Faramir Fiction Archive

Elves, Orcs and the Road to Recovery

Written by KC

06 November 2004 | 58662 words

Part 19

Thranduil motioned for Maglor to lay Faramir down upon his bedroll. Aragorn, the twins and Gandalf came to see how the young man fared. Shaking his head at the vapour still rising from his wizardling, Gandalf crouched down beside him to determine his condition, all the while muttering about his pupil's temper and sheer bloody-minded stubbornness.

"How fares he, Mithrandir?" Thranduil asked quietly as he looked down at his son's drawn face, streaked with tear tracks and looking distressed even though unconscious.

"Do not fret, mellon-nin," Gandalf reassured the elven King as he covered his wizardling with blankets. "He will *wish* he had never been born upon his awakening in the morning for if he thought the ache in his head was bad after his last episode…" the Wizard said as he shook his head at the magnitude of the temper his wizardling had managed to keep hidden from his mentor all these years. "But he will recover," Gandalf added as he stood and stepped back allowing Thranduil to sit down beside his son and Legolas to sit down on the other side.

"Then I had best prepare a stronger brew," Maglor said as he turned around and went off in search of the herbs that he would need to produce the pain-relieving potion.

"Did he wreak much havoc, Legolas?" Aragorn asked quietly as he looked down at his unconscious Steward.

"Oh aye! There are more than a few traumatised rocks out there for certain. With but a wave of his hand he managed to split one boulder, that stood the height of a man, in half," Legolas said in hushed awe as he remembered Faramir, in anger and distress, blasting a path of destruction through the forest.

"We will have to work on his temper for his power is too great," Gandalf sighed as he sat down upon a large root beside Thranduil. "Which is why I think the Valar guided him to you, mellon-nin," the Wizard said as he looked meaningfully at the elven King.

"You are not meaning to chastise him for this day's event. Are you, Mithrandir?" Elladan asked, ready to defend his friend.

"Save your breath to cool your porridge, son of Elrond," the Wizard reprimanded the young elf mildly. "I have no intention of chastising my wizardling as I am sure his hindquarters cannot take another session this soon. But he must needs learn to control his temper, for all our sakes."

Faramir was left in peace by the other members of the group as they retired to their beds, leaving Thranduil and Legolas to watch over the young man. Elven father and son talked of many things throughout the night including ways of helping Faramir, enjoying the quiet time together.

---

The first thing the Steward of Gondor felt upon awakening in the morning was an excruciating pain in his head causing him to moan and thrash, which in turn caused even greater pain.

"Shhh. Lie still, ion-nin," Faramir heard the hushed voice of his father as he lay on his side and then felt something cool and moist placed over his eyes.

"Ada?" the young Steward asked in a voice that was barely a whisper.

"Yes, child?" the elven King replied as he stroked Faramir's hair and brow.

"Can you put me out of everyone's misery, please? Mine... upper... most?" Faramir whimpered, hoping that the nausea he was feeling did not lead to heaving because he was sure that his head would explode if it did.

"I am sorry, tithen pen," Thranduil said quietly as he gently raised his son enough so that he could drink the brew that Maglor was holding. Legolas, sitting on the other side of Faramir, ensured that his brother's eyes remained covered with the moist cloth, protecting him from the light and the additional pain it would cause. "But you will have to deal with the consequences of losing your temper. Here…drink," the elven King directed as he held the goblet the Seneschal had handed him to his son's mouth.

Faramir screwed his nose up at the smell of the vile brew but drank, knowing that it would give him relief. If he could hold it down he thought as the nausea flared again.

"Eewww! Maglor!" the young Steward whined quietly between mouthfuls, certain that the Seneschal was hovering. "This is the worst batch… you have brewed… yet. Can you not… make it more… palatable?"

"No," Maglor said succinctly. What Faramir could not see because of the cloth covering his eyes was the 'Mirkwood' glint of humour in the Seneschal's eyes. Thranduil and Legolas shared a smile.

"Are you *sure* he likes me, ada?" the Steward groaned as another wave of nausea passed.

