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 6

“Lord Elrond led his sons and Imrahil to the apartments that he shared with the twins. Opening the door he motioned his sons to precede him and the Prince. Imrahil had to bite the inside of his cheek in an effort to keep his expression stern as the sons of Elrond sidled warily past their father and into the sitting room, keeping their backsides away from their father’s obviously long reach.

In a manner identical to that of his human son earlier in the evening, Lord Elrond pointed at the twins and then to the chairs arranged around the fireplace in an unspoken order for the elves to sit. The twins sat as instructed still eying their father warily. The so far silent interaction between the elf and his sons indicated to Imrahil that the reserved elven Lord was an elf of ‘action’ as well as words.

Lord Elrond looked intently at each twin in turn, noting their wary expressions, pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes and began a gentle massaging movement as if trying to temper a headache, a gesture that, interestingly, elicited winces from his sons.

“Please do not be harsh with Arwen, ada,” Elladan began in a rush.

“… she did not want to come,” Elrohir continued, the words all but tumbling out.

“… at first,”

“… she argued,”

“…. that it was not,”

“… seemly,”

“… but we,”

“… convinced her,”

“… to come,”

“… we did not,”

“… expect trouble,”

“… and if,”

“… it had,”

“… not,”

“… been,”

“… for that,”

“… dumb,”

“… blond,”

“… ox of a,”

“… Rohirrim,”

“… mistaking Legolas,”

“… for a she-elf,”

“… and making,”

“… a pass at him,”

“… not once,”

“… but twice…,” Elrohir said as he and Elladan looked up at their father. Both twins gulped on seeing their father’s raised eyebrow and realising that their panicked speech was getting them nowhere.

“… We are,”

“… sorry,”

“… ada,” they both finished together with identical expressions of contriteness.

Imrahil had stood transfixed during the twins’ panicked explanations, marvelling at how the sons of Elrond were able to maintain the thread of the conversation flawlessly with only a word or three being uttered by either one of them at any one time. He could see by the expression of scepticism with which Elrond graced the panicked young elves that he was not buying what the twins were attempting to sell in the way of explanations.

“Rohirrim aside, ions-nin,” Elrond said, glaring at his sons anew, “Arwen should not have been in that alehouse and you, as her older brothers, although I use that term loosely for you may be older in years but ever it seems lack for maturity, should have displayed more sense. I am thankful that the Sheriff had enough wherewithal to summon Faramir and thank Adrahil for his grandson’s deviousness if not for the young one’s temper, meaning no disrespect to your sire Prince Imrahil,” Elrond added with an apologetic glance at the Prince.

“None taken, my friend. My father has been called much worse by those who tried to out-sneak the old fox, my brother-by-law included and he did have a temper that bred true,” Imrahil replied with an affectionate smile as he remembered his much beloved father, his fiery sister and her foxling.

“I want you both to fetch your hairbrushes. Now!” Elrond snapped when the twins stared at him in stunned horror.

“No please, ada,” the twins said as one.

“Either your hairbrushes or I go and fetch ‘Faramir’s Bane’. The choice is yours,” Elrond replied sternly.

Elladan looked as if he was going to argue the point but before he could Elrohir dragged his twin towards their room.

“I do not know about you but I would rather not face that… that… ‘thing’ again,” Elrohir admonished his brother in a harsh whisper as he dragged his twin into their sleeping chamber.

Elrond and Imrahil exchanged a rueful look.

“They appear to be quite the handful?” Imrahil said as he watched the twins disappear through the door.

“Always,” Elrond replied with a weary sigh. “Although Elrohir does show a modicum of good sense… on occasion”

“Yes, I noticed. Takes after his mother does he?” Imrahil asked in the same conversational tone that he had used earlier.

Elrond turned to the Prince of Dol Amroth gracing him with his most lordly raised eyebrow.

“I am certain that not all the stories your father told you were accurate,” Elrond replied after several long moments appraising the Prince.

“Just the greater proportion, I would suspect,” Imrahil said in the same calm, well-inflected tone that showed the Prince’s familial relationship to the Steward of Gondor.

“Cheekiness, I see, has also bred true in Adrahil’s line, mellon-nin,” the elven Lord admonished mildly but with a hint of humour in his eyes.

Imrahil smiled but resumed a stern expression quickly when the twins re-entered the room, both holding lethal looking works of elven art in the form of large, ornate silver hairbrushes.

“I will see to Elrohir’s punishment. If you would be so kind as to see to Elladan’s, mellon-nin?” Elrond asked, smiling to himself at Elrohir’s look of relief and Elladan’s look of horror.

“With pleasure, my friend,” Imrahil replied, with an emphasis on the word pleasure, as he crooked a finger at the suddenly wary Elladan to follow him into the next room.

Glaring at his father who remained impassive except for a raised eyebrow, daring his son to say anything, Elladan sighed wanly in defeat finally, before following Prince Imrahil into the next room.

The Lord of Rivendell walked over to a chair with no arms that was situated in the far corner of the room, moved the chair to a space near the centre of the room and sat down upon its seat. He held out a hand for the hairbrush Elrohir still held. Elrohir walked over to his father silently and handed over the hairbrush reluctantly.

