Faramir Fiction Archive

Sweet Revenge or Let Licking Dogs Lie

Written by KC

05 November 2005 | 1912 words

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to Tolkien.
Series: This is number five in the series that started with 'Grief', 'Elf, Wasps and an Angry Wizard', 'Stubborn Stewards and Bright Red Paddles' and 'Human King, Elven King & One Stubborn Steward'. Continued in Elves, Orcs and the Road to Recovery.

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

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Three days after waking in his mother’s garden having been drugged, yet again, by his elven father’s Seneschal Maglor, after being paddled severely by Lord Elrond, Mithrandir and Elessar, Faramir was still decidedly sore and sorry for himself. Elf, wizard and King had shown no mercy in walloping him for the incident at Dol Guldur. The young Steward of Gondor, feeling the pain in his hindquarters caused by the instrument of torture in the form of a red paddle used with such gusto so recently, was harbouring a grudge. Not a substantial grudge as far as grudges go but still - a grudge. Faramir was still, for Boromir had often teased his younger brother for having the memory of an Oliphant, smarting over the instructions Elessar had sent, so thoughtfully in the Steward’s opinion, to the King of Mirkwood for creating the bane of his existence; aptly named Faramir’s Bane – elvish version.

The Steward of Gondor walked towards the King’s private dining hall to partake of his morning meal, having just come back from a walk in the garden. Still pondering what to do about ‘the’ grudge Faramir walked into the dining hall, unfortunately he did not see the King’s two very large and boisterous hunting dogs, gifted to the King of Gondor by the King of Rohan, until they had both jumped upon him and sent the young Steward toppling backwards and downwards to end up with a resounding thump on his still very tender posterior. If the Steward had not been preoccupied with trying to contain a howl of pain and fend off the licking dogs, he would have seen the various reactions of sympathy and merriment on the faces of the morning guests, human, elven, hobbit, wizard and dwarf.

Faramir was just about to mutter a vile curse when a hand appeared before his face. Looking up Faramir saw that the hand belonged to Maglor. The young Steward blushed furiously at the knowing look and raised eyebrow of the Seneschal. How does he do that! Faramir thought as he took hold of the proffered hand and was hauled to his feet. Smiling, Maglor patted the young human on the shoulder and sent him on his way.

The dogs were just about to jump on Faramir again when Aragorn called the exuberant animals to heel. Still blushing, the Steward made his way over to the dining table to an empty seat situated to the left of the King, opposite the Elrondion twins in between elven King and elven Prince, both of whom had identical twinkles in their eyes. Sure enough a cushion graced the chair. Faramir sighed in resignation at the peculiarity of elven humour and sat down, carefully.

“Good morning, my Steward,” Aragorn greeted, smiling from ear to ear.

“Good morning, Sire” Faramir sighed knowing this was going to be a long, long day as he saw that a dog sat on the floor on either side of his chair. “Sire, your dogs seem to be a little…exuberant this morning. Do you perchance know why?”

Several coughs and chuckles could be heard around the table at Faramir’s understated phrasing.

“I do not know. No one else has been greeted in such a manner this morning. I have only seen them this excited when they can smell honey. They both possess a sweet tooth,” Aragorn explained bemused.

“Ah, that would explain it. I visited the beekeeper this morning,” the Steward replied. Faramir had chanced upon the beekeeper during his morning walk and had scored some fresh honeycomb.

Faramir was greeted by both Thranduil and Legolas and began the meal that had been placed in front of him. An idea began to form in the devious mind of the young Steward of Gondor.

“Oh, muindor tithen, I do not like that look you have on your face. I do not like that look at all,” Legolas leaned over and whispered to Faramir as he recognised the look of unfettered mischief that graced his human brother’s features. “You are planning some deviltry.” Faramir gave the elf his most wide-eyed look of innocence. “That look scares me even more,” Legolas shuddered as he searched the faces around the table to see if anyone else had noticed. Faramir smirked and continued to eat his morning meal.

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After the meal had concluded and the guests had departed, Legolas bailed up Faramir as the Steward made his way to the kitchens and demanded to know what his human brother was planning. Faramir looked down both ends of the corridor to check if anyone was around and then pulled Legolas into a small alcove, sat on a stone ledge and explained his plan in detail. At the conclusion of the explanation Legolas let out a breath he did not realise he was holding, in a whoosh.

“You do realise, muindor tithen, that we are likely to get our arses blistered for this,” Legolas warned but relishing the idea just the same.

“Only if we get caught, brother,” Faramir smiled remembering Legolas saying the same to him, prior to their having secured the obnoxious Amras to the highest rafter in the great hall in Mirkwood.

“And how likely is that?” Legolas asked, looking askance at his brother.

“Almost guaranteed…unfortunately,” Faramir replied with a shudder.

