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Seeking (G) Print

Written by Shireling

27 June 2005 | 45981 words

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Chapter 4>

I left Estel and Faramir in the Council with a troubled heart, my worries about Faramir’s earlier actions compounded by his outburst in the meeting. I have to hope that Lord Harmil has the sense to keep out of my reach or I fear Estel will be calling me to account for my actions; his manner to Faramir was intolerable and his words unspeakably cruel. It is fortunate that at the time my attentions were focussed on Faramir or I might have been tempted to deal with the Lord myself and he would have discovered just how protective Elves can be of those who are dear to their heart. Estel’s reaction to my ‘dealing’ with the errant Lord would no doubt have been a blistered backside! I would consider it a small price to pay.

I found Lord Elrond in the garden, relaxing in the company of his children, and it was not long before our conversation turned to the Steward and his actions. It was good to share my concerns and when Estel later joined us the conversation continued along the same lines. I could see that Estel was conflicted, his desire to draw Faramir into our circle frustrated by the youngster’s reticence and isolation. We discussed amongst ourselves how best to approach this problem, though we failed to come up with any solutions.

Lord Elrond offered to intercede on Estel’s behalf, and, though I could tell the offer was tempting, Estel with regret declined the offer. I could not fault his reasoning; if Lord Elrond did manage to break through and forge a supportive relationship with Faramir only to then to disappear from his life, the results for Faramir would be catastrophic; another ‘abandonment’ to add to the many he had suffered in his life. And Estel would then be left in the same situation as he finds himself in now.

As the afternoon melted towards evening Estel took his leave, his step heavy. We had barely got to our feet to go and prepare for Dinner when cries of alarm heralded the arrival of a breathless and distraught servant who crashed through the door into the garden.

“Lord Elrond… you are needed… the King… help… it’s urgent!” the boys desperate cries were almost incoherent.

“Quietly child, slowly… Take a breath and tell us slowly.” Lord Elrond, always a cool head in a crisis, grasped the boy by the shoulder and crouched down, his calm gaze steadying the boy.

“The King needs you; Sir… in the Old Library… Lord Faramir needs help… Please you must hurry.

Dispatching Arwen to collect his bag of supplies, the rest of us followed the boy along twisting corridors towards the Old Steward’s apartments. Dim lamplight issued from the doorway of an otherwise darkened chamber. I could hear Estel’s voice; it was low and soothing, urgent and almost desperate in its intensity.

I had only seconds to take in the scene that confronted us. We entered a small, high-ceilinged, octagonal chamber of maybe ten paces across, closed shutters were set high in the wall above dark wood bookshelves that lined six of the angled walls. The door occupied one wall and the final wall housed a large, empty fireplace. The bookshelves were all empty and the room was dank and bleak. From the dim light of a single lantern I could see Estel kneeling on the floor, his arms supporting Faramir’s weight against his chest. Faramir was naked apart from his breeches; I could see his undershirt and tunic folded neatly and set upon the back of only chair in the room, his boots standing to attention by the side. On the seat of the chair lay a vicious looking whip, its long sinuous flail curled neatly around the well-worn handle.

Faramir’s arms were both caught at the wrists within two loose loops of leather, fixed above shoulder height into a metal ring set into the angle of the wall. When standing the loops would have offered support, but in his already exhausted state he must have fainted or his legs given way and now his whole weight was suspended on his arms, the leather bindings cutting deep welts into his wrists.

Without needing instruction the twin sons of Lord Elrond moved forward to assist their human brother, one helping Estel to bear the Steward’s weight, the other gently releasing the hands from their cruel bonds. I thought Faramir to be insensible but when his rescuers moved him his scream echoed around the chamber and then he did pass into blessed unconsciousness, for the pain in his abused muscled must have been excruciating.

After a quick assessment Lord Elrond motioned to his sons; Faramir was wrapped in a cloak and carried to the Houses of Healing, cradled between the two Elves. Estel made to follow the procession, clearly distressed; I took his arm and ushered him towards his chambers, for he was in no condition to be of use at the moment. I seated him in an easy chair near the fire and knelt at his feet, chafing his hands.

“How could he think I would do that to him!” he choked. “Never in a thousand lifetimes would I subject him to that!” He wept silently into his hands and I could only comfort him with my arms and my words. Presently Arwen joined us and, leaving Estel to her loving ministrations, I went to seek some answers.

I sought out the Steward’s Chamberlain, an elderly man who had served the Steward’s family since before Boromir was born.

“Tell me about Lord Denethor and Lord Faramir and that… that torture chamber!” I demanded. My question clearly distressed the man and I realised that I needed to proceed more gently to get the information I required. “Forgive me! Please tell me so that we may understand what has occurred here today.”

