30 March 2004 | 5535 words
Title: Elf, Wasps and an Angry Wizard
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to Tolkien.
Summary: This is a sequel to ‘Grief’. For Faramir it is the day after. Also where you find out exactly what Legolas did to end up over Gandalf’s lap.
Legolas sat cross-legged on the end of Faramir’s large four-poster bed. Aragorn was there in the room too, sleeping, rather uncomfortably by the look of the angle of his head, in a large chair by the stone fireplace. The young Steward of Gondor was in bed, lying on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow, deeply asleep. Whether wine induced or wizard induced, Legolas was not sure.
The poor young human had had a very stressful evening the night before, having found himself over Gandalf’s lap being well and truly chastised, a situation with which Legolas could empathise.
Gandalf had entrusted Faramir’s care to Legolas and Aragorn. Entrusting Faramir’s care to Aragorn, Legolas could understand. Aragorn could, in some way, fill the void in Faramir’s life left by the death of Boromir. Boromir had been the foundation stone of Faramir’s world. Their mother Findulas had died when Faramir was but five. Their father Denethor had shown his disdain of his youngest son all the young human’s life. All that Faramir had had in the way of love had come from Boromir; father, mother and brother Gandalf had said.
What Legolas could not understand was why Gandalf had entrusted Faramir to his care as well. Whilst he considered Faramir a friend and would look out for the human, he could not picture himself as disciplinarian; he was usually in too much trouble himself. That thought led to another and Legolas blushed and shook his head ruefully as he remembered his own recent trip over Gandalf’s lap.
Legolas’ quiet reflection was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. With the instincts of a ranger Aragorn woke instantly on hearing the knock. He rose from the chair, stretched and rubbed his neck as he walked to open the door. Arwen, looking concerned, greeted Aragorn quietly, took hold of his arm and drew him out into the corridor. Aragorn closed the door behind him.
“How fares Faramir?” Arwen asked in her soft lilting tone as soon as the door was closed. “Gandalf told me some of what happened last night, although I think he left out much. He said that Faramir finally spoke his grief for the loss of Boromir.”
“Rest easy, love. He slept peacefully all night but I do not know what his condition will be when he wakes. I suspect it will not be good,” Aragorn replied with a rueful smile. “He was able to speak of Boromir, although it pained him deeply to do so,” Aragorn added sadly.
“I am glad that he has been able to acknowledge his grief. He has lost so much,” Arwen lamented as she looked at the closed door to Faramir’s room.
Arwen’s keen elven hearing detected sounds indicating that Faramir was stirring.
“Faramir is waking” Arwen said as she looked from the door to Aragorn. “You must needs return to him, Estel. I will talk with you later,” Arwen added as she kissed Aragorn and turned around to walk back down the long white corridor.
Aragorn turned back to his Steward’s room but then turned back to Arwen.
“Arwen my love, can you please send a message to the kitchen to have plain broth and bread brought to Faramir’s room. I do not think he will be able to stomach anything else for a while,” Aragorn called out after Arwen.
Arwen acknowledged her love’s request and continued down the corridor. Aragorn turned back to Faramir’s room.
Faramir came to consciousness slowly and painfully. The first thing he became aware of was the pounding in his head and the buzzing in his ears. He felt abysmal. It took the Steward a few moments to focus his attention away from the pain in his head. He knew he was in his own bed and could sense that someone was in the room with him. Memory of the previous night retuned to Faramir suddenly and he groaned in combined pain and embarrassment. Oh why do I drink, Faramir berated himself.
“Aur vaer” (Good day) Legolas greeted Faramir cheerfully as he smiled at the rumpled human who was obviously having difficulty waking.
“Mitho orch!” (Go kiss an orc) was the quiet, well accented but muffled reply from Faramir as he pushed his face further into his pillow in the vain hope that he could smother himself and save Mithrandir the trouble of doing so.
Legolas laughed. The sound, to Faramir, was decidedly too cheerful and too loud. Groaning, the Steward turned over onto his back to glare at the elf but hissed as his very sore posterior came in contact with the hard surface of the bed. The Steward turned back over onto to his stomach with as much speed he could muster.
