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 27

After comforting and cosseting their repentant elflings for a time the three elder elves left them to ponder their pained states, emerging eventually from Elrond’s quarters into the hallway. There they were met by a sheepish looking Faramir and Amrothos. Thranduil eyed his son intently.

“You should be abed, ion-nin,” he admonished, seeing the dark circles under Faramir’s eyes.

“I will rest after I have seen Legolas, ada. I promise,” Faramir replied.

“They are in the twins’ room,” Thranduil sighed, understanding his human son’s needs. “You do not have any of that numbing salve hidden about your persons, I hope?” he asked, his suspicion aroused.

“Nay, ada,” “Nay, sir,” Faramir and Amrothos answered immediately, both blushing, hoping that none of the elves looked up.

Thranduil looked at both fox-furred young humans intently causing them to blush even more, which, given their fair complexions, was quite an endearing sight he thought.

“Alright ion-nin, your brother could use some sibling comfort right now and I am sure the twins would appreciate some as well. Be off with you!” the elven King said, taking pity on them.

The elves continued down the corridor. Faramir and Amrothos both let out in whooshes, breaths that they had not realised they had been holding and entered Elrond’s quarters. Faramir led the way the twins’ room and knocked on the door softly. Receiving permission to ‘come’, he opened the door and entered, followed by Amrothos.

The room contained two large four-poster beds parallel to one another and several feet apart, one occupied currently by Legolas and the other by the twins, all of whom lay on their stomachs covered by blankets. The cousins looked upon the still miserable trio with great empathy. Legolas twisted around, half on his side, careful of his posterior and graced his brother with a rueful if somewhat forlorn look. Faramir walked straight over to Legolas, sat down on the bed beside him and gathered his brother into a much-needed hug. Amrothos stood at the end of the bed, marvelling at the close bond between his cousin and the elf.

“You should be abed, muindor tithen. You look terrible. I am so sorry,” Legolas whispered on the verge of tears.

“Oh, pish. I will be fine after some rest later,” Faramir replied in a whisper. “I have not had the… opportunity to introduce you to my cousin, Amrothos, youngest son of Uncle Imrahil,” Faramir said, his eyes alight with mirth.

The twins and Legolas moaned at their recent folly and their damnably bad luck.

“Is your uncle very upset with us?” Legolas asked forlornly.

“Nay, nay, my father is not upset at all,” Amrothos assured the upset elves. “I thought it a good prank if gone a little askew.”

“As it does inevitably, with these three involved,” Faramir chucked wryly as he continued to hold his brother.

“Do you perchance have some numbing salve stashed about you?” Legolas asked hopefully, wincing at the pain in his posterior.

“Nay,” Faramir replied. The elven faces dropped. “However,…” he added, looking up.

The elves looked up and saw Misto sitting on a rafter holding a very large jar of numbing salve with two of his eight legs. The hatchling chose that moment to drop down on a silken thread but unfortunately misjudged the affect of the heavy jar he was holding and subsequently landed heavily on Legolas’ already much abused posterior, causing the elf to howl in pain. Faramir and Amrothos winced in sympathy but the twins did not as they were dealing with the abominable throbbing in their own posteriors.

“Ssssorrryyy, mama,” the hatchling apologised sheepishly.

“It was an accident, little one,” Faramir soothed.

“I am not so certain, muindor tithen,” Legolas muttered into Faramir’s shoulder through gritted teeth.

“Let us see what has been done to you, brother,” Faramir said, sliding from beside Legolas and on to his feet. The Steward pulled back the blanket that was covering his brother, exposing Legolas’ posterior as the elf was sans leggings. “Painful I grant but not as bad as I thought it would be,” he judged.

“Speak for yourself, muindor thithen,” Legolas grumbled.

“I speak from experience, brother,” Faramir replied quietly.

The Steward walked over to the twins in the other bed.

“Do you mind if I…?” Faramir asked, seeking permission before proceeding.

“Aye, go ahead,” they responded dejectedly, in unison.

Faramir pulled back the blankets that covered them. Like Legolas, they were both also sans leggings. Faramir winced.

“The last time I saw that particular shade of red was when Boromir…” Amrothos whistled softly as he approached the bed. “You do not mean to tell me that that… ‘thing’ still exists, Fara?” Amrothos asked on seeing Faramir’s reaction.