“Lord Denethor was … he was a good man once… but his duties and his grief’s weighed heavily upon him and he became hard and relentless… and Lord Faramir suffered the brunt of his anger. He was always a stern father but in his later years he became… he became more unforgiving.

“How often did he resort to beating his son?”

“It was never frequent, Lord Boromir made sure that his brother was stationed away from the city as much as possible… .he knew that relations between his father and brother were strained but I don’t believe he ever knew about the physical abuse. Faramir would have done anything to protect him from that knowledge. After Lord Boromir left on his quest Captain Faramir had to report to his father at least once a month.

“And these beatings happened every month?” I asked, appalled.

“No, I don’t believe so… but several times my Lord required the attentions of the healers before he returned to duty.

“And did nobody intervene on Lord Faramir’s behalf?” I demanded.

“No, Sir. It would have only made things worse. Lord Faramir saw it as his duty to submit to his father’s correction”

“And today, you knew he had gone to that chamber?”

“Yes, I heard that his Lordship was in trouble and that he had been sent to the old Library to await the King’s justice”

“And when the King didn’t go there, did it not occur to you that this was all a misunderstanding!”

“No Sir. Lord Faramir was often made to wait hours for his father to administer his punishments.”

“Have you learned nothing about your King? How can you judge him by the standards of that poor demented old man?” I felt sickened by the thought that Denethor’s malevolent influence still carried sway even after his death. I dismissed the man and went back to Estel.

On my return Estel was alone but calm.

“Arwen has gone to see how Faramir fares,” he explained. He motioned for me to join him. I sat on the floor beside his chair, my back resting against his legs. He unconsciously reached out and began to play with my hair, twirling the strands through his fingers.

“Will you tell me now what happened, my friend?” I asked. His fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their soothing ritual.

“I should have realised something was amiss when he left the chamber. There was something about his manner… .he seemed… he seemed sadly resigned. Our discussions had not been easy for him… so difficult for such a proud and honourable man to be called to account for his misjudgements… but he faced up to them bravely and with such dignity. More than once I wanted to take him and hold him and soothe away his sadness and yet that was impossible for he would not have understood or accepted such ministrations!”

“We must hope that in time he will come to see that he deserves such care,” I said, resting my head back on his knee and looking up into his troubled grey eyes, silently inviting him to continue his gentle, soothing caresses; knowing that he receives as much comfort from bestowing these gestures of care as I get in receiving them. For the first time since finding him with Faramir a soft smile lights up his features and I regret that I must take him back to that scene of such fearful anguish, but to speak of it aloud will help to banish the distress of what happened.

“Tell me what happened when you left us in the garden?”

“I went to look for him. I tried first his chambers and his offices but his secretary said he had not seen him since his return from Osgiliath. As I was leaving I met up with the under-chamberlain… his reaction to me was strange… he seemed… angry! I have always had good and equitable relations with the staff and his reaction was so uncomfortable and unexpected that I was for a moment at a loss.

“Do you know where I can find Lord Faramir?” I asked him.

“Of course, Sire. He is awaiting your attendance.” The man’s tone was bordering on insolence and I was about to reprimand him when his meaning triggered a feeling of alarm.

“Explain yourself! Why and where is he awaiting me?” The man’s expression went from antagonism to confusion.

“Why, the Old Library, Sire. That has always been the place of punishment, Sire!”

“Punishment!”

“Aye, Sire.”

“Take me there! I demanded, following through darkened corridors at a run.”

The fingers in my hair tightened sufficiently to make me wince and I put my hands up to cover his, releasing their hold.

“You saw that room!” he continued, “he must have gone there immediately after leaving the council chamber; prepared the room and himself for the expected punishment and then waited… waited for me to come and thrash him… waited until his strength gave out!”

“I know!” I said, trying to soothe him. “I have spoken to the Chamberlain. It was ever the way with the Old Steward and his dealings with his younger son.”

“I never wanted to punish him in that way. I wouldn’t punish anyone in such a cruel and vicious manner. Do you know what he said when I got to him?… He apologised… He said ‘I’m sorry, Sire… I tried to wait for you… ‘”

“I know, Estel. This is not your fault! No, it is not!” I reiterated when he shook his head. “Faramir was reacting in the only manner he has ever experienced. That was Denethor’s way of dealing with what he perceived as Faramir’s transgressions, real or imagined.”

“But I never sent him to that room… .I never even passed judgement on his actions… wait… that’s what he said before he left… .he said… he said ‘you wish me to go and await your judgement!’ and I replied… I replied ‘yes, that would be best’” He dropped his head into his hands.

