Faramir Fiction Archive

War of the Wizards (PG)

15 July 2010 | 120215 words | Work in Progress

Title: War of the Wizards
Author: KC
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Faramir
Warnings: Spanking
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to Tolkien.<br>,Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment.

This is number seven in the series that started with Grief, Elf, Wasps and an Angry Wizard and Stubborn Stewards and Bright Red Paddles, Human King, Elven King & One Stubborn Steward, Sweet Revenge or Let Licking Dogs Lie and Elves, Orcs and the Road to Recovery.
Added: Chapter 52

Part 14

The three assailants bound the unconscious Steward hand and foot with a length of rope. The tallest and strongest of them hauled Faramir to his feet and slung him over his shoulder, as if he were as light as a child.

“Quick into the tunnel! We have but two hours to get to the river,” he said in quiet urgency.

The smallest of the trio opened a well-concealed trapdoor in the floor of the stable situated against the far wall of the stable. They descended quickly and quietly through the trapdoor and into the tunnel below, closing the door behind them.

“Faramir!” Thranduil exclaimed as he jumped to his feet on hearing the distressed call of the tree under which he had been seated. “Something has befallen my son!”

Thranduil, Elrond and Maglor had decided earlier that afternoon to take a turn around the garden that Faramir’s mother had created before partaking of the evening meal, settling eventually on the benches beneath the tallest tree.

“Faramir’s ring is calling to the tree,” Elrond added as he tried to make sense of what the ring was saying.

“The tree does not know where he is,” Maglor said concern evident in his expression.

“And neither does the ring, just that he has been hurt by men,” Elrond said as he turned towards the palace.

“Where is Estel?” Thranduil asked as he hurried beside Lord Elrond and Maglor.

“He will be with Arwen in their quarters,” Elrond replied.

“What has happened, ada?” Legolas asked anxiously as he ran towards the older elves. “The trees are aggrieved.”

“It is your brother, my elfling. Something evil has befallen him,” the elven King said as they all hurried to the King and Queen’s apartments.

“Prince Legolas,” a breathless young guard called out to the elf as he and the older elves were about to enter the King’s apartment.

“What is it?”

“It is the hatchling, milord. Lord Faramir asked me to guard the door until he returned. He has not returned as yet and the hatchling is very distressed and calling for its mama.”

“Why did you not release it?” Legolas asked.

“I do not have the key,” the guard responded.

“Go see to it, ion-nin,” Thranduil instructed.

With a nod, Legolas turned and ran towards the dungeons. Utilising his elven speed he arrived well ahead of the young guard who had followed him. By the time the gasping guard arrived Legolas had succeeded in picking the lock, letting the wailing hatchling out.

“Mama hurt, mama hurt,” Misto hissed as, in a panic, he scurried out of the room and up towards the palace.

On reaching the ground level the hatchling continued towards the main entrance. On finding the doors closed it scurried towards an open window and climbed up the wall and out of the window. Legolas followed Misto, jumping out of the window and down the substantial drop on the other side onto the ground. The young guard made to follow but took one look at the drop and changed his mind abruptly.

“Oh crap!” he exclaimed as he retraced his steps quickly, exited through the main doors and followed the unlikely duo.

Legolas and the guard continued to follow the hatchling down to the first level of the city.

“What has happened?” the young guard asked breathlessly.

“Lord Faramir has been abducted, I fear,” Legolas replied and the young guard blanched.

The hatchling stoped finally at the entrance to the old stables in the deserted section of the first level. Entering the stables it scurried over to where the trapdoor was situated, with Legolas close behind. Using his elven strength, Legolas attempted to open the trapdoor but was unable to as it had been locked from the other side.

“I will seek assistance,” the young guard said as he turned and ran from the stables.

It was not long before the guard returned with several soldiers. It took the combined effort of all of them to break through the trapdoor. Legolas descended and let loose a Gondorian curse so vile that more than one soldier’s eyebrow was raised.

“The tunnel has been collapsed, deliberately,” the elf growled as he jumped lightly back from the tunnel and onto the floor of the stable.

Seeing the way had been barred, the distressed hatchling scuttled out of the stables towards the massive carved wooden doors that marked the entrance to the White City. The doors had been closed earlier as was the custom when night-time was descending. The hatchling scurried up and over the vertical face of the stone wall. Legolas followed, almost as easily as the spider, leaving the bemused soldiers behind. With much yelling of commands and no small effort, the great doors were opened finally and the soldiers poured out onto the plain, by which time the hatchling and Legolas were already quite a way in the distance, heading towards the river. Legolas inspected the site where the tunnel ended not far from the river near some large rocks and then followed the tracks to the river where they stopped. It was there that Misto lost the trail. It was obvious to those gathered that the hatchling wanted to follow as it kept walking into the water and then retreating, not knowing which was to go, all the while repeating the words ‘mama hurt’.

