
"I suspect you know the drill, pen-neth," Maglor said as he patted his knee.
Aragorn sighed yet again as he loosened the ties on his leggings pushed them down and lowered himself over the Seneschal's lap.
Maglor wasted no more time than Gandalf, Aragorn thought in annoyance. The Seneschal proceeded to blister the young human's buttocks. It was not long before Estel was whimpering and gasping for breaths. He did not think anyone could hit harder than Gandalf but Maglor certainly could. Whimpers soon turned to sobs as the Seneschal continued to land blistering whacks to the human's exposed posterior.
"I am s-sorry," Aragorn repeated over and over.
Maglor moved to the young human's thighs landing a few more very hard whacks and then finished the punishment. When Aragorn realised the punishment had concluded he slid from the Seneschal's lap onto the floor, pulling up his leggings as he did so. Maglor gathered the young human into his arms and soothed the boy as he sobbed out his pain and embarrassment.
"Now I understand why you and Legolas are such good friends," Maglor said eliciting a small smile from the young human. "I pity your father having to cope with you and the 'duo horribus'," the Seneschal chuckled.
Legolas, Faramir and the twins were laughing like loons at the visual image of the King of Gondor, descending down on a tearing curtain to land on the wizard.
"So I can say with some authority that Maglor hits harder than Gandalf," Aragorn concluded.
Part 5
Maglor continued to ensure that Faramir was provided with meals at regular intervals. The Steward, having been dealt a rather painful lesson by the elf, remembered to eat each and every meal. At the end of two weeks Faramir felt that Beregond knew enough to assist the King adequately during the Steward's absences. Conversely, Beregond did not think he would be able to meet the demands of the King and harboured the secret belief that he was, contrary to assurances by the Steward, being punished for bringing the existence of 'Faramir's Bane' to the attention of the King.
"It is not a punishment my friend," Faramir smiled at Beregond's dark expression as they both sat in chairs in the Steward's study situated in front of the fireplace in the early morning sunshine, shining through the windows that looked out upon the private garden. "You will do fine. And no, I am not reading your mind," the Steward assured the man upon seeing Beregond's shock followed by the narrowing of his eyes. "Have you never wondered, my friend, why you always lose at card games? Every thought that enters your mind, in the space of but a moment, registers clearly in your features. And yes, you are as open to the King as well which is why he trusts you so," Faramir added upon seeing the horrified realisation in Beregond's wide-eyed look of fright.
"You are truly beginning to scare me, my Lord," Beregond said as he looked at the Steward as if Faramir had suddenly grown an extra head. He had always known that Lord Faramir was uncommonly canny and could see to the very heart of man or beast but this was truly frightening, he thought. "Please stop. I am finding it difficult enough to cope as it is without you terrifying me," Beregond whined.
Faramir's attention was diverted momentarily by a knock at the door.
"Come," Faramir called out. Thranduil entered his human son's apartment. By the twinkle of humour in his elven father's eyes, Faramir concluded that the King's keen hearing had detected most, if not all of his conversation with Beregond.
"You may go Beregond," Faramir released the flustered man. Beregond rose, bowed to Faramir then to King Thranduil and left the Steward's presence with a little more speed than was dignified or strictly polite. After the door closed behind Beregond, Faramir broke out into a fit of the giggles.
"That was not nice, ion-nin," Thranduil admonished as he looked at his son intently noticing with approval that Faramir looked less haggard, had more colour in his cheeks and had gained a little weight, though less than he would have liked given the amount of food Maglor was feeding his young charge.
"I know, ada. I love the man dearly but I cannot seem to stop myself from tormenting him," Faramir smiled as he looked up at his father. The elven King shook his head in mock disapproval but then smiled down upon his human son.
"Lord Elrond has asked that Legolas, you and I join him for the evening meal tonight at the seventh bell, if that is alright with you ion-nin?" Thranduil asked.
Taken aback that Lord Elrond would ask for him specifically, it took Faramir a moment to respond in the affirmative. The elven King left his young son to conclude the work necessary before their departure for the forests of Ithilien.
Sitting at his desk, Faramir thought back on the conversation he had had with Legolas about Maglor some nights ago. The young Steward was actually looking forward to pitting his wits and ranger skills against those of the elven warrior. Legolas, on seeing the mischievous intent on his human brother's face, had cautioned the young man against whatever it was that he was planning and that no, he did not want to know what 'it' was as he did not want to be considered an accessory before, during, after or anywhere within the vicinity of the fact. Faramir smirked wiggling his eyebrows. Legolas groaned, shaking his head.
It was near noon and Faramir had finished all the work that was outstanding. Grabbing his cloak the young Steward made his way to the door and on opening it, leaned out into the corridor to check if anyone was coming. Seeing that the hallway was clear in both directions, Faramir sprinted to the end of the corridor and ducked into a small alcove near the door that led out into the garden and waited. It was not long when Maglor carrying a tray filled with food, walked to the door of the room Faramir had just vacated. Balancing the tray on one hand the Seneschal opened the door and disappeared into the room. A few moments later Maglor came back out of the room looking around as if searching for something or someone. Faramir made his move disappearing out into the garden, knowing that Maglor would have caught his movement. Moving with surprising speed, Faramir made his way down through the city to the commercial district on the second level and disappeared into the tavern where Legolas had created mayhem with but one arrow and a wasp's nest.
Maglor followed his young charge amazed at how quickly and fluidly the young human could move. The Seneschal followed Faramir down into the city wondering where the young one was headed. The young human disappeared into a tavern. Annoyance growing by the moment, Maglor waited in a position where he could see both entrances to the tavern and waited. When the young Steward did not reappear after some time, Maglor decided to enter the tavern and round up his wayward charge to march him back to the Steward's apartments. Faramir, however, was nowhere to be found in the tavern.
"Is there another way out of this inn except for these two entrances?" Maglor asked the innkeeper who was serving drinks behind the bar.
"Only through the cellar master elf," the innkeeper replied.
Feeling annoyance, chagrin and a new respect for his young charge, Maglor made his way back to the palace where he came upon Thranduil, Legolas and Aragorn coming out of a meeting room.
"What ails you, mellon-nin?" Thranduil asked on seeing his Seneschal's dark expression.
"Faramir Thranduilion!" Maglor growled.
"What has he done now? Where is he?" the elven King asked wondering what his human son had done to so annoy Maglor. "Oh ho! He has managed to slip his leash," Thranduil laughed in astonishment as realisation struck.
"Yes," Maglor admitted looking annoyed. Legolas and Aragorn both looked at the Seneschal in disbelief.
All four walked to the Steward's apartment and on entering froze, for sitting at his desk finishing the meal placed there by Maglor was the young Steward of Gondor. Faramir looked up and graced the King and elves with such a look of innocent intent that Legolas and Aragorn shuddered and Thranduil roared with laughter. Eyes narrowing, the Mirkwood Seneschal dipped his head slightly to his young charge conceding this first round to the Steward of Gondor. Let the games begin he thought.
Just before the seventh bell, Faramir, Thranduil and Legolas walked to the rooms set aside for use by the Lord of Rivendell. Elrond greeted them on arrival and directed the trio to a small dinning room two doors away and invited them to sit at a small table that had been set for the evening meal.
The meal turned out to be a pleasant interlude with wine and conversation free flowing and enjoyable. Although much more serious than the elven King, Faramir discovered that the Lord of Rivendell did indeed have a sense of humour and delighted in the stories Lord Elrond related about his and Thranduil's younger days. At the conclusion of the meal, Thranduil, as was his nature, came to the heart of the matter in the most direct manner possible.
"Alright mellon-nin. You have plied us with Estel's best food, your best wine and have entertained us exceedingly well. What do you want, mellon-nin?" Thranduil asked as he stared at his friend unwaveringly with the raised eyebrow that Faramir was certain must be taught to every elf at a very young age.
To the young Steward's astonishment Lord Elrond blushed, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
"Well…yes," Elrond coughed. "I do have a favour to ask."
Realisation dawned on King Thranduil.
"This has to do with the 'duo horribus', does it not?" Thranduil asked in a flash of insight.
Faramir frowned confused, remembering vaguely that King Elessar had used the term when telling the story of Maglor's strength versus Mithrandir's.
"Elladan and Elrohir," Legolas leaned over to his right and whispered in his brother's ear. Faramir's eyes widened in alarm that his father would call the Elrondion twins that to Lord Elrond's face.
"They are driving you or Estel, or you *and* Estel to distraction and you wish to get them from underfoot by sending them with us when we visit the site of the elven haven," Thranduil deduced, continuing to look at his friend intently.
"More the latter than the former, I do admit, mellon-nin," Elrond replied in embarrassment. "If Estel does not cause their hasty demise then much to my own shame, I will."
Thranduil laughed, Legolas smirked and Faramir sat looking stunned.
"You do understand what you are asking of me, do you not, mellon-nin? Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas and Faramir all travelling in the same party at the same time? The 'trio horribus'," Thranduil stressed, including Legolas in the definition much to the embarrassment of his son who blushing averted his eyes downward, "Maglor and I can control…mostly. But add this young one to that already unpredictable mix," Thranduil said indicating Faramir, "and it could very well be the end of the fourth age before it has had a chance to truly get started!"
Shocked at the statement and his pride offended, Faramir was about to snap out a tart rejoinder when his father pinned him with a look that promised retribution if he were so much as to squeak. Faramir, teeth making an audible sound as his jaw snapped shut, heeded the warning and remained silent.
"Yes, mellon-nin. I am fully cognisant of what I am asking but I find myself at wit's end," Elrond answered in exasperation.
A few moments of silence ensued whilst Thranduil considered the rather unpalatable proposition.
"I will allow the twins to travel with us out of deference to our friendship, mellon-nin," Thranduil sighed. "But do not be surprised if one morning you find a crate at your doorstep in which they have been packaged and returned to you and Estel," the elven King stated.
Elrond sighed in relief.
"Hannon le, mellon-nin (I thank you, my friend)," Elrond smiled at his friend of many centuries.
"You will owe me, mellon-nin" Thranduil warned pointing a finger at his long time friend.
"Inordinately!" Elrond replied wryly knowing that he was indeed indebted to his friend.
Preparations were completed and the company of elves and one human were gathered in the early morning hours in the courtyard before the palace to say farewell to their friends. Faramir was standing with Legolas and Thranduil before the King of Gondor. Maglor and Finrod were standing in the background with the horses. The twins were bidding goodbye to their father and sister.
"Hannon le, mellon-nin," Estel thanked Thranduil for removing the twin thorns from his side, if only temporarily, as he looked over to where the twins were standing. Legolas chuckled. "You my Steward, take care," Estel said as he embraced Faramir. "One word of warning," the King added as he pushed Faramir to arms length to look his Steward in the eye. "If you place yourself in danger needlessly you will, in addition to your father and whoever else, answer to me. Do I make myself clear?"
"As crystal," Faramir muttered mutinously.
"Remember little one, I have a paddle with your name on it! Take care," Aragorn whispered as he embraced his Steward again and shared a meaningful look with Thranduil over Faramir's shoulder.
Part 6
After farewells were completed the elves and human mounted their horses and made their way down through the levels of the city and out through the city gates. Just beyond the gates they collected about twenty horses loaded with missives and supplies bound for Osgiliath. King Thranduil had agreed to take the supplies to Osgiliath before crossing the Anduin and turning northwards to Northern Ithilien. Laden down as they were with supplies, it took the travellers almost until nightfall to reach Osgiliath.
Several Ithilien rangers stationed at Osgiliath spied their former captain as Faramir rode into the temporary tent city set aside for soldiers protecting the human and elven workers tasked with rebuilding the city and came running towards their captain shouting greetings. The young Steward dismounted and greeted each man by name, deeply touched by their enthusiastic welcome. Encouraged by Thranduil, Faramir shared the evening meal with his rangers in their camp as the elves made their way to tents near the river set aside for their use. Wine flowed and stories were exchanged as the rangers remembered fallen comrades of which there were many…far too many Faramir thought as his memory wandered back to the hopeless battle to retake Osgiliath just before he was struck down by a Southron dart. The young Steward could not bring himself to eat the bowl of food he was given for he felt responsible for the deaths of the men who rode with him on that doomed campaign, making his stomach queasy. Instead he simply moved the food around until finally putting the bowl aside. In an attempt to lessen the pain of remembrance, Faramir drank more wine than he had intended. Later that evening an inebriated and sombre young human made his way to where the elves had camped.
Thranduil, Maglor, Finrod, Legolas and the twins were gathered around a fire that had been set alight in a small clearing near the tents in which they would spend the night. From their seated positions, Thranduil and Legolas' keen elven sight detected the approach and condition of Faramir. Elven father and son shared a look of concern as both could see the young Steward's pain clearly written upon the young human's face. Springing to his feet with elven grace the Mirkwood King made his way to his human son quickly. Faramir stopped, seeing his father's approach and swayed slightly with his arms wrapped around himself protectively. It almost broke Thranduil's heart to see his son's defensive and dejected posture. Moving slowly, the elven King wrapped his arms around his son gently and pulled the young human into a much-needed hug.
Faramir's breath hitched but tears did not come; too great and too deep were the wounds to his gentle and battered heart. After several long moments Thranduil released his son and assisted him back to the camp and into the tent that they would be sharing. Maglor was already there having prepared the camp-bed for his young charge. Both elves stripped the young human down to his leggings and under tunic, removing his boots and placing them at the end of the bed and assisted the young man to lie down, covering him with blankets. Faramir was asleep within moments.
Thranduil was brought back from his reverie abruptly by a familiar elven whistling call. Looking over to where his human son was sleeping the elven King was alarmed to find that Faramir was not abed. Moving quickly the elf vacated the tent and saw that the Elrondion twins were also looking in the direction from whence the elven call had come. In the distance, down by the river, Thranduil could see Maglor and Legolas standing near Faramir who was kneeling by the waters edge. Instructing the twins to stay put, Thranduil made his way quickly to where his human son was kneeling.
"He still sleeps," Maglor informed the King quietly as Thranduil approached. The elven King noted Maglor and Legolas' expressions of concern and distress as they looked down upon the young Steward. Faramir was scrubbing furiously at his forearms and hands muttering to himself.
"What is the matter young Lord?" Thranduil asked quietly as he knelt down beside his son.
"I cannot get the stain out," Faramir replied in a harsh whisper as he looked down at his hands in horror and misery.
"What stain, my Lord?" Thranduil asked softly.
"Blood…the blood of so many. It will not come out," Faramir sobbed out quietly as he put his hands back into the water and continued the harsh scrubbing.
The elven King deduced that his son was lost in the memory of the insane attempt to regain Osgiliath on orders from Denethor.
"They were soldiers and you were following the orders of Lord Denethor, my Lord," Thranduil reasoned, tears welling in his eyes at the pain and despair he could feel coming from his son and at the blood that was beginning to flow from his son's forearms and hands caused by the harsh scrubbing.
"So many dead… so many… I should have been stronger… I should have died with them as Denethor wanted… the orcs hacked them to pieces… the blood… the stench… so foul… the sounds of battle… of dying… Mablung… Damrod… Anborn… all dead… it should have been me… why did I live?" Faramir lamented, rocking back and forth as he continued scrubbing at his hands.
"It was not your time, young Lord," the elven King argued softly so as not to cause harm by waking his son from his walking dream.
"They came in boats…" Faramir said as he stopped scrubbing and looked into the distance across the river, seeing again the wave upon wave of orcs, Southrons and Harads that poured across from the other side. "We fought… but still they came. I was tired… so tired… allowed no rest… I tried… but still they came…why did I live? It will not come out!" Faramir wailed as he looked down at his hands and began scrubbing again.
"The King of Gondor is in need of you. You cannot abandon your King. Estel needs his Steward," Thranduil said his voice hoarse with emotion as he looked from his human son to his elven son who had tears streaming down his face as he watched his brother's anguish and could do naught but stand mute.
The young Steward of Gondor broke into harsh sobbing as he continued to look at his bloodied hands in despair. Thranduil put an arm around his son's shoulders as the young man continued to sob. Turning slightly, Faramir threw his arms around the elven King's neck and sobbed.
"Ada," Faramir called to his father as he awoke and then fainted.
Thranduil rose to his feet with his human son cradled gently in his arms and walked back to the camp in silence with Legolas and Maglor. The elven King and Seneschal stripped the young human quickly and efficiently. The Elrondion twins arrived with hot water, cloths and bandages. Legolas stood back out of the way still visibly distressed.
"Hannon le," Thranduil thanked the twins as he took a cloth from Elladan, dipped it into the hot water and bathed his son. Elrohir walked over to Legolas and placed a comforting arm around his friend's shoulders. Maglor attended to the bloodied forearms and hands cleaning, salving and bandaging the limbs. After dressing Faramir in fresh leggings and under tunic, the elven King and Seneschal covered the young man with several blankets. The young Steward did not stir once throughout, either due to excessive emotion or excessive wine, Thranduil could not tell which.
After Faramir was made comfortable, Thranduil sat on the groundsheet beside the head of the bed in which his son lay so that he could reach out and soothe him as necessary. Legolas moved to sit further down near his brother's feet. Both sat in silence as Maglor and the Elrondion twins left to allow the King and Prince privacy.
"Ai, my elfling!" Thranduil exclaimed quietly as he looked at Legolas. "So little shows on the surface with this one."
"Mithrandir once told me that Faramir had learned to hide in plain sight because of the way he had been treated by Denethor," Legolas said as he adjusted the blankets covering the young Steward, tucking them more securely around his brother. "I now realise exactly what he meant. Oh ada! He is in so much pain. What are we to do? How are we to help him?"
"Be there for him, my elfling," Thranduil counselled. "I begin to better understand why he has no love for himself and why he has a keen intelligence except with matters pertaining to self-preservation," the elven King added as he stroked Faramir's hair, as much to sooth his own shattered calm as that of his sleeping son.
"He will continue to put himself at risk," Legolas stated.
"Yes my elfling, I am afraid he will. Estel is also aware of this, which is why he is so adamant that his Steward will face him in addition to any punishments he has already received for the any offence related to putting himself in the way of harm unnecessarily. Estel does not want to lose this one and neither do I," Thranduil whispered with passion.
Thranduil and Legolas continued to keep vigil as Faramir slept until well into the next morning. The young Steward woke feeling groggy and with a pounding head. He could feel the presence of his ada and brother. Faramir remembered drinking with the Ithilien rangers the evening before but could not remember much else except for a dream…
"I had the most awful dream…" Faramir groaned but then stopped abruptly as he saw the bandages, which extended from hand to elbow. "It was no dream…" Faramir moaned as colour drained from his already pale face and tears welled in his eyes.
"Shhhh… ion-nin," Thranduil soothed as he stroked his son's hair and looked into his tear-filled eyes. "You had a battle memory. It happens, ion-nin."
"Oh ada! I am sorry to be such a burden… so weak and so flawed," Faramir sobbed.
"You are no burden, ion-nin and you are neither weak nor flawed! And if you ever say that again, distressed or not, I will turn you over my knee and blister your behind. Do your hear me, tithen-pen?" Thranduil growled quietly.
Faramir nodded, sobbing anew. The elven King sat on the edge of the camp bed, gathered his human son into his arms, and rocked the young man as he sobbed out his pain in earnest. Faramir lay in the arms of his father for a long time gaining comfort from the contact. He would never grow tired of his elven father's hugs he thought, so like Boromir's.
Some time later Maglor entered with the morning meal. Faramir groaned.
"Is there anyway I can escape eating this morning?" Faramir asked in a whisper meant only for his father. The young Steward was feeling decidedly delicate.
"No!" came the immediate response from both Thranduil and Maglor whose keen elven hearing caught his young charge's whispered request. Legolas, who had been sitting on the floor near his brother's feet during the entire exchange between his father and brother, chuckled. Faramir glared at his brother and then settled back into the arms of his father and sighed in resignation.
Part 7
Faramir finished enough of the light broth and bread brought to him by Maglor to satisfy both Thranduil and the Seneschal but not risk the food reappearing unexpectedly. The young Steward, at the insistence of Maglor, laid back down and rested; closing his eyes and falling quickly into a light doze. Thranduil stood and looked down upon his human son; concern etched clearly in the flawless elven features. Faramir was still deathly pale, clearly struggling with the memories of the days prior to falling to a Southron dart. The elven King was torn between insisting his son rest and wanting to get him as far away as possible from Osgiliath and all the horror and distress it engendered.
"I wish to get him away from this place," Thranduil whispered.
"I also, Sire," Maglor, agreed quietly. "But he will need to rest here awhile. We should be able to travel on the morrow."
"I will need you, mellon-nin. He will need you," the elven King added as he looked from Maglor back to Faramir.
"I know. You and I have seen this before in both humans and elvenkind," the Seneschal said meaningfully, as he looked at the elven King gravely.
"Aye, and you helped me through, mellon-nin," Thranduil replied wanly.
"I need to check on our supplies," Maglor said as he looked once more at the sleeping human and taking his leave walked out, passing Legolas who was entering. Maglor smiled as the elven Prince made straight for his human brother.
"How fares he?" Legolas asked in a whisper almost immediately upon entering as he stopped beside his father.
"He fares fine," came the soft, groggy response from Faramir as he raised his arms above his head and stretched. The young Steward brought his bandaged hands to his face and rubbed his eyes in a way that seemed… childlike. Legolas chuckled at the thought, garnering a questioning look from Faramir.
"There are things to which I must attend," Thranduil said as he looked at Faramir.
"Changing of the guard more like," Faramir muttered in annoyance, stemming more from his own recent behaviour than that of his family.
"What was that ion-nin?" Thranduil asked with a stern look that was tempered by the glint of humour in the elven King's eyes.
"Nothing, ada," Faramir replied with a look of such innocence that Legolas had the sudden irrational urge to cause his brother physical bodily harm.
Shaking his head and chuckling at the astonishing resilience of humans in general and his son in particular, the elven King left.
"Guess who I spied in the city?" Legolas asked in a quiet voice as he perched on the end of Faramir's camp bed with a grace only an elf could manage, as soon as their father had left. "Lord Atiel," Legolas added as he saw his young brother was attempting to gather sleep-fogged thoughts.
Faramir's eyebrow rose skyward in surprise.
"Well… his conscription must be concluding soon," Faramir mused, trying to remember how long he had sentenced the idiot to the rank of a private in the Gondorian Army for his impolitic comments about the elves, dwarves, halflings, and especially the Queen. Faramir smiled at the image that sprang to mind at the mention of Atiel, of Legolas causing havoc with an arrow and a wasp's nest. "What was he doing?"
"I think he was headed for a tavern just inside the city gates," Legolas answered. "The twins decided to go to the tavern as well," the elven Prince added in passing.
The hairs on the back of the ranger's neck stood up at the mention of the Elrondion twins.
"Do the twins know of your altercation with Atiel?" Faramir asked in what he hoped was a calm voice, sending up a silent prayer that his brother answered in the negative.
"No," Legolas answered confidently but then all colour drained from his face. "Yes," the elf corrected on a rising, panic-filled inflection. "They somehow sensed a story after I told you and Aragorn. They would not leave it be. I knew Atiel had already been sent away so I told them thinking there would be no harm. And just now I mentioned his name!" the elf said berating himself silently for his stupidity.
Faramir let forth a number of very elaborate curses in a variety of languages in quiet bursts, as he scrambled to get out of the camp bed and dress as quickly as he could. With his outer tunic slung over his right shoulder the young ranger moved to the back of the tent, lifted up a section from the bottom, crawled under and out, followed by Legolas and then ran with the elf stealthily, towards the city gate and tavern whilst putting on his over tunic.
Neither Atiel nor the twins were at the tavern. The tavern owner advised them that Lord Atiel had departed about an hour before and the twin elves soon after. Faramir tracked the elves by asking people in the street if they had set eyes upon the twins. The Steward's heartbeat increased significantly upon hearing from one soldier that the elves were carrying a rather large sack. The trail ended in a deserted section of the town. Legolas' keen elven eyes saw movement in a dilapidated warehouse.
The scene that met the ranger and elf upon entry into the warehouse made both gasp. A white-faced, panic-stricken, Lord Atiel was pinned - spreadeagle - to the remnants of a wooden wall by several elven knives piercing his clothing. The Elrondion twins had been using the man for target practice. Elven arrows outlined the human's form, all within a finger-span of the terrified man.
"Oh Faramir, am… I… glad… to… see… you," Atiel blubbered in relief at seeing the Steward. "These two… have been… threatening… me… for no…. reason… and…" the man continued to stammer but then his eyes widened in fright and he fell silent as arrows were pointed straight at him. One aimed at his head and the other at his family jewels.
"That is Lord Steward to you Atiel and you are lying through those rotting teeth of yours," Faramir growled dangerously. "What did you say? Did you perchance say something against the Queen?" Faramir asked eyes boring into the human.
"It was only in… jest and I…I…did not know these elves could hear," the man mumbled, shifting uncomfortably, knowing that the Steward would find out the truth anyway and that he was in deep, deep trouble.
Faramir shook his head at the man's congenital stupidity.
"I would have thought you would have learned the lesson by now but I was expecting too much from you it seems. May I introduce you to Lords Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Lord Elrond and brothers of Arwen, Queen of Gondor," Faramir introduced the twins, exasperated by the entire situation.
The pinned man turned an interesting shade of green as he finally realised the extent of the trouble that he was in.
"I hope you like Osgiliath Atiel, for you will be spending a long, long time here. And if I ever get a whiff of you having said anything derogatory about the Queen of Gondor again, you will be banished!" Faramir said in his most quiet and dangerous tone. "Now release him!" the Steward barked.
To Legolas' surprise the Elrondion twins both started in astonishment and then released the human as ordered with alacrity. As soon as he was freed the terrified man ran away as quickly as he could manage. Faramir turned on the Elrondion twins, his face flushed and eyes blazing fire.
"You will not use citizens of Gondor for target practice, regardless of the provocation! Lord Atiel is an idiot. The whole of Gondor knows that Lord Atiel is an idiot. Your sister is Queen of this human realm and does not need you two to metre out elven justice on her behalf - mayhap causing her grief. Do. You. Both. Hear. Me?" Faramir growled as he glared at each twin in turn. Legolas smirked at the twin looks of chagrin from the sons of Elrond. "And you had better pray that ada does not find out about this!" the Steward exclaimed quietly in exasperation.
"Your ada knows already," Maglor said in a calm and dangerous voice as he walked out of the shadows followed by King Thranduil.
Faramir groaned, bowing his head in defeat. Legolas cringed at the look of anger in his father's face and the sons of Elrond resembled twin rabbits caught in a very bright light. Colour drained from the Steward's face and a small whimper escaped when he saw that Maglor was holding 'Faramir's Bane'.