“The last Orc I saw was in no condition to be kissed,” Legolas replied in a conversational tone whilst smiling at the very hung over human. “You see; his innards at the time were on the outer and being fed upon by carrion birds”
This was too much for Faramir, he groaned as he struggled to get out of his bed. “Oh demon in Elf’s guise…!” was all that Faramir was able to say before necessity forced him to clamp his hand over his mouth as he bolted for the wash chamber in the adjoining room.
“That was not nice,” Aragorn admonished mildly as he entered the room. Aragorn gave Legolas his ‘displeased’ look as he passed the elf to follow the path that Faramir had taken.
Legolas smiled brightly. “No it was not,” he admitted. “But better out than in,” he said as Faramir’s retching could be heard from the other room.
Aragorn shook his head in amused perplexity. How could Gandalf entrust Faramir to Legolas’ care as well as his own? What was the Wizard thinking?
The washroom was quite large. It contained a bath, copper boiler, commode, washbasin and a bucket used to fill the bath with water from the copper boiler. Faramir was on his knees in one corner of the room with his head over the bucket, retching. Given how little the Steward had eaten his retching was mostly dry heaves. Aragorn walked over to his ailing Steward and pulled Faramir’s hair back from his face with one hand and supported the young man’s forehead with the other offering comfort. The dry heaves stopped eventually and Faramir straightened and sat back onto his heels.
“Bloody Wizard!” Faramir hissed softly as he straightened abruptly, taking his painful posterior off his heels.
Aragorn, who still held Faramir’s hair back from his face, chuckled. Faramir closed his eves and groaned. He had not realised that the King was the one who offered comfort. The Steward had not realised that the King was in his chambers.
“Sire?” Faramir enquired in a quiet and dejected tone.
“Yes, my Steward?” Aragorn replied with a smirk.
“Do you perchance have your sword with you?” Faramir asked hopefully.
“No, I do not.” Aragorn replied.
“Pity,” Faramir said dejectedly.
Aragorn laughed, let go of Faramir’s hair and put a comforting hand on Faramir’s shoulder.
“Be easy Faramir,” Aragorn soothed, understanding the embarrassment his Steward was feeling. “I am sure Legolas will regale you with stories of me in a similar condition.”
“Bloody elf,” Faramir muttered at the mention of Legolas.
The elf in question laughed drawing the attention of both Aragorn and Faramir. Legolas was leaning against the doorframe with a glass of water in one hand, a moistened cloth in the other and a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.
Faramir, on seeing the look in the elf’s eyes, groaned.
“Be gone, pest,” Faramir said as he glared at the elf and held out a hand to Aragorn in a silent request to be assisted to his feet. Aragorn hauled Faramir to his feet and held on to Faramir until the young Steward regained his balance. After a moment the room stopped spinning on Faramir.
Legolas laughed again and threw the moistened cloth, which Aragorn caught deftly. Aragorn handed the cloth to Faramir who wiped his face. Legolas handed the glass of water to Faramir who took it gratefully and rinsed his mouth out and spat into the washbasin.
“Drink the rest…but slowly,” Legolas commanded as Faramir was about the scull the water. “Ere it come up again,” he added with a smirk
The Steward glared at the elf again as he made his way, carefully, back to his bed.
Never one to back away from a challenge, or a smirking elf, Faramir stopped in front of Legolas and looked the elf straight in the eyes. “Just what did you get ‘got’ by Mithrandir for? Hmmm?” Faramir asked as he remembered what Mithrandir had said about young Thranduilion having been in the same position. That thought led Faramir to also remember what ‘that position’ was; upended over the Wizard’s lap. ‘Hells bells and buckets of blood’ but Mithrandir could pack a wallop Faramir thought as he could feel his arse throb with his heartbeat.
Legolas blushed furiously and diverted his gaze downward. Aragorn laughed. He was impressed at how his Steward; nauseous, nursing a pounding headache and a very sore arse, could still manage to go on the offensive.
Faramir continued on his way to his bed. Legolas, still blushing made the mistake of looking at Aragorn.
“Yes, Legolas.” Aragorn said playfully. “Just what did you get ‘got’ by the Wizard for, mellon-nin?” Aragorn asked using Faramir’s strange phrasing. Legolas blushed again, smiling ruefully as he shook his head.
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The following people read the story, enjoyed it, and would like to thank the author: Leigh