Legolas stooped and picked up Misto and with a tremulous sigh turned back towards the city, murmuring soothing words to the hatchling as he did so. They were met at the great gates by Aragorn, Elrond, Imrahil, Gandalf, Gimli, Maglor and Thranduil, all of who were mounted looking worried and distressed. Legolas saw that his ada held a small female child, who had her arms wrapped tightly around his father’s neck and her face buried in his shoulder.

“He was taken through a tunnel which begins in a deserted stable that backs onto the front wall of the city and ends near the river,” Legolas said, still stroking the visibly distressed hatchling.

“And this little one was the bait. We found her trying to find her home. We had already spoken to her brother who was still in Faramir’s room awaiting his return. He explained that this little one had been abducted from the crèche where she was cared for, for she and her brother had lost their parents in the siege, and Faramir had been given instructions by the abductors to come to the stables,” Thranduil said, anger and worry vying for dominance in his features.

“We lost their trail at the river. He was taken away by boat.”

“I will have ships sent both up and down the river,” Imrahil said as he turned his horse and made for the Port a few miles away.

“I knew not of any hidden tunnel, “ Aragorn growled.

“Who were they and how did they know about the tunnel?” Gandalf asked the questions uppermost in everyone’s mind.

“I have my suspicions,” Aragorn said, offering a hand to Legolas in a mute request for the elf to mount behind him.

Legolas jumped up lightly, still holding onto the hatchling.

“I will examine the tunnel and see what I can discern,” Maglor said.

“And I will accompany you, Master elf,” Gimli offered.

“Can you detect anything, Mithrandir?” Thranduil asked the wizard.

Gandalf sent out his consciousness again in an attempt to locate his wizardling but was unable to pick up any sense of the boy.

“I am sorry, mellon-nin, but I can detect nothing,” he responded dejectedly.

Aragorn ordered the soldiers back to their posts with the instruction not to reveal the abduction of the Steward to anyone as yet. Nodding in understanding the soldiers moved back into the city. The King, elves and wizard made their way back to the palace. On entering his throne room, Aragorn summoned the four suspended councillors; Malagar, Ulrahad, Heriond and Aldahir.

As the guards went in search of the four councillors, Arwen arrived with the young servant. Thranduil lowered the now sleepy young girl to the floor and pointed towards her brother. With a yell of joy and relief the boy ran to his sister and hugged her tightly.

“I think I should take these two to one of our spare rooms and put them to bed,” Arwen said as she bent to pick up the little girl. The child whispered in Arwen’s ear and the Queen smiled. She walked over to Thranduil. The little girl crooked her finger, beckoning him closer and then put her arms around his neck and planted a huge kiss on his cheek before letting go. “I think you have made a conquest this evening” Arwen smiled as she turned, beckoned the boy to her side and exited the throne room. Maglor coughed to hide a snigger when Thranduil blushed.

Eventually, guards escorted each councillor into the throne room. It was obvious that each had been roused from their beds. They looked around nervously at those gathered.

“My Steward has been abducted,” Aragorn began without preamble as he pinned each councillor with such a look that each in turn blanched. “You, gentlemen, are at the top of my list of likely suspects. One or more of you was in possession of knowledge of a secret passage from the city to the river.”

The councillors protested their innocence, blubbering and blustering.

The hatchling, which had been standing between Legolas and Thranduil, became agitated again, spider sense alerted. Misto stalked over to the councillors, stopped and hissed. The councillors looked down upon the very large, to their unaccustomed eyes at least, spider with both revulsion and fear.

“Mirkwood spiders are renowned for being able to detect untruths. Their bite is painful but the venom they inject causes the one so bitten, excruciating pain,” Thranduil lied with such ease that Legolas’ eyes widened. The venom of Mirkwood spiders did not cause excruciating pain. It just put the victim to sleep so that the victim could be stored until later, killed and eaten. Legolas’ doubted whether Misto could inject enough venom to make the man drowsy. Misto, as if sensing what the elven King was attempting to do, stalked the councillor Ulrahad, causing the man to back away so quickly that his feet caught in his night robe sending him tumbling backwards onto his rump. Misto climbed onto the terrified councillor and made his way slowly towards the man’s face.