"You and you!" Thranduil instructed indicating Faramir and Legolas. "Back to the camp." Both sons nodded and turned to leave for the tent. "Faramir," Thranduil said, his expression softening, stopping his human son who turned around. The elven King slowly and gently embraced his son. "A hand spanking only, ion-nin," the King whispered into Faramir's ear. The young Steward mumbled something into his father's tunic. "What was that, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked as he pushed Faramir to arms length so that he could hear him better.
Faramir was just about to repeat the comment when Legolas clamped a hand over his brother's mouth and dragged him by the arm from the warehouse.
Biting the inside of his cheek to stop a grin that wanted to break out at his human son's temper, Thranduil and Maglor turned on the Elrondion twins.
"You two are about to find out why the implement that Maglor is holding, engenders such a fear-filled reaction in Faramir. I assume we do not need to discuss why you deserve this punishment?" the Elven King asked the frightened elves. Both gulped and shook their heads in the negative.
Maglor passed the red paddle to King Thranduil who, taking the paddle, walked over to a wooden crate and sat down. Maglor took the other twin outside whilst his brother received his punishment. The elven King motioned to Elladan who walked over to the elder elf reluctantly, loosened the ties of his leggings, pushed them down to his knees and lowered himself gingerly over the elf's knees. Thranduil started Elladan's punishment immediately with a series of stinging whacks to the elf's exposed posterior. The young elf gasped at the stinging pain caused by the red paddle. The elder elf kept up a blistering pace until Elladan was whimpering and squirming on his lap. Outside, Maglor put both comforting and restraining hands on Elrohir's shoulders as the young elf heard his brother's whimpers. Inside, Elladan began to sob and the sobs turned to howls as the elven King continued to land blistering blows. Thranduil stopped the punishment when Elladan's buttocks were the same colour as the paddle.
Elladan remained over the elven King's knees as Thranduil pulled the young elf's leggings up and rubbed his back in comforting circles. When Elladan had regained a measure of calm, the elven King assisted him to his feet and walked him outside so that Maglor could see to his twin's punishment. Thranduil continued to embrace and comfort Elladan as he passed the paddle to Maglor who escorted a reluctant Elrohir into the remains of the warehouse. Leggings pushed down to his knees, Elrohir took his brother's place on the wooden crate across Maglor's lap. The young elf had only a moment to remember Estel's story about Maglor hitting harder than Gandalf and how unfair it was that he always came second because Elladan was born a couple of minutes earlier than him, when the first of many blistering blows landed on his posterior. It did not take long for the younger twin to be howling as loudly as his brother had howled. Maglor also did not stop until Elrohir's buttocks were the same colour as the paddle. On stopping the chastisement, Maglor pulled up the young elf's leggings and pulled him into a comforting embrace, soothing the distressed younger twin.
A short time later, just on nightfall, the well and truly chastened young elves were escorted back to the camp. The twins took refuge in their tent immediately.
Thranduil entered the tent that he shared with Faramir and saw both sons sitting in silence, each perched on the edge of a camp bed. It was obvious by the nervous and dejected demeanours of his sons, that the time spent waiting had been hard on both. Unfortunately, Faramir would have to wait a little longer as he dealt with Legolas, Thranduil thought.
"Elfling," The elven King summoned Legolas who rose from the camp bed and followed his father out of the tent passing Maglor who was entering, and into an old courtyard that contained a stone bench. Thranduil sat down upon the bench and patted his knee. Legolas sighed and after following the age-old routine, lowered himself over his father's knees presenting his bared posterior for chastisement. "What is this punishment for, my elfling?" Thranduil asked.
"For not telling you and Maglor before going after the twins and for getting Faramir into trouble," Legolas replied contritely.
"You did not get Faramir into trouble, my elfling, for he like you, excels at that particular skill. You would not have been able to stop him for he has a stubbornness that matches mine, and you know how stubborn I am," Thranduil chuckled. "But you should have come to me or Maglor," the elven King said as he landed the first of many stinging swats. Although enough to make Legolas whimper and squirm, the elven King did not metre out a harsh punishment to his elfling as both he and Faramir had tried to save their friends from trouble.
"I am sorry ada," Legolas said as Thranduil, completing the chastisement, pulled up his son's leggings, turned him over and enveloped him in a hug.
"I know my elfling. I do love you so much," Thranduil crooned as he embraced his son. "I must needs see to your brother," the elven King sighed as he pondered on Faramir.
Thranduil walked back to the tent in which Faramir was situated and saw that Maglor was sitting beside the dejected young man with his arm around the young one's shoulders. Faramir looked up into his father's eyes and Thranduil's heart almost shattered at the pain he could see in his son's eyes. Those Númenórean eyes were indeed a window into his son's soul and that soul was hurting, deeply, the elven King thought.
Faramir rose from the camp bed slowly and stood before his father. Thranduil opened his arms inviting his son into a hug. In the blink of an eye the young Steward was in the arms of his father and being held in a tight, comforting embrace. Elven father and human son stayed like that until some of the tension had drained from Faramir. Still maintaining contact, the elven King walked his son to the courtyard and sat down upon the bench pulling his son to sit down beside him.
"Do you know why you are to be punished, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked in a quiet, calm tone.
"For going after the twins and not coming to you first," Faramir replied.
"Yes, that is part but I must admit you handled the situation perfectly," the elven King said with pride. "But what else are you to be punished for, ion-nin?" Thranduil questioned. The young Steward wracked his brain for another possible reason but came up blank. The elf looked at his son's bewildered expression and sighed.
"You are alarmingly intelligent and canny, ion-nin, but in matters pertaining to self preservation you are as thick as a cave troll," Thranduil admonished, chuckling at the look of indignation that graced his son's features. "You have just been through a very traumatic experience with a battle memory and immediately put your health at risk again, by going into an unknown situation involving the Elrondion twins."
Thranduil patted his knee in a silent command. Faramir sighed, much as Legolas had and standing, loosened ties, pushed his leggings down and laid over his father's lap. Thranduil wasted not time in landing the first of a series of stinging slaps to his young human son's buttocks. Although not as light as the punishment he gave Legolas, Faramir's chastisement was not as heavy as that of the twins.
"I love you, ion-nin," Thranduil said hoping words with physical reinforcement would penetrate his son's stubborn adherence to the notion that his life was not worth that of others. "The pain you feel about the deaths of those who followed you into that doomed child of Denethor's madness, would mirror my own at losing you before your time. And remember, ion-nin, I will carry that sadness in my heart for all eternity," the elven King said in a choked voice as he landed blistering slap after blistering slap to his son's posterior.
On hearing his father's choked words Faramir burst into sobbing, fed from the very depths of his soul, where the pain severest. On hearing the change in the tenor of the sobs, Thranduil stopped the chastisement, pulled his son's leggings up, gathered him into an embrace and rocked the sobbing young man as the floodgates opened. Wracking sob after wracking sob came from the young Steward. Although there would, no doubt, be more rough times ahead, Thranduil felt the glimmerings of hope that his son would recover. The elven King rocked his son for a long time until exhausted; Faramir's sobs became hitching and shuddering breaths.
A goblet appeared before Thranduil as he continued to cradle his son in his arms. The elven King smiled up at Maglor through tear-filled eyes as the Seneschal held the goblet to his young charge's mouth.
"I honestly think… you need to talk to someone… about this drugging habit of yours… Maglor," Faramir muttered as he drank the sleeping draught offered. Both elves chuckled. It was not long before the young Steward was fast asleep, cradled protectively in the arms of his father.
"I think this may be a pivotal point, mellon-nin" Maglor mused as he looked at his young charge and sat down beside the elven King.
"What do you think are his chances of not putting himself at risk needlessly?" Thranduil asked seeking his friend's considered opinion.
"Honestly? Naught…as he will still be inclined to do things, dangerous to himself that is, without thinking. We simply have to work on reversing his instincts. You know, run *away* from orcs, run *to* family," Maglor chuckled at his young charge's instinct to flee from any possibility of physical chastisement by family and friends but run directly into danger when others are threatened.
"And how likely do you think it would be to teach him not to flee from family when he is in danger of having his posterior blistered?" Thranduil asked amusement showing in his voice and eyes.
"Naught… but we can try," Maglor replied with a similar twinkle of humour in his eyes.
Part 8
As was his wont in regard to mornings in general, Faramir, who was lying on his stomach on a camp bed, awoke slowly and in stages. From his position perched on the camp bed in which their ada had slept, Legolas watched his brother's battle to consciousness with amused affection. During the journey of the Fellowship, Boromir had regaled them with stories of his little brother. The burly man of Gondor had warned all that if they should ever chance upon his little brother awakening upon the morn, they should allow Faramir to wake completely before attempting to engage him in conversation for his brother could not be considered, under any current or past definition, a morning person. Should any be foolish enough to attempt such a feat he warned, they would find themselves in their respective ancestral halls so fast as to be wondering just how they came to be there in what seemed to be between one moment and the next.
The first thing of which Faramir became aware on gaining consciousness was the scents and sounds associated with being housed in a tent. The second was the soreness in his hindquarters. Memory followed immediately upon cognisance of pain and Faramir groaned into his pillow. Before Legolas had a chance to bestow his most musical greeting on his brother, Faramir's pillow hit the elf squarely in the face. Light elven laugher greeted the brothers from the tent's entrance. Legolas greeted their father with a smile whilst Faramir looked at him blearily, still obviously attempting to awake fully as the young Steward turned onto his side and used his arm, bent at the elbow and resting on the bed, to prop up his head. Thranduil and Legolas shared a knowing smile as the elven King walked towards his human son, kneeling down beside him.
"How fare you this morning, tithen-pen?" Thranduil asked quietly, looking at Faramir intently as he gently brushed hair back from his human son's face.
"I am fine, ada," Faramir replied in a whisper. The elven King continued to look at his human son. Faramir blushed averting his eyes downward under his father's intense scrutiny. "As well as can reasonably be expected given the circumstances," the young Steward amended in an even quieter whisper.
"That is good to hear, tithen-pen," Maglor said in a booming voice as he entered the tent carrying a tray filled with food.
Faramir startled putting the hand that his head had been propped up by upon his heart, which he felt might leap from his chest any moment.
"Really ada! Have you ever considered putting a bell around that elf's neck?" the young Steward admonished in a harsh whisper, trying to catch his breath and calm his furiously beating heart as he sat up. "And I hope you do not expect me to eat all that? I am a man not a hobbit." Faramir complained in a louder voice, glaring at the Seneschal.
Maglor raised an eyebrow. Faramir groaned. Legolas chuckled earning a glare from his brother.
After the young Steward had eaten, washed and dressed, preparations were completed for trip to Northern Ithilien. As Faramir exited the tent he had shared with his father, followed by Legolas, he saw the Elrondion twins moving to secure their sleeping gear to their horses. Both seemed subdued and still in pain evidenced by the stilted way in which they moved. The young Steward knew that both been given a taste of his dreaded namesake but was surprised that they still seemed so pained. Legolas saw the look of concern and bewilderment on his brother's face as he looked at the twins and deduced its cause.
"Lord Elrond is half human. They are a little slower in healing than other elves," Legolas informed quietly.
"Ouch," Faramir winced in sympathy. "I do not envy them this day's ride then. I know what that feels like after a session with that… that…'thing'."
Legolas smirked at his brother's inability to say the word paddle.
"Aur Vaer (good day)," Faramir greeted the twins as he walked over to his own horse to secure his sleeping gear.
"Mae govannen," the twins greeted in unison. The young Steward winced in sympathy when Elrohir winced from what was obviously a flare of pain from his abused rear. Elrohir graced Faramir with a small, chagrined smile.
"That…" Elrohir frowned searching for a word to best describe 'Faramir's Bane'.
"Thing," Faramir supplied.
"Thing," the younger twin repeated, "has the bite of an orc!" he confided in a whisper. Elladan nodded in agreement wincing as he felt a flare of pain from his own hindquarters. "How often have you faced that… monster?" the younger twin asked.
"Between the elvish version and the equally painful older human version over the years, enough times to require several new coats of paint," Faramir replied in a beleaguered tone.
The twin's eyes widened in both alarm and in newfound respect for their young human friend.
Faramir searched through his medicinal supplies for the jar of numbing salve that Maglor had given him, knowing - or rather hoping - that the Seneschal would have stocked more.
"Apply this salve. It will deaden the pain enough to make riding bearable… almost," the young Steward corrected as he handed the jar to Elrohir. The twins smiled their thanks and scurried back to the tent in which they had slept, with little of their elven grace in evidence. Faramir turned around to Legolas whom he could hear chuckling behind him. "I do hope Maglor packed a goodly supply of that salve, brother. I have a feeling it is going to be needed."
Faramir and Legolas walked their horses to where Thranduil, Maglor and Finrod were waiting, ready to depart. The twins arrived a short time later walking with more elven grace than they had previously. Mounting their horses the company set out for the forests of Northern Ithilien. The company rode at a steady pace stopping briefly for a noonday meal. The Elrondion twins were glad for the short respite for their respective rears still ached. Both elves disappeared into the forest with the jar of salve that Faramir had given them. The young Steward and his elven brother shared a knowing look and smiled. Faramir, in his own opinion if not that of Maglor, was presented with enough food to satisfy even Pippin Took. The young Steward ate the meal, although not without much grumbling and protesting, under the watchful eye of the Seneschal. After the meal was concluded and the twins had returned with much-relieved looks on their faces, the company remounted and continued their journey until almost nightfall when they stopped in a clearing near a stream, just off the main track.
Elves and human set about making camp and preparing a hot meal. Faramir was again presented with what seemed to the young human to be a double sized portion of stew by Maglor, which, after protesting yet again, much to the amusement of all, that the Seneschal was mistaking him for a hobbit, he ate. After the meal Thranduil, Maglor and Finrod dispersed into the forest taking the first watch, leaving the young members of the company to relax around the campfire. Faramir and Legolas were sitting side-by-side, leaning back against a fallen log. Elrohir was lying on his stomach, as his posterior was still sore although not as sore as it had been, to the left of the young Steward. Elladan was in the same supine position as his twin for the same reason on the side of the campfire opposite to his brother and to the right of Legolas.
Elrohir looked at Faramir intently as if he would like to ask a question but had chosen to puzzle it out instead. Faramir was aware of the intense scrutiny but had chosen to ignore it for the moment.
"I would suggest that it would be easier to ask, for your curiosity seems almost bordering on painful," Faramir suggested in a gentle though amused tone as he continued to look straight ahead and into the fire.
All three elves started and Elrohir blushed to the tips of his pointed Noldor ears and smiled in chagrin at having been so obvious.
"I was just curious…" Elrohir began.
"That much is glaringly obvious, my friend," Faramir chuckled wryly.
"We had heard about that…" Elrohir said, again searching for the word.
"Thing," Faramir supplied, knowing exactly to what the younger twin was referring.
"Thing," Elrohir smiled wryly in agreement. "But Estel would not tell us about its creation."
"There must be a story there," Elladan concluded for his brother, much in the manner of twins.
"Yes…there is," the young Steward sighed and smiled wanly as his thoughts turned to the past and to Boromir.
At seventeen, Boromir had reached a man's height and after his first battle campaign against forces of Mordor in the defence of Osgiliath, was fast filling out in heavy muscle. Boromir returned to the White City victorious after several months away and was looking forward to spending three months in Minas Tirith with his little brother. Upon riding through the city gates, Boromir expected to be greeted by Faramir but the youngster was nowhere in sight. The heir to the Stewardship rode through the winding streets to the top level of the city and into the courtyard in front of the palace whereupon his father and other members of the court greeted him.
"Greetings father," Boromir said somewhat distracted as he searched amongst the faces for his little brother.
"Welcome home my heir, my first born," Denethor crowed as he embraced is son. "You return victorious from your first campaign!"
"Where is Faramir, father?" Boromir asked quietly, "I would have expected him to meet me at the gates as he always does". The heir did not miss the slight flinch and look of disgust on his father's face before the Steward's impassive mask returned.
"Somewhere sulking I expect. But come, my son, we should celebrate your victorious return!" Denethor exclaimed as he guided his son to the palace.
"My pardon father but I need to freshen, for the journey was long, hard and hot and I must smell of horse and sweat. I will meet you in the great hall later," Boromir promised as he ran ahead towards the living quarters in search of his brother.
Faramir was nowhere to be seen. After much searching Boromir came upon his brother asleep on his stomach, beneath the oldest tree in the private garden their mother had created. Boromir crouched down beside his little brother and put a hand on his brother's back but was not prepared for the reaction from his younger sibling. Faramir woke abruptly yelping in pain and scrambling backwards on hands and knees as if to escape.
"Easy little one, easy," Boromir soothed quietly.
"Boromir," Faramir's face light up with a smile of such love and adoration and then he fainted.
Lifting his brother gently, Boromir hurried back to his quarters with his precious burden. Upon arrival he placed Faramir gently on the bed and removed the young one's shirt. The heir of Gondor swore mightily when he saw the thin red stipes that covered his brother's back; stripes the heir knew were created by a cane - his father's cane. Boromir cleansed his brother's wounds, for some of blows had broken the skin and had subsequently become infected. It was obvious that the caning had occurred a few days ago.
Faramir, fevered from the infection, woke briefly and graced Boromir with another beautiful smile reaching out to touch his brother's face as if to test he was real and not a vision. Boromir choked back tears as he fed his brother something for the pain and to allow his little one to sleep. Boromir smiled as Faramir fell quickly into a slumber. Sleeping draughts had always had that affect on his little brother. Boromir wondered briefly if he would ever outgrow the tendency.
Knowing that Faramir would sleep for some time, Boromir bathed and changed into fresh clothes before going back to his bedroom to check on his brother. When the heir entered he saw Denethor looking down upon his youngest son with something akin to guilt for Boromir had not yet applied bandages and the welts were plainly visible.
"I did not realise I had been so harsh for he made not a sound when I punished him. He has become so unruly, so defiant," Denethor said in a harsh whisper in a mixture of regret and anger.
"He is but twelve years old father and still has the stature of a child. You cannot continue to be so harsh with him father, for you risk damaging him," Boromir pleaded on his brother's behalf.
"I do not know what else to do," Denethor replied.
"I do father. If you trust me enough to turn his discipline over to me, whilst I am resident in the White City," Boromir implored.
Still looking down upon Faramir, Denethor nodded his head in agreement. The Steward held his hand just above his youngest son's head as if to pet him but pulled his hand back abruptly, turned and left the room.
Two weeks later Faramir was healed fully and in trouble again. Denethor was looking out of the window of his study and had just told his youngest son in no uncertain terms that he would not be allowed to accompany Boromir on the morrow for his brother would be spending time with his men. Alarmed, Boromir recognised the signs of his brother's impending explosion and clamped a hand over his young sibling's mouth and dragged him to the door, opening it and shoving his struggling brother into the hands of Beregond, who was standing guard. Beregond, understanding the situation immediately, clamped his hand over the young Lord's mouth before the young one had a chance to say anything and held him tightly.
"He will not accompany me father. I will make sure of it," Boromir said as he popped back into the room and then left again to see to his brother.
Denethor smiled as he had seen what had just transpired in the reflection from the window. The Steward trusted his first-born and knew that Boromir would handle the situation.
The Steward's heir grabbed his younger sibling by the scruff of the neck and marched the cursing spitfire down to the carpenter located in the commercial district in the second level of the city.
"Master carpenter," Boromir asked the startled carpenter as he all but threw his cursing brother onto a box, "can you please assist my brother in creating a paddle that would prove very effective on a bared behind?"
Faramir's cursing stopped abruptly and his eyes narrowed as he took in the meaning of his brother's words to the carpenter. In a flash the young Lord was up and running but unfortunately his move was anticipated by his brother. Boromir caught his cursing younger sibling around the waist and threw him back down onto the box.
"Yes, my Lord," the carpenter acknowledged trying not to show his amusement.
Under the watchful eye of the heir of Gondor and with the assistance of the carpenter, Faramir, cursing in various languages the whole time, finally finished the paddle. Boromir tested the paddle on his hand, much to the embarrassment of this brother, and was satisfied with the resulting sting. Boromir then asked the carpenter if he had any red paint. The carpenter answered in the affirmative and went to look for the paint. In the carpenter's absence, Boromir explained that he would be taking over his brother's disciplining whilst he was in the White City and that whenever he was forced to chastise his brother, he would not stop until Faramir's buttocks were the same colour as the paddle.
The carpenter overheard the conversation and chose a deeper shade of red than he had originally intended. Again under the watchful eye of his brother, Faramir painted the paddle in what he considered to be an alarming shade of red. The young Lord continued muttering curses in a variety of languages as he set about painting the 'thing'. The carpenter knew some of the languages in which the young Lord was cursing and could guess the meanings of some of the words. Overall, he was very impressed by the young Lord's fluidity and ability with languages if not the actual content.
It took about an hour for the paddle to dry upon which Boromir grabbed his young brother, laid him over his lap and pulled down his brother's leggings.
"What is this punishment for little one?" Boromir asked.
Faramir's stubbornness manifested itself in silence. Boromir let loose a mighty slap to his brother's bared behind.
"Owwwwww!" Faramir cried out in pain.
"I ask again little one. What is this punishment for?" Boromir asked again.
"For arguing with father and cursing at you," Faramir growled through gritted teeth.
"And Master carpenter," Boromir prompted
"And Master carpenter," Faramir mumbled contritely.
"Good, now that we are on the same page…" the Gondorion warrior said as he continued to land blistering slaps to his brother's posterior. Boromir maintained a fast pace as he landed whack after whack to his brother's ever reddening buttocks. Faramir's whimpers turned to sobs and sobs to howls as his brother continued to blister his rear.
"I… am… sorry…sorry," Faramir repeated over and over as Boromir continued the slaps unrelentingly. "Why does he hate me so?" Faramir wailed in abject bewilderment and pain.
On hearing the words, Boromir stopped the chastisement immediately, pulled up his brother's leggings, turned him over, enveloping his little one in a comforting embrace.
"Shhhh, little one," Boromir soothed. "Shhhh. He does not hate you. I know he has been harsh with you little brother but you must not push him, for he does not know how to deal with you. I will not see you hurt so again because you have pushed him too far, even if I have to paddle you every day that I am in the White City. Do you hear me little brother?" Boromir asked holding his brother more tightly.
"Yes," Faramir whispered in a hoarse voice as he put his arms around his brother's neck and cried into his brother's shoulder. "I… love…you," the young one said between gasps for breath as he cried out his pain for his father's inability to love him and his loneliness now that Boromir was a soldier.
"And I you, little brother, I you," Boromir crooned with unshed tears in his eyes, as his brother fell asleep in his arms.
The heir of Gondor carried his brother and red paddle back to his apartment and placed his younger sibling in his bed. When Faramir woke the next morning, Boromir was still there, asleep beside him on top of the bed and still fully clothed. He smiled at his brother and then winced and hissed at a flare of pain from his much-abused bottom. The young lord saw that the red 'thing' was on the bed as well. At some stage during the night Boromir had carved the words "Faramir's Bane" into the wood. Of all the times for the great oaf to develop a sense of humour, the young lord thought as he watched his sleeping brother affectionately.
Legolas and the twins whilst appalled at Denethor caning a little one of but twelve years old, could not help laughing at Boromir's attempt to get his brother out of Denethor's presence before the young one had a tantrum and the antics of sons of Gondor at the carpenters.
"Your brother must have loved you dearly," Elrohir said as he looked at Faramir.
"Yes he did," Faramir replied with unshed tears in his eyes.
"And does, muindor tithen," Legolas said in a whisper hoarse with emotion as he patted his human brother's knee in a gesture of comfort. "And does."
Part 9
Two days more of easy riding found the company of elves and human at the site of the elven haven just after midday. Camp was made and the members of the company sat down to share a meal. Maglor again presented his charge with a double portion of dried fruits and meat. Faramir looked at the Seneschal with a much-bemused expression.
"My dear elf. I am aware of my reputation for the ability to consume as much as a hobbit at times but I generally do not do so at every meal. If you keep feeding me this much food it will not be long before I am unable to mount my horse and you will needs roll me back to Minas Tirith like a barrel." Faramir explained in his normal quiet, measured tone but with a hint of amusement, eliciting chuckles from the other elves, as he looked up at Maglor who was standing in front of him holding a bowl filled with food.
"You are still too thin," the Seneschal retorted.
"I do admit that I am a few pounds short of the weight I once was but I am not overly thin," the young Steward argued.
"You are still four notches short on your belt," Maglor replied looking at the well-worn hole on Faramir's belt.
"Ahhhh," Faramir chuckled as understanding came. "I am one notch short of where I was but four notches short of Boromir - it was his belt."
The other elves chuckled but Maglor stood unruffled.
"A compromise then. You are two notches short. Eat!" Maglor ordered as he handed the bowl to his young charge eliciting even greater chuckles from the other elves.
Shaking his head and sighing in resignation, Faramir took the bowl from the elf and ate the food without further verbal protest.
After the meal was concluded Faramir and Legolas took great delight in showing the elves the land they had chosen for the elven haven. Thranduil, Maglor, Finrod and the twins stood with Faramir and Legolas on the top of the highest hill in the vicinity, looking down upon hills, vales and gullies covered with trees.
"What think you, ada?" Faramir asked shyly.
"It will do us well, ion-nin" Thranduil smiled as he looked down upon the hills, gullies, trees and the river that meandered through the hills.
"Easily defended," Finrod said as he looked up into the trees around them. Maglor and the twins nodded in agreement.
"Water, food aplenty," Maglor added as he to looked around.
"Free of spiders," Legolas said with a grin. The Mirkwood elves shared the Prince's grin.
"Plenty of timber for building boats…" Elladan mused.
"For those wishing to depart for the west," Elrohir finished his twin's sentence.
Faramir felt a sudden overwhelming feeling of great loss. The thought that all the elves would leave Middle Earth one day was nearly unbearable for the young Steward. Thranduil and Legolas both saw the pain and despair flash across Faramir's suddenly pale features. The elven King gently enveloped his human son in an embrace.
"Legolas and I will never leave you whilst you still walk Middle Earth, ion-nin," Thranduil promised, whispering into his son's ear.
Faramir relaxed into his father's embrace, his breath hitching as he battled to control his emotions.
"Thank you, ada," Faramir replied in a hoarse whisper as he returned his father's embrace.
Legolas shared a smile with his father as Thranduil continued to hug his human son.
Soon after, as the sun set, the elves and human returned to camp. Faramir rolled his eyes but made no other comment as Maglor gave him another bowl full of food. Legolas and the twins sniggered earning a glare from the hapless human.
Thranduil, Maglor and Finrod again took the first watch. Well after midnight they woke Faramir, Legolas and the twins to take the second watch with the intelligence that there appeared to be three human families camped a fair distance away in the gully below. The elves took to the trees and Faramir moved out onto an outcropping. All was quiet until almost the end of their watch at dawn. Legolas was the first to see movement in the distance.
"Orcs!!!" Legolas exclaimed as he jumped lightly from the tree and ran to Faramir on the outcropping. "They are heading for the humans!"
