Faramir Fiction Archive

Tales of the Telcontars (PG-13)

Written by Susana

19 September 2011 | 56124 words | Work in Progress

Title: Oh good, that worked
Author: Susana
Series: Desperate Hours
Feedback: please use the form below
Rating: PG
Genre: Action
Warning: Desperate Hours AU
Disclaimer: All recognizable elements are Tolkien’s
A/N: Set in 3019, in the fall, in Ithilien, not that far from Minas Morgul (which was once Minas Ithil).

---

“Oh good, that worked. I wasn’t sure.” Faramir said in relief, as they stepped out into the sunshine, and nothing bad happened to them. Faramir was leaning heavily on Melpomaen, and a beautiful elleth, incongruously dressed in each man’s over tunic, flanked them on either side.

“You weren’t SURE?” Melpomaen asked quietly, careful of his human friend’s headache but passing irritated and heading towards furious. He might have to reevaluate whether or not Faramir, on a bad day, was worse than a combination of Elladan and Elrohir. Melpomaen had previously thought not, but one didn’t just EXPERIMENT with magic. Not when he and Faramir had only been stuck in that trap for about a day. It wasn’t as if another day or two, or even a week, would have made much of a difference.

“No way to find out but to give it a try.” Faramir continued, dropping to the ground with a groan once they had passed the trolls’ camp.

The beautiful elven ladies who had been trapped in the same prison of Sauron’s making since before MELPOMAEN was born, let alone Faramir, seemed a bit less horrified, to Mel’s surprise.

“Oh yes, that one is most certainly of Imrazor’s line.” The first said quietly, of Faramir.

The second elleth’s face contorted briefly in sadness. “Yes.” She agreed.

Mel thought it was curious that forty generations had passed, yet Faramir’s eyes were the same shape as those of Mithrellas. Elladan would be utterly fascinated. Mel devoutly hoped Mithrellas was a patient elleth. Then Mel looked up at the sound of horses and men approaching.

“Troll or rescue party?” Faramir asked without opening his eyes.

“The latter.” Melpomaen replied, relieved. “I can hear Estel berating Dervorin from here.”

“Its really not Dev’s fault.” Faramir said with a faint frown. “If anything, it is Kasim’s, for giving us only partial information on these supposed ‘ghosts’.”

Melpomaen swallowed a glib comeback. “Look hurt and tired.” He advised Faramir helpfully.

“Not a problem. I can manage sick as well.” Faramir assured him.

“Please endeavor not to aim for my feet, if you must throw up again.” Mithrellas gently advised her long-son, offering him a water skin from one of the packs the trolls had confiscated.

“Not a problem.” Faramir assured her. “I’m very sorry about that, by the way.”

“It is of little importance, compared to our freedom.” Mithrellas assured him. “Though I am not sure your friends will agree, they seemed quite wroth with you earlier.”

“They only said those things because they thought we were making you up.” Melpomaen assured. “They’ll be very apologetic now that they know you are real.”

The other elleth looked at the two males in amused disgust. “They thought that you were making us up?” She asked in clarification. “How much did you drink last night?”

“It was a wedding…” Faramir began. “And we had to drink for all of the groomsmen who could not be there. Two hundred minus twenty, that’s… entirely too many.”

Melpomaen’s heart went out to Faramir, but it was time for damage control. “Hello, Estel, Ada.” Melpomaen greeted his family in his best “I know that the twins have done something unspeakably unthinkable, but look how well it turned out!” tone of voice. Melpomaen had had centuries of practice, after all.

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

Enjoyed this story? Then be sure to let the author know by posting a comment at https://www.faramirfiction.com/fiction/tales-of-the-telcontars. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!