Faramir Fiction Archive

Elves, Orcs and the Road to Recovery

Written by KC

06 November 2004 | 58662 words

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.

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