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 37

The twins were not seen for the rest of the afternoon thought generally to be somewhere private licking their wounds, avoiding their sister and, in all probability, plotting their next act of retribution. Arwen had, according to one of the many guards that had witnessed the Queen’s rage who told his sweetheart, a maid, who told the cook, who told the King’s valet, who told the King who told his ada and friends, managed to lay several heartfelt whacks to the twins’ respective posteriors, all the while snapping in a waspish manner at the hapless pair, in elvish. Needless to say there was a newfound respect for the Queen of Gondor amongst the guards and staff regarding her warrior prowess and her deadly accuracy in swinging a paddle.

Early in the evening, Maglor went in search of Gandalf who also seemed to be absent, suspiciously, to discuss the morning’s ‘activities’. The elf found the wizard eventually, ducking around a corner having seen the elf first. It never ceased to amaze Maglor as he hurried after Gandalf, how quickly the old wizard could move when wishing to evade expected ‘unpleasantness’.

Undeterred, the Mirkwood Seneschal brought to mind a mental map of the surrounding rooms and corridors, smirked, and set off in the opposite direction. Flying down corridors and through rooms he came eventually to a corridor in which he stopped and waited. A few moments later Gandalf came hurrying around the corner only to stop abruptly on seeing the dratted Mirkwood elf standing in front of him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, eyebrow raised and a feral glint in his eye.

Gandalf cleared his throat, coughed, and was just about to bluster but thought better of it, exhaled in a long breath, his shoulders drooping as he leaned on his staff gripping it with both hands. Maglor continued to regard the deflated wizard; eyebrow armed and at the ready. Gandalf wondered fleetingly if the ability to speak volumes through a raised eyebrow was passed on to elflings through their mother’s milk or whether they practiced daily to get their eyebrow to lift just so to express ‘this’ and just a little further to express ‘that’.

“You can disarm that,” Gandalf grumbled indicating the raised eyebrow with a waggle of his finger, still leaning heavily on his staff. “Thranduil and Elrond have already waxed lyrical about the incident this morning and my ‘lack of empathy’ for my wizardling’s struggles with the changes in his life and his temper.”

“Good! Then I do not have to wax lyrical on the subject as well. However, do you accept how close you came to disaster this morning and the need to be more considerate of the young one’s temperament?” Maglor challenged.

“Aye. I accept that I may have underestimated how much of Adrahil had been passed down to my wizardling and how little of Ecthelion,” Gandalf grumbled.

“How so? Adrahil would have thrown you off the tower; be damned the consequences. It was the will of iron passed onto Faramir from Ecthelion through Denethor, that allowed him to regain control over his temper despite being pushed so close to the edge and thus it was Ecthelion who stayed your flight off the tower,” Maglor admonished.

“You may be right,” Gandalf conceded, ungraciously.

“There is no ‘may’ about it, Mithrandir,” Maglor retorted. “I suggest you go soothe your wizarling’s still ruffled fur,” he added before turning on his heel and walking away.

“Pushy elf,” the wizard grumbled after Maglor retreated from sight.

“I heard that, mellon-nin!” Maglor’s voice was heard to say, much to the wizard’s embarrassment.

Huffing and then chortling to himself, Gandalf went in search of his wizardling, knowing that Maglor was right and that he had been too hard on his pupil.

After setting Arwen onto her brothers, Faramir remained in the garden with his friends and family until the early evening when he made for his chambers, with Boromir walking beside him and Misto scuttling behind him, to bathe and change for dinner, which was to be had later that evening in the King and Queen’s private dining room.

Instincts on high alert and mental shields down scanning for the twins, Faramir chose not to enter his chambers through the normal means, being the front door, but via a trellis that led from the garden below and up to the balcony that led to his sleeping and living chambers, much to the amusement of both Boromir and Misto, the latter of who was impressed by how well his mama could climb, having so few legs.

The Steward, followed by his ghostly brother and familiar, entered his favoured drawing room just in time to see the door open. Faramir had no time to warn whoever it was of the trap he could see laid at the door’s entrance before Gandalf entered the room and a rope net he had walked onto closed around him and swept him off his feet aided by netted rocks that had been dislodged by the act of opening the door. Faramir watched in horror as the contents of a barrel poised over the hanging wizard, having been divested of a cork by the falling of the netted rocks, emptied its contents, cooking oil by the look of it he thought, onto the bellowing wizard. Mental shields still lowered, Faramir felt a spike of terror emanating from the twins who were obliviously in a position that enabled them to witness what was transpiring without being seen. Faramir felt their panicked thoughts retreating as the ‘duo horribus’ scampered away from the scene.

Boromir howled with laughter causing Faramir to break out into fits of hysterical giggles impeding his ability to focus enough to extricate the angry wizard from his predicament. To make matters worse, Misto decided that it would be fun to jump onto the rope net as it swung in circles.

“Get me down from here!” Gandalf bellowed, glaring at his giggling wizardling and attempting to hit him with the staff that he held in his hand and had managed to slip through the rope net. His action only succeeded in making him turn in faster and more forceful circles, still dangling above the floor.

Faramir tried to focus enough to levitate the wizard down to the ground but found it impossible as Boromir rolled around on the ground laughing heartily and Misto was calling out ‘wheeeeee’ with every circle completed and the old buzzard attempting to hit him with his staff at every circuit.

The wizard’s bellowing brought others onto the scene very quickly. Thranduil and Legolas were the first to arrive. The elven King’s eyes fair danced with mirth and Legolas’ eyes were wide, making him look very much like the elfling of old. Amrothos and Imrahil were next on the scene both looking as stunned as Faramir had looked. Amrothos skidded to a halt on the oily floor, almost losing his balance. He saw and heard Boromir who was in paroxysms of laughter and trying unsuccessfully to rise to his feet. Legolas leapt up and onto the rafter above. Taking a knife from his boot he waited for Faramir to focus enough to be able to levitate the wizard before cutting the rope. Faramir lowered Gandalf to the floor.