“Aye, human… “ Elladan grumbled.

“… and elvish versions,” Elrohir spat out disgustedly.

“Long story, cousin,” Faramir replied in answer to Amrothos’ look of puzzlement.

“Help me, sprog,” Faramir requested, using Amrothos’ pet name, as he applied the soothing salve to Elladan’s buttocks, whilst Amrothos applied some to Elrohir’s. The elf blushed at exposing such an embarrassing injury to a relative stranger, even though he was a relative of Faramir. “Be at ease, Elrohir” the Steward soothed. “Amrothos has also fallen victim to that ‘thing’ on a number of occasions and has been in exactly the same position as you are now.”

“Is nothing sacred to you Hurins?” Amrothos whined, sending a mock glare at his cousin that caused Elrohir to smile. “All done,” he smiled, pulling the blanket back over the elf as Faramir did his twin.

“Hannon-le, mellon-nin,” Elrohir responded.

Faramir returned to Legolas and applied the salve to his brother’s buttocks before pulling the blanket back over the elf who was sighing in relief.

“We will leave you in peace now,” Faramir said as he put the lid back on the jar of salve and placed it under the covers of the bed in which Legolas lay. “You will be going to the feast tonight will you not?”

“Aye,” the unhappy trio groaned.

“We will see you then,” Faramir said before he, Amrothos and Misto departed.

Most of the guests had arrived by the time Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir arrived. They, as other guests had been, were greeted by Aragorn, Arwen and Faramir in their official capacities of King, Queen and Steward of Gondor. A group of musicians were playing lively music in the far corner of the Great Hall. The twins and Legolas moved further into the hall, tentatively, not knowing what kind of reception they were likely to receive from the Swan Knights of Dol Amroth. They tensed when several knights descended upon them. Their tension turned to relief when the knights, in all their finery, greeted them warmly, laughing at the antics of the elves.

Unbeknownst to them, Amrothos and Faramir had explained the prank gone wrong and asked the knights to forgive if not forget. All but two of the knights agreed readily as they could see the humour of the situation. The two who were reluctant to forgive were reminded by Amrothos, somewhat forcefully if truth be told, of some of their past indiscretions on which he had remained silent. Faramir had to hold on to his angry cousin by the back of the young man’s tunic to stop him from throttling the denser of the two knights, when the man made a disparaging remark about the elves concerned. The Steward resolved the situation, still holding onto his struggling cousin, by advising the two knights, in his normal, quiet, well-modulated tone, that it was not good policy to upset a wizard. His assertion was reinforced by a display of crackling and hair standing on end, which, upon witnessing, the two knights blanched and seemed quite suddenly to see reason.

Legolas and the twins made their way to where their adas and Maglor were already seated at the main table. Two other tables were placed at right angles to the main table, creating a three-sided square. The main table was reserved for King, Queen and their family and friends and the Steward of Gondor and Prince of Dol Amroth. The table to the right of the main table was reserved for the Swan Knights of Dol Amroth and as many young maidens of Gondor, to partner the nights in the dancing planned for later in the evening. The table to the left was reserved for some of the Lords and Ladies of Gondor.

Gimli, who was sitting next to Gandalf near prince Imrahil, graced his wayward elfling friend with a look that promised the matter that lay between them remained to be settled. Legolas winced and then sighed in resignation. He looked down at his chair and then looked up attempting to catch Faramir’s eye. Upon succeeding, he dipped his head slightly and smiled his thanks. A soft pillow, the same colour as the chair, had been placed upon its seat. Legolas knew without a doubt that it had been Faramir who had done this for if it had been his ada, the cushions would have been almost as large as the chair and very brightly coloured. Faramir acknowledged his brother’s thanks with a smile of his own, before returning to the task of greeting guests.

When the last of the guests had arrived and been greeted, Aragorn, Arwen and Faramir sat down at the main table at which time the first courses were carried in on large ornate silver and gold trays and served to the guests by servants. Faramir was pleased to see that Boromir was also in attendance, enjoying the music and festive atmosphere.

“A finer flock of peacocks you are never likely to see, little brother” Boromir jested, looking around at the guests, causing Faramir to chortle at but one of their ongoing jests about the colourful formal uniforms of the Swan Knights.

