Faramir Fiction Archive

Elves, Orcs and the Road to Recovery

Written by KC

06 November 2004 | 58662 words

Part 16

Thranduil carried his human son as he and Estel walked back to the camp. The elven King smiled when he saw that Maglor had added blankets and cloaks atop Faramir's bedroll to make it more comfortable for his young charge. Aragorn removed two of the cloaks and then covered his young Steward after Thranduil had laid his son down gently onto the nest of blankets.

"He is exhausted," Aragorn said, concern evident in his tone as he tucked the blankets around the Steward and then sat down beside him.

"That is only to be expected after his little performance with the ring at Minas Morgul," Gandalf responded quietly from where he was sitting near the campfire a short distance away.

"What have you done to him Estel?" Elrohir asked, as he looked down upon the sleeping human, seeing tear-tracks running the length of Faramir's face.

"I blistered his behind for his recent reckless behavior if you must know," Aragorn said defiantly.

"That was not his fault Estel!" Elladan added his voice to that of his brother as he stood next to his twin.

"We are to blame!" Elrohir hissed.

"Whilst I do not dispute the truth of your assertions, his motives are not in question. His actions, his propensity towards forging headlong into danger, alone and without due thought to the consequences to himself, are. And I will not lose him because we did not bring him to account!" Aragorn added adamantly, looking very much the son of Elrond. "And besides, he has yet to be brought to account for that incident because he is still being punished for his reckless actions at the elven haven and Minas Morgul!"

"Peace, sons of Elrond," Thranduil interjected, "or you will wake him and he will be mortified to be the cause of dissention between you."

Elladan looked as if he wanted to pursue the argument when Faramir stirred in his sleep. Conceding defeat for the moment, Elladan and Elrohir went back to their bedrolls on the other side of the campfire.

---

The next morning Faramir awoke lying on his side. Bleary-eyed and yawning widely, he made the mistake of rolling onto his back. Hissing and cursing under his breath, he moved quickly again onto his side.

"Aur vaer," Thranduil said in a soft and solemn tone careful not to incite his son's morning wrath as he approached and sat down beside his son. The solemn tone was belied by the glint of humour in the elven King's expression.

Faramir took one look at his father's expression and groaned as he rolled over onto his stomach and attempted to bury his head in his bedding.

"There is nothing remotely good about this day, ada," the young Steward's words were muffled by the blankets beneath him. "As well as my duties as the Steward of Gondor, not to mention the Prince of Ithilien, I find I am to be apprenticed to Mithrandir, Éowyn will emasculate me when she finds out, I am to have my arse blistered yet again this evening and I have no doubt that Maglor has gone out hunting for an Oliphaunt to feed me for my break of fast!"

"Not quite, pen-neth," the Seneschal chuckled as he crouched beside his grouchy charge. "But a hearty meal nonetheless," he added as he passed the bowl to Faramir who sat up in such a way as to minimise the pressure on his very sore posterior.

"I want you to rest this day, ion-nin," Thranduil said, not liking the dark circles under his human son's eyes. "Do you understand me?" the elven King added to forestall any argument.

"Yes, ada," Faramir sighed, realising that he did not need any more trouble at the moment and could, if truth be known, use the rest.

The young Steward dozed until Maglor brought him another 'hearty' meal at midday, which was accepted with as much grace as was the morning meal.

The Elrondion twins, who had been restricted to the camp by both Thranduil and Aragorn, joined Faramir as he finished his very filling meal.

"I do swear," Faramir said as the twins sat down beside him, "that elf is not going to be satisfied until I run out of notches on this belt."

"That will take some doing, mellon-nin, as you are still four notches short," Elladan retorted, smiling broadly.

"How fare you this day, mellon-nin?" Elrohir asked as he looked at Faramir intently, as only an elf could.

"Sore around the hind quarters but apart from that I am fine," the young Steward admitted, blushing as he did so. "And you two?" Faramir asked discerning an undercurrent.

"We have been forbidden to leave camp," Elrohir harrumphed, looking darkly towards where Aragorn was talking to Gandalf.

"As if we were elflings!" Elladan added, equally indignant.

"So, we have decided to get our revenge on Estel and entertain you in the story's telling," Elrohir smirked. "The story relates to Estel when he was but a lustful lad of fifteen…"

---

"Who is she?" Estel asked as he looked down from the balcony attached to his father's study upon the most beautiful she-elf he had ever seen.

"Her name is Nienna Elensar and she is from Lórien" Elrohir replied.

"Nienna," the young human sighed the name as he continued to look down on the she-elf with long flowing blonde hair, legs that went on forever and the most beautiful tinkling laughter.

"Oh do shut your mouth little brother, or we will have a puddle of drool on the floor," Elladan teased as he saw the dreamy look in his brother's face.

Estel shut his mouth with an audible snap, turning his head to glare at his brother.