Aragorn, Arwen and Elrond arrived just in time to see the angry wizard attempt to get to his feet on the oily floor. Needless to say he was having extreme difficulty in finding his feet, that is, until Faramir and Amrothos assisted him up and guided him away from the oil on the floor.

“Demons of the deep!” bellowed Gandalf as soon as his feet were on solid ground and took off after the twins.

Faramir felt another faint spike of terror from the twins who seemed to be far away but still within hearing distance of the wizard’s bellowing, although the whole of the White City was probably within hearing distance of the wizard’s bellowing he thought.

After the wizard had gone, Faramir fell victim to further fits of hysterical giggling, setting off Boromir who had just gained control over his laughter. The giggling soon turned into the musical laughter that so lightened the hearts of those who heard it and proved so infectious. Soon all present were laughing including the Lord of Rivendell, although somewhat ruefully wondering if his sons would ever outgrow their elfling tendencies or survive the angry wizard.

The twins managed to avoid the wizard and thus pain and indignity to their posteriors, for the moment. Bellowing that they could not hide forever and promising a walloping they would not soon forget, Gandalf went to his chambers to bathe away the oil that covered him from head to toe.

The evening meal in the King and Queens private dining room, minus the twins and Gandalf, was filled with laughter and light-hearted conversation fuelled by the memory of the wizard swinging from the rafter and covered in oil. All noted that Faramir seemed lighter of heart due, they suspected, to the knowledge that Denethor had loved him and was sorry for his treatment of his youngest.

Thranduil noticed his human son’s eyelids begin to droop from exhaustion when, after the meal, they sat in lounge chairs around the larger of the fireplaces at the end of the room. The elven King marshalled him off to his chambers and into bed. Faramir did so without complaint, which told loudly of his exhaustion.

The next morning Faramir arose quite late, as it was the seventh day; his day of rest. He greeted Misto who was in his usual place in his web above the large four-poster bed. The young spider, for he could no longer be referred to as a hatchling as he had grown so much, seemed a little agitated.

“What is wrong, little one?” Faramir asked, looking perturbed.

“Not know,” Misto replied, descending from his web.

Thinking no more of it Faramir bathed, dressed and went in search of his family.

“You are finally awake, ion-nin,” greeted Thranduil when Faramir emerged into his drawing room. “I thought you would sleep the day away,” he teased.

Faramir smiled, rather sheepishly, and greeted his uncle and Amrothos who were also seated in chairs by the fire. A servant arrived to advise that the morning meal was being served in the Steward’s dining room. As they walked to the dining room they were greeted by a sight that made them all stop and stare, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Legolas, looking like a decidedly annoyed, soaked cat, came storming towards them. His normally immaculate hair was plastered to his face and all askew. His clothing was absolutely drenched. Faramir could not stop himself from chortling, which he tried to cover with a cough, when Legolas, quite unconsciously, shook a front paw and then a back paw in the same disgusted way, as do cats when they have received a thorough dousing.

“What happened to you, my elfling?” Thranduil asked his eyes twinkling and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“They cornered me and threw me down a well!” growled indignantly.

Faramir and Amrothos tried valiantly to maintain serious expressions and would possibly have succeeded had it not been for Boromir. The ghostly Gondorian arrived at the scene via a wall and was about to greet his brother and cousin when he saw Legolas and did a double take.

“Who drowned kitty?” he asked, causing both fox cubs to snort before breaking into peals of laughter. Legolas started growling, sounding so alike to the drowned cat he resembled, that the cousins’ laughter rose to ever-greater heights.

Annoyed and growling still, Legolas continued his journey towards his sleeping chamber; once again shaking a front paw and then a back as he did so. Faramir had no hope of trying to control his laugher after that. It was some time before the Steward was able to continue to the dining room, let alone think about eating. As they arrived at the dining room, Maglor was there to greet them. Thranduil gave his Seneschal a mock glare and a questioning eyebrow.

“At least they made sure that the well was full,” Maglor retorted.

Thranduil snorted, thinking his Seneschal evil indeed and it was a long time before Faramir could cease his musical laughter long enough to eat the morning meal.

Faramir spent the day in his mother’s garden, resting and reading, Misto in the tree above. By mid afternoon the others had gravitated to the same spot and all were present with the exception of the twins who were still avoiding the wizard. Faramir decided to feed the ducks in the pond the remnants of the bread he and the others had eaten for the midday meal. He had just thrown the bread to the ducks when his instincts became alerted. Turning on his heel he saw the twins pounding towards him, looking very feral. Before he could determine an escape route the twins were upon him. They tackled him to the ground and then grabbed an arm and leg each and hoisted him into the pond.

Faramir came up spluttering in the waist deep water. The twins stood laughing with huge smirks on their faces until they saw the feral glint in Faramir’s eyes. Raising his hand and before the twins could escape, a blue bolt of energy pulled the elves into the water with him. When they came up spluttering, it was to the laughter and chortles of the others who had heard the commotion and came to see the show.

Faramir held out a hand to each twin, which they both eyed with suspicion before shrugging and taking hold. The Steward hoisted them to their feet and the very wet trio made their way back to dry land. The twins gulped when they saw Gandalf standing before them, glaring, but before the wizard could do or say anything everyone’s attention was diverted by a familiar elven call.

“Finrod!” Legolas greeted the Mirkwood elf.

Finrod’s eyebrow almost took flight at the sight of the sopping twins and human before he turned his attention back to Aragorn, looking at him intently.

“You have found Saruman,” Aragorn discerned by the intent, feral glint in the elf’s eyes.

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