“Estel, this was a misunderstanding… It. Was. Not. Your. Fault!”

“My fault or not, he is back in the Healer’s care and whatever fears he had about me before will have been magnified a hundred-fold!”

“We will make him understand, Estel!”


For two days Faramir lay insensible in the Houses of Healing; kept in merciful oblivion by the potions of Lord Elrond and the Warden. It took powerful analgesics and sedatives to counteract the pain of torn muscles and overstrained joints. By careful management the Healers were able to monitor when the effects of their medications were beginning to wear off and they would utilise the lightening of his level of consciousness to enable them to get sufficient fluids into him, without him becoming aware enough for the pain to cause him distress.

Only when he was deeply sedated would they treat his injuries with massage and manipulation; exercising the joints and muscles and helping to repair the damage and begin to restore function and strength.

He was never left unattended and I took it upon myself to sit with him through the dark hours of the night. While all about us the city settled into sleep I would sit and talk to him, tell him stories, sing softly in the hope that even in his stupor the essence of my presence would register deep within him; that my constant physical contact would speak to his heart.

Lord Elrod was his chief healer, coming to attend him several times a day, bestowing his unique and special talents, using touch to project his healing strength into this stricken and broken youngster who has wormed his way so deeply into all our hearts. Estel would visit, desperate to be of use, locked within a haze of guilt that none of us could ease. He blamed himself for the misunderstanding that had led to this situation and for his failure to establish a channel of communication with Faramir.

On the third day I was sitting in the window seat watching as Lord Elrond began another round of treatment. Faramir was still under the effects of the medicines but his level of awareness was rising.

On this occasion Estel was assisting the Elven Lord. The room was warm and calm, the scent of athelas lightening our senses. Having removed Faramir’s nightshirt, the two healers positioned their patient on his front, a blanket drawn up to his waist. The bed-head was removed and the Elf Lord took a seat at the top end of the bed and cupped his hands around Faramir’s head and neck, closing his own eyes as he concentrated his healing powers and senses on his patient. Only when he received a nod of acknowledgement did Estel begin, coating his hands with warmed aromatic oils and proceeding to massage each arm in turn, moving from fingertips to shoulder, across the neck and upper back before moving on to the other arm. When the muscles and tendons had been thoroughly warmed and massaged he begin to manipulate the joints, moving each through a full range of movement, noting with a healer’s touch where the stiffness and strain were most pronounced. When he had completed his ministrations, Estel with Lord Elrond’s help, rolled Faramir over onto his back, adjusting his covering. The whole process of massage and exercise was then started over.

Faramir was showing increasing signs of restlessness, squirming weakly away from the hands that cared for him. Lord Elrond moved closer until his lips were almost touching Faramir’s ear, whispering reassurance and Elvish endearments to soothe the fractious patient. A tear squeezed itself from beneath long, dark lashes and tracked a silver path to where elven fingers rested against his temples.

A moment later Faramir opened his eyes, his confused gaze darting restlessly until he focussed on Lord Elrond’s peaceful and reassuring smile above him.

“Welcome back, my young friend,” the Elven Lord greeted. “Do not be alarmed, you have been ill, but you are quite safe. Be at peace.”

Faramir kept his gaze fixed on the face above him, anchoring him against his confusion and disorientation. I could almost see his thought processes as he tried to piece together fragments of broken memory. I recognised the instant that memory clarified and he remembered the circumstances of his predicament. He became instantly frantic, his head thrashing from side to side in a desperate attempt to free himself from Lord Elrond’s touch.

“Peace Faramir… it’s alright… you are quite safe… do not fret!” Elrond soothed but his words were in vain for at that moment Faramir caught sight of Estel and realised that the King was also ministering to him; Royal hands massaging his shoulder.

In a movement so sudden and unexpected that it took us all by surprise, Faramir flipped over onto his side, curled in upon himself, his back towards The King.

“Noooo, do not… do not touch me!” his cry was haunting, desperate.

His arms, not yet under his control, he could not get to move up to hide his face and so he tucked his head as far as he could under his shoulder. His violent movement had taken him perilously close to the edge of the bed and two pairs of arms reached out to hold him. Again he struggled away from the contact.

“Faramir, Enough!” Lord Elrond’s command was enough to still further struggle and the Elven Lord moved around the bed and crouched down until he was at eye level with the distraught Steward.

“Calm yourself, young one, there is no need for this fuss. Take a deep breath and tell me what distresses you so.”

“He mustn’t… it isn’t right… not seemly… I do not want him to-to see… to see me like this!” he choked. “Is it not enough that I have shamed and humiliated myself beyond all hope of redemption… must I be totally humbled before my King!”

