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 29

For the next few days the three younger elves remained subdued following their recent chastisements. Faramir was deemed well enough by Elrond to resume his wizarding training in earnest. The Steward began each morning with Lord Elrond who tutored him in meditation techniques and in mind-to-mind strengthening exercises, after which he would spend some time listening to the teaching songs of the ring. The remainder of each day was devoted to wizarding training with Gandalf. No matter what the wizard asked his pupil to do Faramir was always able to do so, much to Gandalf’s growing consternation as, in his opinion, his young pupil should not have been capable of doing half of what he could.

The training proved so intensive and gruelling, due in a very large part to Gandalf’s attempts to ascertain his wizardling’s limitations, that the still recovering Steward was compelled to have an afternoon nap each day, which he chose always, weather permitting, to partake of bundled up warmly in a nest of blankets and pillows under the oldest tree in his mother’s garden. He was curled up currently under the very tree, sound asleep. Invariably, Misto spent that time ensconced in a web of his making in the tree above where his mama slept, happily occupied in watching the movement of humans and animals. Usually, Gandalf left his wizardling in peace but chose this day to sit upon a bench near Faramir and smoke his pipe. Thranduil, as was his habit, sat beside his slumbering son, enjoying the whispering of the trees and protecting Faramir from any who would disturb his sleep. Maglor sat on the stone bench opposite the one upon which Gandalf sat. The wizard seemed to be deep in thought, his head cocked slightly to one side as if listening, looking intently at his wizardling.

“Aha!” the wizard exclaimed eyebrows seeming to take flight, a puff of smoke billowing from his mouth and in a voice loud enough that Faramir stirred restlessly in his sleep. “That explains everything!”

“Explains what, Mithrandir?” Thranduil asked in a hushed, puzzled, voice as he watched his son settle back into sleep and tucked in the blankets covering Faramir to stave off the cool breeze that was blowing.

“Why my wizardling can do many things of which he should not yet be capable, such as pulling those young twin fools back from the edge of the Ship’s Keel,” Gandalf replied in a quieter voice. “It was not levitation that he used to save the twins but something far more difficult, requiring very advanced skills.”

“And the reason is…?” Thranduil prompted the wizard; much to the amusement of Maglor, who smirked at his friend, for even as a younger elf he had ever lacked the patience to wait for Gandalf’s oft-times long, convoluted explanations.

“The ring has been teaching him in his sleep!” Gandalf huffed.

“And that is a bad thing…?” Maglor asked tentatively.

“It is when he does not know what he knows until he finds himself in the position of having to use it and I do not know what he does not know, so I do not know what to teach him,” Gandalf blustered, annoyance growing.

“So, have you found much as yet that he does not know?” Thranduil asked intrigued.

“Nay, but…”

“So the training is progressing much faster than you anticipated, mellon-nin,” the elven King interjected before Gandalf could work up another head of steam and possibly wake Faramir.

“Whatever, but it is still very vexing!” the wizard huffed. “Wizarding skills are something that should be learned consciously and over much time, not whilst the wizardling is asleep. It is unnatural. Oh, do stop that!” the elves realised that the last annoyed comment was aimed at the ring. Thranduil and Maglor shared an amused look, both smiling at their grumpy friend, much to their grumpy friend’s annoyance.

“So, what are his skills?” Thranduil asked.

“I do not know!” Gandalf replied testily.

“The skills you know he possesses,” Maglor said patiently, looking askance at Thranduil whose eyes were twinkling with mirth.

“As you are aware he can read minds but he has always been able to do so, to a certain extent. He can project his thoughts into the minds of others. He can harness energy from around him and turn that energy into a bolt of blue lightening, the power of which we have had ample demonstration,” Gandalf said, alluding to the incident when Faramir lost his temper on realising that he would live much longer than he had anticipated and went about blasting very large boulders in half. The wizard winced at the thought of what his wizardling was capable of doing when he lost his temper.

“Oh, aye!” Thranduil confirmed, also remember the incident.

“You know that he can levitate and as we have recently discovered, he can also use energy drawn from about him to tether objects with a line of blue energy and pull them towards him. He can conjure illusions and I have just discovered that he can command the forces of nature, earth wind and fire. To what extent, I am still to ascertain,” Gandalf said, ticking off the list of skills mentally.

Elven eyebrows flew skywards as both Thranduil and Maglor whistled softly.

“He is indeed a powerful wizard!” Thranduil said, his voice filled with awe as he looked down upon his slumbering son. “Does the ring increase his power?”

“Nay. From when he was a babe –in-arms I have known that my wizardling had the potential to become an immensely powerful wizard and I knew also that he would one day find the ring of power he now wears, just not quite at so young an age. Denethor, as fey as Faramir, often berated and belittled his second born for being a wizard’s pupil, aware of Faramir’s potential but chose to see it as a threat to his much beloved heir, his first born,” Gandalf added, bitterness evident in his tone. “The ring extends his life, focuses his power and… teaches him in his sleep,” he growled the latter, glaring yet again at the ring on Faramir’s finger which could be seen peeping out from the edge of the blanket that covered him.

Gandalf would have continued had Faramir not awoken from his nap. Stretching like a cat before sitting up, the Steward rubbed his eyes in a sleepy manner that made him look exceedingly young.

“Good sleep?” Thranduil asked, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth at Faramir’s endearing motions.

“Aye, ada,” he replied blearily. “We meet with Elessar soon,” he added, looking at the sun’s location in the sky to determine the time.