"Go tell ada and the others," Faramir ordered. "If I remember correctly there is a bridge in that direction" Faramir said pointing in the direction, "that spans the gully. Located beyond that is another gully that has but one entrance. Meet me at the top of that gully." Faramir said as the twins arrived. "Go! You are a faster runner than I," Faramir ordered when he saw Legolas hesitate. "Go!!"
Legolas turned reluctantly and ran back towards the camp whilst the Steward of Gondor and sons of Elrond ran towards the bridge. The bridge thankfully, was still intact and the human and elves crossed quickly. The twins followed Faramir as he ran through the forest and straight to the blind gully and then moving stealthily towards the edge. The orcs were approaching.
"Stay here and ready your arrows," Faramir ordered in a whisper as he turned and ran along the top towards the entrance of the gully.
The young ranger quickly scrambled down into the gully below just as the orcs turned a corner a few hundred yards away and came into view. On seeing the human the orcs bellowed and gave chase. Faramir turned tail and ran as fast as he could into the blind gully. By the time the young ranger reached the end, elven arrows rained down upon the orcs. The Steward reached for a thick rope that was tied to a massive boulder. The rope ran up the side of the gully and around an overhanging tree. At the other end of the rope was a large rope net containing rocks - suspended above the gully. Gripping the rope firmly the ranger whipped out his knife and cut the rope just below where his hand was situated. No longer secured to the boulder, the rope net filled with rocks fell to the gully floor propelling Faramir upwards. The young Steward felt a sharp stinging pain at his side as he jumped the short distance to solid ground at the top of the gully.
Winded, Faramir fell to his knees and panted for breath as he held a hand to his back where he had felt the stinging pain. The young ranger removed his hand and saw that it was covered in blood. An arrow had obviously nicked him the Steward thought. As thought returned Faramir realised that he was, in all likelihood, in deep, deep trouble. Finally daring to look up the young Steward's suspicions were confirmed when he saw his father's thunderous look as the elven King and Maglor came storming towards him with Legolas following. He could see the twins and Finrod in the background. Anger turned to concern when Thranduil saw the blood on Faramir's hand.
"What has been done to you? Where are you hurt, ion-nin?" the elven King asked as he crouched down beside his human son, looking for where the blood had originated. Legolas crouched down on the other side.
"Back," Faramir winced as the pain worsened. "Am I in deep trouble, ada?" Faramir asked in a tiny voice as Maglor inspected the wound, concern evident.
"The deepest, ion-nin," Thranduil growled as he put an arm around his son's shoulders and the other behind his knees and lifted Faramir off the ground and carried him back to the camp quickly.
By the time the elven King reached the camp, Maglor had started a fire, filled an iron pot with water, set it on the fire to heat and had put the blade end of an elven knife into the fire. The twins had gathered medical packs, Finrod was using some of the herbs to create a poultice and Legolas had laid blankets down on the ground. Thranduil laid Faramir on the blankets and with the help of Legolas, stripped his human son of his leather over tunic and shirt and rolled him onto his side. Both King and Prince winced at the three-inch long gash that started on Faramir's back just above his waist and curled around his side. Blood was flowing freely and the black tendrils that were beginning to radiate from the wound showed that the arrow had been poisoned.
"Is it poisoned, ada?" Faramir asked as if he had picked up on the thoughts of his father and brother.
"Yes it is ion-nin," Thranduil confirmed in grave voice as Maglor cleansed the wound, eliciting a gasp and pained moan from Faramir. "You know what it is we have to do?" the elven King asked as he removed his leather belt.
"Yes, ada" the ranger replied in a distant voice.
Thranduil folded the belt in half and slid it between Faramir's teeth so that he would not bite his tongue. He then took hold of his human son's hands. Legolas braced his brother's back and the twins held down his legs and body. Maglor took the red-hot knife from the fire and placed it against the wound both to cauterise the wound and to stop the spread of the poison. Faramir, biting down on the leather belt went rigid, every muscle in his body pulling taut as he fought to contain the scream that wanted desperately to find voice. He squeezed his father's hands tightly and felt his father's grip tighten in support. Just when Faramir thought he could take no more, the searing hot pain stopped replaced by a more bearable aching throb.
Faramir panted for breath still holding his father's hands. Legolas removed the belt from between his brother's teeth and stroked his hair, which was damp from sweat and pain. Finrod applied a poultice and he and Maglor bound the wound, eliciting pained moans from Faramir. The twins brought over their cloaks and placed them over their friend. Maglor brewed a tea for both fever and pain and fed the brew to his young charge. Faramir gave the Seneschal a look that spoke volumes about Maglor's drugging habits, making the elf smile. It was not long before Faramir sighed in relief and fell into a deep slumber.
The young Steward remained fevered for two days as the remnants of the poison took its course. Faramir was not left alone for one moment as the elves took turns in nursing him through the fever and nightmares and changing the poultice and bandages. On the morning of the third day Faramir, feeling much better, was able to sit up and eat a light meal. Having just arrived back from his watch, Legolas sat down beside his brother and smiled knowing that Faramir was on the mend.
"How fare you this morning, muindor tithen?" Legolas asked.
"Much better," Faramir replied as he smiled at his brother. "Is ada still *very* angry?" Faramir asked quietly his expression turning sombre.
Legolas patted his brother's knee, a gesture that spoke of the answer before it was confirmed in words.
"I am afraid he is, muindor tithen. He saw that stunt you pulled in the gully. You scared him and like Aragorn, he does not react well to being scared," Legolas replied in sympathy.
"Elessar," Faramir groaned as he remembered the King's parting words about being careful and the very explicit and painful ramifications of not doing so.
"Oh yes, muindor tithen. There is that," Legolas said as he looked at his brother with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"When is ada likely to…" Faramir began his voice trailing off in embarrassment.
"When you are feeling better," Legolas replied.
"Where is the incentive to get better in that?" Faramir muttered.
A familiar chuckle drew the attention of both Princes. Legolas smiled at his father wanly and Faramir attempted a smile that looked more like a pained grimace. Thranduil gestured for Legolas to leave them alone for the moment, smiling at his elven son as he stood and left. The elven King took Legolas' place as he sat down beside his human son. The young Steward looked down at his hands. Thranduil put an arm around his son's shoulder and pulled him close. Faramir rested his head on his father's shoulder.
"I am sorry, ada. I reacted…" Faramir began in way of explanation.
"And it is this tendency to react without thinking that we need to work upon, ion-nin," Thranduil said as he continued to hold his son. "Tell me, ion-nin. Did you know that the rope and rocks were still intact?"
"No. I did not," Faramir replied in a whisper.
"Did you think about waiting for Legolas to return with us?" Thranduil asked quietly already knowing the answer.
"No. I saw the people in danger and I…reacted" Faramir said as he continued to look down upon his hands.
"And you have done this before, ion-nin?" the elven King continued the questioning.
"Yes," Faramir answered truthfully knowing he was condemning himself.
"Oh tithen-pen! How have you managed to stay alive this long and how did your ranking officers keep you alive?" Thranduil asked in exasperation. Faramir went silent suddenly blushing furiously. "Ion-nin?" the elven King prompted looking askance at his human son.
"Much cursing and sometimes similar methods to Boromir," Faramir mumbled reluctantly. "When will you…" Faramir began not able to say the words 'paddle me'.
"The choice is yours, ion-nin. Now or when you are feeling stronger." Thranduil replied.
Faramir hated waiting for punishment. It was something that Denethor had used to his advantage in punishing his second born.
"Now," the young Steward requested in a whisper.
Thranduil assisted his son to his feet and guided him a short distance to a fallen log. The elven King sat down and Faramir loosened the ties of his leggings and pushed them down to his knees. Carefully, as he was still sore, he lowered himself over his father's knees. 'Faramir's Bane' appeared before Thranduil who smiled up at Maglor in thanks. Faramir also looked up and groaned when he saw the look on the Seneschal's face. It was obvious to the young Steward that Maglor would have preferred to be the one wielding the 'thing'. Maglor turned and walked away.
The elven King wasted no time in beginning the chastisement. Faramir felt a succession of very hard swats hit his exposed posterior. The young Steward gasped at the anger that was driving the swats. It was not long before Faramir was whimpering and moaning in earnest.
"Now, ion-nin, if we can get you to stop and think before you go off saving the world, we will be making progress," Thranduil said as he continued to land blistering blows to his son's buttocks.
Faramir's whimpers turned to sobs and howls of pain and still the elven King did not relent.
"I will not lose you, ion-nin," Thranduil said as he landed several memorable whacks to Faramir's 'sit-spot' before stopping.
The young Steward sobbed in earnest as he lay across his father's lap. The elven King pulled up his son's leggings, turned him over and embraced his son, careful of his well-chastised bottom and the wound on his son's side. Faramir continued to sob as his father rocked and soothed him.
"I…am…sorry…ada," the young Steward kept repeating.
"Shhh…ion-nin. I do not want to lose you from my life, just as I have found you," Thranduil crooned to his chastened human son.
A goblet appeared before Faramir and the young man drank the draught, shooting dark glances at Maglor.
"It is a good thing Boromir did not learn of this trick to keep me out of trouble. Otherwise I would have spent most… of… my… life… aslee…." Faramir said as he dropped off to sleep, again cradled in the secure and loving arms of his father.
Part 10
The young Steward of Gondor awoke later that day and felt his arse afire, throbbing painfully in time to the beat of his heart. His ada had been deceptively angry, something Faramir made a mental note to remember in future. The second son of Denethor had always known how angry Denethor and Boromir were at any time, Denethor by expression and Boromir by expression, posture, colouring and a variety of other indicatives. When his brother gave him a certain dark look, his body tensed in a certain way or he turned a certain shade of puce, Faramir knew that it was in his own best interests to turn tail and run as far away as fast as he could. Feeling another flare of fiery pain, the young Steward groaned into the bedding that consisted of blankets placed over leaves beneath him. Faramir felt a hand brush hair back from his face and opened an eye to confirm that it was indeed whom he thought it was, ada.
"Adaaaa. My arse is on fire!" Faramir whined wondering why it was that he had been able to take harsh thrashings from Denethor in absolute silence but punishments by those who cared for him seemed to reduce him in years to a whinny, needy adolescent.
"I am sorry, ion-nin," Thranduil apologised as he continued
to stroke his human son's hair.
"I was angrier than even I realised. When I saw you in that blind
gully and then saw the orcs firing arrows upon you…" the
elven King could not continue as images of his son's danger flashed
before his eyes again.
Faramir looked up at his elven father and saw tears in the elven King's eyes. Turning onto his side carefully, the young Steward reached out and touched a tear that had freed itself of the others and rolled down his father's face. Thranduil's heart faltered at seeing the bemusement and something bordering on awe pass across his human son's features.
"You have found your way into this old elf's heart, ion-nin, and I *do* love you," Thranduil stated firmly, willing Faramir to accept the truth of his words.
Faramir continued to look into his elven father's eyes, using his oft-times cursed 'ability' to look into the depths of the elf's soul. What he saw there made him gasp for he knew that he loved his elven father dearly but just now realised the depth of his father's love for him. Thranduil saw comprehension dawn in his human son's eyes and smiled a watery smile.
"I love you too, ada," Faramir whispered as he continued to touch his father's face. "But my arse is still on fire!" he moaned as another flare of pain from his much abused rear-end made its unwelcome presence felt.
Thranduil chuckled as Maglor arrived with a very large jar of numbing salve. The elven King's eyebrows went skyward at the size of the jar.
"The trio 'horribus' and this young one on the same journey," Maglor said in way of explanation as he removed the lid from the jar. "I have secured three such jars and was seriously contemplating a fourth."
The Seneschal lifted the blanket covering his young charge and winced. Unseen by Faramir Maglor threw Thranduil a look of astonishment with a flash of annoyance at the colouring of the young human's posterior. The elven King had the grace to look chagrined. Maglor applied the salve, as gently as possible, to Faramir's buttocks eliciting pained hisses and moans from the young human. After several long moments Faramir sighed in relief and settled into a light doze.
Some time later and as if from a distance, Faramir heard Legolas arrive and Thranduil depart. He felt the blanket lying atop of him lifted followed by a small sound of distress and then a whispered…
"Ada was *very* angry."
"Ai!" came the hushed exclamation of one of the Elrondion twins. "I have not seen that particular shade of vermilion since that time in Lórien when grandfather was so vexed with us and Haldir."
"I would appreciate it very much if you would stop examining my arse as it is becoming decidedly chilly down south," Faramir drawled in a sleep-ridden voice, feeling the cold around his hindquarters as the heat radiating from his posterior clashed with the cool air of the surrounds.
"Sorry, muindor tithen," Legolas apologised quietly as he lowered the blanket. "Do you need more salve?"
"Not for the moment, thank you. Some was applied by Maglor not long ago," Faramir replied around a gigantic yawn. "But I am in need of distraction from the throbbing. A story about certain elves in Lórien perhaps?"
The twins looked as if they would refuse the request.
"I would do what he asks," Legolas advised when he saw twin looks of refusal. "He will only resort to asking ada, and you would be surprised what ada knows about the exploits of the 'duo horribus'. He feels guilty enough at the moment to indulge any of this one's whims."
"Alright, tithen-pen. But if any of this should get back to Estel, there will be a reckoning… a long and painful one," Elladan warned as he sat down beside the young Steward next to Legolas. "Where to begin…"
Faramir had to bite his lip, eliciting a wince at the sharp pain, to stop the comment 'at the beginning is generally thought advisable' springing forth from his mouth. Legolas, as if having read his brother's thought, laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.
"Behave, muindor tithen!"
Faramir gave his elven brother a small, wry smile.
The Lórien elves braced themselves, as they were wont to do with this particular threat to the serenity of their wooded realm, for the arrival of the twin sons of Elrond. At the present moment they were enjoying the calm before the inevitable hurricane. Not that they did not like the Elrondion twins. It was just that they could never predict exactly what was going to happen during the twin's occupation of their realm. And happen - something always did.
"Where *are* the little…" Haldir fumed as he waited at the rendezvous point on the very edge of the realm for the twin balrogs, so that he could escort them to Lórien.
"My...my…" came a familiar young elven voice from above.
"He does appear to be in a bit of a snit," a second familiar and equally young voice from above but slightly to the right of the first voice.
Haldir closed his eyes, clenched his fists, took a deep breath and counted to fifty, then thought maybe he should continue on to one hundred. The proud Marchwarden was not going to give the young orcs the satisfaction of asking how long they had been in the trees. Turning abruptly, Haldir marched back towards Lórien. The twins jumped lightly from the trees they had occupied and sharing a wide grin, marched after the annoyed elf.
Haldir continued his march into the heart of the realm and then climbed the many stairs to the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Lord Celeborn took one look at the thunderous expression on the face of his Marchwarden and the ingenuously innocent smiles on the faces of his grandsons, and rolled his eyes. The twins had indeed…arrived.
Elrohir and Elladan ran to their grandparents and hugged them each tightly in greeting. The twins were as tall as Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn although yet to reach their full height and just short of adult age.
Haldir bowed to Galadriel and Celeborn, turned and was about to take his leave when Lord Celeborn stopped him with a small 'clearing of his throat' cough. The Marchwarden winced and then gave a sigh of resignation before turning back to his elven Lord, for he just knew what was about to be asked of him and he would rather peel vegetables the cook for three hundred years.
Celeborn for his part was smiling inwardly at Haldir's…pained reaction, although only the hint of a twinkle in his eyes could be seen outwardly. He had been trying, over the centuries, to teach his proud young ward the virtues of empathy and patience, both of which were sorely lacking in his Marchwarden.
"Haldir. I release you from your current duties and ask that you *entertain* the twins during their stay in Lórien," Celeborn requested in his usual calm and quiet manner. If anyone could test his ward's patience, the elven Lord thought, it was his grandsons.
The Marchwarden turned slightly green as he stood ramrod straight and nodded his understanding of the *order*. 'Entertain' was a code word for; ensure that they do not wreak mayhem and devastation on the inhabitants of the Golden Wood. The twins looked at each other and burst into wide, mischievous grins - grins that would have had their father turning out every available warrior in Imladris to watch their every movement. They were going to have such fun they thought.
Generally, by their very existence, the sons of Elrond tested the calm and patience of the young Marchwarden. It did not take much to send him over the edge. The first such incident occurred the very next day. The three young elves were practicing their archery skills. Haldir was very proud of his skills and smirked as the twins made shots that did not match his own in accuracy. Elladan and Elrohir were getting very tired of the smirks and condescending comments made by the haughty elf.
Haldir went to collect his spent arrows and was just pulling one from the 'bullseye' of the target in front of him when an arrow whizzed by over his head. Shocked and annoyed at first but then amused that the arrow was nowhere near the target, he continued to remove his arrows, turning slightly to smirk yet again at the twins. He had but a moment to register that the twins were sporting smirks of their own when he found himself covered suddenly in a foul smelling white liquid. It took a moment to register what covered him from head to toe. Whichever of the twins had fired the shot, severed the rope that was holding a skin filled with cream that had been hung in the tree to sour naturally for subsequent use in a variety of elven dishes.
One look at the almost feral glint in the Marchwarden's expression convinced the twins that they should remove themselves from sight… and with much haste. Haldir counted to five hundred as he went to remove the foul smelling white liquid from his hair, ears, face, tunic, leggings, underthings, boots…
Whilst the first incident caused a crack in the wall of the dam, the second incident was to precipitate it's bursting.
Clean, dry but in an extremely foul mood, Haldir found the two young demons running in the opposite direction having seen him coming. Pride having been assaulted mightily and temper boiling over, Haldir gave chase. Sensing a trap as he weaved past a tree the young warrior managed to throw himself sideways, just in time to dodge a missile that then burst on contact with the tree, spilling its contents over the forest floor. A burst of very powerful smelling floral perfume assaulted Haldir's sensitive elven nose.
Before the twin still holding a skin filled with perfume could launch the missile Haldir sprang to his feet, lunged and grabbed the young elf managing to wrestle the perfume-filled skin from him. Elrohir, the twin in question, turned and bolted. Fuming, Haldir threw the skin at the young elf just in time to see the goblin dodge around… Lord Celeborn. The missile hit the elven Lord in the centre of his chest and burst spilling its contents all over the elder elf.
Haldir, eyes wide, stood frozen as did the twins who looked like identical startled rabbits peeping around a tree.
Taking a very deep, calming breath the Lord of the Golden Wood turned around and began to climb the stairs back to his talan.
"Come," he commanded in a quiet voice, one that no elf would dare disobey.
After removing what he could of the intensely powerful floral perfume, Celeborn retuned from the bedchamber to the centre part of the talan. All three young ones were where he had left them, each in a corner. After hearing the explanations, the elven Lord decided on the punishment. Taking a wooden paddle from the top drawer of an ornate wood cabinet that stood against the east wall, Celeborn walked over to a desk that was situated to the side of the room near the west wall. Deciding that it would be unfair to punish either twin first, the elven Lord decided to punish them together and called them over to him.
Gulping as they turned around, the twins cringed as they saw the paddle their grandfather was holding.
"Come, elflings," Celeborn sighed quietly. "I would like to see you two get through just one visit to Lórien without the need for disciplinary measures," the elven Lord continued as he waved the twins towards the desk.
Both twins walked to their grandfather from different corners, pulled down their leggings and lowered themselves over the desk side-by-side.
Although gentle by nature, Celeborn was known for being very strict in terms of discipline. The elven Lord wasted no time in starting the chastisement as he methodically paddled each of his grandson's buttocks alternately. It was not long before both twins were promising anything they could think of in the hope of stopping the punishing whacks to their rear-ends. After a few more whacks to their 'sit spots', Lord Celeborn stopped the punishment and rubbed each back in gentle circles. When they had calmed enough, he turned them around and hugged them both tightly. After several long moments Celeborn instructed his grandsons to go into his bedchamber. The twins both pulled up their leggings, eliciting identical sounding hisses and did as their grandfather asked.
The elven Lord moved the tall backed chair from its place at the desk and moved it into the centre of the room and sat down upon its cushioned seat.
"Haldir," Celeborn said as he sniffed at the still very powerful smell of perfume that seemed to have soaked into his very skin.
The young Marchwarden stiffened, turned around, walked over the elder elf and stood at attention.
"The twins have been punished for their culpability in this matter. What is yours, pen-neth?" Celeborn asked as he studied his young ward.
"Pride. Not being understanding of their lack of archery skills," Haldir replied in a serious and proud manner.
"Well, whichever let loose the arrow that cut the rope securing the skin to the tree, displayed admirable skill," Celeborn retorted with humour. "We have been through this before pen-neth and I forsee we will again," Celeborn added, his expression turning very serious as he gestured towards his lap.
Haldir responded to the unspoken command, pushing down his leggings and lowering himself over the elder elf's knees.
Disappointed that Haldir did not truly see his culpability and smelling another powerful wave of perfume assault his sensitive elven senses, Celeborn let loose with a mighty whack of the paddle to the young Marchwarden's behind.
"Owwwww!!!!" Haldir yelped as he began to understand how angry Lord Celeborn was at his behaviour. The elven Lord continued to land stinging whack after stinging whack. Proud as always, the young Marchwarden tried to take the punishment stoically after his initial outburst. Pride gave way eventually as the paddling continued at a fast and furious pace. Soon Haldir was wimpering, then sobbing and finally howling as the relentless paddling continued.
"I am sorry…please…stop…sorry," the young elf sobbed out contritely between gasps for breath.
Finally taking pity on the young one, Celeborn stopped the punishment and offered what comfort he could to his young ward. The elven Lord smiled at how his proud elfling always sought hugs after being well chastised - hugs that he was always willing to provide.
By the end of the story, Legolas, Faramir and both twins were laughing merrily.
"Haldir fell into a deep slumber that night and we were able to see the damage that grandfather had inflicted. His arse was about as colourful as yours is at present, Faramir," Elrohir concluded the story his brother had begun.
"Thank you for the reminder, my friend," Faramir admonished gently as he winced as yet another flare of pain was felt.
Thranduil arrived back and the three younger elves departed, smiling down at Faramir as they did so. The elven King sat down beside his human son, wincing slightly as he did so.
"Ada!" Faramir exclaimed quietly. "Are you alright?"
"Yes…yes…nothing is wrong, ion-nin," Thranduil replied as he smiled down at his son.
The young Steward of Gondor's eyes widened as he considered the possibilities but wisely kept his thoughts to himself.
Part 11
Faramir continued to recuperate over the next three days. No more orcs were seen, however Thranduil decided that the company would ride further northeast on the morrow to see if more signs of orc movement could be detected. On the night of the third day, Thranduil was brought back from his reverie abruptly by the sound of his human son rising from his bedding and walking away. The elven King jumped up gracefully and followed Faramir as the young Steward walked straight towards the outcropping in the distance. Maglor, also brought back from his reverie by the sounds of movement, caught up with Thranduil and both followed the young human as he walked resolutely.
"He still sleeps," Thranduil whispered as looked askance at his Seneschal as they walked with Faramir.
"I assume this is not a recent aberration on the young one's part?" Maglor whispered as he looked at Faramir with concern. "How did he survive at Amon Hen with its treacherous drops and water-filled pools with sharp rocks?"
Both elves moved past the young Steward and stopped just short of the edge of the outcropping so they could stop Faramir if he wandered too close. As if knowing where the edge lay, Faramir stopped and 'looked' out across the hills to the southwest.
"What do you see Faramir?" Thranduil asked in a soft voice so as not to startle or wake his son.
"Feel…do you not feel it? Faramir responded in a distant voice as he held his right arm stretched out in front of him, moving his hand as if touching something physical.
"Feel what, ion-nin?" the Elven King asked, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
"Evil," the young Steward replied in a soft moan, swaying slightly.
Thranduil and Maglor shared a look of concern and bewilderment.
"What evil can you feel, pen-neth?" Thranduil questioned, looking in the same direction as his son.
"Sar…u…maaannn," Faramir drawled in a deep, hoarse whisper. "He is seeking an object of power…it calls to me…it is frightened for Middle Earth…it cannot fall into the hands of the evil wizard," Faramir whispered in ever growing distress. "I come!" the young Steward shouted.
The shout turned into a scream of pain as Faramir clasped his head with his hands and collapsed. He would have fallen heavily to the ground had Thranduil not lunged forward catching his son. The elven King lifted him gently and turned around to go back to the campsite. Legolas and the twins ran towards him.
"Ada, what happened?" Legolas asked concerned by his brother's paleness that his keen elven sight could discern even in the moonlight.
"He has had a vision, my elfling…an evil one," Thranduil replied as he walked quickly back to the campsite. On reaching the camp, the elven King put his human son back abed and sat vigil until morn.
Faramir came to consciousness slowly. His head felt thick and he felt a familiar pounding behind his eyes. 'Oh why, why, why, why, why do I drink', was the first conscious thought the young Steward of Gondor had upon awakening. 'I do not remember drinking', was the second conscious but perplexed thought of the morning. 'Oh crap…a vision', was the third thought as he moaned at the injustice of it all.
"Are you alright tithen-pen?" Thranduil asked as he brushed hair back from his human son's face. The young Steward looked around him blearily still attempting to order his thoughts. He could see Maglor in the distance squatting down by the campfire and Legolas and the twins walking towards him. He assumed that Finrod was still on watch.
"Except for the pounding in my head mimicking a hangover and that had without at least the pleasure of getting drunk," Faramir answered in a beleaguered, war-weary tone. "It is Middle Earth that may not be alright. I cannot believe that Saruman is gathering orcs yet again!"
"You have had visions before?" the Elven King asked gently as Legolas and the twins squatted down beside the young human.
"Yes. Same as the old Steward; yet another reason for him to have felt uncomfortable about me. I 'saw' too much and he thought me a threat," Faramir replied around a yawn with a mixture of bitterness and sadness.
"Where do you think Saruman is gathering the orcs, ion-nin?" Thranduil continued his questioning.
"I am not certain, ada but I got a vague sense of Minas Morgul," the young Steward replied in a distant voice, wincing from the pounding in his head.
"You mentioned an object of power last evening whilst you were…" the Elven King began.
"Sleep wandering again was I?" Faramir groaned with a shake of his head, then moaned at the pain the gentle shaking caused in his head. "I have not had a vision since the Ring of Power was destroyed. I thought the benighted 'gift' gone from me."
"Maglor wondered how you managed to steer clear of the deadly obstacles at Amon Hen," Thranduil said as he continued to stroke his son's hair.
Faramir blushed spectacularly. Thranduil raised an eyebrow in question and looked at his human son intently. After several long moments under the intense scrutiny, the young Steward relented.
"Boromir found me once sleep-wandering close to the edge of a drop into the forbidden Pool. He left a decree that I was to be secured to the wall of my sleeping quarters when-ere I slept there. I tried to argue with him that I had managed not to fall in as yet and was confident that I could continue to do so but he would not listen," Faramir related, annoyance at the indignity of the situation sounding clearly in his tone.
