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 51

Faramir watched until the last of the Swan Knights disappeared from view, the faint sense of dread lingering still. He turned away eventually, only to receive a murderous glare from the King of Rohan before the man turned on his heel and stalked off, away from the palace. Sighing mightily, for what felt like the umpteenth time that day and it was not even noonday, Faramir looked over at his ada whose eyes were twinkling with suppressed humour, although the elven King did manage to look somewhat sympathetic. Smiling inwardly, Thranduil walked over to his human son and pulled the despondent young man into a much-needed hug. Legolas and Maglor stood near, the rest of those gathered having moved on.

“I do not find this whole situation in the least bit humorous, ada,” Faramir grouched softly, causing his elven brother to smirk and his ada to smile more broadly at his Seneschal. Neither smirk nor smile could, thankfully, as it would have added insult to injury, be seen by the Steward who had his face buried in his ada’s shoulder. “I can feel you laughing, ada,” he added, his quiet voice bordering on whining.

“I am sorry, ion-nin,” soothed the elven King. “But the thought of your brother, who is a ghost, and your familiar, a very… unusual spider of Mirkwood, allied against the King of Rohan has tickled my sense of the ridiculous.

Faramir groaned into his ada’s shoulder, eliciting a chuckle from the elven King and a tightening of his embrace. Sighing again, he disengaged from the embrace and gave his ada such a put-upon look before turning towards the palace that Thranduil could not help but put his arm around his son’s shoulders as they walked up the stairs that led into the palace.

Already feeling melancholic with no end in sight, Faramir decided that he may as well tackle what could prove a very awkward subject with his young familiar, a subject that he had been putting off but could no longer as his departure loomed.

Misto, as expected, was ensconced in his web in a corner of the main sleeping chamber near Faramir’s bed, still hissing and grumbling to himself as he watched his sleeping kitten, which was in a basket attached to the web.

“Well, little one,” Faramir said in a conversational tone. “You are full of surprises.” Misto’s hissing and grumbling, whilst decreasing in volume, did not cease completely. “I think you should stay in Minas Tirith,” he said finally.

The quiet hissing and grumbling ceased abruptly.

“Not ssstaaayy!” Misto hissed adamantly.

“Who will look after your very young kitten?” Faramir reasoned, hoping that blackmail, emotional or otherwise, worked as effectively on spiders as it did on certain humans and elves of his acquaintance. Unfortunately for the Steward, it did not.

“Aaarwennn said would,” Misto replied without a moment’s hesitation.

“You asked the Queen to care for your kitten?” Faramir queried eyebrows raised, his surprise evident.

“Yessss,” Misto replied with a look that Faramir could have sworn indicated quite distinctly that his young familiar thought he was stating the bleedingly obvious.

“I may not be able to protect you, little one,” said Faramir, trying a different tact. “You have no armament.”

Misto jumped out of his web, careful not to disturb Naurfin Squee, and crouched down beside the bed. He had grown so much that he was no longer able to scurry under the bed easily, even though the bed was a good distance from the floor. Utilising several of his legs, the young spider pulled out pieces of metal, with long strips of leather attached and separate pieces of leather with ties, from under the bed.

Faramir stood in stunned amazement. From the shape of the pieces of worked metal and the location of the strips of leather attached, he discerned the purpose as being armament for a spider. The pieces would fit over the spider’s abdomen and parts of his legs with the strips of leather securing the leather in place and allow for growth, something that showed no indication of stopping anytime soon; much to Faramir’s dismay. Other pieces of leather with ties, not attached to metal, looked as if they would cover portions of the spider’s legs.

“How did you…? Who did…?” Faramir stammered, at a loss for words as he bent down to pick up a piece of the worked metal, impressed by the workmanship.

“Giiimmmliii made,” Misto replied excitedly.

“I will have to remember to thank the little bugg… Master Gimli,” said Faramir, through gritted teeth, although he was impressed with the light but surprisingly strong metal, evidence of the dwarf’s abilities with working metal. “And have you, perchance, thought about how you will get to Minas Morgul? You are too large to ride double on a horse.”

“Foood Waagoonn,” Misto replied without hesitation.

“And who’s idea was that little one?” Faramir asked.

“Brrrommm,” Misto answered with the utmost satisfaction and not a little awe at Brom’s intelligence.

“I should have guessed,” Faramir sighed as he sat down on his bed, shaking his head in defeat. “I do not like it, little one, but I will not stop you from coming.”

“As if you could… stop him that is, little brother,” came Boromir’s voice from the rafters, causing Faramir to start and then to sigh yet again. He suspected that the trip to Minas Morgul would prove a tiresome one, filled with dark glares from the King of Rohan and constant vigilance necessary to subvert any plotting by his ghostly brother and familiar against said glaring King.

The rest of the day went very quickly for the Steward, filled as it was with last minute preparations for the journey to Minas Morgul.

The meal that evening was a subdued affair. Present were those closest to the King and Queen. Lord Elrond and Imrahil were in attendance. It had been agreed that both would remain in Minas Tirith to assist the Queen in running the day-to-day affairs of the city as well as deal with any military and intelligence matters arising. Their presence would also ensure that the more ambitious councillors were reined in, more for the councillors’ protection than Arwen’s Aragorn had reasoned facetiously as the councillors had yet to deal with a vexed she-elf. The Queen’s guard, a company of hand picked seasoned soldiers, were also to remain in the city to protect the queen.

