Faramir Fiction Archive

Human King, Elven King and one Stubborn Steward

Written by KC

05 November 2004 | 20383 words

Part 6

“Speaking of the young Steward of Gondor, have you found out what Amras said to him?” Thranduil asked as he continued to hug his son.

“Nay ada, Faramir is not saying and neither is Amras but whatever was said hurt Faramir deeply,” Legolas sighed.

“Given Faramir’s words I suspect that Amras overheard our conversation the other night,” Thranduil voiced his suspicions.

“Aye ada, spied more likely,” Legolas growled, thinking murderous thoughts towards the elf.

Thranduil shook his son gently on seeing the dark looks.

“Behave elfling,” Thranduil admonished with a twinkle in his eye.

Legolas sighed.

“I worry for Faramir, ada. I cannot seem to get through to him that he is not alone, that many care for him,” Legolas said as he snuggled back into his father’s arms unconsciously.

“He will, ion-nin, it will just take time,” Thranduil replied as he hugged his son tighter. “Faramir is adrift at the moment. In the light of Denethor’s coldness and indifference towards his youngest, his brother was his anchor. He will find safe harbour again but it will take more grieving before he heals.”

“I love you ada,” Legolas whispered as he hugged his father.

“And I you, my elfling, and I you.”

---

Faramir, well rested, if still somewhat sore around the hindquarters, made his way to the feasting hall as he had promised both Prince and King that he would join them for the evening meal. All the elves that the young human passed on his way to the hall reacted to his presence. Most reacted in awe and respect, a few in mirth and a very few in a mixture of anger and fear. With each reaction Faramir’s embarrassment increased. By the time the young Steward of Gondor reached the feasting hall, his face was a red as ‘Faramir’s Bane’, human or elvish version, and as hot as a furnace.

Swallowing his discomfort and holding his head high, Faramir entered the hall and made his way towards King Thranduil. The elven King was already seated at the main table. Faramir on seeing the twinkle in the King’s eyes, so like his son’s, groaned inwardly. Thranduil waved his hand indicating that Faramir should sit on the chair to his left. Faramir could see that a cushion had been placed on the chair. The young Steward of Gondor, feeling that all eyes in the hall were glued to his flushed face, blushed again and sat upon the cushion on the chair, resigning himself to being flaming hot from constant embarrassment for the entirety of his stay in Mirkwood. No heating would be required in this hall tonight, he thought dejectedly.

Legolas arrived not long after. Faramir saw that something seemed to be amiss with his friend, that the elf was not moving quite with his normal grace. The young Steward saw the same twinkle in the evlen King’s eye as he looked upon his son. Legolas approached the chair to right of his father, looked down and then looked up glaring at his father. The reason for the glare was a very colourful cushion on the Prince’s chair. Faramir caught Legolas’ eye. The elf’s eyes went heavenward for a moment as he shook his head in clear indication that he did not want to talk about it and sat, carefully, upon the cushion.

Embarrassment aside, the evening meal was had and plans were made to travel south to Dol Guldur to deal with troublesome orcs that were gathering there. Judging that he would get no information from Legolas about the elf’s pained condition and knowing he would need sleep this night to keep up with the elves on the morrow, Faramir bid goodnight to all and went to his bed.

---

The next morning a band of twenty-five fully armed elves and one human made their way by horse, to Dol Guldur. Faramir marvelled at the annoyingly adept recuperative powers of the elves. Legolas showed no sign of the discomfort that he had last evening whist he, the poor human that he was, still felt decidedly tender in the hind region. It took three days of hard riding, unfortunately for the tender young Steward, to reach the outer region of Dol Guldur. On the morning of the third day the horses were tethered and Legolas, Faramir and Finrod scouted a short distance ahead on foot to see what was happening in the ruins of the Dol Gudur stronghold.

A quick reconnoitre by the trio revealed a band of about sixty orc, hungry and desperate by the look of them, gathered within the ruins. Further inspection revealed a lone elf who had obviously been captured recently, as he was still alive if somewhat battered. The trio had to act quickly or they would have a dead elf on their hands. Legolas, Faramir and Finrod ran back to where the others were gathered and explained the situation.

“I have a plan,” Faramir said as he jumped upon his horse. “Take to the trees in the forest at the front of the ruins and wait for my signal.” Before either Prince or King could stop him to ask questions, Faramir was gone.

Sharing a look that promised retribution against the over zealous human, Prince and King did as they were bid.

At the edge of the forest, Faramir stopped and dismounted from his horse. The young Steward proceeded to remove all his protective leather clothing quickly, stripping down to his under tunic, leggings and boots. Taking a small skin filled with wine from his medicinal pack, Faramir poured the contents over his upper torso. Reeking of wine and with only his sword as protection, Faramir remounted his horse and cantered into the open and towards the orcs.

As requested, the elves had taken to the trees and watched the young human in various degrees of astonishment, bewilderment and horror. From the same tree, Legolas and Thranduil were watching the young human.

“What in sweet Eru’s name is he doing?” Legolas growled as he saw his unarmed friend’s horse falter.

Just outside the range of the orc bows, Faramir, swaying as if he was drunk, dismounted from his horse and bent down to grab his horse’s forelock and pulled it up as if to check the hoof for stones. Giving his horse a silent command to run, the horse obeyed, reluctantly it seemed, and galloped off into the forest.

By this stage the orcs had smelled the wine and one of their favourite foods, manflesh.

Legolas realised, suddenly, what Faramir was doing and his heart, which was already beating too fast, jumped up into his mouth.

“Ai! He had better survive this for I want the pleasure of killing the idiot myself!” Legolas stated vehemently.

“You will need to stand in line ion-nin,” Thranduil growled, not able to take his eyes from the young Steward.

The smell of wine and manflesh had the hungry and desperate orcs whipped into a frenzy in next to no time. Almost as a single entity the orcs ran towards the lone, unarmed and tasty looking human. Faramir waited a few moments more then turned tail and ran, as fast as he could, for the cover of the trees that held the waiting elven archers.

Faramir reached the trees and kept on running as he knew the elves would wait until most of the orcs were in the forest before they started to cut down the fell creatures. The elven archers made short work of dispatching the majority of orcs. Breathless, Faramir stopped and turned around to see that only two orcs had escaped the elven archers. Drawing his sword, Faramir entered into combat with both orcs. Dancing, parrying and lunging, Faramir fought for his life, very aware of his lack of anything in the way of armour. Finally the young Steward was able to dispose of one orc but was tiring fast after his earlier mad dash for the woods. The remaining orc managed to hit Faramir in the back with the flat of its sword, in a spot still tender from his last encounter with an orc. Only this time he did not have the protection of his leather over tunic. Faramir doubled over in pain and was just attempting to raise his sword to block a strike when the orc fell dead at his feet, a familiar elven knife sticking out of its neck.

As the battle rush left his body, Faramir’s legs gave way and he sat down heavily upon a fallen log. Head bowed the young Steward tried to get his breathing under control. When he was finally able to look up to thank Legolas the sight that greeted him made him wince and gulp for there standing before him, were three very angry elves.

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