"So you were secured by…?" Thranduil prompted with a twinkle of amusement.
"A rope tied to my ankle," the young Steward of Gondor responded, glaring at the smirking elves daring any of them to laugh and then wincing again as the pounding in his head grew worse.
A goblet appeared before King Thranduil. Faramir moaned.
"Not another sleeping draught, Maglor, I only just now woke," the young Steward whined.
"No, young one, just something for the ache in your head," Maglor chuckled as Thranduil assisted his son to sit. Faramir sniffed the brew and wrinkled his nose.
"Nothing that smells this bad can be at all good for one," Faramir whined again.
"Drink up, ion-nin. For I can assure you that you do not want Maglor annoyed with you. Trust me on this," Thranduil said with a wry smile.
With more dark looks at the Seneschal, Faramir drank the brew and sighed in relief a short while later as the brew took effect.
Later that morning, the company of elves and human mounted their horses and made for Minas Morgul. Just over a day's hard travelling found the company within a short distance of the ruins of the old stronghold. Faramir, Legolas and the twins scouted ahead moving along a high ridge that overlooked the pass in which Minas Morgul was situated. What they saw made their hearts sink for orcs were indeed gathering, hundreds of them, the wretched creatures looking starved and desperate. The trio made their way back to where Thranduil, Maglor and Finrod had stayed with the horses.
Thranduil instructed Finrod to ride to Minas Tirith to warn Estel and advise him to muster his army and rendezvous a few miles back at a unique rock formation. Finrod nodded once in agreement, ran to his horse mounting quickly and rode for the White City. The others hid their horses and made camp in a cave that Legolas discovered a short distance away. The cave afforded the company a view of the gathering orcs below.
When settling down for the night, Maglor looked at his young charge in a musing manner and then disappeared abruptly only to reappear with a length of elven rope.
"I absolutely, positively, let there be no mistake about this, refuse to submit to being tied down like some errant dog!" Faramir exclaimed upon seeing the rope. "That is a low blow, elf," the young Steward continued in a deeper, darker tone, glaring at Maglor as the elf produced 'Faramir's Bane' as if from thin air.
For the next two days and nights they watched the ever-growing number of orcs below and waited for sign of Aragorn.
Legolas, and the twins and Thranduil, Faramir and Maglor alternately made forays out to where the orcs were gathering to check on orc movements and to gather intelligence. On one such foray, Faramir, Thranduil and Maglor fanned out to see if they could catch sight of Saruman. The young Ithilien ranger's stomach fell into the depths when he realised the orcs were alerted to his ada's position. Having just enough thought left to realise that his arse was toast…if he survived, Faramir threw a rock in the opposite direction but in doing so gave away his own position.
Before the young ranger knew it, orcs were swarming over him and wrestled him to the ground. Strangely though thought Faramir, they did not kill him but pulled his arms roughly behind his back, tied his hands and relieved him of all his weaponry. Pulling him to his feet, a large Uruk-hai propelled the young ranger forward. In the trees to the right, Thranduil was beside himself with near panic as he watched his human son at first covered in orcs and then, hands bound, shoved towards the ruins of the stronghold. Maglor had to restrain the elven King from going after his son.
From their vantage point above the pass, Legolas and the twins saw the incident with ever growing horror and clambered down to the pass below. There they met with Maglor who was all but dragging the distressed elven King back away from the orcs.
"We have to plan how we are going to get our young one back," Maglor, ever the voice of reason, said as a visibly distressed Legolas moved to the other side of his father and helped Maglor guide the King to the camp.
Faramir was pushed through the doorway of a stone structure so hard that he fell to his knees and just managed to stay from falling onto his face. Gathering his breath, the young ranger looked up and was greeted by Saruman.
"If it is not Gandalf's pupil," came the smooth greeting from Saruman. "I have been expecting you wizardling."
"I am so pleased not to have disappointed you," Faramir retorted in a calm, even tone that he certainly did not feel, as he rose to his feet and inclined his head forward in a small bow.
Saruman laughed suddenly but just as quickly his expression turned dark.
"Show yourself," the evil wizard said in a smooth and commanding tone, as he looked around, "show yourself or this young one dies!"
"I have heard it said that talking to oneself is the third sign of madness," Faramir said in a conversational tone as he struggled to remove a small knife from his leather wrist protector. "Have you suffered the other two signs in order or…"
A punch to his back by the Uruk-hai sent the air from the young ranger and sent him back down onto his knees.
"Show yourself!" Saruman shouted as the Uruk-hai grabbed a fist full of Faramir's hair and pulled his head back, putting a nasty looking sword to the young human's neck. "Ahhh, there you are," Saruman said in a silky voice as he moved to one of the stones in the wall of the structure.
Feeling the grip of the Uruk-hai loosen as Saruman pulled the stone from the wall and reached into take hold of its contents, Faramir cut his bond and bounded out of the Uruk-hai loosened grip and ran past Saruman grabbing the object from the wizard's hand as he did so. The object turned out to be a ring that, in the middle of the melee, slipped onto the ring finger of the young ranger's left hand. Saruman let out a bellow of rage as Faramir ran for his life.
Just as the young ranger ran out of the stone structure all hell seemed to break loose. Yells, shouts and sounds of fighting could be heard. It took but a moment for Faramir to realise that the King had arrived even as he kept running pursued by the Uruk-hai. Without any weapons, except for the small knife that he still clutched, ranger instincts sent the young Steward looking for higher ground. Clambering onto a wall of the ruin, Faramir continued to climb as quickly as he could still followed closely by the Uruk-hai.
The Steward heard a grunt from below and turned just in time to see three elven arrows protruding from the creature that proceeded to fall to the ground dead. Faramir sighed and sat down upon the stone on which he had been standing. Looking down he could see that the fight was all but over and that his father, Elessar and Maglor all had surprisingly similar looks of anger on their faces. Legolas just looked at him shaking his head.
"Ion-nin, will you not come down?" Thranduil asked in a deceptively calm voice but one that did not fool Faramir one wit.
"No." the young Steward replied.
"Why not, ion-nin," the elven King asked in the same calm tone, one that made Legolas wince.
"I have decided that I quite like it here," Faramir answered. "I may even move here permanently. It does not look so bad from a certain angle," he added as he looked up and around.
"Please come down ion-nin," Thranduil said in a calm, soothing voice, this time making Aragorn wince.
"No. I know what is going to happen if I do and it is not fair," Faramir replied petulantly, eliciting chuckles from the elves and humans gathered below.
Legolas chuckled, remembering a similar conversation he had had with Gandalf whilst ensconced in a tree.
Losing patience, which was in short supply to begin with, Thranduil jumped up onto the wall and quickly clambered to where his human son was sitting.
"Bloody elves!" Faramir muttered as his father sat down beside him. "Oh ada, I am so sorry. I was so scared for you," the young Steward sobbed out in a harsh whisper as he threw his arms around his father's neck and buried his face in the elf's shoulder.
"As was I for you ion-nin," Thranduil replied as he returned Faramir's hug, to reassure himself that his human son was indeed alive and safe - well from the orcs anyway, he amended as he alternated between feeling relief and anger.
Part 12
After several long moments Thranduil broke the embrace to look at his human son.
"How fare you, ion-nin?" the elven King asked looking at his son intently.
"I am fine, ada," Faramir replied, looking down at his hands. It was then that he saw the ring on the finger of his right hand. The ring appeared to be made of Mithral with a blue stone of crystal clarity at its centre and delicate scrollwork in the metal around the stone, continuing around the ring. The young Ithilien ranger tried to remove the ring but it would not budge. Looking from the ring to his father and back to the ring again he was just starting to feel panic over the situation when…
"Faramir Thranduilion you rapscallion! Get down here this instant!" a familiar voice bellowed from down below.
"Mithrandir!" the Steward of Gondor squeaked and then cleared his throat in an attempt to dislodge the mouse that seemed to have taken up residence there. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Faramir asked as he continued to tug furiously at the ring trying to remove it but without success as he looked down at Gandalf who was standing between Aragorn and Legolas, glaring up at him.
"Aragorn and I were attempting to keep you out of harm's way. But with your usual skill, you ran headlong into it anyway," Gandalf replied in a gruff tone as he continued to glare at his young pupil. Legolas chuckled earning a glare from his human brother. "Saruman could have killed you boy!"
"Speaking of Saruman. Where is he?" Faramir asked as he tried to screw the ring off his finger, almost breaking it, his finger that is, in the attempt. "And how did you and King Elessar get here so quickly? Finrod has been gone but a little beyond two days."
"Saruman escaped unfortunately, as did some of the Uruk-hai and orcs," Gandalf replied annoyed.
"And I had a dream in which I saw you surrounded by orcs. I knew it to be a vision for I knew that my Steward was incapable of staying out of trouble," Aragorn said as he too glared up at his young Steward. Faramir winced at his King's glare but was somewhat distracted by the growing pain in his finger caused by his continuing attempts to remove the ring. "The army had been mustered by the time Finrod arrived with news of Saruman. We arrived here just in time!"
"For which I am very thankful Estel." King Thranduil said sincerely, emotion clear in the timbre of his voice. "Otherwise I and Legolas might have lost him."
Faramir ducked his head, blushing furiously as he tried to wrench the ring from his now extremely sore finger.
"You can stop trying to remove the ring, young one," Gandalf said in a stern voice softened by a twinkle in his eye. "It will not come off. You well and truly belong to it now. And now that it has found you, it will not let you go." Faramir froze, his eyes widened in growing shock. "Now get you down from there!"
Thranduil assisted his stunned son down from the wall and back onto solid ground. Faramir looked at the stern faces of his father, Elessar, Mithrandir and Maglor and sidled past them to stand on the other side of Legolas who was also facing them. Once past Legolas, with ranger flight instincts, if not mind, fully engaged, Faramir was off and running hoping desperately to reach the horses he saw tethered a few hundred yards away before being caught. The young ranger would have succeeded too if it had not been for Finrod who cut off the panicked human before he could mount a horse.
"I would not do that if I were you pen-neth," Finrod advised in a quiet and serious tone but with what Faramir had termed a Mirkwood glint of humour in the elf's eyes. "You are in enough trouble as it is without adding to your considerable tally thus far."
Taking a deep breath, Faramir turned around only to see two angry Kings and a Wizard bearing down on him. Backing up the young Steward bumped into Finrod behind him. The elf put supporting hands on the young human's shoulder. Faramir, head bowed, wrapped his arms around himself in a defensive gesture that Thranduil recognised immediately. The elven King extended and arm out to each side, stopping Aragorn and Gandalf. The elf approached Faramir slowly and enfolded his distressed son gently into a comforting hug.
"I am sorry, ada," Faramir whispered as Legolas came up beside him to offer his brother some much-needed support.
"It is alright, ion-nin," the elven King crooned in a soft voice. "You have been through much today, tithen-pen. Come, we will take this one step at a time," Thranduil said as he and Legolas guided Faramir away from the ruins and up to the cave where they had camped the previous nights.
Faramir sat down upon a rock just outside the cave in which they had slept. Legolas sat down beside him put a comforting arm around his brother's shoulder. Thranduil went to find some water as he saw that Faramir was still suffering shock from the day's events. Aragorn, who had followed the two elves and human, approached his Steward slowly, crouched down in front him and held Faramir's hands in his own.
"What am I going to do with you, my Steward?" Aragorn asked softly as he looked at the young man whom he had come to rely on and care for so deeply. "Boromir warned me that you attracted trouble like dwarves to an ale barrel, but I thought he exaggerated. I now realise he was the master of understatement," the King related, gaining a tremulous smile from Faramir and a chuckle from Legolas.
"Ever it has been with him Aragorn," Gandalf chuckled as he walked up to stand beside where Aragorn crouched in front of Faramir. "How he has managed to see out so many years it quite beyond me, and now this!" the Wizard exclaimed as he looked at the ring on his pupil's hand, which Aragorn still held in his own.
"What is this ring Mithrandir?" Faramir asked, as Elessar released his hands so that the Steward could accept the water offered to him by his father as he sat down beside his human son.
"That you will find out in the fullness of time, young one," Gandalf replied in a tone that discouraged further questions.
As always, Faramir ignored his mentor's quelling tone.
"I felt its power in my vision but feel naught from it now. Is it a ring of power?" Faramir asked as he looked from the ring to his old mentor.
"If you mean is it one of the rings forged by the Dark Lord, no. This one is much, much older," Gandalf replied enigmatically.
"Why me? I sense no evil in it but what does it want of me?" Faramir asked, frustration growing at his mentor's evasive answers.
"That you will learn in the fullness of time," Gandalf replied yet again.
"Mithrandir!" the young Steward whined. "I *hate* it when you do that! One time you fobbed me off with that particular platitude it took me twenty frustrating years to discover the answer I sought!" Faramir added with growing annoyance, "only to realise there was no reason you could not have told me when I first asked!"
"I would rein in that temper of yours, my young pupil. You were not supposed to come into contact with that ring for many, many years. Answers will come in their own time and you have current issues that must needs be addressed," Gandalf said alluding to Faramir's current predicament.
Faramir paled and winced as the Wizard's words brought his situation, soon to be painful situation, to the fore of his bemused and confused mind. Legolas' arm tightened around his brother's shoulders as he felt Faramir tense.
"We can deal with this now or later, ion-nin." Thranduil said quietly as he looked askance at his son. "The choice is yours."
"Oh, what a wonderful choi…" Faramir's surly response began only to be muffled as Legolas' eyes widened and he clamped a hand over his brother's mouth, eliciting chuckles and shaking heads from elves, human and Wizard.
"Now, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked as he looked at the mutinous look in his human son's eyes.
As Legolas' hand was still clamped over his mouth, Faramir, sighing in defeat, could only *nod* his response in the affirmative.
"Follow me, ion-nin," Thranduil said as he, stood, turned and walked into the forest beyond. "Estel, Mithrandir, if you will?"
Legolas released his brother's mouth and gave the despondent young human a hug and a pat on the knee and sent his on his way. The young Prince watched his brother disappear into the forest following the two Kings and Wizard.
Maglor sat down beside Legolas both sharing a wry, long-suffering look.
"You were and remain a challenge, pen-neth but I have the distinct feeling that that one will surpass even you," Maglor admitted ruefully as he smiled at Legolas. "And I believe it will take all of our effort to keep our young one from wandering off the path."
"And in the land of the living now that he possesses a ring that is coveted by Saruman," Legolas said as he wondered about the ring and what effect it will have on his brother.
In the forest beyond Faramir sat upon a rock that looked not unlike a bench, before the two Kings and the Wizard, as Thranduil explained his son's previous encounter with orcs, in great detail, far too much detail in Faramir's opinion. By the time the story was finished, Aragorn was flushed with anger and pacing, neither an encouraging sign the young Steward thought. The King of Gondor was both frightened and angry over the hair-raising stunt Faramir had pulled in the gully and at the young Steward having received a poisoned arrow wound.
"So, by my reckoning my young Steward, you are owed one discipline session from your father, two from myself and what say you Gandalf, is this one owed one from you?" the King of Gondor asked as he looked not at the Wizard but glared at his pale, wincing Steward.
"Nay, not from me Aragorn. It is true that he has come upon the ring before his time," Gandalf said as he pinned his young pupil with an intense look that made Faramir's mouth go dry, "but he cannot go against his nature and it is I who encouraged his curiosity so am therefore somewhat to blame."
"He is your son, mellon-nin," Elessar said looking askance at Thranduil. "How say you? How should his punishment be metered out?"
Thranduil looked down upon his very nervous son.
"His punishment for causing such anguish at his previous encounter with the orcs was harsh indeed. Although he deserves to be paddled, thoroughly," Thranduil said as he gave his son an intense glare, causing Faramir to pale further, "I cannot in all good conscience allow it. But he should feel our displeasure at his continued actions and so I decree that he will receive a hand-spanking from both you and I tonight and a hand-spanking each night from you and I alternately, for the next four nights."
Faramir was about to protest the severity of his father's decree when he was pinned by the equally intense glares of his father, King Elessar and Gandalf. Teeth making an audible sound as his jaw snapped shut, Faramir chose the very wise course of remaining silent.
Thranduil held his hand out to his son and hauled him to his feet when Faramir took hold of his father's proffered hand. The elven King pulled his son into an embrace as Aragon sat down upon the rock where Faramir had been seated. Ending the hug the elven King turned his son around to face his King and moved back a few paces.
Sighing a tremulous sigh, Faramir loosened the ties of his leggings, pushed them down to his knees and leaned over Aragorn's lap. The King pulled his Steward's over tunic up to the young man's waist.
"What is this punishment for, young one?" the King asked. Faramir felt his temper rising and was doing his best to maintain control over his mouth. "I am waiting for an answer, my Steward," Aragorn added after several long moments, as he landed the first stinging whacks to his Steward's buttocks.
"For losing Denethor's love when I was but five, thus failing Boromir and robbing you of the better Steward of Gondor!" Faramir spat out and then gasped at the words that he had spoken, wondering where they had come from and why he had spoken them.
Aragorn growled as he landed blistering slaps to Faramir's posterior.
"Denethor *did* love you but was incapable of showing or expressing that love until the end. You did *not* fail Boromir and you *are* the better Steward of Gondor!" Aragorn all but bellowed emphasising each point with several searing whacks to Faramir's ever reddening buttocks. Both Thranduil and Gandalf were surprised that Aragorn was able to bellow. It was not something that the King of Gondor was prone to do.
"If I had not …lost… Denethor's love," Faramir spat out between gasps for breath and stinging blows to his posterior, "he would have…trusted me…to go to Rivendell…and Boromir…would not… have died. I… am… to… blame!" the young Steward wailed out between sobs. "Mithrandir… what… is… happening…"
"It is the ring Faramir," Gandalf explained as Aragorn continued to blister his young pupil, concentrating on his Steward's thighs. "You are saying what is in your heart but, through your own stubborn nature, remained unspoken except through your reckless actions. The ring understands that you must give these thoughts voice so that you can deal with them and move on with your life."
"I did… not… ask for this. It… is… not… fair," the young Steward wailed.
"No, young one. But it is necessary. Do not blame the ring for it knows the hurt in your heart and wants you to heal," Gandalf said with quiet compassion.
Aragorn stopped the chastisement, pulled up his Steward's leggings and gathered the sobbing young man into his arms.
"You were and are loved, my precious Steward," the King of Gondor crooned as he rocked Faramir, tears welling in his eyes. "You did not fail Boromir, Denethor did. Boromir would have agreed that you are the better choice for Steward. I will keep telling you until you believe me, which could be a long, long time as we both have the blood of Númenór coursing through our veins."
Thranduil, also with tears in his eyes, sat down beside Estel and took his son from the human King's arms. Sensing his ada, for he could distinguish little through the tears and sobbing, Faramir put his arms around his father's neck and sobbed into his father's shoulder.
"Oh, ion-nin, this has been an unpleasant day for you. I cannot bring myself to add to your distress. Consider the debt paid this evening, tithen-pen," Thranduil said as he continued to rock his distressed but no longer sobbing son.
"What… of… tomorrow night?" Faramir asked between hitched breaths, with perversely, a devious look in his teary eyes.
"That debt you will pay in full, ion-nin," the elven King chuckled, again marvelling at the resilience of the human spirit and his son.
"I am very tired ada," the young Steward sighed in a hoarse whisper as he relaxed into his father's arms.
"I have no doubt that you are, tithen-pen," Thranduil said as Gandalf leaned over Faramir placing his hand over his young pupil's face.
"Sleep," the Wizard commanded and Faramir fell instantly into a deep slumber.
"Thank you, mellon-nin," Thranduil said as he looked at his son's peaceful expression.
Gandalf inclined his head in acknowledgement of the elven King's thanks.
"You know the ring and what it heralds for our young charge?" Gandalf asked enigmatically.
"Yes I do, mellon-nin," Thranduil replied smiling from ear to ear, the familiar twinkle in his eye at full force. "You have lifted a great burden from my heart but I do not think this young one will think so. I predict that my son, when he realises, will throw a tantrum worthy of a son of Thranduil."
Gandalf chuckled whilst Aragorn looked perplexed.
"You will find out in the fullness of time," Gandalf admonished, seeing the myriad of questions that the King of Gondor wanted to ask, all but written in Aragorn's face. The King rolled his eyes and sighed for he knew that he would be able to get no further answers out of the Wizard. "But we all, especially my wizardling here, are in for some interesting times indeed."
Aragorn's eyes widened and his eyebrows went skywards at the Wizard's words.
Part 13Faramir awoke the next morning in his usual sluggish manner. He was vaguely aware that he was lying on his stomach in a nest of blankets on the floor of the cave in which he and his elven companions had slept the past few nights, and that his hindquarters ached. Groaning at the injustice of the world in general, the first words out of the young Steward's mouth came in the form of a growl, threatening his elven brother grievous bodily harm if he were so much as to squeak in anything that resembled, ever so distantly, a cheerful manner. Legolas laughed brightly and deftly dodged the ranger-issue boot that came flying his way.
"I thought that ring was upon your right hand?" Legolas asked as he looked at mithril ring with the blue stone on the ring finger of his brother's left hand.
Faramir looked at the ring now residing on his left hand and growled in frustration as he tugged at it in an attempt to remove the contrary object.
"It was!" the young Steward growled as he continued to twist the ring. "I swear this contrary thing has a perverse sense of humour. Be off with you!!" Faramir barked as he tried in vain to remove the ring.
Legolas turned and walked from the cave chuckling and shaking his head at his brother's one-sided but virulent argument with the ring. Eventually the young Steward emerged from the cave with a thunderous look upon his face, glaring down at the ring on his hand and muttering curses in a variety of languages that would have made an orc blush. It was obvious to Legolas, who was standing with his father, Aragorn and Maglor, that Faramir had lost his argument with the ring.
Still muttering foul curses the young Steward continued to walk towards the four, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were standing there. This was born out in the next instant when Faramir stopped abruptly as if aware suddenly that was not alone. Head still bowed as he had been glaring at the ring on his finger, the Steward looked up through the hair that had fallen in a curtain over his face and winced when he saw who was standing before him. His eyes narrowed when he saw Legolas grinning from ear to ear, shaking his head and Aragorn standing with his arms crossed and a very unkingly smirk on his face. His eyes softened when he saw his father's tolerant expression and winced at the decidedly annoyed look from Maglor. The Mirkwood Seneschal twirled his finger and pointed to the cave in a mute command for Faramir to turn around and go back into the cave. Heaving a huge sigh and knowing that escape was impossible, if not suicidal, the young Steward followed the unspoken command with Maglor close behind.
"Leggings down and bend over that rock, pen-neth," Maglor said, indicating a large, smooth rock that stood about waist height located against the far wall, as he bent down and retrieved 'Faramir's Bane' from one of the supply packs. Berating himself silently yet again for his foul temper and habit of 'verbalising' his annoyance, Faramir did as he was bid. "Ten swats pen-neth. You will count each one in the hopes that you will remember eventually, to keep a civil tongue in your head!" Maglor exclaimed as he landed the first hard, stinging whack.
"One!" Faramir yelped as the paddle landed on his still bottom still sore from the previous night's chastisement.
"Two!…three!…four!…five!…" the young steward sobbed out by the fifth stinging, biting whack of the dreaded red paddle. Maglor felt for his young charge but was determined to get the message home. "Six!…seven!…eight!…nine!…ten!" Faramir yelled between gasps for breath.
The elf pulled up the young human's leggings eliciting a pained hiss, gathered the repentant man into an embrace and rubbed his back as Faramir sobbed quietly. A short time later, the Steward felt himself being turned by another and gathered into a firm hug, which Faramir returned.
"Oh, tithen-pen. What am I to do…?" the elven King crooned as he held his human son and smiled at his Seneschal.
"You could burn that bloody red… 'thing'!" Faramir snapped out in annoyance, burying his face further into his father's shoulder and eliciting chuckles from both Thranduil and Maglor as the Seneschal passed a jar of numbing salve to the elven King.
Later that morning the Steward of Gondor, walking a little stiffly, met with Aragorn, Gandalf and the Mirkwood elves for a council of war by a section of the old ruin where several large parts of the original wall had fallen to the ground creating a semi-circle of natural seating. Elessar smiled at his Steward and offered the young man an empty 'seat' opposite. Faramir declined the offer, glaring at his King, eliciting another unkingly smirk from Aragorn. The young Steward looked at each of the others, daring any of them to smirk. It was then that he noticed the absence of the twins.
"Where are Elladan and Elrohir?" Faramir asked as he looked around him for the sons of Elrond.
"Out hunting orcs, against my orders I might add and in trouble when they arrive back," Thranduil growled.
Faramir was just admonishing himself silently for hoping the twins would arrive back before nightfall in the vain hope that his father's attention would be diverted from his own promised punishment, when he staggered back as if from a physical blow; blood draining from his face by the sheer power of the images flashing before him.
"What is wrong, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked as he and Legolas both leapt up and rushed to Faramir's side.
"Nooooooooo!!!!" Faramir yelled, casting his eyes about him as if searching for something.
"Faramir, what is wrong?" Aragorn asked in a commanding voice trying to get through to his distressed Steward.
"The twins are in mortal danger!" the Steward exclaimed as he turned, grabbed his bow and ran towards the horses tethered a short distance away.
"Faramir Thranduilion, cease!" both Thranduil and Gandalf bellowed but the young Steward either ignored or did not hear their angry calls to stop.
Mounting a saddled horse, Faramir rode at full gallop through groups of soldiers who, in some cases, had to leap out of the Steward of Gondor's way or be mown down. The Ithilien ranger rode out past the ruins and onto the ravine pass road on the edge of which Minas Morgul was located and led thence into Mordor.
"Legolas! Take Finrod with you and go after that young fool of a brother of yours! Keep him in sight and mark your way so that we can follow quickly." Aragorn yelled torn between fear for his brothers and fear for his Steward. Legolas and Finrod mounted their horses and galloped after Faramir. "Lieutenant!" Aragorn yelled to a soldier who was already hurrying towards him as the two Kings, Wizard and Seneschal strode towards the horses. "Gather a company of your best warriors and follow me."
The Lieutenant gave a salute, turned and ran to do as the King ordered.
"When I get my hands on him…" Thranduil growled as he strode towards his horse.
"With all due respect, mellon-nin, this time you will have to stand in line, for *I* want the first piece of my Steward," the King of Gondor promised retribution against a certain headstrong and oft soft-headed Steward as they mounted their horses.
Faramir continued to ride at full gallop, driven by the absolute certainty that he knew where the Elrondion twins were and that they were in mortal peril. Looking behind him briefly the young Steward could see Legolas and Finrod following for which he was grateful as he realised, with a sudden lurch of his stomach, that he did not tell anyone where he was going. If truth be known, he did not know exactly why he knew where he was going, just that he…knew. Faramir's thoughts wandered briefly to the trouble in which he was likely to be before he forced his thoughts back to the task at hand.