"Keep it down, ion-nin," the elven King crooned as he lowered Faramir back down onto his side and rubbed his son's back in gentle, soothing circles.

The Steward nodded as he concentrated on not heaving and keeping the liquid down. Eventually the nausea passed and the pain in his head lessened as he dozed throughout the morning. Thranduil, Aragorn and Legolas went out hunting with a group of the Gondorian Soldiers, leaving Faramir in the care of Maglor.

The Steward felt as weak as a newborn kitten and still felt nauseous although the ache in his head had reduced thankfully, to a dull throb. Maglor had all but spoon fed his bad tempered and complaining charge clear broth for the midday meal and then left him to rest once more.

The Elrondion twins had decided not to go on the hunting expedition but to keep their young friend company, thus allowing Thranduil and Legolas to go in their stead. Mostly they had watched their friend sleep off the effects of his temper tantrum of the previous evening. By the afternoon, Faramir was sitting up and taking notice, fortified by the meal Maglor had, much to the Steward's annoyance, insisted the young man eat. Although they would never admit it publicly, both twins had much respect for the Mirkwood Seneschal and especially the strength of his right arm on exposed posteriors. Whilst feeling sympathy for their friend's plight they could not help but laugh at the thunderous look on Faramir's face when the elf produced 'Faramir's Bane' as if from thin air, to circumvent argument and reinforce his instruction to eat.

---

"You look as if you could do with cheering, mellon-nin," Elladan said as he approached and sat down beside Faramir.

"And we are sure to have a story that will do just that," Elrohir finished his twin's sentence as he sat down on the other side of the Steward, grinning at the look of keen interest from their friend.

"Who would you like to hear about, Estel? Legolas?" Elladan asked.

Faramir grinned.

"Legolas. I would like to know of my brother when he was younger," the young Steward replied, looking much better already.

"Aye. Legolas then," Elrohir began.

---

The young Prince of Mirkwood was a teenager by the standards of humans, beyond the age of an elfling but still some years from adulthood. The young prince had journeyed with his carer Maglor from Mirkwood, to visit the realm of Rivendell and see his friends the Elrondion Twins.

"Mae Govannen, Maglor, Legolas," Elrond greeted his guests as they dismounted from their horses at the bottom of the steps that led up to the great feasting hall.

Legolas greeted Lord Elrond and looked around.

"The twins are on patrol at the moment and will return in a few days," Elrond said as he smiled at Legolas, guessing that the young one was searching for signs of his sons. "Rest awhile after your long journey. I will see you in the hall for the evening meal."

Disappointed that the twins were not there but looking forward to the feast, Legolas made his way to the room he used on all his visits to Rivendell. After the feast, Legolas retired to his bed. Upon awakening in the morning, the Mirkwood prince met Maglor and walked to the dining hall to partake of the morning meal with Lord Elrond and Glorfindel. During the course of the morning meal, Glorfindel invited Legolas to join with other young elves in the morning archery class. Legolas accepted the invitation gladly for Glorfindel was renowned as one of the greatest elven warriors.

The archery class went well for Legolas, as it was obvious that the young Mirkwood elf had more advanced skills than those of his age mates, not surprising given the relative dangers posed in Rivendell to the greater ones in Mirkwood. Glorfindel praised the young Prince for both his technique and accuracy. Though well deserved and reinforced by nearly all of the young elves in the class who took turns commenting and patting the Mirkwood elf on the back, the praise given by Glorfindel rankled the young elf Haldamir, who had always considered himself the best archer amongst his age mates.

Several of the young elves called for a contest, so targets were set up the first round begun. By the third round there were only three elves remaining in the contest including Legolas and Haldamir. The better Legolas did the angrier Haldamir got and the worse he performed. To add insult to injured elven pride, Haldamir did not make it into the final round that Legolas finally won.

The class disbanded and Legolas joined the young elves in play. Seething with jealousy Haldamir made some very impolitic statements within Legolas' hearing about the inferior manners and intelligence of the 'wood elves' of Mirkwood. To the young Prince's credit he did manage to control his temper and walk away from the situation and was joined by most of his classmates who were not at all pleased with their friend's attitude. This had the effect of making the Rivendell elf even more furious.

