Kindred Spirits (5/7) - fanfiction
Hello again, gentle readers! I’m hugging all of you who have chosen to comment and remind Le Muse and I that we’re not forgotten. And I hate to have to deliver this news after thanking you for your kindness, but I need to leave a gentle reminder of what I said at the outset of this tale - KS remains incomplete. There’s one chapter left after this and a shorter unfinished one after that. And then, kaput! I mean, honest, it just ends. (With a literal whimper.) If Le Muse can discover her inspiration again, and if I can find a moment in my so-called “leisure-time” (other than to just keep my head above water,) I might actually be able to write for fun again. But until then, my dearest fledglings, be once again forewarned: we are fast approaching the end of our little journey. And, oh, how I wish I didn’t have to tell you that. :(
Faramir, Devon and Gwinthorian join forces for an adventure and court Certain Doom.
Thank you, Kat, for being my constant companion year after year, the one I turn to for calm, sage advice and the bestest beta in all the land. I'm so fortunate in you.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. This story is not meant to violate the rights held by New Line, Tolkien Enterprises, nor any other licensee, nor is any disrespect intended. I don’t own Tolkien’s original characters, however, my OC’s, Gwinthorian, Garrick, Devon and several other Rangers are exclusively my own.
Chapter one is here.
Chapter two is here.
Chapter three is here.
Chapter four is here.
Kindred Spirits(5/7)
by Larrkin
"Be at ease, Gwin," I told him. "I shan't allow Devon to murder you."
"You are reserving that honor for yourself, Hal?"
When Gwinthorian is about to be spanked it sometimes soothes him to become impertinent, showing me, or rather himself, how brave he is in the face of certain doom. As long as Gwinthorian is soothed by it, I let him chatter. I silently gripped his upper arm and continued down the tunnel, escorting him to the chamber I had chosen for us earlier today.
"Henneth Annûn is like a rabbit warren," Damrod had said whilst showing us around the caverns. "Tunnels and chambers everywhere. You are welcome to choose what chamber you will. You shall have complete privacy. There will be none here save us, so our three can be as loud as they like." He paused, then added with a wry grin, "'Tis unlikely they can cause a cave-in."
Only a small number of Rangers had occupied the cave itself, as it was so well guarded from the outside. But Damrod had cleared the premises today, sending the men who were there out on patrol and keeping a few in reserve to greet their returning captain. If Faramir found no one here he would become alarmed and know that something was amiss.
"He is surely planning to show them the falls at sunset," Damrod had said this morning. "Given their position last night and the pace at which they are moving they should arrive here at just the right time."
"Well, gentlemen," Aragorn said, "we have given them enough rope to hang themselves, and hang themselves they have. But they have also come a long way and risked much. Shall we allow them to enjoy the fruits of their labors, whether or not they deserve it?"
We had all agreed to let them see the falls ere we confronted them.
"How far into this dank mountain are you taking me?" Gwin now demanded.
"I understand your impatience," I said with a calm that would infuriate him, "but be at peace. We are nearly there."
"I am not impatient!"
"I should think you would be grateful. The further in we go the less likely it is that the others will hear your wails. I was careful to choose a suitable chamber."
"Suitable chamber indeed," Gwin muttered. "I see nothing remarkable about any of these dismal rooms. We have passed several and they all looked the same to me."
"I look with a more discerning eye," I told him, and before Gwin could offer a smart retort I said, "Ah. We are here."
I steered him inside the chamber and gave him a moment to glance around. I had chosen this place for a particular reason, particular at least for me. To the left lay a shelving of rock that bore an amazing resemblance to the one in our Ranger cave in the Ettenmoors. I rather wished Aragorn had followed me in here earlier out of curiosity. His expression would have been something to see. Gwinthorian's certainly was.
Even when he knows he has a spanking coming Gwin is often startled when the time has come to receive it. I thought it good of me to fold my cloak and place it there upon the rock shelf, ready to support his golden head, but when my elfling saw it he pulled away, braced his legs and gasped out his small distressed 'ulp!'
I had been more than patient thus far, but the sooner we got on with this the better it would be for both of us. I picked Gwin up and carried his small, stiffly resisting body over to my rock ledge where I sat and turned him over my knee, pulling him close and wrapping my hand around his side. "I understand your need to struggle, Gwinthorian," I said, pulling his breeches down to his boots. "However, I am in no mood to scuffle with you." And I brought my hand down on Gwin's pale pretty backside.
He sucked a sharp breath and his body went rigid. I smacked down again, as firmly as I had the first time, my 'pay attention' opening spanks that always left Gwin, or Aragorn, or whoever was over my knee, breathless. By the third swat Gwinthorian had recovered his ability to breathe, and, consequently, his ability to make sounds.
"AHHH-Hal! Toooo, harrrrrrrAHHH!"
