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 43

The orphanage was located on the fourth level of the city, much to the annoyance of certain members of the nobility who did not like the idea of having the poor and dispossessed – commonly referred to as ‘street rats’ – living near where they resided also. The orphanage had been located originally in a disused, dilapidated, damp and dingy warehouse in the industrial quarter of the first level and had been there for many years. One of the first things Faramir did after he was confirmed as Steward, having surrendered the White Rod of the Stewardship only to have it handed straight back by the King, was to have the orphanage moved to a mansion on the fourth level that had refurbishment completed only recently. Prior to the War of the Ring, Faramir had purchased the mansion unbeknownst to Denethor who believed that his brother-by-law Imrahil had purchased it, which indeed he had but with his nephew’s money and, unbeknownst to Faramir, a fair amount of his own money, for the purp!
oses of relocating the orphanage. Faramir knew that the council and indeed his father would have refused him permission to move the orphanage but had hoped at the time that Boromir would have been able to sway their father and thus the council. Unfortunately, the war took over and Faramir’s plans and the completion of the refurbishment and relocation were delayed.

There were many orphans left in the wake of the War of the Ring and in particular the Siege of Minas Tirith. Faramir was determined that the orphaned children of the city would be housed, fed, clothed, educated and treated with dignity, something that had not been afforded them except through the limited resources that he, Boromir and some of the wealthier inhabitants could muster and the more larcenous of them, steal; something at which Boromir, surprisingly, proved exceedingly adept. The Steward had engaged the services of Gimli and his resident dwarven brethren in completing the refurbishment. When Gimli discovered what the mansion was to be used for, he pulled out all stops and he and his fellow dwarves completed the refurbishment in an amazingly short period of time but with no reduction in quality.

The King and Queen had both been appalled when Faramir had taken them to visit the orphanage on the first level not long after they had been wed and they witnessed for themselves the conditions in which the children lived. Their regret turned to joy when Faramir showed them through the refurbished mansion. When Aragorn found out from Imrahil that Faramir had used his own funds to purchase and restore the mansion, he reimbursed his Steward from public monies, much to the annoyance of certain nobleman. Some of the councillors, those that had served on the council when Denethor was Steward, maintained that Gondor could not afford such lavish accommodation for what amounted to street rats and if the Steward was idiotic enough to pay for such lavish accommodation then more fool him. Faramir’s eyes widened, not at the slight aimed at him for he would have expected nothing else from his father’s old cronies but at the use of the term ‘street rats’. He exchanged a knowing smirk with!
Imrahil and both just sat back in their seats to enjoy the fireworks and it was not long in coming. Aragorn exploded into a ranting rage, which took the councillors aback for it was the first time they had been privy to the King’s temper. Aragorn waxed lyrical on the subject of so called ‘street rats’ telling the councillors, in no uncertain terms, that if Lord Elrond had not taken him in when his father Arathorn had been killed, he would have been a ‘street rat’. Needless to say the councillors acceded grudgingly, knowing that the King had right of veto anyway and not wanting to risk being any further entrenched on his bad side.

So the children were moved to the new premises where they had cleaner and warmer sleeping conditions, a well equipped school both academic and vocational, open to the poorer children of the city also, and safe surrounds in which to play. Faramir devoted whatever time he could, time reduced unfortunately since discovering that he was a wizard, to visit the children and observe for himself if they continued to be well cared for. He had been forced on two occasions to release staff members from duty for negligence and abuse.

Faramir arrived at the front gates leading into the orphanage in the company of his ada, Maglor, Legolas, Gimli, who had decided to join them when he discovered where they were headed when he spied them leaving the palace, Amrothos and Misto with his kitten riding on his back. Many of the children were out in the yard playing, having just finished their midday meal. The children went into a frenzy when they saw Faramir accompanied by his cousin, elves, a dwarf and Misto, enter through the gates. As one, they swarmed towards the Steward, laughing and shouting in delight, to the amusement of their adult carers who were watching them from the steps that led up into the entrance of the house. The children showed no fear of Misto as they had seen the spider grow from a hatchling, as the young spider had accompanied his mama on previous visits.

The Steward ran a critical eye over the children as he lowered his mental shields, looking for any signs that not all was well. When all appeared fine he relaxed, smiling indulgently at the children who were all vying for his attention. As Faramir eyed the children, Thranduil observed his human son, once again marvelling at how well Boromir knew his little brother. The Faramir he was seeing now, smiling, laughing and more importantly relaxed, he would do all in his power to see become his son’s normal everyday persona.

The elven King felt a tug at his tunic and looked down to see the same young female child, sister to one of the palace servants, who had been used as bait to lure Faramir away from his family and into the hands of the Orcs and Haradrim.

“Hello, tithen pen,” he greeted as he crouched down beside the child only to have small arms wrap around his neck and a kiss planted squarely on his cheek, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Faramir and a blush from the elf.

Legolas chuckled, explaining how their ada and the child had met, when in search of a certain stubborn, wayward little brother who had decided to go off on a hare without telling anyone. Faramir had the grace to blush. Several children surrounded Misto and his kitten. The young spider allowed the children to pet and hold his kitten but was ever vigilant that they did so carefully.

