Faramir Fiction Archive

Reasons Not to Trust an Elf (NC-17)

Written by RubyElf

21 January 2011 | 12129 words

Part 3

As Faramir walked through the stables early in the morning, horses neighed and shifted eagerly in their stalls, hoping he might be the stable boy coming with their oats. Faramir frowned, wondering absently what the stable boy was up to and why the horses had not been fed yet, but he found himself distracted from this thought by a familiar voice from the far end of the stable.

“.. just looking for a nice spot to arrange a convenient ‘accidental’ run-in,” Legolas was saying.

Faramir did not hear an answer, but the elf’s response sounded distinctly annoyed.

“It is not a stupid idea.”

Faramir, guessing who Legolas might be addressing, chuckled to himself and moved quietly past the stalls, listening.

“Even if they do get into a fight, at least maybe we’ll get some idea what they’re so angry with each other about… I beg your pardon, but they’re my friends and it is my business!”

Faramir stepped around the side of the stall and found the elf leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, scowling at the tall gray horse in front of him.

“Good morning, Arod. Why does your master look so unhappy today?”

Legolas shot the horse a sharp glare. “He won’t be so smug when I sell him as a cart horse.”

Arod flicked his tail with a distinct lack of concern and butted Faramir with his head in friendly greeting.

“What’s this about arranging a run-in?” he asked. “I’m assuming you’re talking about Aragorn and my brother.”

“Of course I am.”

“What half-witted plan are you cooking up now?”

“There’s nothing half-witted about it.”

“Hmm. Then it must be no-witted, which is even more concerning.”

Legolas shook his head. “I’m just working on a way to get the two of them together somewhere where they might talk to each other like reasonable men instead of two-year-olds who missed their naps.”

“You get the two of them together anywhere, and one of two things is going to happen. Either someone is going to refuse to say anything and stomp off, or someone is going to end up with a black eye.”

Before Legolas could answer, the stable boy hurried past them, pushing a wooden wheelbarrow of grain. Faramir motioned him to come back.

“Sir?” the youngster asked nervously.

“Running late this morning?”

“Yessir. I’m sorry. I had to…”

“Had to what?” Faramir asked, curious.

The boy glanced back the way he had come, and an expression of alarm crossed his face. Faramir leaned out of the stall and followed the boy’s eyes to a round-bellied, tawny-furred puppy, all oversized paws and flapping ears. It bounced up to the boy and looked up at him, tongue lolling happily.

“What do we have here?” Faramir laughed, rubbing the little creature’s ears as it licked at him eagerly.

“Err… that’s Honey, sir. Well, that’s what I’ve been calling her, on account of she’s the color of honey. She came around about a week ago… awfully thin she was, sir, and cold. We stable boys have been keeping her in the saddle room and feeding her scraps.”

“She’s lovely.”

The youngster shifted his feet and glanced at Faramir uneasily. “Well, sir, it’s getting to be near impossible to keep her… she hates to be alone and when we have to shut her up in the saddle room she barks and cries… and she’s growing fast… going to be a big dog, sir.”

“Perhaps I could help you find her a home,” Faramir suggested.

The boy looked up hopefully. “Do you think you could? I’ll miss her, but if the stable master finds out we’re keeping her here, he’ll throw her out in the snow…”

Faramir reached down and scooped up the puppy, who nipped playfully at his nose before settling down to lick him enthusiastically all over his face.

“I don’t think I’ll have any trouble finding someone to take good care of her,” he said, grinning.

“Thanks so much, sir. We like her an awful lot… maybe when you find someone to take her, you could let us know who’s got her… so we know she’s well?”

“Of course,” Faramir said, nodding. “Come on, lass… better take you somewhere else before the stable master finds his way in here.”

Legolas followed, protesting, as Faramir walked back toward his rooms with Honey squirming in his arms and chewing at the leather of his vest.

“What are you doing? We’ve got work to do.”

“You’ve got work to do,” Faramir corrected him. “I’ve got a lovely little dog here, and I’m going to take her back to my rooms and find something to do with her until I can find someone to keep her.”