"Aye, Gwinthorian. I know. I spank too hard," I said, continuing to do so. "I shall needs learn to live with your disapproval."
"Why do you always start so big?" he had once asked me, his post-spanking muddled way of saying, 'why must you begin a spanking with such a profound degree of intensity?'
"I do not 'always' begin so, Gwinling."
He pondered that, then: "When you do start big, why do you?"
"To capture your immediate attention."
"But I am already at attention, my Hal," he insisted. And when I grinned he muttered in his sulky voice, "You are vexed with me at first. Big vexed. So you spank big."
I lifted him and held him in front of me, looking directly into his glassy eyes. "Do you really believe that?" I asked, knowing that he did not. He winced and blushed and squirmed. "Gwinthorian. Am I ever angry with you?"
Having heard the answer to this countless times, he slowly shook his head. "Nay. Never angry with me. You are angry 'bout what I did. But you are still angry."
"Nay. I am not angry, sweetling, nor do I spank in anger."
The distinction had ever seemed to elude him. He had pouted gloriously and muttered, "Still too big, my Hal."
I watched him now, wriggling over my thighs. He'd earned not so much as a swat in over a week, so my 'too big' spanks would feel quite big indeed. I gave him a mere half dozen more, then I eased back to a steady pace and a normal strength that would allow me to give my elfling the good long spanking he deserved. But Gwin’s squirming and kicking quickly reached the point wherein I needed to stop and rearrange him. I picked him up and placed him over my left knee, closing his legs between mine. Then I grasped his wrists ere his hands became a problem and held them at the small of his back before continuing on.
Like Aragorn, Gwinthorian oft needed the comfort of total restraint. His opinion on the matter ever differed from mine and he chose to express his dissatisfaction by wailing, a familiar, “Nooo, Hal! Pleeease!” Hal indeed. Gwinthorian excels at wailing. I intended to make certain he had plenty of practice during the upcoming week.
"I would be happy to take over with Gwin for a day, Halbarad," Legolas had offered last evening. "Mayhap you will be glad of the time off."
"Hmm." I studied him, smiling inwardly at this princeling's bright-eyed eagerness. "Let me think on't."
I had yet to tell Legolas, but I planned to permit him a day in his kinsman's 'every other day for a week' sentence. It would be good for Gwin. He would of course pretend to be horrified and perhaps even challenge Legolas as he had before, knowing he could never best his prince, and ne’er really wanting to do so. Legolas would needs wait a few days, though. I wanted my elfling to myself for the first two spankings. When it was time for the third spanking I would let Legolas step in, the perfect time for Gwin to be in a difficult mood.
Of late my elfling had been working to conquer any hint of a difficult mood. Although outwardly polite and well-behaved and so cooperative he had the Rangers casting him sideways glances that suggested they feared a sudden explosion at any moment, Gwin had, in fact, been simmering with inner discontent since the morning Aragorn had sent Faramir and Devon to Osgiliath.
Two days before that morning Aragorn, Legolas, Faramir and Damrod had arrived in camp bringing Pippin and Frodo, the two little ones enjoying their first outing in a week after having commited a major offense for which a justifiably livid Aragorn had placed them under confinement in the Houses of Healing. Faramir, Frodo and Pippin joined Devon and Gwin whilst Aragorn, Legolas, Damrod and I stood at a distance, talking and glancing at the merry group of two halflings and three young Rangers.
"Gentlemen," Damrod said. "Something is in the wind."
"Aye, my friend," I agreed, watching Garrick approach and join us. "Mischief is surely brewing."
"I may have no Dúnedain gifts," Legolas murmured, "but e’en I feel it."
"We all feel it," Aragorn said. "The little ones are a distraction for now.”
“But,” I said, “those three young Rangers of ours are restless."
Aragorn gave me a somber look and nodded.
"Indeed," Garrick said. "They are aching to share in some roguery."
"And will do so ere long," Damrod added.
Aragorn said, "I say we grant them their wish." We looked at him.
"Give them plenty of rope?" Legolas asked.
Aragorn nodded. "Mmm. And see what they do with it." He turned a raised brow to Damrod.
"Aye," the lieutenant replied without being asked. "My men are yet posted around the city."
"So we shan't be taken unawares when they’re are ready to make their move," Aragorn said. He glanced my way, a whispered question in his eyes, and I nodded once, giving my silent approval.
We stood together quietly, watching the lively group stroll off, Frodo now riding on Devon's shoulders, Pippin riding on Gwinthorian’s and Faramir strolling between them.
"It cannot be interpreted as entrapment," Legolas said, answering some unseen critic.
"Nay, not at all, mellon nin," Aragorn said. "We are but allowing these young ones what they have been seeking."
"Time alone together," I said.
"What they choose to do with that time is up to them," Damrod said.