Also in attendance were Gandalf, Faramir, Amrothos, Gimli, Legolas, Finrod, Maglor, Thranduil, the twins and a very foreboding looking Éomer. All, with the exception of Finrod, were to leave Minas Tirith with the rest of the army on the morrow. Finrod’s orders were to take a couple of Ithilien Rangers, handpicked by Faramir, meet up with Radagast and his previous travelling companion, the Ithilien Ranger known only as Lieutenant, as he hated his name with a passion and would not divulge it to anyone, who had remained with the brown wizard when Finrod had returned to Minas Tirith with information about Saruman’s location. The Mirkwood elf would ride out ahead of the army to a predetermined meeting point near Minas Morgul, where he would look for ranger signs and wait for contact to be made by the ranger. After gaining the latest intelligence from the wizard and lieutenant he would rendezvous with the troops at another predetermined location.

Finrod was looking forward to meeting up again with his ranger friend to see if he had survived the rather whimsical, and at times, downright scatterbrained, brown wizard. The twins had wanted to accompany Finrod but one quelling look from Maglor was enough to change their minds, much to the amusement of Elrond.

Misto, although he should have been in his web, was watching his mama and the others from the rafters, still holding his kitten close. Faramir knew that his familiar was disobeying his orders, but turned a blind eye in this instance, in the light of what they were about to face.

Throughout the meal, Éomer stole disapproving glances at Faramir who he seemed to blame for his morning predicament, making the young Steward uncomfortable. It would have continued if not for Maglor who produced ‘Faramir’s Bane’ from what appeared to be thin air, and letting Éomer see the glaringly red implement when he judged others would not see. Éomer got the message and the meal passed without further dark looks from the King of Rohan at the Steward of Gondor.

At the conclusion of the quiet meal, all parties repaired to their beds as all had an early start in the morning and most a long journey ahead of them.

Early the next morning the courtyard in front of the palace was filled with humans, elves, wizard and dwarf.

Imrahil embraced both his fox cubs about the shoulders, pulling them close.

“Heed me, cubs,” he began, showing just how much strength was apparent still in the elder Swan Knight. Both Faramir and Amrothos felt very constricted in the iron grip. “You will both do your utmost to control your tempers. You will both refrain from haring off into danger and you will both heed the advice of your elders. Have I made myself perfectly clear?” he concluded in such a tone as to make both cubs blush furiously, blushes that deepened when they both caught sight of Boromir, standing with his arms crossed and a huge smirk dominating his expression.

“As crystal, uncle,” muttered Faramir at the same time as his cousin mumbled, “Aye, father.”

“Good, because if you do not you will face me when you return and I can assure you both that you do not want to do that!” said Imrahil, tightening his hold on both of them. “Now, be off with you and for Arda’s sake, take care.”

Faramir and Amrothos walked over to where a young soldier, who was trying very hard not to smile at the Prince of Dol Amroth’s admonishment, was holding the reins of several horses, theirs included.

“Do not worry, mellon-nin” Thranduil reassured the Swan Knight. “Be assured that we will all keep a very close rein on both cubs.” The number of heads nodding that they would indeed be keeping a watchful eye on both men, made the cubs blush again, quite endearingly, as they mounted their respective horses.

Aragorn hugged his ada and then his wife, kissing her deeply, before walking to where the horses were waiting. He mounted his horse and waited for the others embarking on the journey to mount theirs.

The twins farewelled their ada and sister, but not before getting a similar warning from Lord Elrond as both Faramir and Amrothos had received from Prince Imrahil. The twins assisted Gimli onto Legolas’ horse before mounting their own. Gandalf, Maglor, Thranduil and Éomer mounted their horses in quick order.

Misto, utilising several of his legs in holding a basket and his kitten and his armament in a bag, scuttled over to Arwen and held out both the basket and kitten to the Queen who took both, holding the kitten close.

“I will take good care of him, tithen-pen,” soothed Arwen upon seeing how upset the young spider appeared. “You go look after your mama.”

Misto turned and followed the company as they made their way slowly out of the courtyard and down the levels of the city.

It seemed as if the entire citizenry of the White City were on the streets to farewell and bless the riders on their dangerous journey. Entreaties for their safe and speedy return could be heard echoing through the crowds.

Both Aragorn and Faramir were singled out for special blessings as both were loved by the citizens; Aragorn partly due to his station but Faramir because he had been beloved of the city from the moment he had taken his first breath, a mere scrap of a infant. His compassion, his caring and non-judgemental nature, even as a child, had ensured that this son of Gondor had a special place in the hearts of the populace.

Even Misto, who scurried at the side of his mama holding his bag of armaments, was cheered on by the citizens, even though he sent shudders down those with an aversion to spiders, for they knew how protective he was of their beloved Steward.

At the lowest level of the city, the company rode through the gates, recently restored to their former glory by dwarven skill, and out onto the plain where the troops from Gondor, Dol Amroth and Rohan were gathered. A mighty cheer went up from the troops when they saw the King of Gondor and their respective leaders. The company rode to the front of the cheering troops, and in the stirring voice of a man used to command Aragorn gave the order to ride forth. Thus began their journey to Minas Mogul to face the gathered might of Saruman.

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