Legolas and Finrod finally caught up with Faramir as the ranger stopped his horse, dismounted and grabbed his bow and a length of elven rope. Looking at Legolas and Finrod with a rueful expression as they both looked at him intently shaking their heads, he made his way up the ravine wall to higher ground in silence with both elves in tow. Moving quickly along the top of the ravine around a bend towards noise that could be heard up ahead, the ranger stopped, went down onto all fours, and crawled to the edge of the ravine to look over the edge. The sight that greeted Faramir made his stomach drop for it was one of the images of the vision that he had seen back at the ruins. Elrohir was down and unmoving as Elladan fired arrows at the orcs that had them pinned down in some rocks, and were advancing. Legolas and Finrod began firing down upon the orcs to stop their movement towards the twins whilst Faramir tied one end of the elven rope to the trunk of a tree and threw the other end over the edge of the ravine.
"What in Eru's name do you think you are doing?" Legolas yelled as he saw his brother throw the rope over the edge.
"Sorry," Faramir apologised as he scampered over the edge, down the rope with bow in hand and into the ravine before Legolas had a chance to stop him.
"Aieeeeeeee! Your arse is toast! Do you hear me muindor tithen? Your arse is toast!" Legolas shouted after his brother as he disappeared over the edge, his voice a mixture of anger and fear.
At the bottom of the ravine, Faramir let go of the rope and made his way over to Elladan.
"How is Elrohir?" the ranger asked as he fired arrows at the orcs.
"Alive, but knocked unconscious," Elladan replied, his relief evident. "And I am glad to see you."
"You may be glad to see me, my friend," Faramir said as he continued to fire arrows, "but neither of us is going to be too pleased to see ada, I think."
"Very angry?" Elladan asked tentatively.
"Oh yes," Faramir replied in a resigned tone.
Elrohir, at the feet of his twin, began to stir and both the attention of Elladan and Faramir was diverted to the Rivendell elf struggling towards consciousness. When Faramir looked up again he gasped, for the image that had caused his panic at Minas Morgul was about to happen. An Uruk-hai stood with bow drawn, aimed directly at Elladan. Faramir pushed the elf aside and stood directly in front of the Uruk-hai as the fell creature let loose the arrow. The ranger held his left hand in front of him as if attempting to stop the arrow in mid flight. A bolt of blue light shot from the ranger's hand and knocked aside the orcs directly in its path. The Uruk-hai's arrow hit the blue bolt and bounced off it as if hitting a physical wall. Faramir had but a moment to register the strange events when he dropped like a stone, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Part 14
Faramir regained consciousness slowly and painfully, as the first thing to register with the young Steward was a massive, pounding headache. He was aware that he was lying on his side and his head was being cradled in someone's lap. Voices, that sounded at first muffled and distant, became more distinct.
"He will be all right will he not, Mithrandir?" Faramir recognised the concerned voice of his father directly above him, which answered the question of the owner of the lap in which his head rested.
"Yes, yes. He will recover, though I expect that he will have somewhat of a headache when he awakes," came Gandalf's response.
*Somewhat* of a headache, thought the Steward indignantly almost snorting and giving away the fact that he was both awake and aware, was like saying the fires of Mordor were *somewhat* warm. Faramir felt as if a small Gimli was using the inside of his skull as a giant bell, banging his axe from side to side; indifferent to whatever brain matter he was slicing through in the process.
"What happened, Gandalf? What was the blue light? Was it the ring?" Faramir heard Elessar ask.
"I would not have thought that he would have been able to do that as yet," the Steward heard his father say.
"He should not have been able to, just as he should not have come into contact with the ring for many years but as it always has been with this young one, he has somehow managed to do so," came Mithrandir's almost petulant response.
"Why did he fall unconscious?" Elessar's voice again.
"My young wizardling here took the power from within himself to channel through the ring. A dangerous manoeuvre if you do not know how to control its flow."
Took the power from within myself? Faramir thought. The young Steward could not remember doing anything except push Elladan out of the path of the Uruk-hai's arrow unfortunately putting himself in its path. Faramir sent up a silent but probably fruitless prayer that his father had not witnessed that particular event.
A spike of pain in his head caused the Steward to moan. He opened his eyes and closed them again quickly as the overly bright light felt like knives stabbing through his eyes and into his head. Rolling over slightly and onto his knees Faramir retched. As he had had nothing much to eat the retching was a series dry heaves. He felt his father's hands pulling his hair back from his face and supporting his forehead, as he felt sure his stomach was attempting to vacate his body.
Maglor passed a brew for the relief of pain to Aragorn who crouched beside his ailing Steward and pressed the cup to Faramir's lips. Scrunching up his nose at the odour emanating from the noxious brew but offering no other objection, the Steward drank; surprised that the liquid stayed down. Thranduil eased his son back down onto his side, placed his head on his lap and brushed the auburn locks out of his son's face.
"You look awful, muindor tithen," Legolas said as he crouched down beside Faramir examining his brother's pale and sweaty face.
"Thank you, brother, I would indeed hate to think I felt this ill and it *not* show." Faramir replied sarcastically. "Was anyone hurt? Are the twins alright?" the young Steward asked quietly as he continued to lay still with his eyes almost closed to minimise the light and thus the pain resulting.
"Nay, no one was hurt. Well…with the exception of you of course. The twins are fine and looking decidedly better than you do at the moment," Legolas said with his usual forthrightness.
Faramir sighed.
"I am in trouble, ada?" the young Steward asked in hushed voice. Gandalf, Aragorn and Legolas all snorted.
"Be assured, ion-nin. You are in deep, deep trouble," Thranduil replied quietly as he stroked his son's hair.
"What happened?" Faramir sighed, although he really wanted to ask what his father had witnessed.
"From when we arrived?" Thranduil clarified.
"Yes, ada," Faramir replied.
"We arrived not long after you climbed down into the ravine apparently, for Legolas was still shouting down at you in anger. I saw you push Elladan out of the way just as the Uruk-hai loosed an arrow…" Thranduil related shuddering, his voice becoming coarse with emotion. "You raised your hand and a blue bolt stopped the arrow before it hit you."
"I am sorry, ada," the Steward apologised contritely, curling his arm around his father's knees as the fear of what his father had witnessed was realised. Faramir wanted to say that he reacted again without thought but knew, with his usual acuteness, that it would not calm but incite his father's anger.
"You 'reacted', I know," Thranduil said sternly as he looked at his son but continued to stroke his hair. Faramir winced and wondered in passing if his father could read thoughts. "Back at the ruins when you had the vision, did you hear Mithrandir or I call out to you to cease, ion-nin?"
"Not at that moment, ada, only later when I was in the ravine with Elladan, did it register," Faramir replied truthfully.
"Thank you for your honesty, ion-nin. That has saved your posterior an extra discipline session on top of your current, considerable tally," Thranduil said.
"How considerable, ada?" Faramir asked quietly as he had, in all honesty, lost count.
"Well, let us see, ion-nin. You were to receive a hand spanking from Estel tonight, myself tomorrow night, Estel the following night and myself the night after that. You have now earned more than a hand spanking from myself, Estel and possibly Legolas for he was most vexed with you. Were you not ion-nin?" Thranduil asked Legolas who was still crouched beside Faramir.
"Very," Legolas replied, glaring down at his brother.
The young Steward groaned wondering if he would be ever be able to sit comfortably again.
"When, ada?" Faramir asked in a resigned tone.
"Later, ion-nin. You are as yet unwell and Maglor and I have the Elrondion twins to deal with first," the elven King replied. Faramir did not miss how his father growled the words 'Elrondion twins' in a way that promised very unpleasant happenings to come for the sons of Elrond.
Thranduil signalled for Legolas to exchange places with him so that Faramir's head rested on his elven son's lap.
"Rest now, ion-nin," Thranduil said as knelt by his son's side and placed a kiss on Faramir's forehead but the still drained Steward had already fallen asleep.
"I know you wished to blister your Steward's behind at the first opportunity, mellon-nin, and though he has undoubtedly earned such, I ask that you wait until the morrow" Thranduil requested of Aragorn who was sitting opposite Legolas with his back against a rock. Aragorn nodded his head in acceptance "For after the fright he gave me this day, I need access to that particular target myself! And now for the 'duo horribus'..." Thranduil growled as he strode off to where the twins were being watched over by Maglor and Finrod.
Legolas shared a look with Aragorn both wincing.
The Elrondion twins were sitting on the ground near the wall of the ravine, leaning back against a large rock. Maglor and Finrod were sitting with them.
"How fares Faramir?" the twins asked in unison.
"He will be alright, once the ache in his head abates," Thranduil replied as he crouched down beside Elrohir. "And how are you, pen-neth?" the elven King asked as he cupped and lifted the elf's chin, looking at him intently and moving his head from side to side.
"I am fine. We did not mean to involve Faramir," Elrohir responded, concern and regret evident in his eyes.
"As you are no doubt aware, tithen-pen, both my sons excel at getting 'involved' in situations in which they should not. But I am thankful that Faramir saw your plight and we were able to assist," Thranduil said as he released Elrohir's chin. "However, this whole situation would not have occurred if you two had not disobeyed my instruction not to go after the orcs by yourselves." the elven King added sternly.
Both twins cringed at the elven King's tone.
"All right, Elrondion," Thranduil said as he stood and held a hand out to Elrohir. "Time to pay the piper, as the humans say."
Elrohir gulped, took hold of the elven King's hand and was pulled to his feet. Elrohir whimpered softly as he saw Maglor hand 'Faramir's Bane' to the elven King. Thranduil walked to a stand of rocks that would offer privacy. Sitting down on rock of suitable size and height, Thranduil patted his knee in a silent command. Elrohir sighed, loosened the ties of his leggings and leaned over the elven King's knees. Thranduil wasted no time in starting the punishment as he let loose with a whack that made Elrohir yelp. The elder elf kept up a blistering pace until the younger elf was howling and sobbing in earnest. Thranduil added a few harder whacks to the elf's 'sit-spot' before ending the chastisement. Elrohir slid from the elven King's knees and pulled up his leggings.
"Come here, elfling," Thranduil said gently as he held his arms open. Elrohir flew into the elder elf's arms and sobbed out apology after apology as Thranduil crooned comforting words to the repentant twin.
The elven King guided the younger elf back to where his brother awaited his punishment. Thranduil smiled when he saw Maglor sitting beside Elladan with his arm around the young elf's shoulders. Elladan looked up and on seeing his twin, sprang to his feet and ran to hug his distressed brother. Thranduil handed the paddle over to Maglor who guided Elladan to the rocks where his brother had been chastised. Sitting on the same rock that Thranduil had, Maglor patted his knee in the same mute command. Following in his brother's footsteps, Elladan found himself bare-bottomed over the Mirkwood Seneschal's knees. Eru! Thought the elder twin on feeling the first couple of whacks from the Seneschal, Aragorn and Elrohir were right, Maglor does hit harder. It was not long before Elladan was howling as loudly as his brother had and offering the same apologies. Maglor added a few very hard whacks to the younger elf's thighs before ending the punishment and gathering the equally repentant young elf into his arms.
Faramir slept through the Elrondion twin's howls until late afternoon, his head still cradled in his brother's lap. Upon awakening the Steward was pleased to find that his head had stopped aching and his stomach had stopped wanting to divest itself of all content therein. Then the thought that he would be considered 'fit' for punishment made him groan.
"Your head still aches, muindor tithen?" Legolas asked as he examined his brother's face.
"No," Faramir grumbled blushing fiercely. "I was just thinking of another part of my anatomy and how sitting with any degree of comfort will not be an option soon."
Legolas smiled ruefully and stroked his brother's hair. After several long moments, Faramir sat up.
"How fare you, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked as he crouched down in front of his sons.
"If I could lie worth a damn, I would tell you miserably," came Faramir's surly reply as he looked down at his hands.
Thranduil smiled at his son's temper and Legolas just shook his head in bemusement.
"Well, ion-nin. I think we should conclude this evening's proceedings before your mood turns ever more sour," the elven King said as he stood and offered a hand to his son and pulled him to his feet.
Faramir bit the knuckle of the index finger of his right hand to stop a totally inappropriate comment about sour moods and their cures from springing forth. Thranduil saw the action and guessing its cause, shook his head and chuckled as he guided his son to the rocks where the twins had received their punishments. The elven King sat down upon the rock. Faramir walked over to his father, loosened the ties of his leggings and lowered himself over his father's lap.
"What is this punishment for, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked.
"I am not entirely sure," came Faramir's plaintive response.
"This is the first of the four hand spankings you are due for your escapade with the orcs in the gully and at Minas Morgul," the elven King explained. "The other discipline sessions will begin when these are concluded."
Faramir groaned and glared at the ring, willing it to do something to assist but alas, the ring remained idle. Thranduil landed blistering slap after blistering slap to his son's buttocks until they turned from pink to red. Faramir squirmed and moaned as his father kept up a fast pace. Thranduil moved to Faramir's thighs. His son was yelping and sobbing now but still the elf continued the punishing slaps to his son's thighs until he deemed the punishment enough.
"I…am sorry… ada… sorry… sorry," Faramir repeated over and over.
The elven King ceased the punishment and pulled up his son's leggings, turned the young human over, careful of his abused bottom and crooned soothing words of forgiveness as he hugged his son tightly.
Faramir, still drained from the day's events, fell asleep in his father's arms as the elf continued to rock him. Thranduil smiled down at his son and bestowed another kiss on his forehead and carried him to where they were camping for the night.
Maglor met Thranduil and showed his King where he had prepared a bed for his young charge.
"I am afraid we have a long, long road ahead of us, mellon-nin, in teaching this one to take care of himself, especially with his newly discovered wizarding powers" Thranduil sighed as he and Maglor, divested Faramir of his over-tunic and boots.
"How long do wizard's live for, anyway?" Maglor asked in a hushed voice so as not to wake Faramir as they turned him onto his stomach and covered the young one with blankets and cloaks.
Part 15
"Good morning, my wizardling," Gandalf greeted the bleary-eyed Steward in a deceptively mild voice that sent shivers up Faramir's spine, upon his awakening the next day. The Steward, who was lying on his side in a nest of blankets and cloaks, swallowed and looked at the Wizard sitting on a rock beside him with an expression that was half wince, half cringe, as if he expected Gandalf to start yelling at him at any moment. "You and I need to have a long…long talk." Faramir's wince-cringe became even more pronounced on hearing the Wizard's words; for long, long talks in the past invariably ended with him upended, bare bottomed and yelling over Mithrandir's knees, having his behind well and truly blistered.
"Wha…" Faramir squeaked then coughed. "What about exactly?" the young Steward asked in a voice that sounded a little firmer.
"You, my wizardling," Gandalf replied mildly as he looked at Faramir.
"Mithrandir, why do you insist on calling me that? I cannot be a wizard," the young Steward said adamantly as he moved to sit up, wincing as he did so from the pain caused by his father's chastisement of the previous evening.
"And why not?" Gandalf asked mildly, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"I am human, I am not of the Istari and I am not an old man," Faramir added the final point as he looked directly at the Wizard. Gandalf chuckled at his wizardling's facetiousness.
"I grant that it is true that you *are* still human and you are *not* of the Istari but you are a wizard…a wizard in-training shall we say, and a *ring bearer*," Gandalf replied, emphasizing the words 'ring bearer'.
Faramir looked down upon his left hand only to find that the ring had once again moved to the right hand.
"Why does it keep doing that?" the young Steward growled as he glared at the ring.
"Doing what?" Gandalf asked.
"Moving from one hand to the other as if it cannot decide where it wants to reside."
The White Wizard looked perplexed for a moment but understanding came and he laughed.
"If you were right-handed it would settle on your left hand so as not to interfere when you are fighting with a sword. The converse would be true if you were left-handed. You, my unique young friend, fight with a sword in your right hand but draw a bow with your left. The ring is simply confused," Gandalf explained.
"Oh, Mithrandir. Why me?" Faramir asked plaintively, looking from the ring to his mentor.
"You and the ring were destined to be; just not this soon. I was to depart for the West with the other ring bearers in a decade or two, prior to which I would have introduced you to the fascinating subject of sorcery, which you would, with your usual dedication, study over the coming decades. As your knowledge and understanding grew over those *decades* you would begin to feel the pull of and object of power and would *eventually* find a ring of power. By this time your wizarding powers would have developed enough to allow you to listen to the ring, which would guide you in 'wielding' it with confidence. But…" Gandalf paused in the telling of his story to look sternly at his wizardling, causing the young Steward to wince anew, "in your usual inimitable style, you have jumped to the conclusion of the story," the Wizard said alluding to Faramir's tendency as a child to read the conclusion of a mystery before reading the remainder of the story, "thus necessitating a change in the order and length of proceedings."
Faramir had the grace to look chagrined as Gandalf continued to look at him sternly.
"What changes would they be, Mithrandir?" the young Steward asked tentatively knowing that he was probably not going to like the answer.
"Well, let us see, my wizardling," Mithrandir began; staring intently at his young charge with an expression Faramir imagined a cat would display to a mouse, just before pouncing and devouring the poor, doomed little creature. "In addition to your duties as the Steward of Gondor, you will be apprenticed to me so that you may learn what you will need to learn and I can keep a close eye on you for the sake of Middle Earth," Gandalf said as he watched Faramir's reaction with a degree of unwizard-like glee.
"Mithrandir!" the young Steward whined, "between the duties of Steward and being apprenticed to you, I will have no time to pursue…" Faramir's voice faded out and he blushed furiously.
"Yes…my wizardling? Pursue what?" Gandalf asked in feigned ignorance.
"Other… things. Oh, how am I to explain this to Éowyn as to keep my bodily parts intact enough to father children! Unless you have not noticed, my Lady is very apt with a sword and would not hesitate in using it to register her displeasure!" Faramir moaned as he lowered his face into his hands, shaking his head.
"You should have thought of that before you went off… gallivanting," Gandalf huffed as he waved his hand in vague gesture.
"Mithrandir," Maglor admonished as he crouched down beside Faramir, handing him a bowl filled with food. "I hope you have not put him off his feed for he has a few meals to make up for."
Faramir groaned at the unexpected twists his life was taking. His stomach was registering its own displeasure at the thought of being an apprentice wizard to Mithrandir, of telling Éowyn and at the food foist upon him by Maglor. However, given that both Gandalf and Maglor were looking at him intently he managed to force down the food. When he had finished, the Mirkwood Seneschal, smiling, took the empty bowl from his young charge and he and Gandalf left the Steward in peace. Faramir looked up and saw the Elrondion twins walking, albeit stiffly, towards him.
"Aur vaer," Faramir greeted the sons of Elrond warmly. The twins presented identical tentative smiles in return, still feeling guilt over getting Faramir into trouble.
"We have come to apologise, Thranduilion," Elrohir began.
"For causing you trouble," Elladan finished the sentence as in the way of twins.
"And to thank you," Elrohir said as he looked at the young human.
"For saving our lives," Elladan said gauging Faramir's reaction.
Smiling, Faramir waved the twins to join him. Not daring to sit on their very sore posteriors, the twins lay on their sides beside the young Steward. Faramir winced for he knew immediately that they had had another painful run-in with the dreaded red 'thing'.
"You both appear not to be aware that I am more than capable of getting myself into vast amounts of trouble, unaided," the young Steward said ruefully.
"Yes, we have noticed but thought it polite not to mention, mellon-nin" Elrohir replied, matching Faramir's wryness. Faramir chuckled.
"Do either of you know what Elessar plans to do now?" the young Steward asked, hoping that riding horses did not figure prominently in the King's plans for the immediate future, or anytime within the next five or six days for that matter he thought despondently.
"No he has not, mellon-nin. He is still vexed with us," Elladan replied quietly.
"As well he should be, pen-neth," Thranduil responded in a stern tone startling the two elves and human, as they had not heard his approach. The King's stern tone was softened by a twinkle in his eyes.
"Aur vaer, ada," Faramir smiled at this father, extending his hand in an unspoken request to be pulled to his feet. Thranduil hauled his son to his feet and into a tight hug which the young Steward returned.
"How fare you this day, ion-nin?" the elven King asked not relinquishing the hug.
"Confused… bemused… bruised. I have had a bit to contend with recently," Faramir replied in his usual quiet, understated and calm manner as he sighed and burrowed his face into his father's shoulder, eliciting full-throated laughter from Thranduil as he continued to embrace his son.
"Oh, ion-nin! You have captured my heart completely! I have two wonderful sons and I would not change it for the world," the elven King said with passion as he bestowed a kiss on his son's forehead. Faramir clung to his father, praising the Valar for their kindness in granting him the love of a father.
Aragorn watched the scene between elven father and human son, feeling the smile spread across his face and tears well in his eyes, as he watched the bond, which had been steadily growing between the two, finally lock and cement into place. The King of Gondor could see Maglor in the distance also watching the pair with a broad smile on his face and what looked suspiciously to Aragorn like tears in the Seneschal's eyes and the twins, lying on the ground a short distance away, both smiling, happy for the young human. Aragorn waited until father and son had parted before approaching his Steward.
"Good morning, Faramir," Aragorn greeted his Steward and acknowledged Thranduil with a smile and a nod.
"Good morning, Elessar," Faramir replied shyly, still overcome with emotion.
"I have sent Legolas and a company of soldiers east towards Mordor and Finrod and a company westwards, back through the pass, to scout for signs of orcs or Saruman. We and the few remaining troops will make our way back through the pass to a point just off the Harad Road and await Legolas and Finrod's return before deciding our next course of action," Aragorn informed his Steward.
Faramir moaned at the thought of riding a horse. Similar moans were heard from the Elrondion twins behind him. Maglor, who walked towards them rummaging around in a supply pack, found what he was looking for, threw a jar of numbing salve to the twins and passed another jar to Faramir, eliciting a 'thank you' from each twin and a spectacular blush from his young human charge.
By nightfall the company arrived at the Harad Road and made camp in a clearing by a stream located a few hundred yards into the forest on the other side of the road. Exhausted, Faramir dismounted stiffly, saw to his horse and unpacked his bedroll, before making his way to where the camp was being prepared. The Steward unrolled his bedding, lowered himself onto his side gently and rested. It was not long before Maglor presented Faramir with a bowl filled to the brim with food. Faramir raised a questioning eyebrow but decided against saying anything on seeing the determined look in the Seneschal's eye. Sighing in resignation, the Steward ate the food under the amused eye of his father who sat close to him.
After the meal Faramir dozed on and off until a presence in front of him brought the young Steward back to full consciousness. Looking up, Faramir saw Elessar standing over him with his hand extended. Obeying the silent order, the Steward grabbed his King's hand and was hauled to his feet. Aragorn turned and walked into the forest. Faramir followed.
The King of Gondor continued to walk purposefully into the forest. Faramir, on the other hand, kept darting glances about seeking possible escape routes. Admonishing himself silently for his foolishness, the ranger concentrated on gaining control over his reflexes and not give in to his instinct to take one of the many escape routes presented and bolt. So focused was Faramir on controlling his ranger flight instincts that he did not notice Elessar had halted until he almost walked into his King as he sat on the trunk of a fallen tree. Aragorn patted his knee. Sighing, Faramir loosened the ties of his leggings; pushed them down to his knees, lay across Aragorn's lap presenting his bared and still very sore posterior for chastisement. The King of Gondor pulled his Steward's over tunic up to the young man's waist.
"What is this punishment for?" Aragorn asked, waiting for Faramir's response.
"For reacting without thinking it through. Although I may just point out, in my own defence, that it is very hard to stop a reaction," Faramir added testily but then winced on the realisation that his comment was perhaps not a wise one given his current upended position. This was born out when Elessar let loose a mighty stinging, blistering slap that made Faramir yelp.
"To stop such reactions as you have displayed, my young Steward, we just have to make the association with its ill consequences that much stronger!" Aragorn growled as he laid blistering slap after blistering slap upon his Steward's bared buttocks.
Aragorn maintained a blistering pace that had his Steward writhing and whimpering in a very short space of time. Still Aragorn would not relent on either strength of the slaps or their frequency. Soon, whimpering gave was to yelps that then gave way to howls and still the King of Gondor did not relent.
"Please… Elessar… please… I… am… sorry… sorry… please," Faramir gasped out between sobs.
Aragorn gave his Steward a few more blistering slaps before ending the chastisement. Faramir slid from his King's knees and pulled up his leggings, resting his head his sire's thigh as he continued to sob. Aragorn slid down onto the ground beside his kneeling Steward and gathered the repentant young man into his arms, stroked his hair and crooned soothing words as he rocked his Steward. Exhausted from the events of the past week, Faramir fell asleep as Aragorn sang an elvish lullaby, in his deep, soft tones.
The King of Gondor was just wondering how he would get his sleeping Steward back to the camp when a soft rustle drew his attention and looking up, he smiled on seeing Thranduil. The elven King sat upon the fallen log and looked down at his sleeping son.
"He is a handful, mellon-nin," Aragorn said ruefully looking up at Thranduil and shaking his head in bemusement.
"And I would have it no other way. There is such fire in this one. He will be a powerful wizard one day," Thranduil said fondly.
"Yes, he will," Aragorn replied his affection for his Steward written clearly in his expression. "All we have to do is keep him alive long enough to see him gain full power," the King added, letting out a whoosh of air indicating how difficult he thought it would prove to be.
"Yes, mellon-nin. We will be busy and depending on how his self preservation skills develop, he may have trouble sitting down for the next millennia or so!" the elven King agreed, sharing a wry look with Aragorn.
"As I will have gone to the halls of my ancestors by that time, that will be your worry, mellon-nin," Aragorn said, chuckling.
Part 16
Thranduil carried his human son as he and Estel walked back to the camp. The elven King smiled when he saw that Maglor had added blankets and cloaks atop Faramir's bedroll to make it more comfortable for his young charge. Aragorn removed two of the cloaks and then covered his young Steward after Thranduil had laid his son down gently onto the nest of blankets.
"He is exhausted," Aragorn said, concern evident in his tone as he tucked the blankets around the Steward and then sat down beside him.
"That is only to be expected after his little performance with the ring at Minas Morgul," Gandalf responded quietly from where he was sitting near the campfire a short distance away.
"What have you done to him Estel?" Elrohir asked, as he looked down upon the sleeping human, seeing tear-tracks running the length of Faramir's face.
"I blistered his behind for his recent reckless behavior if you must know," Aragorn said defiantly.
"That was not his fault Estel!" Elladan added his voice to that of his brother as he stood next to his twin.
"We are to blame!" Elrohir hissed.
"Whilst I do not dispute the truth of your assertions, his motives are not in question. His actions, his propensity towards forging headlong into danger, alone and without due thought to the consequences to himself, are. And I will not lose him because we did not bring him to account!" Aragorn added adamantly, looking very much the son of Elrond. "And besides, he has yet to be brought to account for that incident because he is still being punished for his reckless actions at the elven haven and Minas Morgul!"