What they ended up choosing to do surprised us all. Two days later Aragorn sent Devon and Faramir to Osgiliath and that let the cork out of the bottle. Gwinthorian erupted with an inner tantrum, decided to become better behaved and hopefully build up his respectability, then struggled through a week of near intolerable good conduct.
The day after Gwin's long week Damrod's scouts, ever aware of Faramir's actions, reported that the three of them had been spotted talking together for some time in a place where none of them should have been. Several days later Faramir asked Aragorn's permission to return to Osgiliath with Devon for company, a request that should have re-ignited Gwin's temper along with some intensely wounded feelings.
But his shrugging reaction made clear that something was most assuredly afoot. My elfling acted suspiciously innocent the night before their escape, but I could sense nothing save an excitement he worked hard to conceal.
The next morning Garrick and I went off to meet with Thayer and several of the older Rangers and Gwin felt safe enough to make his move. Sometime later Farrell came to me. "You were right," he said. "He's gone. Took his mount, no saddle, and headed towards the Lossnarchian camp, presumably to throw anyone off his trail who might be watching. When he was almost there and evidently felt he'd stolen clean away, he turned his mount and raced off at a gallop towards Osgiliath. He's likely half-way there by now."
Give my elfling a little rope . . ..
Garrick and I headed for Minas Tirith. By the time we found Aragorn, Legolas and Boromir and told them of Gwinthorian's suspicious behavior, Damrod appeared with some news of his own. One of his men had reported in from Osgiliath: Faramir, Devon and Gwinthorian, cloaked and hooded, had left the battered city via a lesser-known gate and were now moving north on foot. All were wearing weapons and haversacks.
Having expected no more than some kind of local mischief, we were astonished and reluctant to believe these three would go to such an outrageous extreme. But it seemed plain that they were heading for North Ithilien, possibly even Henneth Annûn, a two day journey on foot. The episode with Faramir and his brother in Osgiliath's sewers had not dulled the boy's longing to visit his stronghold in Ithilien, nor to prove himself fit enough to do so. And, although Faramir was well known for his elegant powers of persuasion, we knew that it would not have taken much to convince Devon and Gwinthorian to join him.
This was more than anyone had expected of our three. But they were ambitious lads feeding off each other’s yearning for a taste of freedom and adventure and sharing amongst them a precarious combination of high spirits and a deplorable lack of good judgment.
"My men are ready," Damrod said. "There is but one path Faramir will follow, his favorite route. Our Rangers will move through the forest, some flanking them from a distance, some taking watch points further along the remainder of the way for tomorrow's leg of the journey. Our runaways shan't be alone."
"Gwinthorian will hear them," I said. "Regardless of how silently your men move, he will hear them."
"Aye, he might hear something," Aragorn said. "The random clink of a weapon, perhaps the fall of footsteps, but he will not know what to think of it."
"His companions will hear nothing, though," Legolas said, plainly feeling troubled for his kinsman. "It will drive Gwin mad."
"Aye, it will provoke him," I said, imagining my Gwin's frustration all too well. "But they shall needs find a way to settle that between them."
Aragorn gave Legolas a reassuring smile and said, "I have every faith they will, mellon nin."
At this point Boromir decided he had been silent long enough. Having been told he must remain at Minas Tirith, the Steward of Gondor now staged some determined big brotherly resistance to the order.
"I'm going with you," he declared. Damrod, Legolas and Aragorn turned to him with looks that made him blink, but Boromir's strong jaw tightened and his frown deepened and he announced, "I am. I'm going, too. That's final."
"Nay, Boromir," Aragorn said. "You shall remain here."
Depending on the circumstances the Steward could work himself into an agitated state fairly quickly, and as this matter concerned his beloved little brother Boromir appeared to be but moments away from a tantrum that would rival what any one of our escaped bratlings could present.
"Aragorn, be reasonable!" he said in a hushed angry tone. Damrod raised a brow. "You cannot ask me to stay here!"
"I do not ask it, sir," Aragorn said, quiet and in control. "I demand it. You shall remain in the city. Those are my orders."
"But he's my little brother!"
"And mine," Legolas patiently said. "And Aragorn's."
"But . . .." Boromir looked strangled for words. "Please, Aragorn. Please do not leave me behind!"
Damrod now spoke. "Boromir," he said in a firm tone, capturing the lad's instant attention. "You are the Steward of Gondor. Remember yourself, sir. You hold a sacred trust to care for your city and her people. You must not abandon your post. We shall bring your little brother back safely. You know this, do you not?"
Boromir's face flushed a dark red. He lowered his gaze and shifted from foot to foot, showing how much little boy yet lived in the man. Watching him struggle between desire and duty, I fought back a fond smile and wondered if there would ever come a time when Boromir would run afoul of me. It seemed unlikely, but should this little captain ever need me to discipline him I would not hesitate to do so.