After a long day of play the elves went to wash up for the evening feast. The halls of fire had been decorated in honour of the Mirkwood visitors. The hall was illuminated by five large and heavy metal chandeliers which were held aloft by rope secured to metal hooks placed at about shoulder height in the wooden down supports, so that they could be lowered and raised when the candles needed to be replaced. Long tables were dotted around the room so that all who ate in the hall had a clear view of those sitting at the main table. The tables were laden with food, wine and bowls of punch, awaiting the arrival of the guests.

Still silently fuming over the comments made by Haldamir, Legolas met with Maglor on his way to the feast.

"What ails you tithen-pen?" Maglor asked on seeing the look on his young charge's face as he met with Legolas before proceeding to the feast.

Before Legolas could answer Elrond approached; also on his way to the feast. Legolas shook his head in the negative indicating that it was nothing and walked beside Lord Elrond as all three walked to the feasting hall. Elrond and Maglor walked to the main table as Legolas stopped to look at all the beautiful decorations festooning the walls and ceiling. The Mirkwood Prince was just about to move forward when he was knocked from behind so fiercely that he ended up on his face on the floor.

"Clumsy as well as stupid, eh wood elf?" Haldamir smirked as he walked past the sprawled Prince.

Legolas' eyes turned cold. Maglor saw the danger from where he was sitting at the main table, near the Lord of Rivendell.

"Leg-o-las!" the Seneschal's tone warned the young Prince not to let his temper take control. Legolas either did not hear or did not acknowledge Maglor.

Jumping to his feet with elven grace, Legolas lunged forward and tackled the Rivendell youth. One look at the Prince's eyes informed Haldamir that he was in trouble. Scrambling backward the Rivendell elf gained his feet and continued to back away. Legolas went in low and gabbed the youth around the waist forcing the elf backwards and into a wooden support. Unfortunately the violent movement caused the rope attached to a metal hook holding one of the heavy candelabras above to unravel. The Mirkwood elf saw the danger and grabbed the rope to stop the candelabra from falling. Unfortunately the candelabra weighed more than the young elf who was propelled up towards the ceiling. Legolas managed to jump onto a crossbeam, which gave the unfortunate son of Thranduil a wonderful view of all that subsequently happened.

The candelabra fell onto the end of the long main table just missing Glorfindel who had to jump backwards out of its way. Unfortunately the Rivendell Seneschal did not jump far enough to get out of the way of the bowl of dessert that followed him. Legolas groaned. Lord Elrond was also forced to jump out of the way, impressing the young Mirkwood elf with his agility. To his horror, Legolas saw the large bowl of punch that was on the opposite end to that which was hit by the candelabra, propelled far into the air, seem to stop in midair for a moment, before it descended spilling its entire contents onto… Legolas cringed and whimpered. He had not known that the wizard was anywhere near Rivendell or even expected to be.

All went deathly quiet in the feasting hall as all eyes turned as one to the dripping, spluttering, angry, wizard.

"Legolas Thranduilion! Get down here this minute!" Gandalf bellowed as he glared up at the Mirkwood Prince.

Legolas, all eyes, shook his head violently, blond hair flying in every direction.

"Leg-o-las!" Maglor added his warning command to that of the wizard, as he too glared up at his young charge.

Legolas shook his head again. There was no way that he was going to give up the high ground. He would rather face a nest full of spiders, he thought.

"Still his father's son, I see," Glorfindel said in a conversational tone as he stood beside Maglor and continued his unsuccessful attempts to wipe the sticky desert from his tunic, whilst looking up at the frightened young prince, who was looking very much the elfling of old.

"That is true," the Seneschal replied in the same conversational tone as he continued to glare at the wayward elf.

Seeing the gathering group of elves below all glaring up at him, Legolas' nerve deserted him and he turned tail and bolted. Gracefully jumping from one crossbeam to another, Legolas made his way out onto the roof and then into the relative safety of the trees.

Maglor sighed shaking his head as he realised finding the panicked elfling may take all night.

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