Faramir Fiction Archive

Human King, Elven King and one Stubborn Steward

Written by KC

05 November 2004 | 20383 words

Part 3

The journey to the southern most tip of Mirkwood proved pleasant and uneventful. Legolas was amazed by the change in his young human companion. Whilst still quiet, which was Faramir’s nature, and still prone to periods of sombreness, Faramir seemed lighter in spirit and less burdened than in Minas Tirith. Elf and man found pleasure in each other’s company and spent much of the journey sharing stories - both joyous and sad. As the journey progressed, Legolas came to think upon Faramir as a brother, which was rather novel to the elf as he had no siblings. Legolas unbeknownst to him had become more protective of Faramir - more attuned to the young human’s moods. The same was true for Faramir.

On entering Mirkwood Legolas led Faramir along an elven path, accessible by horse, which skirted Dol Goldur, once inhabited by Sauron in the form of a Necromancer and from whence the darkness in Mirkwood had spread. At noon on the second day, Legolas stopped suddenly.

“Orchs!” Legolas exclaimed, unnecessarily as it turned out for Faramir’s heightened ranger sense also detected the presence of orcs up ahead.

Given the narrowness of the path there was no way to take the horses around the orcs, so Legolas and Faramir led their horses off the path and a short distance into the forest. The horse’s reigns were secured to a tree so that they would not bolt. Creeping through the forest growth, the fully armed elf and ranger discovered a band of about a dozen ors ahead in a gully by a stream. Since the war of the ring, dwindling bands of orcs still roamed Middle Earth, becoming more desperate and consequently all the more dangerous. Legolas and Faramir made their way upwards to an outcropping above the band of orcs.

Armed with elven bow and longbow it did not take elf and ranger long to dispense with the orcs below. On returning to their horses, Legolas and Faramir encountered more orcs that they could not escape. Hand to hand combat ensued with Legolas using his knives to great effect and Faramir using his sword. Legolas was impressed with the human’s skills with both bow and sword. Elf and ranger danced, sliced and jabbed their way through orc after orc but still more of the fell creatures came. Elf and ranger found themselves fighting for their lives as more orcs arrived. Legolas could see that Faramir was tiring but the young human continued to fight with a stubbornness that surprised the elf. As soon as the thought entered his head, Legolas corrected it - it was not surprising at all! Unseen by the elf, Faramir took a blow to his side but continued to fight on, doggedly. Twisting and whirling, knives cutting and stabbing, Legolas made his way to Faramir who was beginning to falter.

The situation seemed hopeless when arrows came from everywhere felling orc after orc. A few moments later elf and ranger were surrounded by dead and dying orcs and several wood-elves.

“Finrod!” Legolas exclaimed as one of the wood elves came forward. “Your arrival has been most fortuitous,” Legolas added ruefully as he turned to check on Faramir who waived off the elf’s concern indicating that he was winded only.

Finrod snorted.

“You, my Prince, grow more like your sire as time passes,” Finrod laughed merrily. “We must get away from here before we are set upon by more orcs for they grow more desperate and more bold. We need to tell the King,” Finrod added turning serious.

After gathering their horses, elves and human continued on to the Halls of Mirkwood. The elves, of course, needed little rest but Faramir was past weary and fast on his way to exhausted. Legolas, seeing that the young human was tired but far to stubborn to admit it, called for the others to stop and rest occasionally. It took several days to reach the Halls. Totally exhausted, Faramir followed Legolas, slowly, into the cave that was the elven Prince’s home. The young ranger looked upon the interior of the Halls of Mirkwood in awe, for the rooms were vast and filled with natural light, coming from where - he could not tell.

Legolas led his friend into his father’s throne room. Faramir almost bumped into the elf when he halted - he was so concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and not falling flat on his face. Legolas looked around for his father but the King was not there as yet. The elven Prince looked back to Faramir and saw the young human pale even more and almost pass out. Legolas grabbed Faramir’s arm and pulling it over his shoulder, assisted Faramir over to a bench. Faramir sat down heavily and could not suppress a wince and a groan of pain as he clutched at his side. Legolas crouched down immediately and pulled at Faramir’s belt to release the young human’s leather outer tunic.

“Why did you not tell me you are hurt?” Legolas demanded as he released Faramir’s belt and started pulling off the over tunic, none too gently.