"Boromir," Damrod said. “Look at me” Boromir obediently lifted his gaze to the lieutenant. “Answer me. You know we shall bring your brother back safely, do you not?"
Boromir struggled, clearly wishing he could dispute Damrod as he so wanted to join us. But, finally, he gave Damrod a nod and murmured, "Aye, sir. Of course you shall bring Faramir back safely."
Damrod gave him a significant look, cast Aragorn a quick glance, then looked at Boromir again. Interesting.
Boromir turned to Aragorn and said with quiet courtesy, "Forgive me, sir. I-I should not have spoken to you in such a disrespectful manner. I understand my duty, and I shall of course obey your orders."
Legolas, usually so elvishly stoic, gave the lad a look of appreciative surprise, whilst Aragorn placed a hand on his young Steward's shoulder and said with a soft grin, "I know that I am leaving the city in the best of hands." Boromir looked at him, his eyes shining. "And when we return we shall spend every other day for a week explaining to Faramir the error of his ways."
Boromir released a soft gasp, his gaze skimming across to Damrod and Legolas. "What. You mean?” He turned back to Aragorn. "All four of us?"
"There are just enough every-other-days in the week for each of us to have a turn with him over our knee," Legolas said, looking most eager. "Have you any objections, little brother?"
Boromir's thoughtful gaze calmed. "None whatsoever," he replied. "But I want him on the final day."
Gwinthorian had been crying steadily and with his typical enthusiasm since I began, his bottom now warm and rosy pink. We hadn't been at this long, but Gwin had experienced a shock when turning around to find the five of us standing in the cave, so he was already shaken ere I turned him over my knee. I spanked him silently for awhile, making him focus on where he was and what was happening to him, letting him feel all he needed to with no distractions.
"Can you not simply talk to me from the time you start?" he had once asked me a few minutes into a spanking.
"I could, but I choose not to," I'd replied.
"Whyyy? I mean why not?"
"Because I choose not to, Gwinthorian," I had quietly repeated. "And that is all you need know."
There was, in fact, little to talk about. We both knew why my elfling had made this journey. Gwin's reasons for doing anything were as predictable as they were uncomplicated. Attention, attention, ever attention. I understood why he craved it, and I never tired of giving him all he needed. It usually went no further than that. However, Gwinthorian's desire for attention was occasionally driven by something more meaningful, something deeper. He, of course, would have considered Faramir's invitation to be nothing more than an exciting adventure, for Gwin was by nature an eternally playful elfling looking for fun. But he was also as blind to his own hidden drives as he was when we first met. In essence he knew what he was doing when he chose to invite a spanking, but he could not on his own see the deeper reason behind why he had chosen to do it.
"Nor does Devon," Garrick had once told me during one of our quiet nighttime talks. "He senses some reason behind his actions, but he cannot always find it without guidance. He needs to be led there."
"And he is best led there when he is over your knee," I'd said, thinking of my elfling curled up asleep next to me.
"Aye. From there I can help him find the cause," Garrick said, petting the golden locks of the lad sleeping with his head pillowed on Garrick's thigh. "It lies hidden within."
"And the same causes come up for them from time to time," I said. "They need reminded of what they have learned before."
"Mmm." Garrick puffed his pipe silently, then he said, "Of course you already know this, Halbarad. You have been disciplining Aragorn for a long time."
It intrigued me that within these exceedingly bright younglings lay this shared inability to recognize those deeper reasons behind their actions, especially in Aragorn's case. He clearly saw those reasons in Legolas, but he remained heedless of his own. I felt safe in presuming that young Faramir also shared this inner unawareness. Another brilliant yet unmindful lad, all three of them on the same path, all three oblivious to the reasons that put them there.
"Hal!"
"I am here."
"Hal'brad, AHHHpleeease!"
"You have something you wish to say to me, Gwinthorian?"
"I-I am sorrrrrryyyyy!"
"You are sorry you’re being spanked, little elfling, not for what you did."
"You always say thaaaat!"
"It is always true."
"I know, but I am sorry! I r-really, truly am!"
"Very well," I said, slowing my swats on his now rosy bottom. "What are you sorry for?"
"Sorry we ran-ranned off without telling you and s-sorry we came here all b-by our own selves!"
"And why was that unacceptable behavior?"
Gwin had no answer for me, so he groaned and tried to writhe, getting nowhere.
"You do not know?" I said, and I stopped spanking him long enough to release his wrists and lift him up over my lap.
Gwin gasped, stretched his slender legs and drew his hands up to grasp my cloak in his fists, crying, "I do know! It was danger-ous, and it made you worry, and . . . ."
I watched him pause and think for a moment, then, to my astonishment, the bratling growled at me. It was low and he snuffled it into my cloak, but it was, most assuredly, a growl.
