Faramir Fiction Archive

Human King, Elven King and one Stubborn Steward

Written by KC

05 November 2004 | 20383 words

Feedback: Please let me know what you think of this story at drasnia@optusnet.com.au
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to Tolkien.
Series: This is number four in the series that started with ‘Grief’, ‘Elf, Wasps and an Angry Wizard’ and ‘Stubborn Stewards and Bright Red Paddles’.
Summary: Faramir and Legolas travel to Mirkwood and meet the Elven King.

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Part 1

Two weeks after his collapse from a festering wound and exhaustion, Faramir was still on restricted duties, orders of the King, and was slowly going starkers. The young Steward had always avoided long visits to Minas Tirith preferring the freedom of a ranger’s life in the forests of Ithilien. Visits to Minas Tirith were invariably unpleasant affairs, involving humiliation, indigestion, emotional pain and more often than not, physical pain. So many unpleasant memories were associated with Minas Tirith that Faramir could not enter a room without the little buggers ambushing him. It was one of the reasons he had driven himself past the point of exhaustion - the more active he was the less prone he was to being ambushed by memories.

Feeling confined, useless and unable to find rest - yet again, the young Steward walked to his desk, sat down and checked to see if there was any paperwork he could complete. It was not long before Faramir was immersed in reading, answering and writing memorandums. A knock at the door startled the Steward. Faramir removed the paperwork quickly and shoved it into the top, side drawer of the desk.

“Come,” Faramir said, in what he hoped was a normal tone, as he tried to calm his heartbeat and look less like a startled rabbit. The young Steward sighed in relief, smiling ruefully, as a young servant brought in his evening meal - orders of the King no doubt. Faramir thanked the young woman as she placed the tray of food on his desk and left.

Faramir took the paperwork out of the drawer and placed it back on top of the desk. It was not long before the Steward was again immersed in the paperwork.

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“You are restless tonight my love,” Arwen said in her soft lilting tone as she watched Aragorn toss and turn on the bed. “What troubles you?”

Aragorn sighed. “I am not sure, dear-heart.” Aragorn answered. “I think I will go out for some night air,” Aragorn said as he got out of bed. “Rest well, my love.” Aragorn said as he kissed Arwen.

The King pulled on his robe and then went out into the main corridor. As he made his way to the door that led outside and into a private garden, Aragorn passed by Faramir’s rooms and stopped abruptly - seeing a faint light at the bottom of the door. Cursing silently, Aragorn went back to his room to get ‘Faramir’s Bane’ and returned to his Steward’s door. Opening the door as silently as he could, Aragorn crept into the room. Faramir, in testament to how tired he was and how engrossed in work he was, did not hear Aragorn enter the room. The King watched his Steward for a few moments. Aragorn saw how tired Faramir looked and then saw the tray of food on the desk - untouched!

“Gandalf told me that you had the combined stubbornness of Finduilas and Denethor, but I think, my young recalcitrant Steward, you surpass them,” Aragorn growled.

In the silence of the night, Aragorn’s growl sounded like a bark. Faramir started placing a hand on his chest as his heart felt as if it was about to leave his body, it was beating so fast. Seeing the anger in the King’s face and the bright red paddle in his hand, the Steward’s face drained of blood and he whimpered softly. Surrounded by so much damning evidence Faramir could only try to breathe again, something his lungs did not appear to want to do any time soon, and accept what he knew was about to happen.

Aragorn took a deep calming breath as he remembered Legolas’ words “we can but take this one step at a time, one day at a time”, but at this rate Aragorn thought, ‘Faramir’s Bane’ will need a new coat of red paint within the month.

Still holding the paddle, Aragorn grabbed a chair that was in front of the desk, moved it to the middle of the room and sat down. Faramir, knowing that he had been caught red-handed, stood up, sighed resignedly and walked over to Aragorn. Loosening the ties of his leggings, the Steward pushed them down to his knees and lowered himself over his King’s thighs. Aragorn pulled Faramir’s under-tunic up to his waist.

“What is this punishment for?” Aragorn asked his young Steward.

Faramir, as always in this most embarrassing of positions, felt his temper rise but this time was able to get it under control before it made this chastisement more difficult than the young Steward knew it would be.

“For working when on restricted duties and for not eating the meal that was provided,” Faramir answered. “I fully intended to eat the meal but I got side-tracked,” the Steward added, plaintively, in his own defence.

“Side-track aside, my young Steward,” Aragorn said as he struck Faramir’s buttocks with the paddle. “The meal remains uneaten.”

Aragorn proceeded to paddle his Steward’s posterior in earnest. Slap after slap was applied to Faramir’s posterior until it was the same colour as the paddle. Faramir moaned as Aragorn moved the paddle to the young Steward’s thighs. Aragorn continued to land blistering slap after blistering slap until Faramir’s whimpers became sobs.

“Will you tell me young Steward, why you continue to disobey my orders,” Aragorn asked in the hopes that Faramir would give him some insight.

“Hateful…merciless…painful…memories,” Faramir wailed in between gasps for breath and blistering swats.

Aragorn stopped the chastisement, immediately, upon hearing Faramir voice the source of the pain that caused his aberrant behaviour. Faramir slipped from Aragorn’s lap and onto his knees as he pulled up his leggings, hissing in pain as he did so.

“I am sorry….so…sorry,” Faramir apologised in between sobs.

Aragorn rubbed Faramir’s back as his young Steward regained his composure. Aragorn assisted the very tired young man to his feet and guided Faramir into his bedroom. Faramir lay on his stomach as Aragorn moved a chair to the side of the bed and sat down. The King leaned forward and brushed hair away from his Steward’s face as he had done so recently.

“Speak to me Faramir.” Aragorn encouraged in a quiet soothing tone, as he continued to stroke his Steward’s hair.

“I feel the weight of the walls closing in on me,” Faramir answered in a dream-like voice. “In this very room, I feel my father’s judgment and his coldness. I feel his punishments as clear as when they occurred. I feel the emptiness of Boromir’s room matching the emptiness in my heart,” the young Steward continued in the same detached quiet voice.

With tears in this eyes Aragorn moved over to the bed, gathered his young Steward in his arms and rocked him. It was not long before Faramir fell asleep. Aragorn looked up and saw Arwen, also with tears in her eyes, looking down upon his Steward. Aragorn held out a hand to Arwen who grasped it with strength, lending her strength to Aragorn, as he continued to rock his sleeping Steward.

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Faramir awoke late the next morning. Memory of the night before returned quickly and he groaned in embarrassment and pain. His arse was on fire and his head felt thick - as it always did after he cried. That thought made him groan again. He had done more crying in the last month than he had in ten years, Faramir thought dismayed and embarrassed.

“And how fare you this morning, my Steward?” Aragorn enquired as he brought a tray of food over to Faramir and laid it on the bed.

“Embarrassed - my arse is on fire and I feel like several small Gimli’s have been let loose in my head and are playing with axes on anvils. But apart from that, Sire, I feel fine,” Faramir whined.

Aragorn laughed making Faramir cringe with pain.

“Sire, for Eru’s sake, take pity on your poor beleaguered Steward,” Faramir begged as he buried his face in his pillow.

“If you had but come to me, my stubborn young Steward, we could have circumvented most of these ill symptoms,” Aragorn chuckled. “Now eat!”

Faramir groaned again but did as he was ordered.

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