“Stop fussing,” Faramir said as he tried to swat away the elf’s hands “I am alright.”

Having divested Faramir of his outer tunic, Legolas finally managed to pull up the young human’s under tunic to see what damage had been done.

“Ai, you stubborn…” Legolas could not finish the sentence he was so angry, when he saw the massive bruise that covered the right side of Faramir’s torso. Legolas felt Faramir’s ribs gently, eliciting a pained hiss from the young human. The ribs appeared bruised only. “What do you have to say for yourself, you stubborn human?” Legolas asked as he glared at the young human.

Faramir looked Legolas straight in the eyes.

“Pot. Kettle. Black,” the Steward of Gondor enunciated every word in a harsh whisper, as he glared back at Legolas.

Light elvish laugher stayed any further display of temper on the part of either prince. Both looked immediately to the source of the laughter. A tall, blond elf approached. Faramir could see the resemblance between father and son. As with most elves, Thranduil did not look old enough to have fathered Legolas. It was only the look of the ages in the eyes of the King that marked him as much older than Legolas.

“The human is right ion-nin. It is a case of the pot calling the kettle black,” King Thranduil chuckled as he took in the sight of his son. The King was pleased to see his son looking well, despite the visible bruises and orc blood that seemed to be splattered everywhere. Thranduil was surprised to see his son fussing over the young human and both squabbling like siblings.

“Ada!” Legolas exclaimed as he rose from his crouched position in front of the Steward of Gondor. Faramir tried to rise as well but Legolas kept a heavy hand on the young human’s shoulder, preventing him. King Thranduil gathered his son in a hug, which Legolas returned one armed, as the hand of the other arm was still pressing down on Faramir’s shoulder keeping the human off his feet.

Faramir had a momentary childish impulse to bite the hand on his shoulder but settled on glaring at the elf instead.

“Ada, this is Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, Steward of Gondor and the most stubborn being I have ever met,” Legolas said in way of an introduction, as he continued to hold the human down firmly.

Faramir again felt an impulse to bite but simply sighed in resignation.

Thranduil laughed seeing the play of emotions, from annoyance to resignation, which crossed the young human’s face.

“Mae govannen, Prince Faramir, Steward of Gondor,” Thranduil greeted the young Steward, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

Faramir, still restrained by Legolas, could only nod his head.

“Mae govannen, King Thranduil. I bring you greetings from King Elessar,” Faramir returned the greeting.

“Now pen-neth,” Thranduil said as he crouched down in front of the young Steward. “Let me see what has been done to you.”

“I have simply bruised a couple of ribs. There is not need to concern yourself…” Faramir started to explain.

Thranduil winced in sympathy as he examined the colourful bruise that graced Faramir’s side.

“You need to a healer pen-neth, for I do not like the look of that bruise,” Thranduil concluded as he rose again. “Take him to the spare quarters next to yours, ion-nin,” the elven King instructed as he assisted Faramir to his feet.

Upon standing, Faramir felt a wave of dizziness. To the young man’s utmost mortification, King Thranduil of Mirkwood swept him up into strong elven arms and proceeded to carry him to his intended quarters. Legolas went to get the healer.

Not long after Thranduil had deposited the embarrassed Steward of Gondor on the bed, the healer arrived. On concluding the examination the healer pronounced that Faramir had two bruised ribs - none broken. After applying a soothing cream to the bruise, the healer instructed Faramir to rest in bed for a day or two. Legolas took the healer aside to impress upon him that the only way to keep Faramir in bed and resting was to drug him. The healer prepared a sleeping draft that Legolas made sure his friend drank, much to the young human’s annoyance.

It was not long before Faramir was sound asleep. Legolas sat cross-legged on the end of the human’s bed. Thranduil sat on a chair by the bed.

“You worry for him ion-nin,” Thranduil stated as he watched his son watching the young human.

“Aye, I do ada,” Legolas replied with a sigh.

As father and son sat vigil over the sleeping human, Legolas recounted all that Faramir had faced over the last months. Legolas explained about the fall of Osgiliath and how Denethor had blamed Faramir. Legolas also told of the death of Boromir and the heir’s father like relationship to Faramir. The Prince recounted Denethor’s descent into madness and his attempt to immolate Faramir whilst the young human still lived.

What neither Prince nor King knew during the telling of this tale was that very unfriendly ears were listening.

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