“Would you stop fussing with that dog? We’re going to…”

“No, you’re going to,” Faramir corrected him. “I’m out.”

Legolas scowled. “Fine. I don’t need you anyway.”

He turned on his heel and stalked off down the hall. Faramir chuckled and scratched the puppy between her ears. “About time I told him where to take his brilliant ideas. You seem to be good for me, lass.”

Faramir made his way back to his rooms and made the puppy a bed of old blankets in a corner of his bedroom. With stone walls and no windows, any fussing or barking shouldn’t disturb anyone. While she bounced through the main room, tugging at the tablecloth and barking at one of his shoes, he found a small dish for water.

“I’ll be back in a bit, love, with something from the kitchen for you,” he assured her, trying not to meet her forlorn gaze as he shut the door to his bedroom. He walked off into the cold morning, humming to himself. Legolas was off to get intro trouble without him, and at least when he came home later, there would be someone waiting and happy to see him… even if that someone was probably going to destroy his entire bedroom while she was waiting.

He stopped back at lunch time, surprised and pleased to find that the puppy had apparently slept much of the morning away. He left her enthusiastically gnawing at the scraps he’d brought her from the kitchen and went back out to make sure all was well with the Rangers stationed in Minas Tirith; he’d been rather distracted the last few days and it was about time he let the damned elf go on his own way so he could get back to work.

The sun had set and left the halls in darkness when Faramir came back to his rooms, carrying a basket of scraps from the kitchen, which he had acquired with a promise to bring Honey to visit the next day.

He stepped into the main room and froze; a fire was burning brightly in the hearth, and in a chair by the fire sat a familiar slumped figure, boots propped on the table.

“Boromir?”

“Hush,” his brother said, his voice low. “You’ll wake the baby.”

Faramir crept closer and looked over Boromir’s shoulder; to his tremendous amusement, the tawny-furred puppy was sprawled out, most of her body in his lap, her head resting on his chest, paws draped over him. Boromir looked almost asleep himself, eyes half-closed, one hand resting on her back, ruffled in her fur.

“What’s this?” Faramir asked.

“You tell me. Was walking by your room and thought I heard something barking…”

“You didn’t hear her barking from the hall.”

“All right,” Boromir admitted easily, his voice still low and soft. “I was hiding in your room and heard her barking. She left you a nice little gift in your bedroom, by the way.”

“Expected that,” Faramir said, grinning. “How’d she end up in your lap?”

“Wouldn’t stop crying,” he murmured. “Every time I tried to leave she whined and gave me those damned sad eyes… where’d she come from?”

“Stable boys were keeping her. Said they’ve been calling her Honey.”

Boromir frowned. “Her name’s not Honey.”

“No?”

“No. Her name’s Finn.”

“Finn… after mother?”

Boromir nodded, eyes closed. “That’s right.”

“You’re planning on keeping her, then?”

“Seems that way.”

“Who were you hiding from when you came in here?” Faramir asked, suspecting he knew the answer.

“That stupid bloody impossible elf,” Boromir muttered, but there was no heat in his voice, and the puppy asleep on his chest didn’t stir.

“What…”

“Tried to trick me into having dinner with Aragorn… told me I was supposed to be meeting with some ambassador who’d just arrived, and then I walk in and the bastard’s arranged the kitchen to bring up a nice dinner for two…”

“What’d you do?”

Boromir chuckled softly and opened one eye. “Well, I missed him with the bottle of wine, but he’ll have a time getting the gravy out of his hair.”

Faramir laughed. “Serves him right.”

“I’d have tied him up and left him for Aragorn to find, but he was awfully slippery wearing half of dinner.”

Faramir frowned and stepped closer. “Boromir…”

“No, I’m not interesting in talking about anything having to do with Aragorn, little brother. Go to bed.”

“What are you going to do?”

Boromir yawned and closed his eyes, slumping a little further in the chair. “I’m fine right where I am. If you’re going to bother me about Aragorn, do it in the morning, all right?”

“All right,” Faramir agreed, heading for his bedroom. As he closed the door, he could see his brother dozing off in the chair with the puppy still draped over him, sound asleep.

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