"But, you did not worry, did you?" he said in a shockingly scornful tone given his situation. "You knew where we were the whole t-time! Rangers were watching us! You knew we were safe! All of you knew! The whole t-time you knew-OWWW!"
"Enough of your insolence, young sir," I said, delivering several singularly hard spanks that made him yelp and kick.
"AHHHH! But Hal'brad--!"
"Intent, Gwinthorian. Intent. What matters is what was in your mind when you carried out the deed. You three undertook this hazardous journey with little regard for your own safety and no concern for the feelings of others, what they might think and what they might go through."
"But, you did not go through anything because you kn-knew - OWWW!"
"You are choosing to be dull-witted, little one," I said. "You know the meaning of intent and you understand me fully."
"Sorry, Hal! Sorry,sorry,sorry! I do know, and I know you know I know."
"And?"
"And it doesn't matter what you did or didn't go through. We did not c-care that you might be scared. We didn't want to think about your scared. We . . . We --"
"You wanted to do what you wanted to do and that was all that mattered."
Gwin disliked the truth of this as much as Faramir had earlier. My elfling squirmed and kicked as though trying to somehow escape his uncomfortable feelings until I delivered another especially hard swat.
"Gwinthorian."
"Yes, Hal! Yesss!" he cried, "Was all that mattered. We did n-not care about you and your scared. We did what we wanted t-to. We did. Oh, Hal!" Gwin wept into his open palms, his crying mournful and full of remorse.
I rested my hand on his bottom, rubbing the soft, hot skin for a moment, then I gathered Gwin up, feeling him shudder. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and held on, his face buried against me. "Tis hard to admit such a thing, is it not, sweetling?" I murmured in his ear. He nodded, making hitching, snuffling sounds into my hair.
"Was so bad of us, so bad of me to do that to y-you, my Hal. So, sooo b-bad. I didn't think of y-you. How-How could I--"
How could he? Gwinthorian always wondered how he could have behaved the way he did after the fact. It rarely stopped him from doing something similar the next time. But that was my Gwin. He achieved so many goals with his unruly behavior. However he never liked asking himself how he could have done it. No matter. I knew what he needed.
"Shhh, shhhh,” I murmured. “Hush now. My Gwin is never bad. Naughty, aye. But my Gwin is never bad."
I rocked back and forth, waiting for him to catch his breath before I drew him back to look at him. His eyes were red, his cheeks wet with tears and Gwinthorian was utterly beautiful. "Look at me," I said. He often had to be told this when he was in trouble and finding it difficult to look into my eyes. He was now too ashamed of himself to meet my gaze, so I tipped him towards me and lightly swatted his bottom. He yelped and arched. "Come now. Look at me, sweetling," I repeated.
He slowly obeyed me, his glistening eyes swimming with anguish. "Gwinthorian, nothing you do will ever drive me from you. You know this, do you not?" He did know it, but the weight of what he and his friends had done hadn't hit him before now and Gwinthorian could torment himself with runaway fears. So he could never hear my assurances too much, and I never tired of giving them to him.
He watched me with his searching gaze, sniffled and said, "Aye, but, but --"
"Nayyyyy, little one. There is no 'but,'" I said, wiping away his tears. "Listen to me, Gwinling. Nothing you do, no matter how big and naughty, is bigger than my love for you. I shall be waiting for you at the end of all your naughty misdeeds and I shall turn you over my knee and spank you and all will be well again. That is how it has ever been between us and how 'twill ever be. Nothing you can do will change that. Do you understand?"
"Na, Hal." It was barely whispered, his small elvish, 'yes.' He gazed up at me, and I saw that, for now, he heard me.
I kissed his cheek and gathered him close again, saying, "Good. Very good."
And it was good, exceptionally good, for even after all our years together Gwinthorian still found it hard to be able to hear those words at all, much less dare to take in their truth. Given his background, I understood why my elfling struggled so. Gwin's wounding had taken place over a period of hundreds and hundreds of years. The echoes of what Legolas had told me about my Gwin’s early life sometimes rippled through me and the cruelty of it made me sick at heart. But he was mine now, and I never tired of giving him all the attention and affection he craved and needed and deserved.
At the moment Gwin needed me to guide him through the muddle in his head and lead him to the reason behind his choice to do something so potentially dangerous and astoundingly disobedient. My elfling acknowledged only the delightful aspects of their adventure and the illicit thrill of defying authority. Behind all that sat his true cause, a simple one this time, although Gwin was unable or unwilling to see it. But before we approached that, he needed to be reminded of what he already knew yet struggled to accept, that he was safe and loved no matter what he had done.
"The naughtiness still needs to be answered for, does it not?" I said against his hair before drawing him back again and giving him a serious look.
