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 24

“Maglor? Would you be so kind as to escort the ‘trio horribus’ and Master Gimli to Estel’s drawing room to await us?” Elrond asked in a calm tone that belied the pincer-like grip he maintained on the wincing twins’ ears. “I wish to check on Faramir first.”

Maglor nodded his head as Elrond released the ears he was gripping. The twins rubbed their injured ears in a vain attempt to temper the sting, as they preceded Maglor towards the Palace. Faramir saw Boromir follow the elves still glaring at the twins, unbeknownst to them.

“I have always been meaning to ask how they acquired that name; horribus?” Faramir asked as he leaned into his ada’s embrace.

“They were forever tormenting their little sister when she was a young elfling before she learned to take care of herself but the closest she could get to the word horrible was horribuses, so they became known as the ‘duo horribus’,” Thranduil replied, his humour evident in his eyes. “I cannot wait to hear their explanation for what has just transpired. It should make for….”

The rest of what Thranduil was about to say was arrested by one of the Swan Knights who approached them and knelt down beside Faramir.

“That was astounding, Fara,” the young knight greeted as he removed his helmet, displaying a shock of fox coloured hair.

“Amrothos!” Faramir exclaimed in delight. “Ada, this …”

“Could only be another of Adrahil’s, judging by that fox fur,” Thranduil teased, causing the young Knight to blush furiously.

“Amrothos is the youngest of Uncle Imrahil’s three sons,” Faramir said, introducing his cousin.

“Mae govannen, Prince Amrothos,” Thranduil greeted the young knight who looked not unlike Faramir.

“Mae govannen, King Thranduil,” Amrothos greeted in turn. “Father sent word to us that Faramir had been adopted by no less personage than the King of Mirkwood, so happy was he when he wrote the letter that the words almost bounced from the parchment,” the young man added in answer to Thranduil’s raised eyebrow. “I have seen you look better, cousin; although… I have seen you worse,” he teased, remembering a few of the mornings after the nights before.

“Aye, I agree,” Elrond said as, he too, knelt beside Faramir. “Alright, pen-neth, let us see what this latest wizarding display has done to you, although I thank you sincerely for saving those two idiot sons of mine.”

“I am looking forward to hearing their explanation, my friend,” Imrahil chuckled as he stood behind his son, looking down upon his nephew. Thranduil nodded in agreement, eyes twinkling, as he shared a look with Imrahil. Elrond sighed, shaking his head.

In the background, Estel and Arwen were seeing to the settlement of the remainder of the Swan Knights.

“Does your head ache?” Elrond asked as held Faramir’s wrist to check the speed of his heartbeat.

“Nay, I just feel very… weary,” the Steward replied.

“Do you think you can get to your feet?” Elrond queried.

“Aye,” Faramir answered as he got to his feet, very unsteadily, supported by his ada.

“Well, this is certainly an improvement, pen-neth,” Elrond smiled at his patient.

“If this an improvement, cousin, I hate to think what you have done to yourself previously,” Amrothos said with some consternation.

“You did not draw the energy from within yourself this time, ion-nin. Mithrandir will be pleased,” Thranduil praised Faramir, sparing a look for Amrothos that was filled with mirth. The elven King gathered his human son up into his arms, much to Faramir’s embarrassment.

“I can walk, ada!” Faramir protested in a whisper.

“Humour me, ion-nin,” Thranduil responded, knowing that there was no way that Faramir would be able to walk all the way back to the palace.

Thranduil carried Faramir towards the palace in the company of Elrond, Imrahil and Amrothos. There they were met by Arwen and Aragorn before entering the King’s drawing room. Imrahil and Amrothos were about to take their leave, for they both thought this a family matter, when Elrond ushered them into the room. Faramir saw Boromir sitting on top of one two tall bookcases standing against one wall, observing, with what looked like amusement, the discomfiture of the twins, Legolas and Gimli who were sitting in chairs placed around the fireplace, under the watchful eye of Maglor.

The twins looked up at their ada and both winced on seeing their father’s stern expression. It was obvious to both that his anger had not abated one iota. Thranduil placed Faramir on a three-seater lounge, opposite the fireplace, near the other chairs, and sat down beside him. Imrahil and Amrothos sat on the arms of the lounge at either end. Arwen and Aragorn stood behind the lounge. Legolas blanched and swallowed hard when he saw all eyes rest on him, the twins and Gimli.

“Well,” Elrond began with a slightly exasperated sigh. “Which of you would like to begin the explanation for what almost led to my sons being swept to their deaths?”

“That was… “ Elladan began.

“… an accident… “

“… ada,” they both finished together.

“I did not think it deliberate, ions-nin, for though you display the opposite on many… nay most, occasions, neither of you possesses an actual death wish,” Elrond retorted, his comments fair dripping with sarcasm that was not lost on the twins who winced. “Whose idea was it to build the kite?”

“Legolas,” the twins and Gimli replied without hesitation.

Legolas blanched, yet again, as all eyes in the room, with the exception of Elrond’s, fixed upon him.

“Och, I had no hand in the idea…” Gimli responded to Elrond’s intense look and questioning eyebrow, “… so to speak,” he added, wondering if you could indeed have a hand in or put a hand on, an idea. “I am a Dwarf who lives in a cave. What know I of kites and wind?”

Faramir snorted and eyed his brother with much amusement on hearing clearly in his mind Legolas’ thought; ‘volumes about the latter after you have eaten beans, Dwarf’! Legolas spared a glare for Faramir, realising that his brother had read his thought, before turning his eyes skywards and his expression to one of innocence when Gimli eyed him suspiciously.