“You were not too harsh with Arwen, were you, ada?” Elrohir asked tentatively.

“Nay, I was not, ion-nin, although your sister did feel my displeasure firmly upon her posterior,” Elrond replied sternly. “I do credit Arwen with having more sense than her brothers though and understand that she is feeling somewhat bound at the moment and thus gave in to temptation. Now to your chastisement, ion-nin,” the elven Lord added.

With a resigned sigh, Elrohir loosened the ties of his leggings, pushed them down to his knees and lowered himself over his ada’s lap. Elrond wasted no time in beginning the chastisement, landing several stinging slaps with the substantial elven brush before Elrohir found breath enough to gasp. The elder elf continued a blistering pace, concentrating first on one of the younger elf’s buttocks and then the other. Elrohir’s gasps turned in quick order to whimpers and then to sobs interspersed eventually with howls. Elrond moved his attention to his son’s thighs. Even through his own sobbing and howling, Elrohir was aware of his brother’s howls coming from the next room.

Leggings also pushed down to his knees exposing his vulnerable posterior, Elladan lay over Prince Imrahil’s lap having his arse well and truly chastised. The Dol Amroth Prince was keeping a keen ear open to what he could hear happening in the other room so that he could keep pace with Lord Elrond. And what a pace that was turning out to be, Imrahil thought as he moved between Elladan’s buttocks and thighs so that each area would have received equal share of the punishment by its end. The young elf was fully sobbing and howling as loud as his brother by the time the chastisement did end. Not able to help himself, Imrahil landed two extra whacks to Elladan’s posterior for the trouble he had caused Faramir, as he recognised in the young elf the ring leader who had led his sister astray. Ending the chastisement, Imrahil dropped the brush on the floor and allowed the young one to voice his distress as he rubbed the elf’s back in gently soothing motions.

“All is forgiven, young one,” Imrahil crooned as he pulled up the Elladan’s leggings and gathered the still sobbing son of Elrond into his arms, careful not to add to the pain in elf’s posterior.

“I am… sorry… we got Faramir… into trouble,” Elladan gasped out between hitched breaths.

“My foxling is well capable of getting himself into trouble, young one. I am sure he would have managed to do so eventually, with or without your assistance. Although, I would have wished that one day between bouts of trouble could have been achieved,” Imrahil replied, eliciting a small smile from the son of Elrond. Imrahil was surprised and honoured that the young elf, so much older than he, accepted his comforting him. “I think we should see how your brother is faring, young one,” Imrahil said as he stood and with his arm around Elladan’s shoulders, guided the elf into the other room where they found Elrond cuddling an equally contrite elf.

Elrond looked up and gave Elladan a sympathetic smile, gesturing with his arm for his son to come and receive a hug. In the blink of an eye the Lord of Rivendell’s arms were full of repentant elflings, both repeating that they were sorry and both seeking reassurances from their ada. Elrond and Imrahil shared another rueful look and smile as the prince leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching the scene with amusement. Both were parents and both knew that the sons of Elrond would again find trouble but hopefully not for a day or two.

Thranduil led his nervous son to the apartments that they shared, located with the group of apartments belonging to the Steward in the King and Steward’s private wing of the palace. As had the Elrondion twins with their ada, the Mirkwood prince kept a wary eye on his ada as he walked past him and into the sitting room whilst also attempting to appear as contrite as possible.

Thranduil entered after his son and closed the door behind him. Leaning back against the door the elven King tried to maintain a stern expression but was unable to hide the twinkle of humour in his eyes. Unable to contain himself any longer, Thranduil, still using the door as support, doubled over placing his hands on his knees and burst out into heartfelt laughter that persisted so long that Legolas’ expression turned slightly affronted, although still somewhat wary.

“Oh, my elfling!” the elder elf gasped out as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “Whilst I can understand that your pride, considerable as it is and for that I can blame no other than myself as it is my pride that you inherited, had indeed been bruised severely, you, my young prince, are going to have to learn restraint. As Mithrandir would point out to you, you cannot throw humans around willy, nilly,” the elven King said waving his about in the air mimicking the White Wizard, “no matter how annoyed or provoked you may be. You are most fortunate that the Rohirrim concerned landed amidst the dwarves, thus avoiding a heavy injury.”

“Aye, ada,” Legolas replied contritely although he could not help but smile a little ruefully at the truth of his father’s words even though he knew that he was still going to have his arse blistered.

“And to the more serious matter of Arwen. Did you at least argue that it was not a good idea for the Queen of Gondor to visit a questionable drinking establishment unbeknownst the King of Gondor?” Thranduil asked as he pinned his son with a glare and already suspecting the answer.

“Nay, ada,” the elf replied in a whisper as he looked at the floor, his head lowered.

“Alright, my elfling,” Thranduil said as he walked over to the desk situated in front of glass windows that led out onto a balcony overlooking a private garden, grabbed the chair sitting behind the desk and moved it to a space at the side of the desk, whereupon he sat down. “Mayhap a sharp lesson applied to your posterior will help your reasoning in future.”

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