"Peace, sons of Elrond," Thranduil interjected, "or you will wake him and he will be mortified to be the cause of dissention between you."
Elladan looked as if he wanted to pursue the argument when Faramir stirred in his sleep. Conceding defeat for the moment, Elladan and Elrohir went back to their bedrolls on the other side of the campfire.
The next morning Faramir awoke lying on his side. Bleary-eyed and yawning widely, he made the mistake of rolling onto his back. Hissing and cursing under his breath, he moved quickly again onto his side.
"Aur vaer," Thranduil said in a soft and solemn tone careful not to incite his son's morning wrath as he approached and sat down beside his son. The solemn tone was belied by the glint of humour in the elven King's expression.
Faramir took one look at his father's expression and groaned as he rolled over onto his stomach and attempted to bury his head in his bedding.
"There is nothing remotely good about this day, ada," the young Steward's words were muffled by the blankets beneath him. "As well as my duties as the Steward of Gondor, not to mention the Prince of Ithilien, I find I am to be apprenticed to Mithrandir, Éowyn will emasculate me when she finds out, I am to have my arse blistered yet again this evening and I have no doubt that Maglor has gone out hunting for an Oliphaunt to feed me for my break of fast!"
"Not quite, pen-neth," the Seneschal chuckled as he crouched beside his grouchy charge. "But a hearty meal nonetheless," he added as he passed the bowl to Faramir who sat up in such a way as to minimise the pressure on his very sore posterior.
"I want you to rest this day, ion-nin," Thranduil said, not liking the dark circles under his human son's eyes. "Do you understand me?" the elven King added to forestall any argument.
"Yes, ada," Faramir sighed, realising that he did not need any more trouble at the moment and could, if truth be known, use the rest.
The young Steward dozed until Maglor brought him another 'hearty' meal at midday, which was accepted with as much grace as was the morning meal.
The Elrondion twins, who had been restricted to the camp by both Thranduil and Aragorn, joined Faramir as he finished his very filling meal.
"I do swear," Faramir said as the twins sat down beside him, "that elf is not going to be satisfied until I run out of notches on this belt."
"That will take some doing, mellon-nin, as you are still four notches short," Elladan retorted, smiling broadly.
"How fare you this day, mellon-nin?" Elrohir asked as he looked at Faramir intently, as only an elf could.
"Sore around the hind quarters but apart from that I am fine," the young Steward admitted, blushing as he did so. "And you two?" Faramir asked discerning an undercurrent.
"We have been forbidden to leave camp," Elrohir harrumphed, looking darkly towards where Aragorn was talking to Gandalf.
"As if we were elflings!" Elladan added, equally indignant.
"So, we have decided to get our revenge on Estel and entertain you in the story's telling," Elrohir smirked. "The story relates to Estel when he was but a lustful lad of fifteen…"
"Who is she?" Estel asked as he looked down from the balcony attached to his father's study upon the most beautiful she-elf he had ever seen.
"Her name is Nienna Elensar and she is from Lórien" Elrohir replied.
"Nienna," the young human sighed the name as he continued to look down on the she-elf with long flowing blonde hair, legs that went on forever and the most beautiful tinkling laughter.
"Oh do shut your mouth little brother, or we will have a puddle of drool on the floor," Elladan teased as he saw the dreamy look in his brother's face.
Estel shut his mouth with an audible snap, turning his head to glare at his brother.
"You need to prepare for the evening meal, Estel. We will be feasting in honour of our Lórien guests," Elrohir said as he shared a knowing look with his twin. He doubted their little brother had registered the other Lórien elves that were standing with Nienna.
Estel entered the feasting hall only to be met by laughter from his brothers and a surprised look from Lord Elrond. The young man had washed, groomed and dressed in his finest clothing without repeated threats from their father. The young man glared at his brothers as he walked to the table before catching sight of Nienna. The Lórien elf looked even more stunning, having changed from her travelling clothes into a dress that clung in all the right places, or so thought Estel, as his eyes remained transfixed even as his legs continued their journey towards the table. What the young human did not see was an elf carrying a platter of hot venison and gravy cross in front of him. The inevitable occurred as elf went one way, Estel went another and the platter flew into the air only land on the sprawled young human on its final descent. The visual display by Estel was made more spectacular by his uncoordinated efforts to save himself from falling. Having experienced another recent growth spurt, he seemed all arms, legs and odd angles as he eventually fell backwards with a thump onto his posterior.
All went silent in the hall with the exception of laughter coming from the Elrondion twins, as every head turned to watch the youngest son of Elrond, covered in meat and gravy, struggling to get to his feet. Blushing violently, the young human glared at his laughing elven brothers and then saw the incredulous expression of his father as the elven Lord lowered his head into his hand, shaking his head as he did so. Turning abruptly, Estel walked back out of the hall to go bathe, change and find somewhere to hide, all the while wondering if, or rather hoping that, one could die from embarrassment, thus save him from the relentless teasing of his brothers.
The next morning Estel was coaxed out of his self imposed exile by soothing and comforting words from his father about growth spurts and their unpredictable and unfortunate affects at times, to attend the morning meal. The young human experienced no mishaps during the meal and the expected teasing from his brothers did not eventuate. Estel suspected the hand of their father, literally, when he saw the shadow of a wince from Elladan. Somewhat mollified, Estel ate his meal stealing surreptitious glances, from time to time, of the beautiful elf from Lórien.
After the morning meal Estel walked with his father along a corridor when the young human caught sight of Nienna ahead and walked straight into a wooden support.
"Estel! Do be careful, or you will end up breaking something." Elrond scolded. "You have archery practice do you not?"
"Yes, ada," the young human answered as he rubbed the lump forming on his forehead.
"Until you can concentrate and stop falling down and banging into things, I suggest that you forego archery practice," Elrond said as he stopped and cupped his son's chin so that he could look to see what damage the young man had managed to do to himself.
"Adaaaaa," Estel whined. "I will be fine and I do not want to miss the lesson. Glorfindel will be teaching us today."
"Well, I still advise against going to practice today. Just be careful, ion-nin," Elrond called after his son who was bolting down the corridor towards the exit to the archery field.
The archery lesson was going well for Estel as he hit the targets consistently and received welcome advice from Glorfindel about his archery technique. The Rivendell Seneschal went to retrieve the spent arrows and Estel used the time to line up on the next set of targets that were in a different direction. As he nocked his arrow, fitting it to the bowstring, his attention was diverted by the same tinkling laughter he had so admired the previous day. Turning his head in the direction from whence the sound had come, Estel saw Nienna dressed in leggings and tunic, doing some stretching exercises. The young human was so engrossed in the beautiful she elf that he did not notice that his still nocked arrow was now pointing in a different direction. The she elf upon which Estel's gaze was so transfixed, performed a manoeuvre that so excited the young man that he let loose the arrow accidentally. A yell of pain came soon after.
"And!?" Faramir asked not liking the break in the story at all. "Whom did he shoot?"
"Estel, pale, shocked and looking as if he was about to die of fright, turned to see his arrow sticking out of Glorfindel's left buttock," Elladan replied, smirking at the memory.
"Mind you, to this day Glorfindel swears it was his upper left thigh," Elrohir chuckled.
"The Glorfindel? Slayer of the balrog? You jest," Faramir said disbelievingly. "Elessar shot Glorfindel; slayer of the balrog, in the left buttock?"
"Aye, he did," the twins replied in unison.
Stunned for a few more moments, the Steward of Gondor finally threw his head back and burst out into gales of laughter. It was the twins' turn to look stunned for they had never heard the young Steward truly laugh before. The sound was so delightfully musical that they each vowed they would do more to incite their friend's laughter in the future.
Faramir laughed so hard and so long that it hurt. Tears streamed down his face and he held his sides in hopes of reducing the pain of the spasms that his laughter was causing. It took the Steward a long time to regain control enough to ask. "What happened then?"
"Let us just say that neither ada nor Glorfindel were at all amused by our young brother's adolescent lapses," Elrohir replied.
"Estel ate standing up for about two weeks, if I remember correctly," Elladan smirked.
"And Glorfindel is ever wary of Estel when our brother has a bow in hand," Elrohir chuckled.
Elrohir's comment set off the young Steward's laughter again and it was a long time before he could stop.
Part 17
Exhausted from laughing so hard and left in peace by the Elrondion twins who went in search of other mischief no doubt, Faramir dozed for a while. He must have dropped off into a deep sleep, the young Steward realised upon awakening, as he had not heard his father approach or sit down beside where he lay.
"Well, ion-nin," Thranduil said as he smiled at his son. "You are looking much better, I must say. It must have been all that laughter earlier, hmmmm?" Thranduil teased but had been delighted to hear his son's laughter for he had not realised that Faramir could laugh so delightfully and wished to hear him laugh more often.
Faramir smiled shyly as he sat up, seeing his father's teasing for what it was - affection, and basked in its warmth.
"They must have been a handful for Lord Elrond when they were elflings," the young Steward said affectionately.
"Oh aye! The 'duo horribus' were and *are* a handful, there is no doubt," the Elven King replied, chuckling. "And speaking of handfuls, ion-nin. I have a proposition to put to you."
Faramir looked askance at his father, feeling that he was not going to like this conversation.
"I do not like protracted punishments ion-nin, however much deserved," Thranduil said looking at his son intently, "as I am sure you do not. I propose to proceed with both punishments owing to you by now. If you so choose."
Faramir was right; he did not like the conversation at all. The young Steward contemplated both equally distasteful alternatives, have his arse blistered for the next two nights or blistered for the next three nights. Realising that Legolas and Finrod could arrive back at any time, Faramir decided on the lesser of two evils.
"Now," came Faramir's piqued response in a voice barely beyond a whisper.
"All right, Faramir Thranduilion," the elven King said as he stood and offered his son a hand up. "Come with me."
Faramir followed his father into the forest and to the clearing where the fallen log was located. The young Steward's eyes were drawn to a familiar red 'thing' atop the log. Eyes narrowing, he glared at his father but chose the wise course of keeping his mouth in check. Thranduil sat down upon the log and signalled Faramir to sit beside him.
"Before we begin, pen-neth. I want you to tell me why you are to be chastised and what you need to do in future to stay any further punishments?" Thranduil asked gently as he put his arm around Faramir's shoulders.
"To think before I act," the young Steward mumbled as he looked at his feet, which had seemed to become fascinating.
"And?" the elven King prompted.
"Not to go alone," Faramir mumbled again as he continued to stare downwards.
"Yes, ion-nin," Thranduil said as he gave his son a hug. "Let us get his over with, tithen-pen," Thranduil said to get his son moving.
Faramir stood, loosened the ties of his leggings and lowered himself over his father's knees. Thranduil wasted no time in warming his son's buttocks, laying stinging slaps with his hand. Faramir, still sore from the other chastisements, was soon whimpering and squirming. Thranduil, feeling lenient towards his son for the poor boy had been through some very rough days, landed a few more hard spanks to Faramir's buttocks before taking up 'Faramir's Bane'. The elven King proceeded to paddle his son's buttocks and thighs until the young Steward's whimpers turned into howls of pain. It did not take long for Faramir's posterior to turn the same shade of red as the paddle. Landing a few more blows to Faramir's 'sit spot', Thranduil ceased the punishment, pulled up his sobbing son's leggings and gathered the young man into his arms.
"Shhhhh, tithen-pen. All is forgiven," the elven King crooned to soothe his son who was babbling apologies in between gasps for breath as he continued to sob. Thranduil remembered Faramir's musical laughter of earlier in the day and lamented the necessity for the punishment just now metered out.
The elven King guided his very tired human son back to the camp where Faramir laid down upon his bedroll on his stomach and fell almost instantly into a deep slumber. Thranduil covered his son with two warm cloaks, tucked them around him and sat down beside his son. The twins, who had arrived back from whatever mischief they had been about, looked at Thranduil accusingly on seeing the condition of their young friend. Maglor looked at his young charge and then at the bowl of food he was carrying. Sighing, the Seneschal turned around and placed the food back into the pot in which it had been cooked.
When Faramir awoke the next morning, Thranduil was there to greet him. When the young Steward managed to slowly emerge from his normal early morning fog, he gave his father a small shy smile. The elven King ordered Faramir to rest again that day for he was concerned about the dark circles under his son's eyes, although relived that the circles were not as dark as they had been. Faramir spent the day resting and being stuffed with food by Maglor, which was accepted by the young Steward with as much grace as he could muster. Which, in actuality, was not much.
Legolas arrived back that evening and was walking towards the camp when his elven eyes detected his father and Faramir. He stopped and watched. His brother was standing and being held in an embrace by Thranduil who whispered something into Faramir's ear that made him laugh in the same musical way Legolas had heard so rarely.
On seeing the look of adoration his father's eyes, Legolas felt both anger and fear. The elf saw Faramir walk away from the camp. Giving an elf whistle that would be answered by his father alone, Legolas waited. Thranduil soon arrived and was taken aback by his son's agitation.
"What is it, my elfling?" Thranduil asked in alarm. "What has happened?"
"Oh ada! He is human. A mortal. You cannot give your heart to a mortal," Legolas said, anger and fear vying for dominance as he paced up and down in front of his father.
In their agitation, neither elf saw the distressed eyes of a young human looking out from the cover of trees. Backing away quietly until he could no longer see Thranduil or Legolas, Faramir turned, walked back to the camp and sat down where his bedroll lay near the campfire. Stunned, falling back into old habitual coping behaviours, the young Steward kept his features schooled to neutrality, all the while feeling his heart shattering anew. Oh what a fool he had been, the young man berated himself silently as he looked deeply into the flames of the campfire. What a fool he had been to believe that he was deserving of love, the unwanted, unloved, second son of Denethor.
So engrossed was he in the inner dialogue and his inner turmoil, Faramir did not hear the approach of his King.
"Faramir?" Aragorn asked as he looked down at his young Steward. "Faramir," he said a little louder on seeing his Stewards distant look. When the Faramir seemed to come back to himself, Aragorn asked. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Faramir answered, using the skills he had developed as a child to keep all emotion from his features, thus hiding his pain.
"Are you ready for the last of your punishments?" Aragorn asked.
"Yes," the young Steward replied as he rose and followed his King into the forest.
Walking in silence King and Steward came upon the clearing and the fallen tree where Faramir had received his other punishments. Aragorn sat down upon the log, laid 'Faramir's Bane' beside him and waited for his Steward to move. Operating without conscious thought, Faramir loosened the ties of his leggings and lowered himself over Aragorn's lap.
"What is this punishment for, my Steward," the King asked as he laid the first whacks to his Steward's buttocks.
Faramir felt the compulsion to tell the King what was in his heart. That he cared not what he was being punished for but just wanted to cease to exist. Not to enter the halls of his ancestors. Not to meet with Boromir again but to simply enter oblivion, where there was no love, no hate and no feeling. Going ever deeper into himself and detaching from what was happening to him, as he had done during the punishments metered out by Denethor, Faramir fought the ring's compulsion to speak.
Aragorn mistook Faramir's silence for stubbornness and kept demanding that his Steward answer him, his anger growing and the blows to Faramir's buttocks and thighs becoming harder. It was not until Faramir's rear was as red as the paddle did the King realise that something was amiss for his young Steward had made not a sound. Warning bells clanged in Aragorn's head and he stopped the punishment abruptly, releasing his Steward. Faramir, still eerily silent, slipped from Aragorn's lap, pulled up his leggings and knelt beside his King, eyes cast down.
Aragorn slipped from the log and down onto his knees beside his young Steward.
"Faramir," the King said quietly. "Faramir. Look at me," Aragorn said in a louder voice as fear began to grip his heart.
The young Steward did as he was commanded and 'looked' at his King. Aragorn gasped when he saw the glazed and vacant expression in Faramir's eyes.
"Thranduil!" Aragorn called out in alarm as he took both of Faramir's hands into his own, hoping that physical contact would bring his Steward back from wherever it was that he had gone.
Thranduil, who was embracing Legolas, heard the alarmed call from Estel. Both elves broke the embrace and flew in the direction from whence Aragorn's voice had come. Bursting into the clearing where Estel knelt beside Faramir, they met with Maglor who arrived at the same moment.
"What happened, Estel?" Thranduil asked as he signalled Legolas and Maglor to stay back as he approached his human son quietly.
"I… I do not know," Aragorn replied, shaking his head.
"Tell me what happened, Estel? From the beginning," Thranduil asked as he stroked Faramir's hair growing more concerned at his son's continued unresponsiveness.
Aragorn explained all that had occurred; that he thought Faramir a little subdued back at the camp but did not think on it overmuch.
"…I thought his silence was stubbornness, or I would never have continued," Aragorn assured Thranduil.
"I know you would not have, mellon nin," the elven King responded reassuringly. "Maglor?" Thranduil waved his Seneschal to approach.
"Oh, mellon nin. He is a long way away," Maglor said in a quiet tone as he saw his young charge's unfocussed expression.
"I doubt this is the first time he has done this and I suspect this was how he coped with Denethor's punishments," Gandalf said gravely, causing all eyes except Faramir's turn to him, as he walked into the clearing and stood beside Legolas.
"I do not understand," Aragorn said, his confusion and concern apparent in both his voice and expression. "He has not reacted to any other punishment this way. What was different this time…?"
Legolas groaned, closing his eyes against the image of his brother before him, lost within himself.
"Oh, ada! He heard what I said to you," Legolas said with absolute certainty, tears welling in his eyes.
"Aye, my elfling. I think you are right," Thranduil said, closing his eyes and bowing his head for a moment.
"What? What was said…?" Aragorn began.
"We will explain later Estel," Thranduil replied as his thoughts raced to determine the best way to help his human son. "Leg-o-las. Go back to the camp and prepare a bed for Faramir," Legolas nodded once in understanding, turned and ran back towards the camp. "Estel, I suspect we will need a sleeping draught. Go," the elven King instructed his friend in an effort to keep him occupied.
Reluctantly, Aragorn let go of Faramir's hands and did as he was bid.
Thranduil gathered his son into his arms and walked quickly back to the camp with Maglor and Gandalf on either side. The elven King handed his son to Maglor and sat down at one end of the bed prepared by Legolas. The Seneschal lowered his young charge to the ground, leaning him against Thranduil. Tears streaming down his face, Legolas crouched down beside Faramir and wrapped two cloaks around his young brother.
"I am so sorry, muindor tithen," Legolas intoned quietly. "I am so sorry!"
Thranduil cupped his elven son's chin gently, lifting it so that Legolas' eyes met his own.
"It will be alright, my elfling," the elven King said soothingly. "We will bring him back and explain."
Lips trembling, Legolas nodded and sat down on the other side of Faramir. Thranduil put his arm about his human son's shoulders, drew him close and waited all the while crooning softly in elvish. Twice, as they waited, Maglor managed to get his young charge to swallow some water. Estel hovered, alternating between periods of inactivity and frenzied activity. Gandalf sat on the other side of the campfire waiting patiently for Faramir to return.
Faramir did return to himself slowly and painfully, overwhelmed by a feeling of shame for he knew what had happened. He had sought to hide within himself again. Something he had not done since… He did not want to remember the last time.
Thranduil sensed the change in Faramir and felt his son stiffen.
"Are you back with us ion-nin?" Thranduil asked in a whisper.
Faramir, not trusting the firmness of his voice, nodded once. An overwhelming sense of shame was making the young Steward feel nauseous.
"You heard Legolas and I?" Thranduil asked gently even as he held his son tightly.
Another nod.
"I do not think you heard the entire conversation, ion-nin," the elven King said as his mind raced to find the words to explain. "When I told you that you had taken my heart completely, I meant it. Legolas saw immediately upon his return that I had given my heart to you. It was a shock to my elfling for two reasons but not for the reason you think for you have won Legolas' heart as well. The first reason is that Legolas has never had to share me with anyone and my impetuous elfling felt momentary jealousy. The second reason is that the bond between parent and child can be very strong. Such is the case with the bond between my two sons and I. Legolas was afraid that when you died, I might die also - of grief."
Faramir's breathing and heartbeat increased alarmingly as he digested the implications of his father's words.
"No… no… you cannot die because of me… you cannot. I am not worth… " Faramir stammered, tears welling in his eyes.
"Finish that sentence, ion-nin, and I warn you, as sore as your behind must feel right now I will turn you over my knee and blister your arse until you are wailing," Thranduil growled dangerously. "Do. You. Understand. Me!"
Tears overflowing, Faramir nodded.
Legolas moved from his position beside his young brother and knelt in front of him, so that he could look into Faramir's eyes.
"I am sorry, Legolas. I did not mean for this to happen. I am… so… sorry," the Steward sobbed, not wanting to meet the elf's eyes.
"Shhhh, muindor tithen. Ada is right. I did feel jealously for I have always had ada's full attention. But hear this. I do love you, muindor tithen" Legolas said as he put a hand to each side of his brother's face, looking Faramir directly in the eyes and forcing the young human to do the same. "Look into me Faramir. See that I tell you the truth. I know you have the gift. Look into me…"
Faramir did as he was asked, delving into the depths of the elf's soul and on seeing the truth of Legolas' words, burst into wracking sobs.
"That is better, muindor tithen," Legolas said as he patted his brother's shoulder even as Faramir curled into Thranduil, fisting his father's tunic as he sobbed into his father's chest.
Legolas and Thranduil shared a teary smile, knowing that all would be right again, that Faramir had accepted the truth of their words.
When the young Steward's sobbing reduced to hitching breaths, Maglor handed the sleeping draught prepared by Estel to Thranduil who held it to Faramir's mouth. The young Steward eyed the brew and then gave Maglor a long dark look as he drank. Maglor smiled and sighed in relief that his young charge was back again. As always, Faramir fell into a deep sleep within moments.
"Well," Thranduil sighed in relief. "We seem to have come out of that conversation relatively intact."
"What do you mean, ada?" Legolas asked perplexed.
"We did not have to explain how I was able to allay your fears at the possibility of my dying an early death due to grief," the elven King replied.
"Ada! Do you mean to tell me that he does not know?" Legolas asked incredulously, his elven eyebrows going skyward.
"No, he does not know. Do you wish to tell him?" Thranduil asked as his eyes widened.
Legolas thought about the issue from a mortal's point of view. How would he react as a mortal, reconciled to the thought of one day dying and going to the halls of his ancestors, to be told suddenly that you will, in all likelihood, live as long as any elf. Then he remembered the displays of temper that he had seen from his younger brother. This coupled with the thought that Faramir was a somewhat unstable but very powerful wizard in-the-making, made the elf cringe in alarm.
"Ah, no, ada. I will leave that to you," Legolas gulped.
All was quiet except for the chuckling heard from Gandalf.
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.
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.
Part 19
Thranduil motioned for Maglor to lay Faramir down upon his bedroll. Aragorn, the twins and Gandalf came to see how the young man fared. Shaking his head at the vapour still rising from his wizardling, Gandalf crouched down beside him to determine his condition, all the while muttering about his pupil's temper and sheer bloody-minded stubbornness.
"How fares he, Mithrandir?" Thranduil asked quietly as he looked down at his son's drawn face, streaked with tear tracks and looking distressed even though unconscious.
"Do not fret, mellon-nin," Gandalf reassured the elven King as he covered his wizardling with blankets. "He will *wish* he had never been born upon his awakening in the morning for if he thought the ache in his head was bad after his last episode…" the Wizard said as he shook his head at the magnitude of the temper his wizardling had managed to keep hidden from his mentor all these years. "But he will recover," Gandalf added as he stood and stepped back allowing Thranduil to sit down beside his son and Legolas to sit down on the other side.
"Then I had best prepare a stronger brew," Maglor said as he turned around and went off in search of the herbs that he would need to produce the pain-relieving potion.
"Did he wreak much havoc, Legolas?" Aragorn asked quietly as he looked down at his unconscious Steward.
"Oh aye! There are more than a few traumatised rocks out there for certain. With but a wave of his hand he managed to split one boulder, that stood the height of a man, in half," Legolas said in hushed awe as he remembered Faramir, in anger and distress, blasting a path of destruction through the forest.
"We will have to work on his temper for his power is too great," Gandalf sighed as he sat down upon a large root beside Thranduil. "Which is why I think the Valar guided him to you, mellon-nin," the Wizard said as he looked meaningfully at the elven King.
"You are not meaning to chastise him for this day's event. Are you, Mithrandir?" Elladan asked, ready to defend his friend.
"Save your breath to cool your porridge, son of Elrond," the Wizard reprimanded the young elf mildly. "I have no intention of chastising my wizardling as I am sure his hindquarters cannot take another session this soon. But he must needs learn to control his temper, for all our sakes."
Faramir was left in peace by the other members of the group as they retired to their beds, leaving Thranduil and Legolas to watch over the young man. Elven father and son talked of many things throughout the night including ways of helping Faramir, enjoying the quiet time together.
The first thing the Steward of Gondor felt upon awakening in the morning was an excruciating pain in his head causing him to moan and thrash, which in turn caused even greater pain.
"Shhh. Lie still, ion-nin," Faramir heard the hushed voice of his father as he lay on his side and then felt something cool and moist placed over his eyes.
"Ada?" the young Steward asked in a voice that was barely a whisper.
"Yes, child?" the elven King replied as he stroked Faramir's hair and brow.
"Can you put me out of everyone's misery, please? Mine... upper... most?" Faramir whimpered, hoping that the nausea he was feeling did not lead to heaving because he was sure that his head would explode if it did.
"I am sorry, tithen pen," Thranduil said quietly as he gently raised his son enough so that he could drink the brew that Maglor was holding. Legolas, sitting on the other side of Faramir, ensured that his brother's eyes remained covered with the moist cloth, protecting him from the light and the additional pain it would cause. "But you will have to deal with the consequences of losing your temper. Here…drink," the elven King directed as he held the goblet the Seneschal had handed him to his son's mouth.
Faramir screwed his nose up at the smell of the vile brew but drank, knowing that it would give him relief. If he could hold it down he thought as the nausea flared again.
"Eewww! Maglor!" the young Steward whined quietly between mouthfuls, certain that the Seneschal was hovering. "This is the worst batch… you have brewed… yet. Can you not… make it more… palatable?"
"No," Maglor said succinctly. What Faramir could not see because of the cloth covering his eyes was the 'Mirkwood' glint of humour in the Seneschal's eyes. Thranduil and Legolas shared a smile.
"Are you *sure* he likes me, ada?" the Steward groaned as another wave of nausea passed.
"Keep it down, ion-nin," the elven King crooned as he lowered Faramir back down onto his side and rubbed his son's back in gentle, soothing circles.
The Steward nodded as he concentrated on not heaving and keeping the liquid down. Eventually the nausea passed and the pain in his head lessened as he dozed throughout the morning. Thranduil, Aragorn and Legolas went out hunting with a group of the Gondorian Soldiers, leaving Faramir in the care of Maglor.
The Steward felt as weak as a newborn kitten and still felt nauseous although the ache in his head had reduced thankfully, to a dull throb. Maglor had all but spoon fed his bad tempered and complaining charge clear broth for the midday meal and then left him to rest once more.