“They were bored. I thought it would keep them amused” Legolas muttered, annoyed.

“So, it started out innocently enough or so it seems,” Elrond mused.

“I think there is more interest to be had in the materials from which the kite was made, mellon-nin,” Maglor interjected meaningfully, handing a piece of black material to the Rivendell elf.

“This is silk and by the look and feel, very expensive silk. Where did you get so much of such an expensive material?” Elrond asked, suspiciously.

“Just hope that Gondor has no need for State funerals in the foreseeable future, little brother,” Boromir called down from his perch, causing Faramir to chuckle and Amrothos to look at his cousin sharply.

“I think you will find that it is from a stock of silk always kept on hand for the purposes of State funerals,” Faramir responded to the plethora of questioning looks aimed at him.

“You took this without permission?” Elrond asked, his anger, as was his inflection, rising.

“It was in a cupboard… “ Elladan reasoned.

“… gathering dust, ada” Elrohir concluded.

“That would be because the Lords of Gondor keep finding ways of offing themselves that precludes the necessity of its use,” Boromir expostulated, eliciting a look of astonishment from Faramir at the matter-of-factness of the remark about his death.

“Did Legolas and Gimli know that the material had been purloined?” Elrond asked imbuing the word purloin with a measure of just how he felt about the twins’ propensity for ‘acquiring’.

“Nay, ada,” the twins answered truthfully if a little reluctantly.

“So, with the purloined material you built a kite in the shape of a dragon. Why a dragon?” Elrond asked, already suspecting the answer.

“For a prank, ada,” Elrohir confessed in a whisper.

“And this prank was aimed at the Swan Knights, mounted on their horses,” Elrond conjectured.

Amrothos looked as if he thought the prank a good one and was filing it away mentally for future use. His look turned to chagrin when he saw both Faramir and his father give him a look that indicated that both knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Aye, ada,” Elladan confirmed, head bowed.

“And were all a party to this prank?” Elrond questioned.

“Nay, ada,” Erohir sighed morosely, knowing that their backsides were about to pay a high price for the prank gone wrong.

“Let me guess. The ‘trio horribus’?” Elrond sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose; never, ever, a good sign with the Lord of Rivendell.

“Aye,” the twins and Legolas responded quietly in unison, wincing as they did so and all looking at the floor.

Gimli looked stunned and slightly affronted to have been so duped by the trio of elflings.

“I would hazard another guess that not one of you anticipated the consequences of such a strong wind as is had upon the top of Minas Tirith?” Elrond surmised pinning each of the younger elves with an intense, stern look.

“Nay,” came the quiet response from the trio of luckless elflings.

“If it had not been for Faramir… “ Elrond began but could not continue, so great was his anger. “Maglor?” Elrond asked, taking a deep calming breath.

“Aye, mellon-nin?” the Seneschal replied calmly.

“Can I impose upon you again to take these three to my quarters and wait with them until I have calmed down enough to deal with them?” Elrond asked.

“Certainly,” Maglor replied in the same calm tone. “Alright elflings, follow me,” he said not bothering to look back to see if they were indeed following as he exited the room.

Faramir and Amrothos looked upon the hapless trio of elves as they followed Maglor, with similar expressions of empathy.

“I love those three dearly, mellon-nin, but they are going to drive me insane!” Elrond exclaimed looking at Thranduil whose eyes were twinkling.

“I seem to remember Maglor telling me a time or thousand, of Oropher and Gil-galad saying exactly the same thing about you and I, mellon-nin,” Thranduil chuckled.

“I certainly have no memory of being quite that bad,” Elrond sighed. “Do you think it is the Valar’s way of getting back at us?”

“It does have a certain elegant symmetry to it, mellon-nin,” Thranduil reasoned.

“I suppose we should… “ Elrond began but was interrupted by a cry of alarm.

“Ahhhhhh!” Amrothos yelped; putting a hand to his racing heart, as he jumped back from where he had been sitting on the arm of the lounge, when the largest spider he had ever seen in his life appeared before him suddenly, dangling on a thread.

“Mama” Misto said cheerily. “Not mama,” he added on seeing that it was not Faramir.

“Eru’s balls! What are you feeding your spiders?” Amrothos exclaimed before the higher functions of his brain engaged, causing Aragorn, Faramir and Gimli to laugh and Arwen to put a hand to her mouth to hide a giggle.

“You watch your mouth, son,” Imrahil admonished quietly.

“Sorry, father,” Amrothos said contritely, blushing furiously when he saw Arwen, still standing beside a chuckling Aragorn.

“It is a long story, the short version of which is that Misto is a hatchling from Mirkwood and my familiar,” Faramir explained.

“You mean like that bird of Radagast’s that keeps pecking at his ear to keep him from falling down stairs and wandering off paths?” the young Swan Knight asked. “And what do you mean hatchling? He is the size of a dog!” he added; eyes as wide as saucers, not able to take them off Misto who was now sitting beside Faramir. “How big will he grow?”

“About the size of a pony,” Faramir sighed.

“Do not even attempt to tell me what you are going to feed him, Fara,” Amrothos said, looking a little squeamish at the thought.

“I judge our elflings have waited long enough, mellon-nin,” Elrond said, looking at Thranduil and taking another deep, calming breath before exiting the room.

“Aye, we had best put them out of our misery,” the elven King replied, following his friend from the room.

“Is what I suspect is going to happen, going to happen, Fara?” Amrothos asked in a hushed voice.

“Aye, it is,” Faramir replied solemnly.

“Ouch,” the young Swan Knight whispered.

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