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 26

Elrond and Thranduil made their way to the Rivendell elf’s quarters, the elven King looking askance at his friend every now and then as they walked. He saw that his friend’s anger was rising the closer they got to their destination. Putting a hand to Elrond’s arm, he halted and turned towards his friend.

“I think it would be in the twins’ best interests if Maglor and I see to their punishment and you to Legolas’, mellon-nin,” Thranduil cautioned softly.

Elrond looked as if he was about to argue but thought better of it and bowed his head conceding to his friend’s advice.

“They just never think things through!” Elrond railed quietly at his friend in exasperation.

“None of them do, mellon-nin and neither did we… oh, all right, I, at the same age,” Thranduil amended in reaction to Elrond’s raised eyebrow. “I am sure you noticed that it was my elfling, in a blind panic, that was just about to shoot an arrow at the kite,” Thranduil exhaled, shaking his head.

“I must admit that I have not seen young greenleaf quite so panicked in a very long time. It is a good thing that Gimli had the presence of mind to cuff him upside the head. Although, it may just have worked,” the Rivendell elf conceded with a small smile that faded quickly on considering the possible consequences.

Gently, Thranduil pulled his distressed friend into an alcove opposite where they had stopped and into his embrace.

“I felt your fright and despair when you witnessed the plight of your sons and Faramir’s struggle, mellon-nin. Let it go,” the elven King crooned softly.

“Elros is lost to me,” Elrond let out in a quiet almost-sob, remembering his ages gone twin who chose mortality whilst he chose the elven path. “Arwen and Estel will be lost to me also all-too-soon. I cannot lose the twins as well, I cannot!”

“Arwen chose mortality and she and Estel will reunite with Elros in the halls of your human ancestors eventually, the existence beyond human death of which we have daily proof,” Thranduil said, alluding to the very real although unseen presence of Boromir, eliciting the hint of a smile from Elrond. “Faramir, on the other hand, has had immortality foisted on him and will be much grieved to learn that should he die, he will not reunite with his ancestors or his human descendents but will go to the Halls of Mandos instead. Such is the way of the Valar and choices made, mellon-nin, and there is nothing you or I can do to alter the course set. All we can do is to enjoy each day given us and be there for one another and our children.”

Elrond returned the embrace and Thranduil held his friend until he felt that Elrond had regained control over his emotions.

“Hannon-le, mellon-nin. You are right!” Elrond whispered as he took a deep, calming breath and looked at his friend with an expression that was a mixture of gratitude and surprise.

“Do not look so surprised! Even Maglor would grant that I do have my moments,” Thranduil teased gently. “I really do think our elflings have waited long enough,” Thranduil said, as he turned towards Elrond’s quarters.

The scene that greeted them on entering Elrond’s drawing room caused the two elder elves to look heavenward before sharing a rueful glance. Legolas, looking as dejected and nervous as Thranduil had ever seen him, sitting on a three-seater lounge, was flanked by twin, equally dejected and nervous looking dark-haired bookends. Maglor was perched upon the desk in the corner of the room watching the trio solemnly, although Thranduil detected a smile tugging at the corner of his Seneschal’s mouth.

“With but a little reflection do you understand the trouble that you are in, elflings,” Thranduil lectured sternly. “All we ask is that you spend a modicum of time considering the consequences, before launching into ill-conceived and ill-thought out actions.”

The trio kept their gazes averted and continued to look at the floor.

“Elladan… Elrohir?” Elrond called upon the twins and waited for them to look up at him. “So that I do not cause you damage for my anger is great, ions-nin,” he said, his anger very much in evidence in his eyes and the set of his mouth, “Thranduil and Maglor will see to your punishment for the offences of acquiring without permission and for the prank that came very close to costing you your lives. I will see to Legolas’ for aiding and abetting you in your folly.”

At first the twins looked horrified but on seeing their father’s anger came to the conclusion very quickly that they would much rather face Thranduil and Maglor or the Dark Lord himself, had he still been alive. Legolas looked no less horrified at the thought of Lord Elrond taking his wrath out on the posterior of the elf who had not only failed to keep the twins out of trouble but had aided them in the prank that had gone so wrong. Maglor and Thranduil saw the warning signs of a fully-fledged Thranduilion panicked bolt about to happen. With elven reflexes and speed both Mirkwood elves caught Legolas just as he launched himself from the lounge upon which he had been seated a moment earlier, towards the door. Maglor let go allowing Thranduil to calm his panicked elfling. The elven King held his son tightly crooning soft, soothing words in the shaking younger elf’s ear even as he offered Elrond a rueful look.

“Leg-o-las,” Elrond crooned softly as he approached the distressed wood-elf and stroked his hair, rhythmically. “I do not blame you for what almost happened. I know you did not suggest the kite with mischief in mind. I do not think I am wrong in saying that it was Elladan or Elrohir who suggested the prank when they discovered that Knights from Dol Amroth were expected. Am I?” Legolas shook his head once in the negative. “But you did go along with the idea, did you not?” Legolas nodded once still holding onto his ada, fiercely. “Then that is what you are to be punished for, greenleaf. Hand only, I promise.”