"Uh huh," Gwin whispered, casting me a woebegone, must we? look.
"Then let us get on with it," I said, and I flipped him back over my knee and settled him across my lap, rubbing his warm behind. Gwin mewed and fussed and wriggled until I pressed my arm down more firmly across his back, wrapped my hand around his narrow waist and said, "That is enough of that, Gwinthorian. We have more to discuss and your bottom is not nearly the color I want it to be."
"Ohhh, Hal, nooo . . .!"
Gwin whimpered and I patted his backside, saying, "Shhh, Gwinling. You know I am more than happy to see to all your needs. Nothing is too much for you, little one."
"OhhhnooooAHHHHHH!"
Onward to chapter six.
Faramir, Devon and Gwinthorian join forces for an adventure and court Certain Doom.
Thank you, Kat, for being my constant companion year after year, the one I turn to for calm, sage advice and the bestest beta in all the land. I'm so fortunate in you.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. This story is not meant to violate the rights held by New Line, Tolkien Enterprises, nor any other licensee, nor is any disrespect intended. I don’t own Tolkien’s original characters, however, my OC’s, Gwinthorian, Garrick, Devon and several other Rangers are exclusively my own.
Chapter one is here.
Chapter two is here.
Chapter three is here.
Chapter four is here.
Kindred Spirits(5/7)
by Larrkin
"Be at ease, Gwin," I told him. "I shan't allow Devon to murder you."
"You are reserving that honor for yourself, Hal?"
When Gwinthorian is about to be spanked it sometimes soothes him to become impertinent, showing me, or rather himself, how brave he is in the face of certain doom. As long as Gwinthorian is soothed by it, I let him chatter. I silently gripped his upper arm and continued down the tunnel, escorting him to the chamber I had chosen for us earlier today.
"Henneth Annûn is like a rabbit warren," Damrod had said whilst showing us around the caverns. "Tunnels and chambers everywhere. You are welcome to choose what chamber you will. You shall have complete privacy. There will be none here save us, so our three can be as loud as they like." He paused, then added with a wry grin, "'Tis unlikely they can cause a cave-in."
Only a small number of Rangers had occupied the cave itself, as it was so well guarded from the outside. But Damrod had cleared the premises today, sending the men who were there out on patrol and keeping a few in reserve to greet their returning captain. If Faramir found no one here he would become alarmed and know that something was amiss.
"He is surely planning to show them the falls at sunset," Damrod had said this morning. "Given their position last night and the pace at which they are moving they should arrive here at just the right time."
"Well, gentlemen," Aragorn said, "we have given them enough rope to hang themselves, and hang themselves they have. But they have also come a long way and risked much. Shall we allow them to enjoy the fruits of their labors, whether or not they deserve it?"
We had all agreed to let them see the falls ere we confronted them.
"How far into this dank mountain are you taking me?" Gwin now demanded.
"I understand your impatience," I said with a calm that would infuriate him, "but be at peace. We are nearly there."
"I am not impatient!"
"I should think you would be grateful. The further in we go the less likely it is that the others will hear your wails. I was careful to choose a suitable chamber."
"Suitable chamber indeed," Gwin muttered. "I see nothing remarkable about any of these dismal rooms. We have passed several and they all looked the same to me."
"I look with a more discerning eye," I told him, and before Gwin could offer a smart retort I said, "Ah. We are here."
I steered him inside the chamber and gave him a moment to glance around. I had chosen this place for a particular reason, particular at least for me. To the left lay a shelving of rock that bore an amazing resemblance to the one in our Ranger cave in the Ettenmoors. I rather wished Aragorn had followed me in here earlier out of curiosity. His expression would have been something to see. Gwinthorian's certainly was.
Even when he knows he has a spanking coming Gwin is often startled when the time has come to receive it. I thought it good of me to fold my cloak and place it there upon the rock shelf, ready to support his golden head, but when my elfling saw it he pulled away, braced his legs and gasped out his small distressed 'ulp!'
I had been more than patient thus far, but the sooner we got on with this the better it would be for both of us. I picked Gwin up and carried his small, stiffly resisting body over to my rock ledge where I sat and turned him over my knee, pulling him close and wrapping my hand around his side. "I understand your need to struggle, Gwinthorian," I said, pulling his breeches down to his boots. "However, I am in no mood to scuffle with you." And I brought my hand down on Gwin's pale pretty backside.
He sucked a sharp breath and his body went rigid. I smacked down again, as firmly as I had the first time, my 'pay attention' opening spanks that always left Gwin, or Aragorn, or whoever was over my knee, breathless. By the third swat Gwinthorian had recovered his ability to breathe, and, consequently, his ability to make sounds.
"AHHH-Hal! Toooo, harrrrrrrAHHH!"
"Aye, Gwinthorian. I know. I spank too hard," I said, continuing to do so. "I shall needs learn to live with your disapproval."