"You need to prepare for the evening meal, Estel. We will be feasting in honour of our Lórien guests," Elrohir said as he shared a knowing look with his twin. He doubted their little brother had registered the other Lórien elves that were standing with Nienna.

Estel entered the feasting hall only to be met by laughter from his brothers and a surprised look from Lord Elrond. The young man had washed, groomed and dressed in his finest clothing without repeated threats from their father. The young man glared at his brothers as he walked to the table before catching sight of Nienna. The Lórien elf looked even more stunning, having changed from her travelling clothes into a dress that clung in all the right places, or so thought Estel, as his eyes remained transfixed even as his legs continued their journey towards the table. What the young human did not see was an elf carrying a platter of hot venison and gravy cross in front of him. The inevitable occurred as elf went one way, Estel went another and the platter flew into the air only land on the sprawled young human on its final descent. The visual display by Estel was made more spectacular by his uncoordinated efforts to save himself from falling. Having experienced another recent growth spurt, he seemed all arms, legs and odd angles as he eventually fell backwards with a thump onto his posterior.

All went silent in the hall with the exception of laughter coming from the Elrondion twins, as every head turned to watch the youngest son of Elrond, covered in meat and gravy, struggling to get to his feet. Blushing violently, the young human glared at his laughing elven brothers and then saw the incredulous expression of his father as the elven Lord lowered his head into his hand, shaking his head as he did so. Turning abruptly, Estel walked back out of the hall to go bathe, change and find somewhere to hide, all the while wondering if, or rather hoping that, one could die from embarrassment, thus save him from the relentless teasing of his brothers.

The next morning Estel was coaxed out of his self imposed exile by soothing and comforting words from his father about growth spurts and their unpredictable and unfortunate affects at times, to attend the morning meal. The young human experienced no mishaps during the meal and the expected teasing from his brothers did not eventuate. Estel suspected the hand of their father, literally, when he saw the shadow of a wince from Elladan. Somewhat mollified, Estel ate his meal stealing surreptitious glances, from time to time, of the beautiful elf from Lórien.

After the morning meal Estel walked with his father along a corridor when the young human caught sight of Nienna ahead and walked straight into a wooden support.

"Estel! Do be careful, or you will end up breaking something." Elrond scolded. "You have archery practice do you not?"

"Yes, ada," the young human answered as he rubbed the lump forming on his forehead.

"Until you can concentrate and stop falling down and banging into things, I suggest that you forego archery practice," Elrond said as he stopped and cupped his son's chin so that he could look to see what damage the young man had managed to do to himself.

"Adaaaaa," Estel whined. "I will be fine and I do not want to miss the lesson. Glorfindel will be teaching us today."

"Well, I still advise against going to practice today. Just be careful, ion-nin," Elrond called after his son who was bolting down the corridor towards the exit to the archery field.

The archery lesson was going well for Estel as he hit the targets consistently and received welcome advice from Glorfindel about his archery technique. The Rivendell Seneschal went to retrieve the spent arrows and Estel used the time to line up on the next set of targets that were in a different direction. As he nocked his arrow, fitting it to the bowstring, his attention was diverted by the same tinkling laughter he had so admired the previous day. Turning his head in the direction from whence the sound had come, Estel saw Nienna dressed in leggings and tunic, doing some stretching exercises. The young human was so engrossed in the beautiful she elf that he did not notice that his still nocked arrow was now pointing in a different direction. The she elf upon which Estel's gaze was so transfixed, performed a manoeuvre that so excited the young man that he let loose the arrow accidentally. A yell of pain came soon after.

---

"And!?" Faramir asked not liking the break in the story at all. "Whom did he shoot?"

"Estel, pale, shocked and looking as if he was about to die of fright, turned to see his arrow sticking out of Glorfindel's left buttock," Elladan replied, smirking at the memory.

"Mind you, to this day Glorfindel swears it was his upper left thigh," Elrohir chuckled.

"The Glorfindel? Slayer of the balrog? You jest," Faramir said disbelievingly. "Elessar shot Glorfindel; slayer of the balrog, in the left buttock?"

"Aye, he did," the twins replied in unison.

Stunned for a few more moments, the Steward of Gondor finally threw his head back and burst out into gales of laughter. It was the twins' turn to look stunned for they had never heard the young Steward truly laugh before. The sound was so delightfully musical that they each vowed they would do more to incite their friend's laughter in the future.

Faramir laughed so hard and so long that it hurt. Tears streamed down his face and he held his sides in hopes of reducing the pain of the spasms that his laughter was causing. It took the Steward a long time to regain control enough to ask. "What happened then?"

"Let us just say that neither ada nor Glorfindel were at all amused by our young brother's adolescent lapses," Elrohir replied.

"Estel ate standing up for about two weeks, if I remember correctly," Elladan smirked.

"And Glorfindel is ever wary of Estel when our brother has a bow in hand," Elrohir chuckled.

Elrohir's comment set off the young Steward's laughter again and it was a long time before he could stop.

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