The Elrondion twins had decided not to go on the hunting expedition but to keep their young friend company, thus allowing Thranduil and Legolas to go in their stead. Mostly they had watched their friend sleep off the effects of his temper tantrum of the previous evening. By the afternoon, Faramir was sitting up and taking notice, fortified by the meal Maglor had, much to the Steward's annoyance, insisted the young man eat. Although they would never admit it publicly, both twins had much respect for the Mirkwood Seneschal and especially the strength of his right arm on exposed posteriors. Whilst feeling sympathy for their friend's plight they could not help but laugh at the thunderous look on Faramir's face when the elf produced 'Faramir's Bane' as if from thin air, to circumvent argument and reinforce his instruction to eat.
"You look as if you could do with cheering, mellon-nin," Elladan said as he approached and sat down beside Faramir.
"And we are sure to have a story that will do just that," Elrohir finished his twin's sentence as he sat down on the other side of the Steward, grinning at the look of keen interest from their friend.
"Who would you like to hear about, Estel? Legolas?" Elladan asked.
Faramir grinned.
"Legolas. I would like to know of my brother when he was younger," the young Steward replied, looking much better already.
"Aye. Legolas then," Elrohir began.
The young Prince of Mirkwood was a teenager by the standards of humans, beyond the age of an elfling but still some years from adulthood. The young prince had journeyed with his carer Maglor from Mirkwood, to visit the realm of Rivendell and see his friends the Elrondion Twins.
"Mae Govannen, Maglor, Legolas," Elrond greeted his guests as they dismounted from their horses at the bottom of the steps that led up to the great feasting hall.
Legolas greeted Lord Elrond and looked around.
"The twins are on patrol at the moment and will return in a few days," Elrond said as he smiled at Legolas, guessing that the young one was searching for signs of his sons. "Rest awhile after your long journey. I will see you in the hall for the evening meal."
Disappointed that the twins were not there but looking forward to the feast, Legolas made his way to the room he used on all his visits to Rivendell. After the feast, Legolas retired to his bed. Upon awakening in the morning, the Mirkwood prince met Maglor and walked to the dining hall to partake of the morning meal with Lord Elrond and Glorfindel. During the course of the morning meal, Glorfindel invited Legolas to join with other young elves in the morning archery class. Legolas accepted the invitation gladly for Glorfindel was renowned as one of the greatest elven warriors.
The archery class went well for Legolas, as it was obvious that the young Mirkwood elf had more advanced skills than those of his age mates, not surprising given the relative dangers posed in Rivendell to the greater ones in Mirkwood. Glorfindel praised the young Prince for both his technique and accuracy. Though well deserved and reinforced by nearly all of the young elves in the class who took turns commenting and patting the Mirkwood elf on the back, the praise given by Glorfindel rankled the young elf Haldamir, who had always considered himself the best archer amongst his age mates.
Several of the young elves called for a contest, so targets were set up the first round begun. By the third round there were only three elves remaining in the contest including Legolas and Haldamir. The better Legolas did the angrier Haldamir got and the worse he performed. To add insult to injured elven pride, Haldamir did not make it into the final round that Legolas finally won.
The class disbanded and Legolas joined the young elves in play. Seething with jealousy Haldamir made some very impolitic statements within Legolas' hearing about the inferior manners and intelligence of the 'wood elves' of Mirkwood. To the young Prince's credit he did manage to control his temper and walk away from the situation and was joined by most of his classmates who were not at all pleased with their friend's attitude. This had the effect of making the Rivendell elf even more furious.
After a long day of play the elves went to wash up for the evening feast. The halls of fire had been decorated in honour of the Mirkwood visitors. The hall was illuminated by five large and heavy metal chandeliers which were held aloft by rope secured to metal hooks placed at about shoulder height in the wooden down supports, so that they could be lowered and raised when the candles needed to be replaced. Long tables were dotted around the room so that all who ate in the hall had a clear view of those sitting at the main table. The tables were laden with food, wine and bowls of punch, awaiting the arrival of the guests.
Still silently fuming over the comments made by Haldamir, Legolas met with Maglor on his way to the feast.
"What ails you tithen-pen?" Maglor asked on seeing the look on his young charge's face as he met with Legolas before proceeding to the feast.
Before Legolas could answer Elrond approached; also on his way to the feast. Legolas shook his head in the negative indicating that it was nothing and walked beside Lord Elrond as all three walked to the feasting hall. Elrond and Maglor walked to the main table as Legolas stopped to look at all the beautiful decorations festooning the walls and ceiling. The Mirkwood Prince was just about to move forward when he was knocked from behind so fiercely that he ended up on his face on the floor.
"Clumsy as well as stupid, eh wood elf?" Haldamir smirked as he walked past the sprawled Prince.
Legolas' eyes turned cold. Maglor saw the danger from where he was sitting at the main table, near the Lord of Rivendell.
"Leg-o-las!" the Seneschal's tone warned the young Prince not to let his temper take control. Legolas either did not hear or did not acknowledge Maglor.
Jumping to his feet with elven grace, Legolas lunged forward and tackled the Rivendell youth. One look at the Prince's eyes informed Haldamir that he was in trouble. Scrambling backward the Rivendell elf gained his feet and continued to back away. Legolas went in low and gabbed the youth around the waist forcing the elf backwards and into a wooden support. Unfortunately the violent movement caused the rope attached to a metal hook holding one of the heavy candelabras above to unravel. The Mirkwood elf saw the danger and grabbed the rope to stop the candelabra from falling. Unfortunately the candelabra weighed more than the young elf who was propelled up towards the ceiling. Legolas managed to jump onto a crossbeam, which gave the unfortunate son of Thranduil a wonderful view of all that subsequently happened.
The candelabra fell onto the end of the long main table just missing Glorfindel who had to jump backwards out of its way. Unfortunately the Rivendell Seneschal did not jump far enough to get out of the way of the bowl of dessert that followed him. Legolas groaned. Lord Elrond was also forced to jump out of the way, impressing the young Mirkwood elf with his agility. To his horror, Legolas saw the large bowl of punch that was on the opposite end to that which was hit by the candelabra, propelled far into the air, seem to stop in midair for a moment, before it descended spilling its entire contents onto… Legolas cringed and whimpered. He had not known that the wizard was anywhere near Rivendell or even expected to be.
All went deathly quiet in the feasting hall as all eyes turned as one to the dripping, spluttering, angry, wizard.
"Legolas Thranduilion! Get down here this minute!" Gandalf bellowed as he glared up at the Mirkwood Prince.
Legolas, all eyes, shook his head violently, blond hair flying in every direction.
"Leg-o-las!" Maglor added his warning command to that of the wizard, as he too glared up at his young charge.
Legolas shook his head again. There was no way that he was going to give up the high ground. He would rather face a nest full of spiders, he thought.
"Still his father's son, I see," Glorfindel said in a conversational tone as he stood beside Maglor and continued his unsuccessful attempts to wipe the sticky desert from his tunic, whilst looking up at the frightened young prince, who was looking very much the elfling of old.
"That is true," the Seneschal replied in the same conversational tone as he continued to glare at the wayward elf.
Seeing the gathering group of elves below all glaring up at him, Legolas' nerve deserted him and he turned tail and bolted. Gracefully jumping from one crossbeam to another, Legolas made his way out onto the roof and then into the relative safety of the trees.
Maglor sighed shaking his head as he realised finding the panicked elfling may take all night.
Part 20
Haldamir, who had kept to the wall during the entire event, saw Legolas' fright then flight, and smirked. Turning to leave he caught sight of Glorfindel who pinned him with a look that made the blood drain from the young elf's face. The Rivendell Seneschal walked over to the youth and grabbed him by the point of his elven ear.
"We, pen-neth, are going to have a long… discussion," Glorfindel growled as he pulled the pointed ear, the terrified and yelping elf attached, through a doorway at the end of the feasting hall into a small room.
Maglor watched Glorfindel march the young one away, confident that the Rivendell Seneschal would find out what the youth had done to so incite his Thranduilion's temper.
"Well!" Gandalf exclaimed as he and Elrond walked over to Maglor. "I think there is more to this night's events than we are privy to at present."
Maglor nodded slowly and then looked at Gandalf. The Seneschal's eyes moved from the wizard's drooping hat laden down with liquid, to the wizard's robes and downwards to the floor, lingering on the growing puddle of punch forming around Gandalf's feet.
"One smirk out of you, mellon-nin, either of you" Gandalf corrected as he glared at the Mirkwood Seneschal and then Elrond, "and you will both find out how much strength there is left in this old wizard yet!"
Both Elrond and Maglor kept impressively passive faces giving the angry wizard no ammunition that could be used against them. Glaring again at one then the other, Gandalf huffed finally and marched out of the feasting hall and off to his room to divest himself of the uncomfortably wet clothing and bathe.
Upon the wizard's departure, Lord and Seneschal broke out into sheepish grins.
"Go find your elfling, mellon-nin," Elrond chuckled as he looked up to where Legolas had made his escape onto the roof. "I would offer assistance but I know from past experience that the trees will not give up the location of their distressed wood elfling. But they may to another wood elf…" Both elves turned abruptly to the doors at the end of the hall as the familiar sound of hand spanking bare flesh, and the cries of a young elf, were heard. "It seems Glorfindel has got to the *bottom* of the issue," Elrond said with a certain amount of satisfaction.
The Rivendell Lord had been correct in his belief that the trees would not give up the location of their wood elfling Maglor thought as he continued to search for his wayward young charge. It had taken all his powers of persuasion and patience to pry the information from the trees. After many hours searching the Seneschal finally found his young charge high up in an ancient oak, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest cradled in a hollow.
"Well, tithen-pen," Maglor said softly as he sat down on the branch just under the hollow in which the still distressed elfling was sulking, "your temper has led to some rather spectacular consequences this evening," he added with a glint of humour in his eyes.
"How does he do it?" Legolas asked with both annoyance and bewilderment evident in his voice.
"Who, tithen-pen?" Maglor asked in return.
"Every time I lose my temper he is there to bear witness," Legolas said sullenly.
Maglor nodded slowly in understanding.
"He did more than bear witness tonight, tithen-pen," the Seneschal replied with an even more prominent glint in his eye, "he was fair dripping in it!"
Legolas groaned burying his face in his knees.
"So, Thranduilion. What do you have to say for yourself?" Maglor asked the groaning elfling.
"I lost my temper," Legolas mumbled into his knees.
"You have your father's talent for understatement, pen-neth," the Seneschal chuckled. "Why did you lose your temper?" Legolas explained about the taunting at the archery lesson and the deliberate push at the feast. "Come here, elfling," Maglor coaxed, opening his arms inviting his elfling into a much-needed hug. Legolas moved out of the hollow, sat beside Maglor and was enveloped in the Seneschal's arms. "I am proud of you for not losing your temper earlier this day but wish you could have controlled it at the feast."
"I am sorry, Maglor," Legolas said contritely.
"I know, tithen-pen. You must needs return and face the consequences, whatever they may be," Maglor replied. Legolas nodded in understanding.
The two Mirkwood elves made their way back to the feasting hall. They were met at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the hall by Glorfindel and Haldamir. The Rivendell Seneschal looked ever the warrior as he stood at the foot of the stairs although he still wore the tunic that bore the stains sustained from the flying dessert. Haldamir looked both subdued and as if he had been crying.
"You found him then… finally, mellon-nin," Glorfindel said, humour evident in his eyes.
"The trees were less than co-operative in divulging his whereabouts," Maglor explained.
"And you a wood elf!" the Rivendell Seneschal chuckled. Maglor's eyes went skyward at Glorfindel's teasing. "On the subject of wood elves, this young one," Glorfindel said turning serious as he guided the young elf to stand before the Mirkwood elves "needs to make an apology to the Prince of Mirkwood. It seems that he has made some very impolitic comments about wood elves, knowingly within the Prince's hearing, borne out of jealousy of Legolas' prowess with bow and arrow. The same jealousy that led him to push Legolas at the feast and thus biting off more than he could chew by inciting the famous Thranduil temper, with all the resultant mayhem that normally entails," Glorfindel added as he looked at Legolas intently causing the young prince to blush to the very tips of his elven ears and lower his head in embarrassment.
"I am sorry for my actions, Prince Legolas," Haldamir apologised as he continued to find the ground fascinating.
"I am sorry too," Legolas replied, although the young prince's wording fooled neither Maglor nor Glorfindel for he was more likely to be sorry for the other's actions than his own, only the rather startling consequences of his own actions.
Haldamir looked to Glorfindel for permission to leave. Glorfindel nodded but then put a hand on the young elf's shoulder, turned him around and gave the young one a brief hug before sending him on his way. Haldamir smiled tentatively at the Seneschal before turning and escaping up the stairs to the hall.
"I apologise Lord Glorfindel," Legolas said, genuinely contrite. "You came close to being hurt and your… " Legolas finished the sentence by waving at the dessert stains on the Seneschal's tunic.
"Apology accepted, pen-neth," Glorfindel said as he gathered the contrite prince into a hug. "As punishment I will expect you to spend tomorrow mucking out the stables."
"Yes sir," Legolas sighed as he returned the hug. One down, two to go he thought.
The two Mirkwood elves went in search of Lord Elrond; finding him eventually in his study. Legolas knocked on the door tentatively.
"Come," Lord Elrond's voice, bid him enter. Legolas looked at Maglor who made a shooing motion for Legolas to deal with the Lord of Rivendell by himself. The young Mirkwood prince gave the Seneschal his best helpless baby rabbit look. Maglor replied with a look that indicated that he was not buying. Legolas sighed and entered.
"Ah, there you are pen-neth," Elrond said he beckoned the young prince forward to where he was sitting in a chair by the fireside, reaching out for both of Legolas' hands. "You have had a busy evening, hmmmm?"
Legolas blushed again, bowing his head in embarrassment; seeing again the image of the Lord of Rivendell seemingly unhampered by his long flowing robes, jump adroitly out of the way of the falling candelabra.
"I apologise for my behaviour tonight, Lord Elrond… " the Mirkwood prince began.
"Apology accepted, tithen-pen," Elrond said, forestalling any further apologies. "Glorfindel explained all that occurred and although I am disappointed that you lost your temper, I can understand why you did and I will not add to the punishment I think you can expect from Mithrandir."
"Thank you, sir," Legolas winced and gulped at the thought of what Gandalf was likely to do to him. Still holding both of Legolas' hands, Elrond pulled the young elf into a comforting hug.
When Legolas finally left the study, Maglor put a supporting arm around the young elf's shoulders as they proceeded to Gandalf's room. Legolas knocked on the door quietly, hoping that the wizard was asleep.
"It is about time you rapscallion, get in here!" came the wizard's booming voice from the other side of the door. Legolas rested his head on the door, steeling himself to enter. Maglor again waited outside whilst Legolas went in to face Gandalf alone.
Legolas walked over to the wizard who, like Lord Elrond had been, was sitting on a chair by the fireside, and stopped just outside the wizard's reach.
"I apologise for my actions this evening, Gandalf," Legolas said, not able to look the wizard in the eye.
"Come here, Legolas," Mithrandir said gently as he held out his arms. Legolas accepted the invitation and was soon enveloped in the wizard's arms and sitting upon his lap.
"You are your father's son, young one. And you more than anyone, Thranduilion, must needs learn to control your temper, for unlike your father when you lose your temper, havoc and mayhem *always* follow."
Legolas would like to have argued that that assertion was not necessarily true, as havoc and mayhem only seemed to follow when the wizard was also present but wisely kept quiet, thinking that Gandalf would not appreciate the theory.
"All right, young one. Let us see to your chastisement," Gandalf said gently.
Legolas sighed, stood, loosened the ties of his leggings, pushed them down to his knees and lowered himself back over Gandalf's lap. The wizard wasted no time in beginning the punishment by landing the first swats to the elf's exposed buttocks. Legolas gasped at the strength of the swats but was relieved, if only temporarily, that they were not as hard as those of Maglor. It was not long though before it no longer mattered who hit harder and the elf was whimpering and squirming. The whimpers turned to sobs when Gandalf moved to the elfling's thighs. After a few more swats to Legolas' 'sit spot', the wizard ended the punishment. Pulling up the elf's leggings, Gandalf turned him over and gathered the still sobbing elf into his arms, all the while crooning soothing words of forgiveness.
After the truly horrendous day the poor young elf had experienced, exhausted, Legolas' eyes glazed over as he fell into reverie in the arms of the wizard. After a short while, Maglor entered and smiled at the sight of his young one being cradled by the crusty old wizard.
"It seems my brother has not changed," Faramir laughed merrily remembering the tale Legolas had recounted so reluctantly to him and Elessar about the mayhem caused when, in anger, he shot an arrow into a wasp's nest. "He can still create the greatest amount mayhem with amazingly little effort and absolutely no premeditation on his part."
It was at that moment the hunting party returned. Faramir was surprised to see Elessar, very wet and seething as he dismounted from his horse and foist the reins into the hands of a soldier who looked as if he was attempting, very hard, to subdue a smile that was threatening to break out across his face. Legolas on the other hand was looking subdued and decidedly guilty as he dismounted and Thranduil had a definite twinkle in his eyes as he jumped lightly from his horse. Maglor, who had been busying himself around the camp, took one look at Estel, Legolas and Thranduil, and produced 'Faramir's Bane' from what appeared to be thin air and handed it to Estel. Aragorn accepted the paddle from Maglor with a nod, turned and stormed off into the forest in a direction very familiar to Faramir. Legolas whimpered on seeing the paddle, glared at Maglor for a moment, before reluctantly following Estel when his friend growled.
"Legolas!!"
Part 21
"Whatever has he done now?" Faramir asked as Thranduil walked over and sat down beside him and the twins moved to sit on the other side of the campfire with Gandalf.
"Legolas is still very young for an elf, ion-nin," Thranduil began in way of explanation, "and still acts like an elfling at times. I wonder occasionally whether he will ever outgrow the tendency."
"I do not see why he should," Maglor commented as he stirred a pot of stew that hung over the campfire, "as his sire has not as yet."
The twins snorted and Faramir let out a strangled sounding giggle. Thranduil sent a glare in the direction of his Seneschal, softened somewhat by the twinkle in his eyes.
"Whatever he has done, Estel looked positively thunderous and..." Elladan began, looking in the direction his brother and friend had taken.
"...very wet," Elrohir concluded with a laugh.
"I will leave the explanation to Legolas. You still look exhausted, ion-nin. I do not like the look of the dark circles under your eyes," the elven King said as he looked at Faramir intently.
"I am fine, ada," Faramir assured his father.
Maglor snorted.
"He is still unable to stand unaided, mellon-nin," Maglor contradicted his young charge's assertion that he was fine as he continued to stir the pot.
Faramir glared at the Mirkwood Seneschal.
"That is only to be expected," Gandalf interjected, "given the strength and lengthy duration of my wizardling's recent display of ill temper. He channelled a vast amount of energy and will be weakened for a few days yet," the wizard admonished.
Faramir turned his glare on Gandalf and then on the twins both of whom were chuckling. Sighing, the young Steward rested his head against his father's shoulder who put an arm around his son's shoulders and drew him close.
Aragorn strode into the clearing, pacing up and down in front of the fallen log that Faramir was acquainted with so intimately, having been almost nose to bark with it on several occasions. Legolas came into the clearing tentatively and winced on seeing his friend's pacing - never a good sign with the human. Elven flight instincts took over and Legolas found himself half way up the nearest tree before being aware that he had even moved.
"Come down here this instant!" The King barked as he looked up into the tree in which the elf had taken shelter.
"I am not coming down until you calm down," Legolas replied as he moved higher up the tree.
"Do not make me come up there, mellon-nin," Aragorn threatened.
"I am not letting my backside anywhere near that... that... 'thing' until you have calmed down. Elladan and Elrohir call it a monster and Faramir whimpers whenever he sets eyes on it and my brother is no coward. It was an accident," the Mirkwood prince whined as he kept a wary eye on his friend's movements.
"An accident! An accident my foot! You deliberately pulled that branch back knowing that I could not dodge it on such a narrow path whilst on horseback!" Aragorn growled.
"Well... yes... I do concede that that part was deliberate but I did not mean to unhorse you. That was an accident," Legolas pleaded.
"Did not mean to unhorse me! You sent a bloody great branch flying at me but you did not mean to unhorse me!" the King of Gondor replied incredulously.
"No I did not and… well… you landed on a slope at least. They do say that is easier on the body than falling onto flat ground," the hapless elf reasoned.
"You mean the slope that I rolled down, head over arse, for three hundred yards only to end the painful trip in the river raging below?" Aragorn snarled.
Legolas winced. Aragorn had made quite a spectacular display as he rolled from the top of the hill all the way down and into the river below. He was sure to have quite a collection of bruises, the elf thought.
"Well… the water was a soft landing," Legolas argued, grasping at straws as he tried to reason with the angry human.
"Yes, mellon-nin. The water *was* a soft landing but the fall the raging river swept me over was not!
"It was not an overly large waterfall," the elf replied in a small voice.
"It was over thirty feet, you blasted wood elf!" Aragorn shouted.
"You are not calming down, Aragorn," Legolas said plaintively as he clung to the trunk of the tree.
"Do not make me call your ada or Maglor," Aragorn warned as he looked up at Legolas.
"I cannot believe Maglor gave that ... that 'thing' to you!" the elf exclaimed indignantly.
"Are you or are you not going to come down?" Aragorn asked as he glared up at his friend. Legolas glared back at Aragorn but climbed down the tree grumbling curses the whole time. "Faramir is having a bad influence on your vocabulary, mellon-nin," Aragorn added as he sat upon the fallen tree and lay 'Faramir's Bane' beside him.
Steeling himself for what was about to happen, the Mirkwood prince walked over to Aragorn, loosened the ties of his leggings, pushed them down to his knees and lowered himself over his friend's still damp lap.
The King of Gondor wasted no time in starting the chastisement with a flurry of stinging whacks to the elf's buttocks that made Legolas gasp loudly, whimper and then squirm. Although much angered with his friend, the debacle of Faramir's last chastisement was fresh in his mind so Aragorn maintained tight control over his temper and kept a close eye on his friend's reactions. Even so, it was not long before the wood elf was yelling and squirming trying to avoid the stinging whacks to his posterior. Aragorn did not stop until Legolas' buttocks and thighs were as red as the paddle.
"I... am... sorry... sorry... please stop," the elf sobbed.
After a few final well-placed whacks, Aragorn concluded the chastisement, put the paddle aside and rubbed the contrite elf's back as he lay across his lap still sobbing out apology after apology. Legolas slipped down to the ground and pulled up his leggings, hissing as he did so and then rested his head on his friend's thigh. Aragorn continued to rub the elf's back crooning comforting words.
"I am beginning to believe that wood elves are kin to cats," the King of Gondor began as he gathered the Mirkwood prince into his arms, careful of his well chastised bottom, "and like their feline brethren their eyes go wide occasionally, the imp in their nature takes possession and they cause any manner of strange mischief and but a moment later act as if nothing unusual or untoward has occurred."
"I am sorry, Aragorn," the elf sniffled.
"I know you are, my half-wild elf," the human said soothingly. "I sometimes forget how young you are still for an elf and especially now that you have taken on the role of older brother to Faramir. I pity your poor ada and Maglor over the coming centuries, what with both you and Faramir to contend with; they will be busy. You are good for my Steward though, mellon-nin and will in time grow to fill the gap in his heart left by the loss of Boromir."
"He is easy to love although he still does not realise it," Legolas sighed.
"You, your ada and Maglor have more than enough love and will teach him in time," Aragorn replied.
"I cannot believe that he handed that... that 'thing' over to you without so much as a by-your-leave!" the Mirkwood elf huffed in indignation, still smarting over the Seneschal's actions.
"He knows his elfling well and you had guilt written all over your face, mellon-nin," Aragorn chuckled. "Go wash your face in the stream and let us return to the others."
After the elven prince had done what Aragorn suggested, both returned to the camp.
Thranduil disentangled himself from Faramir and jumped gracefully to his feet on seeing Legolas and Aragorn return and moved to envelop his elfling in a warm embrace. Legolas returned his father's embrace accepting the comfort offered.
The prince of Mirkwood's heart was warmed by the look of concern on his brother's face as Faramir looked at him.
The elf walked over to the Steward who moved along to the end of his bedroll, somewhat stiltedly, inviting Legolas to stretch out on the bedding and rest his head on Faramir's lap. Legolas smiled and did just that. Thranduil gave his sons some privacy by moving to where Aragorn sat near the wizard and the twins.
"How fare you, muindor tithen?" the prince asked, twisting slightly to look up at Faramir. "I do not like the look of those dark circles under your eyes and you still seem exhausted."
"I am fine," Faramir replied. Maglor snorted again causing Faramir to roll his eyes. "My strength is returning... slowly," the young Steward sighed and then examined his brother closely.
"Are *you* all right," Faramir whispered as Legolas lowered his head back onto his brother's lap, settling on his side.
"That... 'thing' has the sting of a swarm of bees, muindor tithen!" the elf complained in a harsh whisper.
"Remember that the next time you wield it and my backside is its intended target, brother," Faramir whispered, smiling down at Legolas who blushed to the tips of his elven ears remembering the time he had used it on his brother.
"What did you do to Elessar?" Faramir asked in a hushed voice.
"I will tell you when the flame in my backside dissipates," Legolas promised, wincing as he did so from a flare of pain from his rear.
Absentmindedly Faramir took Legolas' earlobe between thumb and finger and began to massage the lobe in a rhythmic motion.
"What are you doing, muindor tithen?" Legolas asked.
"I am sorry..." the young Steward began, stopping the motion immediately and blushing as fiercely as Legolas had moments before.
"No! Do not stop. It is soothing," the elf replied.
"It is a habit I formed with Boromir when I was very young, whenever he was upset or on the very rare occasion that he was fevered. It always seemed to calm him," Faramir replied in a distant voice as he remembered his fallen brother.
Legolas patted Faramir's knee, a gesture the young Steward recognised as his elven brother's way of showing support and comfort.
The brothers remained that way, Faramir gently massaging Legolas' earlobe drawing the elf's attention away from his throbbing hindquarters, until Legolas' head shot up and he turned his head in a way that Faramir recognised was his brother listening. Looking around the young Steward saw that all the elves were listening.
"Horses approach," Legolas said as he rolled to his knees and stood, taking care not to further incite the throbbing in his rear.
Faramir also attempted to stand but fell back on his behind with a thump, eliciting a wince from the Steward for his behind was still somewhat sore from his recent spate of chastisements.
"No, stay, muindor tithen," Legolas instructed his younger brother.
"I do not seem to have a choice," Faramir growled as Legolas joined the others.
"It is Finrod and the soldiers," Elladan called down from the tree that he had climbed to get a view of those who approached.