“Hurt mama,” the hatchling hissed.

Aragorn and Elrond watched the councillor’s horror and Misto’s performance with detached interest and Gandalf with eyebrows raised.

“Alright, alright! I told them about the tunnel but I did not expect them to abduct the Steward. They told me they wanted to smuggle goods into the city thus avoiding taxes,” Ulrahad babbled, eyes wide with terror.

“Who are they and where are they from?” Aragorn demanded, his voice sounding deadly.

“From Umbar! Call it off! Please! Call it off!” the man pleaded in terror as Misto reached his face and stood with front legs raised, fangs bared, poised for the strike.

You put knowledge of a secret entry into the city into the hands of the Haradrim?” Aragorn barked, incredulous.

The other councillors looked down upon their colleague and friend, horrified.

“Without my councillor’s income, I had little income and debts to pay,” the man whined.

“You are a man of assets and wealth! What else did you discuss, children perhaps?” Aragorn asked the terrified man.

“I may have mentioned in passing that Faramir had once risked his life to save a few urchins, much to the annoyance of his father,” Ulrahad answered.

“Take this piece of scum away,” Aragorn spat.

The guards approached the councillor but were reluctant to assist the man to his feet with the hatchling still poised and hissing, as if to strike.

“To heel, Misto,” Legolas called out to the hatchling as if commanding a dog.

The hatchling turned towards the elf, giving him a look that spoke volumes about its thoughts regarding the ‘to heel’ command.

“Come, Misto,” Thranduil said gently. The hatchling scuttled towards the elven King but not before turning back to the human and hissing.

The guards assisted the man to his feet and then escorted him out of the palace and onto the gaol.

“See where your arrogance and your pettiness can lead. Get out of my sight,” Aragorn snarled at the remaining councillors.

The very subdued men turned and left, each escorted by a guard.

“So he is on a boat headed for Umbar,” Gandalf said. At that moment Imrahil, Gimli and Maglor entered the throne room.

“I have sent my fastest ships in both directions with instructions to challenge and search all boats they encounter,” Imrahil said breathlessly.

“Master Gimli and I traced the abductor’s tracks to the river where a boat had lain in wait. There appears to have been three men. One man’s tracks were much deeper than the others. I would assume that he was the one who carried Faramir. My guess is that they rendezvoused with a larger vessel, and that vessel is sailing towards Umbar as we speak,” Maglor reported.

“They have chosen their time well. The prevailing winds are in their favour,” Imrahil sighed.

“Ada, Imrahil?” Aragorn asked. “I ask that you both remain here in the White City to look after Arwen and the city. I and the others will go in search of Faramir.”

Both nodded their heads in understanding but it was clear that Imrahil would have preferred to go after his nephew.

Fire… pain… pain… bound… sick… pain… fire… burning… scream… water… cool… swallow… darkness.

“No, tithen-pen, you are too young to come. You could get hurt,” Legolas tried to reason with the hatchling only to be hissed at by the annoyed little creature. “Where did you hear that word? Do not look at me like that! I have never used that word! Bad Misto, bad word!” Legolas added as he mounted the horse on which Gimli was already seated, standing in the courtyard in front of the palace steps.

Aragorn, Thranduil, Maglor and Gandalf were also mounted having said their goodbyes. Imrahil, Elrond and Arwen were standing at the bottom of the steps.

“Come, Misto,” Arwen called gently, having already kissed Aragorn farewell and bid them all success in fetching Faramir home. Hissing again at Legolas, the hatchling turned and followed Arwen reluctantly.

The rescue party made their way down the levels of the city and stopped in front of the main gates until they were opened. They exited the city and out onto the plains, Legolas and Gimli bringing up the rear. The elf had just cleared the gates when a large something jumped onto his head, making both him and Gimli yelp in surprise.

“Mama hurt,” Misto hissed in his ear. “Not sssstaaayyy!”

“He had best come, my elfling,” Thranduil said with a wistful smile. “He may be of use.”

Legolas sighed, resigning himself to having two annoying passengers on this mission.

Pain… burning… scream… stench… orc… pain… scream… fire… sick… drink… swallow… foul… ada!… blackness.

Faramir came to his senses abruptly. He felt his head lying on someone’s lap and that someone was gently massaging the lobe of his ear. He opened his eyes tentatively and was surprised to see that he was in a forest. Only the colours appeared too bright, too vivid to be real. He saw that he was in a clearing and could hear a stream gurgling in the near distance.

“Hello, little brother,” a familiar voice directly above him, greeted softly.

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