Legolas sighed and let go of his ada. Elrond smiled gently and with his arm extended around the young elf’s shoulders, guided Legolas into the next room. The twins were still seated on the lounge looking up at Maglor and Thranduil warily. Their looks turned to one of alarm when Maglor produced both human and elven versions of ‘Faramir’s Bane’ from what appeared to be thin air.

“How…?” Thranduil began in bewilderment. “Never mind,” he added, shaking his head in bemusement at his Seneschal’s rather unique abilities.

Maglor placed two straight-backed desk chairs located at the desk in the corner into the centre of the room, spaced far enough apart to allow both twins to be chastised at the same time. Maglor sat down upon one chair and Thranduil the other.

“All right, elflings. Let us proceed,” Thranduil called out to the twins.

Elrohir rose immediately and walked over to King Thranduil, leaving his tardy and now annoyed twin to stand beside Maglor. It had been agreed upon by both the Elrondions and the Thranduilions that Maglor had the heaviest swing, be it with hand or paddle. Elladan gave his brother a look that promised retribution. Elrohir smirked. The elven King rolled his eyes and then coughed, meaningfully. The twins became subdued immediately and fumbled at the ties to their leggings before pushing them down to their knees. They lowered themselves over the elder elves thighs. Thranduil and Maglor pulled the younger elves’ tunics up to their waists and held them there, exposing the twins’ buttocks.

“What is this punishment for, tithen-pens?” Maglor asked, beginning the time honoured ritual.

“For acquiring without permission… “ Elladan began.

“… and the prank,” Elrohir finished.

Thranduil laid the first of a series of hard strokes to Elrohir’s exposed buttocks, causing the younger elf to gasp at the intensity. Maglor allowed Thranduil to set the pace, matching the King swing for swing on Elladan’s buttocks, although later Elladan would swear blind that Maglor gave him more swats with ‘that thing’. Every time the paddles were used upon their posteriors the twins respect for Faramir intensified, especially as the human did not have the same recuperative abilities that elves possessed. It was not long before the twins were whimpering and squirming as their bottoms were heated by the constant swats that were landed to each of their buttocks.

“We will not dally on the subject of your habit of acquiring things that are not yours, for you know my feelings about stealing. On the subject of your propensity for forging headlong into disasters of your own making, I have told you before and I will repeat this tattoo upon your bottoms until it penetrates your elfling skulls, tithen-pens, …your… ada… has… lost… enough!” Thranduil bellowed, emphasising each word with heavy swats to the top of Elrohir’s thighs, matched by Maglor on Elladan’s. “You… will… not… break… your… ada’s… heart… by… dying… when… a… little… forethought… can… prevent… such… an… occurrence… happening!”

By this stage the twins were howling from both the pain in their posteriors and remorse at their lack of forethought. Thranduil judged the punishment enough and ceased the chastisement. He pulled up Elrohir’s leggings, causing the younger elf to hiss with pain, turned him around, embraced the sobbing elf, crooning soft words of forgiveness and allowing the elf to cry out his pain and his remorse. Maglor did the same with an equally remorseful Elladan.

In the next room it had taken Elrond quite some time to calm Legolas enough to enable him to proceed with the chastisement. It was obvious that the young wood-elf was still in shock at having witnessed the twins in peril. The Rivendell elf managed to get Legolas over his knees finally and began the punishment.

“What is this chastisement for, pen-neth?” Elrond asked, as he landed the first of a series of barehanded swats to the wood-elf’s exposed buttocks.

“F-for assisting the twins in a b-bad p-prank,” Legolas stuttered uncharacteristically, which told Elrond of the state of mind of the elf over his lap more clearly than any explanation by the distressed elf could have.

“What distresses you so?” Elrond asked gently in direct contrast to the force of the slaps he was administering to Legolas’ buttocks and thighs.

Ill-advisedly taking a leaf out of Faramir’s book, Legolas remained stubbornly silent.

“Tell me!” Elrond said more forcefully, matched by the increased intensity of slaps to the wood-elf’s already extremely tender ‘sit spot’.

“I could have killed them!” Legolas wailed, finally.

“Nay. How so, tithen-pen?” Elrond asked, reducing the intensity and frequency of the slaps.

“I had my arrow nocked… and… was about… to shoot, if Gimli had not stopped me…” Legolas sobbed, unable to finish, visualising the possible consequences.

“Whilst the prank was a very bad idea and you should not have assisted the twins, your idea was not an ill-conceived one, tithen-pen,” Elrond explained, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth even as he continued to land slap after slap on the wriggling and sobbing elf’s posterior. “Had Faramir not have been there or had he faltered, it may have been the twins’ only hope. Your only fault lay in not waiting to see if Faramir faltered first,” Elrond added wryly and ceased the chastisement, pulling up the elf’s leggings and rubbing his back in a gentle circular motion.

“I… am… s-sorry, so… s-sorry,” Legolas sobbed as he lay over Elrond’s lap.

“Shhhh, tithen-pen,” Elrond crooned, turning the distressed wood-elf over and gathering him into an embrace.

Seeing Legolas’ remorse and guilt, Elrond was able to come to grips with his own anger and fear over what might have happened. The twins were alive and that was all that mattered, he thought as he continued to rock and croon words of forgiveness to the sobbing elfling in his arms and by the sounds of the howling next door, the lesson may have been learned. Then again, he thought sighing deeply, as humans were fond of saying; pigs might fly.

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