Boromir was just about to make another comment when he stopped abruptly, his expression turning to one that Faramir knew well, that of a hunter scenting prey. As he could not ask his ghostly brother what alerted him without most of those present the room thinking him mad, Faramir turned back to his meal; all the while keeping an eye on his brother who seemed to be concentrated on the Swan Knights seated at the table at which Amrothos, as their captain, was also seated.

At the conclusion of the main meal and well before dessert was due to be served, Amrothos rose from his chair and walked around the table until he was in front of his father, who was sitting at the main table next to Faramir. All went silent as the guests watched the young knight go down on bended knee.

“Whatever are you doing, Amrothos?” Imrahil exclaimed disconcerted by his youngest son’s odd behaviour.

“Bear with me, father.” Amrothos replied in a ‘put upon’ manner. “I am acting under very strict instructions from your heir.”

“What has Elphir got to do with this… ?“ Imrahil was at a loss at to describe what ‘this’ was.

“Please father, I beg you,” Amrothos spoke as if he was reading aloud, very badly at that, from a script. “Please return to Dol Amroth. The kingdom will fall to ruin if you do not come home soon. Please come home!”

Faramir, who could contain himself no longer, broke out into musical laughter at his cousin’s speech. Faramir’s laughter proved infectious and it was not long before all those gathered in the hall, including the King, Queen and elves, were laughing merrily.

“Enough, sprog,” Imrahil chuckled, throwing a bread roll at his son, hitting him on the head. Amrothos rose to his feet gracefully and bowed to his father and then the King and Queen. “I am sure that my eldest did not intend for you to deliver his speech in front of an audience,” Imrahil said, not quite able to bring himself to make it sound like an admonishment.

“I reasoned that if he saw fit to force me to deliver such an embarrassing speech, I could choose the time and place, neither of which was specified in his orders,” Amrothos retorted.

“Am I given to understand then that your brother is struggling with a few matters?” Imrahil asked.

“A few, father, but he is coping at the moment,” the young knight replied.

“Then it is your judgement that I do not need to return to Dol Amroth forthwith?”

“Nay, father. My brother’s tone did not contain quite the tenor of sheer desperation that would necessitate a return to Dol Amroth at this time,” Amrothos said with a straight face.

“You do realise what your reception is likely to be on returning home, when he finds out about this? Do you not?” Imrahil asked.

“I was rather hoping that I could stay here in Minas Tirith for foreseeable future as I have several furloughs long overdue,” the young knight responded, clearing his throat before doing so.

“We will see, sprog,” Imrahil said with a mock glare.

Orders carried out, Amrothos returned to his seat just as dessert was being served. Faramir had almost completed his dessert when he realised that in all the commotion created by his cousin, he had lost sight of Boromir. Scanning for his brother, he spied him crawling under the table at which the Swan Knights and young ladies were seated. He stopped at where Amrothos was seated and then rose to his haunches abruptly, which pushed his head up through the table and the plate from which Amrothos was eating.

“Boo!” Boromir bellowed.

“Ahhhhhh!” Amrothos yelped as his dessert went one way, his chair the other and he scrambled back from the image of his cousin’s head, sitting on the table.

“I knew so! You can see me! You can hear me you sneaky young… Why did you not tell me?” Boromir continued to bellow at his cousin as he rose to his feet, walked through the table and stalked towards his cousin like a predator. Amrothos continued to back away, wincing at the volume of his ghostly cousin’s bellowing.

“Whatever is the matter with that boy? He looks like he has seen a ghost. Oh… “ Imrahil said, eyes widening, seeing his youngest right the chair that had toppled and wince as he is wont to do when in receipt of a very severe tongue-lashing.

“He can see Boromir,” Faramir whispered harshly.

“Oh my! Where is Boromir?” Imrahil asked, still a little confused by the scene playing out before him.

“About a hand span from sprog’s face, bellowing at him. It is a wonder that no one else can hear him. He is hurting my eardrums from over there.”

Faramir gave Aragorn, who was looking upon the scene in bemusement, a ranger signal requesting that he create a diversion. Ever the ranger, Aragorn announced immediately that he wished to dance with his Queen and invited anyone who wanted to join them to do so. The King held out his arm to Arwen who took it and walked with him onto the dance floor. As Aragorn distracted the guests, Faramir hurried to his cousin and pulled the pale young man from the room, followed by Boromir who was bellowing ever more elaborate and painful admonishments at the top of his ghostly lungs.

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