Aragorn had called a Security Council meeting for mid afternoon to apprise his military commanders of new information he had received about the Harad situation and to develop strategies for the defence of Gondor. Present at the meeting were the King and Steward, most of the military commanders, two of the more competent councillors, Beregond, Prince Imrahil, Amrothos, Gandalf, the elves and Gimli. Misto had become such a common sight around the palace that not so much as an eyebrow lifted when the hatchling settled in the rafters above the Steward. Aragorn sat at the head of the table with Faramir on his right and Imrahil on his left. Legolas, still looking subdued, sat between Faramir and Thranduil. On first seeing his despondent brother and reading his thoughts which were very close to the surface and accompanied by feelings of guilt about what had almost transpired, Faramir squeezed the elf’s knee such as Legolas did when wanting to comfort him. Legolas gave his brother a small smile in return. Boromir entered the room through the wall greeting both his brother and cousin, both of whom returned the greeting with smiles, before sitting upon a side table near Faramir.

“I have received word from Dol Amroth that there has been increasing Corsair pirate activity on the Bay of Belfalas and Harad activity in Belfalas, Lebenin and Southern Gondor,” Aragorn began without preamble as he pointed to a large map laid out upon the table filled with lines, numbers and dates, depicting the movement, strength and dates on which the Haradrim, Corsairs and Orcs activity had been sighted. It was obvious from the map that the Haradrim and Orcs were gathering somewhere in the contested part of Southern Gondor, south of Lebenin. “Rohan advises of sightings of Orcs moving south in large numbers. We know that Saruman and the remaining Uruk Hai have allied with Harad and Saruman is training Haradrim wizards as we speak. All this activity leads me to the inevitable conclusion that the Haradrim are preparing to invade Gondor.”

“I concur,” Imrahil agreed.

“Gandalf advises that it will take several months at least to train wizards, so we do have time to plan our defences for when and where we wish to engage them, before they are trained fully. I am hoping to have word about Saruman’s location soon” Aragorn said, thinking about Finrod and the Lieutenant who by now had rendezvoused with Radagast and well on their way to tracing Saruman.

The rest of the meeting was devoted to planning the preparations necessary to see Gondor and its allies ready for the battle to come. The commanders were sent away with orders regarding supplying, training and deploying their troops. Beregond and the councillors were ordered to see to stocking of provisions in case Minas Tirith was put under siege and for evacuating outlying towns. Both Elrond and Thranduil pledged what support they could. At the conclusion of the meeting Aragorn, Beregond, the councillors and commanders were dismissed, whilst the rest stayed.

“Can Boromir spy upon the Haradrim?” Aragorn asked knowing that Boromir was in the room somewhere.

“I do not believe so,” Amrothos answered immediately, looking to Boromir for confirmation. Boromir nodded. “Grandfather told me that ghosts are anchored to that which they loved best. Grandfather could not go beyond five miles of Dol Amroth…”

“But Boromir appeared much further away from Minas Tirith,” Aragorn interjected, puzzled.

“Aye, however he is not anchored to Minas Tirith but to…”

“Faramir,” Aragorn comprehended.

“That which he loves best,” Amrothos confirmed, smiling at his cousins both of whom appeared to be blushing, although it was a little hard to tell with Boromir due to his ghostly pallor.

Aragorn, very aware that his brothers and Legolas were still feeling the aftershocks of their recent debacle of a prank, invited them and the others present to share the evening meal with him and Arwen in their private dining room. Faramir, Legolas and Thranduil returned to the Steward’s apartments to bathe and dress for dinner after which they proceeded to the dinning room.

Between the effects of excellent food, wine and the sparkling conversations of those in attendance, it was not long before the sombre mood of the three younger elves dissipated. At the conclusion of the meal the guests repaired to the next room, which boasted large fireplaces at both ends of the room and comfortable chairs and lounges grouped around the fireplaces to take advantage of the warmth to be had there from the cheerful fires. Arwen sat at one end of the room with Legolas, who sat between Faramir and Amrothos on a lounge, the twins and Gimli who sat on individual lounge chairs, whilst Aragorn sat at the other end with Elrond, Thranduil, Imrahil, Maglor and Gandalf. Misto was situated in his preferred location, that being above his mama.

Amrothos proved exceedingly adept at drawing tales from the twins about some of the more successful pranks they had perpetrated on unsuspecting elves, humans and dwarves. At the end of the last tale told they claimed that humans, in their experience, were not as skilled at devising or executing pranks, as were the elves.

“Oh dear, the gauntlet has been thrown!” Imrahil groaned to himself and winced as he had heard the ill-considered comment from the twin Elrondions. He looked over to his nephew and son, who sat on either side of Legolas, and winced anew at the identical expressions, a mixture of deviousness and plotting, sported by his fox-furred cubs, expressions that promised much deviltry to come.

Thranduil, who had also heard the twins’ comment, saw Imrahil cringe and heard his groan. He looked askance at Elrond and then to his human son and his son’s cousin. By the look Elrond had given him he realised that his friend was also aware of the twins’ challenge. At the same instant the fox-furred cousins apprehended that they were being watched and again in the very same moment their expressions turned to identical ones of innocence, such as their grandsire had sported all those years ago, made all the funnier as Legolas turned his head and looked from one to the other, lifted his eyes heavenward, shook his head and shuddered severely. Both Elrond and Thranduil laughed heartily and Maglor smirked, much to the bemusement of both Aragorn and Gandalf as neither had been in a position to witness what had just occurred. Arwen, as sharp as her ada, giggled. The twins and Gimli looked as bemused as Aragorn and Gandalf at the elder elves laughter.

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