"Why do you always start so big?" he had once asked me, his post-spanking muddled way of saying, 'why must you begin a spanking with such a profound degree of intensity?'
"I do not 'always' begin so, Gwinling."
He pondered that, then: "When you do start big, why do you?"
"To capture your immediate attention."
"But I am already at attention, my Hal," he insisted. And when I grinned he muttered in his sulky voice, "You are vexed with me at first. Big vexed. So you spank big."
I lifted him and held him in front of me, looking directly into his glassy eyes. "Do you really believe that?" I asked, knowing that he did not. He winced and blushed and squirmed. "Gwinthorian. Am I ever angry with you?"
Having heard the answer to this countless times, he slowly shook his head. "Nay. Never angry with me. You are angry 'bout what I did. But you are still angry."
"Nay. I am not angry, sweetling, nor do I spank in anger."
The distinction had ever seemed to elude him. He had pouted gloriously and muttered, "Still too big, my Hal."
I watched him now, wriggling over my thighs. He'd earned not so much as a swat in over a week, so my 'too big' spanks would feel quite big indeed. I gave him a mere half dozen more, then I eased back to a steady pace and a normal strength that would allow me to give my elfling the good long spanking he deserved. But Gwin’s squirming and kicking quickly reached the point wherein I needed to stop and rearrange him. I picked him up and placed him over my left knee, closing his legs between mine. Then I grasped his wrists ere his hands became a problem and held them at the small of his back before continuing on.
Like Aragorn, Gwinthorian oft needed the comfort of total restraint. His opinion on the matter ever differed from mine and he chose to express his dissatisfaction by wailing, a familiar, “Nooo, Hal! Pleeease!” Hal indeed. Gwinthorian excels at wailing. I intended to make certain he had plenty of practice during the upcoming week.
"I would be happy to take over with Gwin for a day, Halbarad," Legolas had offered last evening. "Mayhap you will be glad of the time off."
"Hmm." I studied him, smiling inwardly at this princeling's bright-eyed eagerness. "Let me think on't."
I had yet to tell Legolas, but I planned to permit him a day in his kinsman's 'every other day for a week' sentence. It would be good for Gwin. He would of course pretend to be horrified and perhaps even challenge Legolas as he had before, knowing he could never best his prince, and ne’er really wanting to do so. Legolas would needs wait a few days, though. I wanted my elfling to myself for the first two spankings. When it was time for the third spanking I would let Legolas step in, the perfect time for Gwin to be in a difficult mood.
Of late my elfling had been working to conquer any hint of a difficult mood. Although outwardly polite and well-behaved and so cooperative he had the Rangers casting him sideways glances that suggested they feared a sudden explosion at any moment, Gwin had, in fact, been simmering with inner discontent since the morning Aragorn had sent Faramir and Devon to Osgiliath.
Two days before that morning Aragorn, Legolas, Faramir and Damrod had arrived in camp bringing Pippin and Frodo, the two little ones enjoying their first outing in a week after having commited a major offense for which a justifiably livid Aragorn had placed them under confinement in the Houses of Healing. Faramir, Frodo and Pippin joined Devon and Gwin whilst Aragorn, Legolas, Damrod and I stood at a distance, talking and glancing at the merry group of two halflings and three young Rangers.
"Gentlemen," Damrod said. "Something is in the wind."
"Aye, my friend," I agreed, watching Garrick approach and join us. "Mischief is surely brewing."
"I may have no Dúnedain gifts," Legolas murmured, "but e’en I feel it."
"We all feel it," Aragorn said. "The little ones are a distraction for now.”
“But,” I said, “those three young Rangers of ours are restless."
Aragorn gave me a somber look and nodded.
"Indeed," Garrick said. "They are aching to share in some roguery."
"And will do so ere long," Damrod added.
Aragorn said, "I say we grant them their wish." We looked at him.
"Give them plenty of rope?" Legolas asked.
Aragorn nodded. "Mmm. And see what they do with it." He turned a raised brow to Damrod.
"Aye," the lieutenant replied without being asked. "My men are yet posted around the city."
"So we shan't be taken unawares when they’re are ready to make their move," Aragorn said. He glanced my way, a whispered question in his eyes, and I nodded once, giving my silent approval.
We stood together quietly, watching the lively group stroll off, Frodo now riding on Devon's shoulders, Pippin riding on Gwinthorian’s and Faramir strolling between them.
"It cannot be interpreted as entrapment," Legolas said, answering some unseen critic.
"Nay, not at all, mellon nin," Aragorn said. "We are but allowing these young ones what they have been seeking."
"Time alone together," I said.
"What they choose to do with that time is up to them," Damrod said.