Estel had moved around the bed, his words were soft and gentle but they failed to soothe Faramir’s anguish. “Faramir, it was not my intention to distress you; I wanted only to help and to comfort you. Can you not accept me as a healer as you did before?”

“No Sire, you are first and always my King! This is not right… I beg you, please leave me some dignity!” Estel bowed his head in defeat, not willing to be the cause of further upset.

“Very well, Faramir, I will leave you now. Be at peace and let Lord Elrond tend you. You are in safe hands… I will come and see you later when you are more rested,” Estel said sadly, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

I moved from my window seat to the bedside as Lord Elrond followed Estel from the room. I could hear a muffled conversation from beyond the door and I can guess that Lord Elrond was reassuring Estel as I would have done if I had been in his place.

When Lord Elrond returned I assisted him in making Faramir more comfortable, sponging his face and hands with scented water and combing through his tangled locks. Replacing his nightshirt was awkward and we had to feed his tender and lifeless arms through the sleeves of the fine linen shirt. Faramir remained silent throughout our ministrations, his eyes closed, though we both knew that he wasn’t sleeping.

Following Lord Elrond’s instructions I supported Faramir in a sitting position, my arms around his chest bracing him against my body as Lord Elrond replaced the headboard and arranged a pile of pillows against it. Faramir was like a rag doll in my embrace, his useless arms hanging limply in his lap. I shifted slightly and his brow came to rest upon my shoulder. I was in no hurry to end this embrace and it appeared that Lord Elrond was quite happy for me to continue, indicating that he would go and arrange for refreshments to be readied for the patient.

A spreading dampness at my shoulder was the first indication of Faramir’s distress; lonely, silent tears shed as he finally gave vent to his emotions. I hugged him more tightly against me, one hand moving up to cup his head.

I didn’t try to shush him or halt his tears. I just held him against me, comforting him with my presence and whispering words of encouragement and reassurance as he wept, rubbing my cheek against his red-gold hair, a warm glow filling my spirit that I now had this precious mortal sheltered within my arms

After a long time his tears slowed and his hitched breathing settled and still he rested against my shoulder making no attempt to pull away.

“Alright now, young one. Don’t fret, all will be well… I have you… you are safe now.” I whispered.

“No!” he sobbed, “how can things ever be right? I have made such a mess of things… I wanted so much to please him… to show him I was worthy of his trust… and… and now it is all gone… all for naught.” He was weeping again, his anguish profound.

“Oh, my poor, sad little friend,” I said rocking us both, tightening my embrace. “You have nothing to fear and nothing to prove, not to Estel and not to anyone. We know and celebrate your worth. Do not judge yourself so harshly. There is only one thing that we wish from you and that is the gift of your confidence, of your friendship. Can you do that, little one? Can you bless us with the gift of your friendship?”

I got no reply but that did not matter; it was enough to have him in my arms. This was a first tentative step on what would be a long road but I would celebrate it for the victory that it represented. I held him until his tears dried and his hitched breathing settled into the calm even sighs of sleep and still I was reluctant to let him go.

A soft cough announced that I had company. In the doorway stood Lord Elrond, his hand on Estel’s shoulder. I’m not sure how long they had been observing us but I could see the evidence of tears upon Estel’s cheek. I reluctantly lowered my precious, sleeping, burden to rest back against the pillows and settled the coverlet around his shoulders. Estel beckoned me to his side.

“Thank you, my dear friend,” Estel said, drawing me to him and dropping a kiss onto my brow.

“You did well, Legolas!” Lord Elrond whispered, drawing me into his sheltering embrace.

Only then did I allow my own tears to flow.

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

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4 Comment(s)

Wwhat can I say. This story has help me realise that I can no longer hide my fears and nigtmares. Beautifully written, the story made me cry. I haven’t cried in almost fifteen years, it was such a relive, thank you so much

— Ingrid    Monday 25 May 2009, 22:28    #

Hi Shireling,

I realized that I’d never left you feedback on this story, so I wanted to drop you a line to let you know how much I like it! I loved the initial confrontations between Faramir and Aragorn here, and the loving discipline in the denouement as well as the part with Beregrond were just terrific.

— Susana    Friday 15 June 2012, 18:04    #

Thank you! This is absolutely the best Faramir discipline fanfic. There are so many out there, but none have even come close to yours (and, need we say, many are far better not read). Thank you for all the brotherly love and concern you have portrayed in the characters, and the sense of correct punishment vs abuse. Lastly, thank you so, so much for finishing it! So many authors lose interest and leave unfinished tales!
Bravo!

— Treedweller    Friday 25 January 2019, 22:12    #

it’s so cute i love it

— comrade hannah    Thursday 25 July 2019, 22:18    #

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