“Wot’s his name?” asked a boy with black hair and blue-grey eyes.

“Not know,” Misto replied truthfully for he had not thought to name the kitten.

“Do any of you have a suggestion?” Faramir asked.

“Shasta,” said a little girl with a blue ribbon in her hair.

“Squee” another girl, with ginger curls, squealed, laughing,

“Ginger”, the smallest boy suggested.

“Naurfin. It means fire hair in Elfish,” the young girl that had given Thranduil a kiss on the cheek, said shyly.

“Well, what do you think, Misto?” Faramir asked.

“Naurfin Ssssqueeee,” Misto said, liking the sounds.

The children laughed, bringing smiles to the faces of the adults present.

The afternoon passed very pleasantly. The children managed to pull the human cousins, elves and dwarf into their play. Amrothos marvelled at how much enthusiasm the elves and dwarf showed for play despite their many thousands and in the case of Gimli hundreds of years on Middle Earth. The two fox-haired cousins, despite the elder having very sore hindquarters, and elves proved very adept at the local version of football and Gimli at horsehoes. Misto proved very good at ‘chasings’ and ‘catchings’ having so many legs and eyes.

During a lull in the football game, Faramir stood back, leaning against the trunk of a large oak tree, and watched as the children played. Gimli walked over and stood beside him.

“It is a credit to ye, laddie. The young laddies and lasses are so happy here,” Gimli praised, voice gruff with emotion.

“I could do no other, my friend. Each one of them has a story to tell. Each one has lost so much and each one so deserving of love,” Faramir lamented quietly.

“And so do ye and did ye, laddie,” Gimli said softly.

Faramir had no time to answer as he found himself taken down, literally, by several of the children, at Amrothos’ instigation. He landed on his rump, almost letting out a howl of pain, causing Amrothos and Legolas to wince in sympathy. At Amrothos’ urging the children began to tickle the Steward of Gondor mercilessly, coaching them on the places his cousin was most ticklish. Faramir tried to squirm away from the insistent tickles, laughing and trying to catch his breath. Laughing the children stopped finally, allowing the Steward to breathe. He sat up, cross-legged, and sent a mock glare towards the children surrounding him, causing several of the children to giggle. He was quite taken aback when the child who had kissed his ada on the cheek, put her arms around his neck.

“Love you, thank you,” she smiled, bringing tears to the Steward’s eyes.

Suddenly, Faramir found himself in the centre of a group hug as the children repeated the words of love and appreciation.

Maglor, recognising that his young charge’s emotions were just about to spill over, distracted the children and guided them away from Faramir with the assistance of Gimli and Amrothos to begin another game. Thranduil held out his hand to Faramir and hauled him to his feet and into a hug, which the young man returned.

“I love you, ada,” he said in a hoarse whisper, filled with emotion.

Thranduil held his trembling human son until the wave of emotion passed and the trembling ceased, exchanging a rueful look with his elfling which bespoke of the hope that Faramir accepted in his heart finally, the love that was his due.

Legolas put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, squeezing it in unspoken support. Faramir, still in the embrace of his ada, put his hand up to his shoulder and over his brother’s hand. Unseen by the trio was Boromir, sitting high up in the tree under which they were standing, looking down upon the touching

Relieved that the children were being welled cared for, Faramir and the others bid the children farewell and left for the palace to prepare for the evening’s feast in honour of the King of Rohan and accompanying Rohirrim.

After bathing and changing into formal attire, Faramir, with Misto and Naurfin in tow, Thranduil, Legolas and Maglor left the Steward’s apartments for the Grand Hall where the feast was to be held. On the way to the hall, they were met by the King of Rohan, Aragorn, Arwen, Elrond and Imrahil as they emerged from a drawing room where they had been entertaining the young King.

Aragorn looked at his Steward intently, seeing how he fared after the chastisement he knew Faramir had received from Thranduil that morning and the one that Imrahil had told him, having been told by Amrothos, was given him by, of all people… er ghosts, Boromir. The look on his face when he heard that piece of information must have been truly comical for his ada had told him to close his mouth as it was unseemly for the King of Gondor to be imitating a fish out of water. Though to be fair to the King of Gondor, the Lord of Rivendell looked somewhat shocked as well.

Éomer also looked at the Steward intently, not to ascertain his wellbeing but as one would appraise an opponent. His frown, always formidable, deepened as Faramir’s expression became more closed. The Rohirrim’s eyes widened slightly and he paled a little. Faramir’s expression turned somewhat bemused at the strange behaviour. He could see Aragorn rolling his eyes, what looked suspiciously like a twitch tugging at the corner of Elrond’s and Arwen’s mouths and open amusement in his uncle’s eyes. He turned on his heels abruptly only to see the three Mirkwood elves with their boot-knives drawn, being used seemingly to clean their nails and each with a feral ‘Mirkwood glint’ to their eyes.

Faramir threw his head back and laughed, the same musical laughter that always brought smiles to those who heard it, with the exception in this instance of the King of Rohan who was still looked at the elves; somewhat warily.

“Oh subtlety, thy name is certainly not wood-elf,” Faramir said with affectionate exasperation at the trio. “And I love you all dearly,” he sighed quietly, before turning back to the King of Rohan.

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