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The Steward of Gondor invited the King to share a bottle of wine with him and Legolas after he had finished with his Kingly appointments for the day. Aragorn agreed and after his final appointment made his way to the Steward’s apartments. En route the King was jumped from behind, wrestled to the ground and before he had a chance to call out was blindfolded, gagged and bound. The assailants took the King into an unoccupied room situated in an isolated part of the palace. What the assailants did not see was a certain Mirkwood Seneschal following in the shadows.

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“Have you seen Estel?” Arwen asked, looking a little disconcerted, as she saw Legolas and Faramir walking towards her. “He seems to be missing.” The Elrondion twins were with her.

“No, I have not seen him but we heard his laughter a few minutes ago coming from down the corridor in that direction,” Faramir replied looking at Legolas for confirmation as he waved in the general direction from whence they had come. Legolas nodded in affirmation.

“Thank you,” Arwen sighed in relief as she and her brothers walked in the direction the Steward had indicated. It was not long before the trio of elves heard Estel’s laughter intermingled with shouts and curses. Following the sound, the elves came upon a room, opened the door and entered. The sight that greeted them made Arwen put a hand over her mouth to stop a giggle that wanted to escape. The Elrondion twins had no such restraint and as one, burst out into raucous laughter. Both twins fell back against the wall near the door and slid down until they were sitting on the floor, howling in laugher. For there tied to a bed with his bare feet dangling over the edge was Estel. Hanging from a cross beam of the four-poster bed was a tankard of honey, tilted in such a manner that the honey dripped slowly onto Estel’s feet. The two sweet-toothed hunting dogs were licking the honey from the helpless King’s feet.

The raucous laughter from the twins and the cursing from Estel soon brought others. Elrond, Gandalf and the hobbits entered the room. Elrond, on seeing his human son’s predicament, removed the blindfold and started to release Estel’s bonds. The wizard was maintaining a level of decorum but had a very familiar twinkle in his eyes and the hobbits were laughing merrily.

“Who did this Estel?” Elrond asked.

“I have my suspicions, though I lack the proof. I was jumped from behind!” Aragorn exclaimed indignantly with a look that promised retribution against the perpetrator as he jumped to his feet and stormed out of the room.

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Faramir and Legolas had just enjoyed the midday meal with Thranduil, Maglor and Finrod. The repartee during the course of the lunch had been witty and funny. Faramir rose from the table and was about excuse himself to attend to duties when Elessar came storming into the room, bare feet fair flapping on the floorboards. With the expression of a predator Elessar made a beeline straight for his prey – his Steward.

“I will just be…” Faramir began as he saw the look in his King’s eye and turned tail and ran as fast as his ranger legs would carry him, with Aragorn in hot pursuit.

“You are dead meat, my Stewart,” the King growled as he pursued his quarry.

Nothern ranger chased Ithilien ranger through corridors, doors, rooms; past startled servants and guests and out finally, into the private garden. As Aragorn continued to chase Faramir around the garden, the galleries, that is balconies and trees, were beginning to fill with observers, elven, hobbit, human, wizard and dwarf. The observers watched the entertaining sight of the King of Gondor chasing the Steward of Gondor.

After endless dodging Faramir, winded, found himself cornered with the pond in front of him. The Steward turned to an equally winded King and was about to try to reason with him when Aragorn came at him low and tackled him sending both of them into the pond. Both wrestled until the ludicrousness of their rather wet situations tickled their sense of the ridiculous and caused them to both burst out into laughter.

Clapping could be heard from the galleries. Shaking his head ruefully, Aragorn rose to his feet and held out a hand to Faramir. The Steward looked at the hand in suspicion but then decided take hold of his King’s hand and was hauled to his feet. Both rangers bowed to the galleries, sheepishly.

“Why come after me and not Legolas?” Faramir asked intrigued.

“I know my friend. Although Legolas is mischievous, this had a deviousness that could only have sprung from the mind of one such as you,” Aragorn replied.

“Thank you...I think,” Faramir said uncertain, as he walked towards Legolas who was smiling like a loon.

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Some time later, Thranduil and Maglor, sitting on the bench beneath Faramir’s tree, were enjoying the peace and quiet of the garden after the earlier entertainment. The evlen King had secured a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“You were there I assume?” Thranduil asked his Seneschal as he poured the glasses of wine.

“Yes, I knew the young one was planning some form of devilment, so I followed,” Maglor confirmed, taking the preferred glass.

“Why did you not stop them?” Thranduil questioned gently, although he already knew the answer.

“I just did not have the heart, they were having so much fun,” Maglor replied. “And the young one deserves new memories of this place.”

“You are a wise man, my Seneschal.” Thranduil complimented as he toasted his Seneschal and his sons.

The End

 

On to Elves, Orcs and the Road to Recovery

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

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