Finrod and the company of weary and grubby Gondorian soldiers arrived and dismounted. The Mirkwood elf and the company's senior officer approached Aragorn, whilst the rest of the company stayed back.
"Mae govannen, Finrod. Well met, Lieutenant," Aragorn greeted each in turn.
"Mae govannen, Estel," Finrod replied.
"What news?" the King of Gondor asked.
"We tracked the wizard as far as the mountains near Emyn Muil in Northern Ithilien, Sire, before losing his trail," the Gondorian answered, grimacing as he did so as they had wanted to catch the rogue wizard.
"You and your men look weary and hungry, Lieutenant," Aragorn said as he eyed the soldiers.
"It was my first time travelling with an elf, Sire," the Lieutenant said as he looked askance at Finrod. "I hope not to repeat the experience any time soon."
Finrod grinned from ear to ear as he looked at the Lieutenant. The King's eyebrow went skyward in a gesture reminiscent of Lord Elrond or so Finrod thought.
"Do they never tire or get dirty, Sire?" the man asked plaintively.
Aragorn grinned widely as he looked from the human who looked weary beyond measure and was covered in dust and grime to the blond elf who did not look in the least bit tired and had not a hair on his head out of place.
"Rarely and it can be very disheartening. I know," Aragorn replied, smiling as he looked at his brothers and Legolas. "Take rest and food at the soldier's camp. Elrohir will show you the way."
Elrohir turned and was moving towards the other soldiers when the Lieutenant spoke again.
"What have you done to the Captain, Sire? He looks bloody awful," the Lieutenant blurted out and then paled and swallowed as he realised his words were less than diplomatic. Sniggering could be heard from the soldiers behind him.
"I think you have been around Finrod too long, friend, or is your speech always this forthright?" Legolas asked the embarrassed soldier.
"I think it is an indication of his weariness," Faramir chuckled at his Ithilien ranger's discomposure, from his still seated position, "he is usually able to hold his tongue even if what he is itching to say is still written clearly in his features."
"Most of what has happened to my Steward has been self inflicted. I am sure my brother will be more than happy to tell you of my Steward's latest exploits," Aragorn replied as he smirked at his Steward.
Faramir groaned.
Part 22
Laughing merrily, Elrohir put a hand on the Lieutenant's shoulder and guided him towards the other soldiers standing in the distance.
"It all started…" the elf began, stealing a glance at Faramir who returned a look that promised retribution. Elrohir's smile brightened even more as he turned his attention back to guiding the soldiers towards their camp, resuming the tale.
Legolas walked back to where Faramir sat and assumed his supine position again, resting his head on his brother's lap. The young Steward smiled at Legolas' unspoken request for him to continue the comfort that had been interrupted by the arrival of Finrod, amazed at how similar Legolas was to Boromir at times as he resumed gently massaging the elven ear. Legolas sighed and snuggled further into Faramir's thigh, eliciting a broader smile from the Steward.
Aragorn signalled for Thranduil and Gandalf to join him, leading them away from the sons of the elven King before sitting on the ground and inviting the old wizard to sit on the root of a tree in the shape of a natural seat. Maglor continued to tend the pot of stew cooking over the fire and foil the attempts of Elladan and Finrod to sample the tempting repast before it was ready to be served.
"Saruman is hiding in the mountains near Emyn Muil. It would take more soldiers than are available currently to flush him out. I would have us all return to Minas Tirith. What think you?" asked Aragorn as he looked from Gandalf to Thranduil.
"First and foremost we need to protect my stubborn and oft times thick-headed wizardling," replied the wizard, looking down upon the human and elven kings. "Faramir is the first truly human wizard of any age and is displaying abilities far stronger and well in advance of what he should be capable. But he is vulnerable and also unstable…of which we have had recent and somewhat spectacular proof," Gandalf added, bringing forth chuckles from both kings. "It is a measure of the strength of his character that he has been able to so far weather the harrowing and unnerving changes in his life over the past year, with but a few tantrums."
"Tell that to the rocks, Gandalf!" Aragorn exclaimed, eyebrows raised and shaking his head. The wizard and elven King chuckled.
"My son is strong, Mithrandir," Thranduil said turning serious suddenly as he looked over to where Faramir sat with Legolas' head still resting on his thigh, "but he is on the edge of the abyss and but one more revelation, the likes of which he has suffered recently, I fear could find him fallen into that chasm."
"All the more reason to get him back to the White City where he can be protected and more importantly trained," Gandalf reasoned. "The sooner the better in my opinion," he huffed remembering his pupil's temper tantrum.
"He cannot stand unaided still," the elven King mused as he looked at his human son. "I find myself torn between wanting him to rest here a few days more to regain his strength and getting him back to Minas Tirith as quickly as possible. A darkness threatening my son draws near. I can feel it."
"It is agreed then. We make for the White City on the morrow," said Aragorn decidedly. "I will let the others know," he added as he stood and walked towards where the others were gathered.
Faramir found the next morning that he was still very weak but could stand, albeit barely and on mutinously shaking legs. Much to the young Steward's embarrassment his father insisted that he not attempt to ride alone. An argument would have ensued had Maglor not produced 'Faramir's Bane' from the Steward knew not where but wished the Seneschal would not. Smiling at his son's thunderous expression, Thranduil assisted the young human onto his horse and jumped lightly onto the animal behind Faramir.
The journey back to Minas Tirith took four days. The end of each day's ride found Faramir's energy depleted to the point where Maglor had to all but spoon feed his young charge, who invariably fell asleep before finishing the repast. Thranduil worried for his son, lessened only slightly by Gandalf's assurances that his wizardling would regain his strength after a few days of uninterrupted sleep in a comfortable bed away from the cold hard ground.
In the afternoon of the fourth day the company reached the White City. The sounding of silver trumpets and bells heralded the return of King and the Steward of Gondor, although the Steward was not in a condition to hear them as he was fast asleep, swaddled in a cloak, cradled side saddle in the arms of his father. The soldiers left the travellers in the first level of the city moving in the direction of the garrison. The remainder of the company made their way to the top level. People came from everywhere to greet the King and Steward. Joyous expressions turned to concern as they saw the Steward of Gondor, unconscious in the arms of an elf, looking pale and wan. Aragorn found himself having to reassure people that the Steward was indeed alive - just exhausted, as the company made their way up to the palace.
The travellers finally rode into the courtyard located in front of the palace where they were met by a radiant Arwen, Lord Elrond, Gimli and Prince Imrahil. Their expressions of joy also turned to alarm as they saw the unconscious Steward.
"What has happened? Is he all right? What ails... " Prince Imrahil asked as he strode to where the elven King's horse had halted.
"Be assured, he is alive and simply exhausted," Aragorn arrested the barrage of questions from the panicked Imrahil. "Although there is much of which you will need to be apprised, my friend."
Legolas, who had already dismounted, smiled reassuringly at the prince as he relieved his father of Faramir, thus allowing the elven King to dismount.
Concern evident still, Imrahil placed a hand on Faramir's brow to assure himself that his sister's son could indeed be counted as amongst those still living.
"My son is in need of his bed, mellon-nin," said Thranduil quietly, comforted by the genuine concern shown by the human.
Startled by the elf's reference to Faramir as 'his son', Imrahil looked intently at him.
"You are King Thranduil?" the prince surmised, then saw the nod of confirmation from the King of Mirkwood. "Arwen has spoken of you and the position you now hold in my sister son's life," Imrahil said as he continued his scrutiny of the elf. "I thank you. It is a role I would have liked to have assumed in his life but alas I was too far away and it was not meant to be," the Prince of Dol Amroth added, regret and sadness evident in his voice.
"I think we should get the laddie to his bed," Gimli interceded in an effort to get them moving and the young Steward out of the weather.
Legolas carried Faramir to the young Steward's apartments accompanied by Thranduil, Elrond, Gandalf, Gimli and Aragorn. Kissing her husband thoroughly before he followed Legolas, Arwen directed her brothers, Maglor and Finrod to her favourite family room so that she could find out all that had happened since they had been gone.
The Mirkwood prince laid Faramir down gently upon the young man's bed, left his brother to the care of his father and Imrahil and sat cross-legged at the end of the large four poster bed. Lord Elrond leaned against the windowsill and Gandalf sat down on a chair located against the wall near the Rivendell elf. Aragorn and Gimli chose to hover. Thranduil and Imrahil divested the sleeping Steward of his travelling clothes and dressed him in a nightshirt found by Gimli. Not once did Faramir stir, renewing his uncle's concern and agitation.
Lord Elrond approached the Steward and examined the young man to assure himself that it was just exhaustion and that Faramir would be all right.
"Tell me please. What has happened?" Imrahil asked in a choked voice as he sat on the bed beside Faramir when Elrond finished his examination and laid a hand on the young man's brow.
Thranduil sat down on the other side of Faramir and with gentleness and compassion explained what had transpired from the moment Faramir had entered Mirkwood with Legolas. The Prince of Dol Amroth's eyes expressed alarm and concern when told of the trouble Legolas and Faramir had faced when confronted by orcs on their way to the Halls of Mirkwood. He laughed at the elven King's retelling of Faramir's altercation with the bitter elf Amras and of the consequences to the young human of losing his temper.
"I am afraid that Faramir inherited that particular trait from my sister, Findulas," Imrahil admitted sheepishly. "I myself have a permanent reminder of that temper, from when we were young," he added as he pulled up the sleeve of his tunic revealing a small scar in the shape of a bite mark on the inside of his forearm.
"She bit you?!" Aragorn exclaimed with an expression somewhere between astonishment and amusement.
"That she most certainly did," Imrahil replied with a smile of remembrance, "and I might add that, in hindsight, I probably thoroughly deserved it at the time," he added eliciting chuckles from all present with the exception of the sleeping Steward.
Thranduil continued recounting all that had happened to Faramir. He told Imrahil of the incident at Dol Guldur involving his human son, orcs and wine eliciting a thunderous look from the Prince of Dol Amroth - a look that highlighted the resemblance between him and Faramir. Imrahil laughed again when told of the incident involving the King, honey and exuberant sweet-toothed hunting dogs.
Aragorn then took up the story, telling the prince of Faramir's lapse back into old habits of working excessive hours, withdrawing from those around him and losing weight when left behind in the White City whilst he and the elves took care of orcs causing problems.
Imrahil sighed, whilst understanding the reason's behind his sister son's behaviour agreed with the disciplinary measures taken by Thranduil, Maglor and Aragorn.
"It is no less than what I have done when the occasion warranted and Boromir had, times beyond counting," Imrahil confirmed with a wistful smile.
Thranduil took up the story once again as he recounted the incidents at the elven haven where Faramir received a poisoned wound, Minas Morgul where he found the ring of power and later when Faramir saved the twins using the ring and his wizarding powers.
"A wizard you say! And a ring bearer!" exclaimed Imrahil, his eyes as wide a saucers. "Oh, my," the prince said in a tone that indicated that he could already see the ramifications for Faramir.
"Oh my, is right, my friend," Gandalf confirmed. "His current depleted state is due to a temper tantrum following his discovery that he will live for millennia. What we have managed to keep from him is that he will, in all likelihood, live as long as any elf."
"Oh, my!!" Imrahil reiterated, his eyes ever widening in increasing alarm.
"Oh yes, my friend. Thus our haste to get him back to Minas Tirith where I can begin my wizardling's training and we can work on the temper of which I had been hitherto unawares. How he managed to keep that from me… " Gandalf said shaking his head in bemusement and glaring at his oblivious wizardling.
Aragorn related the debacle of Faramir's last chastisement and his young Steward's retreat into himself. Legolas lowered his head in distress and shame.
"It was my fault," Legolas said in quiet anguish.
"Nay young one. T'was Denethor's legacy," Imrahil replied, bitterness in his tone as Gimli moved over to Legolas and put a hand to the elf's shoulder and squeezing it in support. "Do not mistake me. Denethor was once a good man. He loved my sister dearly. When Boromir was born, the Steward thought his life complete. Five years later Faramir was born. The birth had not gone well for my sister and she never recovered. With ill health came a longing for home, for the sounds of the ocean and the cries of the gulls. In ill health and in this city of stone she withered away and died, shattering her husband's heart. Unjustly he blamed Faramir for his mother's untimely death. To make matters worse, Faramir is the image of his mother. Instead of thanking the Valar for their mercy in keeping Findulas alive in her son, Denethor found that he could not look upon his youngest and closed his heart to him. In Denethor's mind, he had but one son - Boromir. But Boromir loved and championed Faramir, further estranging their father from his second born. I argued at length with Denethor to allow me to foster Faramir but he would not agree. And so Faramir suffered throughout the years from the Steward's distance, disdain and his heavy hand. And I could do naught but correspond when ere I could, visit when ere I could and from a distance, watch my sister's son die inside little by little," Imrahil concluded, his voice thick with emotion and eyes filled with tears.
"I assure you, mellon-nin," Thranduil said quietly as he caught and held Imrahil's gaze from the where he sat on the other side of his sleeping son, "he has and will always have this father's love."
"And this brother's love," Legolas added.
"I thank you both, sincerely. For myself, Findulas and my sister's foxling," Imrahil said as he stroked Faramir's red gold locks, eliciting smiles from all gathered around the young Steward.
Part 23
The Steward of Gondor slept for almost three days. On the morning of the third day he awoke feeling the jolt of disorientation one experiences after having fallen asleep in a particular location and awaking in one that was vastly different. In this case falling asleep on a horse in the arms of his father and awaking lying on his stomach in a bed - his bed in Minas Tirith Faramir realised without needing to open his eyes.
Taking the plunge the Steward opened one eye slowly and cautiously in case the light proved too bright and caused him pain; although he was surprised to be feeling an absence of pain at present, just an all over feeling of weakness.
"The laddie stirs at last," came the booming voice of the dwarf to the Steward's right.
The last bit was muffled by the pillow that Faramir had, despite the weakness that he felt, let fly with deadly accuracy at the son of Glóin. Laughing merrily, Legolas was impressed at both his brother's speed and accuracy as Faramir had hit the stunned dwarf squarely in the face. At the sound of the tinkling elven laugher, the young Steward groaned, pulled the covers over his head and buried his face in his mattress.
"Aye, Boromir was not mistaken. Yon laddie has no love of mornings; that be a fact," Gimli chuckled as he pulled the blankets covering the Steward off the bed completely, thus exposing the young human to the coolish air.
Faramir let fly a muffled but particularly foul dwarven curse which turned into a startled yelp of pain on feeling a hard swat to his almost unprotected posterior, covered only by the thin material of his nightshirt. The Steward twisted around to determine the identity of his assailant.
"Ere it has always been with him," Prince Imrahil replied as he looked at Faramir intently with a raised eyebrow.
On seeing his uncle's very elven looking eyebrow, the young Steward groaned.
"They have told you everything," Faramir whined, much to the amusement of Legolas and Gimli who had not been privy to such familial interactions between the Steward of Gondor and his uncle the Prince of Dol Amroth.
"If you had not been chastised so thoroughly foxling, I would take the duty upon myself this instant," Imrahil admonished mildly as he sat down on the bed next to his wayward nephew. "You have outdone yourself this time. Two Kings and a wizard could barely keep you in line!"
"It was not my fault," Faramir muttered mutinously as he sat up, "circumstances just got a little ahead of me."
"I have heard you give that same woeful excuse to Boromir more times than I can count. Let me translate for those here who may not understand foxling speak. You found yourself out in the open, under many keen eyes and have been brought to account for your reckless actions, not being able to lay down false scent or skulk in the shadows as you do normally. What am I to do with you, foxling?" Imrahil laughed as he embraced Faramir.
Legolas chuckled and Gimli let loose a very dwarven snort, evoking a glare from the Steward.
"It is wonderful to see you uncle. But what brings you to Minas Tirith?" Faramir asked as he returned his uncle's embrace.
"You do," Imrahil replied. "Elphir and I were in attendance for a council meeting when Elessar experienced the vision showing you in trouble. So he asked me to stay and see to the needs of Gondor during his absence. I sent Elphir back to do likewise for Dol Amroth whilst I remain in Gondor."
"And how are my cousins and my aunt? All in good health?" Faramir asked hoping to steer his uncle away from another lecture about his nephew's recent trials and tribulations.
"All are well and looking forward to the next family reunion, which will be more expansive than the last one," the prince said as he smiled at Legolas who blushed and returned the smile shyly, warming more and more to Faramir's uncle. "It lightens my heart so to see you gain brother and father, young one. And not to mention an elven nanny, hmmmmm?"
Legolas and Gimli both burst into laughter as Faramir blushed spectacularly and ducked his head in embarrassment.
"Aye. And from what the elf tells me," Gimli chortled indicating the identity of the elf with a nod of his head towards Legolas, "The elf Maglor is in his element and loves the challenge he does."
"That I do master dwarf," the Mirkwood Seneschal replied from the doorway as he carried a tray laden with food into the room. "I must admit though, he was quite a challenge even before the discovery that he is a wizard."
"Maglor, whilst I admit that I am famished, I cannot possibly be expected to eat all that!" Faramir complained as he realised how much food was on the tray the Seneschal placed on the bed beside him.
"You have had no food in the past three days and little food in the past week. You are nothing but skin and bone at the moment and will eat as much as you can," Maglor replied in a tone that brooked no argument.
The young Steward made a silent appeal to his uncle.
"You will get no support from me on this issue, nephew, for you are indeed too thin by far," Imrahil replied to the unspoken appeal as he passed a bowl of porridge to Faramir.
The Steward took the bowl from his uncle muttering about being surrounded by nothing but tyrants.
"You will have to face facts, foxling. You are out in the light and your usual bolt holes have been identified and hopefully sealed," the prince said as he watched his nephew, so like Findulas, eat.
After completing the meal, Faramir bathed, dressed and went with his uncle in search of his father. Legolas, Gimli and Maglor went to attend to other matters. Uncle and nephew found Thranduil with Aragorn, Mithrandir and Lord Elrond, sitting in comfortable lounge chairs arranged around a fireplace in the King's private study, which was accessible through the throne room.
"Finally!" the elven King exclaimed as he rose from the chair with elven gracefulness and enfolded his son in an embrace.
"Good morning, ada," Faramir sighed softly as he melted into his father's safe arms.
"We have just been discussing you, ion-nin," Thrandul said, gesturing for Imrahil to sit on the only other chair available and Faramir to sit on the floor beside his own chair.
"Remember little fox, well and truly out in the open," Imrahil chuckled at Faramir's stormy look.
"And just what has been the essence of this discussion?" the Steward asked sullenly.
"The demands on you as Steward of Gondor versus the need for your wizard training with Gandalf," Aragorn replied, smiling sweetly at his fuming Steward.
"And just how is my *schedule* looking?" Faramir asked with an ever-darkening expression. Elessar explained to Faramir that it was decided that he should spend most of his time with Gandalf receiving training but would be required to oversee or perform a list of duties expected of him as the Steward of Gondor. "Just when, pray tell, am I to be allowed time to myself?" the young Steward all but growled.
"On seven day, between noon and mid-afternoon," Aragorn replied immediately, smirking.
"Behave Estel," Thranduil admonished as he held a hand over his son's mouth before Faramir could growl out a waspish rejoinder. "It will not be as bad as you are anticipating, ion-nin. You are not alone and will have assistance."
Only slightly mollified, Faramir made his escape but not before he was given strict instructions that he was to begin his lessons with Gandalf on the morrow and attend a council meeting in the afternoon. Feeling annoyed, exposed and caged the ranger made his way down, stealthily, to the commercial district of the second level and into a tavern, where he proceeded towards his objective of getting as drunk as possible as quickly as possible.
The Steward of Gondor was well advanced towards this objective when Legolas and Gimli discovered him. On seeing his brother and dwarf, although he actually saw two brothers and two dwarves, Faramir beckoned them all over with a wave of his hand.
"Ai! Muindor tithen. You have half the palace out looking for you," Legolas admonished, shaking his head at his brother's inebriated state.
"Hound me you faave. Ssave a heat," the Steward slurred as he threw back the rest of his drink.
"What?" Legolas asked not understanding one word of what his brother had just uttered.
"What I think the laddie was attempting to say," Gimli replied, more skilled in the inarticulate mutterings of drunks, "found me you have. Have a seat."
Faramir nodded his head in agreement but thought better of it when the room continued to spin after he stopped nodding.
Legolas saw the telltale green tinge to his brother's features, pulled him to his feet putting one of Faramir's arms over his own shoulder and half carried him from the drinking establishment. As soon they were outside, Faramir fell to his knees and heaved, expelling the contents of his stomach. He seemed then to be bent on expelling his stomach as he continued to dry heave. Legolas held the hair back from his brother's face with one hand and cupped the human's brow with the other.
"Well, pen-neth. You are going to be very sorry for yourself in the morning," Maglor said as he walked out of the shadows and stood before his young charge.
"The lad looks a sorry sight now," Gimli replied, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.
When Faramir had finished with the attempt to divest himself of his stomach, Legolas and Maglor pulled the Steward to his feet and between them carried the ailing man back to his apartments. Thranduil was there to greet them. He took one look at his barely conscious son, shook his head in consternation and sighed.
"Get him to bed," the elven King instructed as he stroked the side of Faramir's face gently with the back of his hand. "I will allay the fears of the others and have a long talk with Estel over his questionable sense of humour in dealing with this one," he added with a determined look.
The next morning the Steward of Gondor awoke and promptly wished he had not. His head felt as if it was about to explode, his tongue felt like it was coated with a noxious, slimy substance and the birds in the trees outside his window were unnaturally loud. Opening an eye he found that the light was thankfully subdued for the curtains had been pulled across the windows. In the dim light, he could see his father sitting in a chair next to him, shaking his head and smiling at him. Faramir returned a look he hoped pathetic enough to stay any intended reprimand.
"Do you think you can eat anything this morning, ion-nin?" Thranduil asked in a whispered voice.
"Nay, ada," the Steward replied as he paled at the mere thought of food.
"All right, ion-nin. I will hold Maglor at bay this morning but we will be discussing your unfortunate tendency towards finding solace at the bottom of a tankard of ale later," Thranduil promised as he stroked his son's hair.
"Yes, ada," Faramir sighed, relieved at the stay of execution.
Just then a loud knocking was heard at the door followed immediately by the booming entrance of Gandalf. With a wave of his staff the wizard drew the curtains back, exposing the miserable Steward to the dual agony of loud sound and bright light.
"Well then you young fool of a human," Gandalf bellowed, "time to be about and learning your lessons."
"Save me, ada!" Faramir's muffled, plaintive cry could be heard as he pulled his pillow over his head to dim the abusive noise and light.
"Be nice, Mithrandir," Thranduil said as he looked upon his son with unconcealed amusement.
"Nonsense! Was I ever with you in your folly, mellon-nin?" the wizard replied in a voice Faramir found excessively loud even dimmed as it was by the pillow over his head.
"Nay…nay. I cannot say that you ever were," the elven King responded after thinking on the issue for several moments.
"And so I will not with this young idiot. Arise!" Gandalf roared as he used his staff to divest the Steward of the blankets covering him. "Up, up I say! The morning is a-wasting."
"Ohhhhh! Just throw me off the tower and be done with it," Faramir muttered as he rose to his feet unsteadily and removed himself to the relative safety of his bathing chamber.
The morning lesson with Gandalf had not reduced the Steward's headache nor had it improved his mood. The wizard, well aware that his wizardling was very adept at blowing things up, decided to find out if Faramir was as adept as lifting. So, after having the fundamentals of levitation explained to him, the wizardling spent the morning moving objects. Starting with small objects like quills, spoons and paper and moving rapidly on to larger and larger items. By the time Faramir made his escape from the sadistic, in his opinion that was, wizard, he was exhausted, faintly nauseous and still had a pounding headache. The Steward harboured the suspicion that Mithrandir had done it purposely, to teach 'his wizardling' a lesson.
Sore and sorry for himself, in addition to harbouring a darkening mood, Faramir made his way to the council meeting which was due to commence. The Steward could see his uncle waiting for him.
"Someone got up on the wrong side of their bed this day, foxling," Imrahil noted quietly as he looked at his nephew's glowering demeanour and state of obvious exhaustion as the Steward approached.
"That someone did not 'get up' so much as was evicted from their bed by a bellowing wizard!" Faramir growled in response.
Imrahil escorted his nephew into the chamber, trying but failing to hide his amusement. The King was at the head of the table and Gandalf was at the other end. The chairs to the right and left of the King, meant for the Steward of Gondor and the Prince of Dol Amroth, were vacant; awaiting the two who walked through the door. Ten councillors were already seated around the table.
The meeting did not go well. The Steward of Gondor continued to suffer the subtle barbs and jibes of two councillors who had been close advisors of Denethor and who had treated him with the same disdain, as did the old Steward. Aragorn had supported his Steward publicly many times, however had never succeeded in constraining the two councillors seated to his left. He was simply waiting for their terms of office to end, after which they would not be reinstated. Generally, Faramir was able deflect the barbs easily and without loosing his temper. Unfortunately the young Steward, angry, in pain and feeling faintly nauseous, had reached the end of his tether.
"ENOUGH!" the Steward of Gondor shouted as he banged his hand on the table causing most of those sitting at the table to flinch and stood, rising to his full height. Aragorn felt as if he was seeing the ghost of Ecthelion, Faramir's grandsire. "I have had my fill of your petty, witless and offensive observations. I am *not* Denethor. Nor would I ever wish to be and if…"
Unfortunately one of the councillors, although it never became clear which one, chose that moment to mutter a derogatory comment about Faramir's inability to ever reach the stature of his sire. Aragorn was about to sanction the councillors when he noticed that the smirks they were displaying turned quickly to fear. The King looked back at Faramir only to see that his Steward's hair was starting to stand on end and he was beginning to… crackle. Both councillors jumped up from their seats and started to back away from the Steward who was looking menacing as he stalked towards them.
"Faramir," both Gandalf and Imrahil said warningly, seeing the danger immediately.
With but a wave of his hand the Steward of Gondor levitated both Lords off the floor, his eyes blazing, giving him an almost maniacal air. The two levitating Lords of Gondor were pale, wide-eyed and all but frozen with fear.
"Faramir! Put them down! Now!" Aragorn barked as he too stood.
"Oh, if you insist," the young Steward replied peevishly as he let the councillors drop to the floor with a decided thump and returned to take his seat at the table, not bothering to look back at the two Lords who had ended up sprawled on the floor in a tangled heap.
"This meeting is adjourned," the King said as he glared at his Steward, ignoring the other councillors who assisted the two still sprawled on the floor to their feet. All left with alacrity and in silence, stealing fear-filled glances at the Steward. Only Aragorn, Mithrandir, Imrahil and Faramir remained. The Steward stood and made to bow to the King…
"Oh no you do not my Steward. Stay!" Aragorn commanded as he signalled the two guards at the door to leave the room and close the door behind them.
"Woof," Faramir responded, anger once again overcoming good sense.
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
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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