What they ended up choosing to do surprised us all. Two days later Aragorn sent Devon and Faramir to Osgiliath and that let the cork out of the bottle. Gwinthorian erupted with an inner tantrum, decided to become better behaved and hopefully build up his respectability, then struggled through a week of near intolerable good conduct.
The day after Gwin's long week Damrod's scouts, ever aware of Faramir's actions, reported that the three of them had been spotted talking together for some time in a place where none of them should have been. Several days later Faramir asked Aragorn's permission to return to Osgiliath with Devon for company, a request that should have re-ignited Gwin's temper along with some intensely wounded feelings.
But his shrugging reaction made clear that something was most assuredly afoot. My elfling acted suspiciously innocent the night before their escape, but I could sense nothing save an excitement he worked hard to conceal.
The next morning Garrick and I went off to meet with Thayer and several of the older Rangers and Gwin felt safe enough to make his move. Sometime later Farrell came to me. "You were right," he said. "He's gone. Took his mount, no saddle, and headed towards the Lossnarchian camp, presumably to throw anyone off his trail who might be watching. When he was almost there and evidently felt he'd stolen clean away, he turned his mount and raced off at a gallop towards Osgiliath. He's likely half-way there by now."
Give my elfling a little rope . . ..
Garrick and I headed for Minas Tirith. By the time we found Aragorn, Legolas and Boromir and told them of Gwinthorian's suspicious behavior, Damrod appeared with some news of his own. One of his men had reported in from Osgiliath: Faramir, Devon and Gwinthorian, cloaked and hooded, had left the battered city via a lesser-known gate and were now moving north on foot. All were wearing weapons and haversacks.
Having expected no more than some kind of local mischief, we were astonished and reluctant to believe these three would go to such an outrageous extreme. But it seemed plain that they were heading for North Ithilien, possibly even Henneth Annûn, a two day journey on foot. The episode with Faramir and his brother in Osgiliath's sewers had not dulled the boy's longing to visit his stronghold in Ithilien, nor to prove himself fit enough to do so. And, although Faramir was well known for his elegant powers of persuasion, we knew that it would not have taken much to convince Devon and Gwinthorian to join him.
This was more than anyone had expected of our three. But they were ambitious lads feeding off each other’s yearning for a taste of freedom and adventure and sharing amongst them a precarious combination of high spirits and a deplorable lack of good judgment.
"My men are ready," Damrod said. "There is but one path Faramir will follow, his favorite route. Our Rangers will move through the forest, some flanking them from a distance, some taking watch points further along the remainder of the way for tomorrow's leg of the journey. Our runaways shan't be alone."
"Gwinthorian will hear them," I said. "Regardless of how silently your men move, he will hear them."
"Aye, he might hear something," Aragorn said. "The random clink of a weapon, perhaps the fall of footsteps, but he will not know what to think of it."
"His companions will hear nothing, though," Legolas said, plainly feeling troubled for his kinsman. "It will drive Gwin mad."
"Aye, it will provoke him," I said, imagining my Gwin's frustration all too well. "But they shall needs find a way to settle that between them."
Aragorn gave Legolas a reassuring smile and said, "I have every faith they will, mellon nin."
At this point Boromir decided he had been silent long enough. Having been told he must remain at Minas Tirith, the Steward of Gondor now staged some determined big brotherly resistance to the order.
"I'm going with you," he declared. Damrod, Legolas and Aragorn turned to him with looks that made him blink, but Boromir's strong jaw tightened and his frown deepened and he announced, "I am. I'm going, too. That's final."
"Nay, Boromir," Aragorn said. "You shall remain here."
Depending on the circumstances the Steward could work himself into an agitated state fairly quickly, and as this matter concerned his beloved little brother Boromir appeared to be but moments away from a tantrum that would rival what any one of our escaped bratlings could present.
"Aragorn, be reasonable!" he said in a hushed angry tone. Damrod raised a brow. "You cannot ask me to stay here!"
"I do not ask it, sir," Aragorn said, quiet and in control. "I demand it. You shall remain in the city. Those are my orders."
"But he's my little brother!"
"And mine," Legolas patiently said. "And Aragorn's."
"But . . .." Boromir looked strangled for words. "Please, Aragorn. Please do not leave me behind!"
Damrod now spoke. "Boromir," he said in a firm tone, capturing the lad's instant attention. "You are the Steward of Gondor. Remember yourself, sir. You hold a sacred trust to care for your city and her people. You must not abandon your post. We shall bring your little brother back safely. You know this, do you not?"
Boromir's face flushed a dark red. He lowered his gaze and shifted from foot to foot, showing how much little boy yet lived in the man. Watching him struggle between desire and duty, I fought back a fond smile and wondered if there would ever come a time when Boromir would run afoul of me. It seemed unlikely, but should this little captain ever need me to discipline him I would not hesitate to do so.
"Boromir," Damrod said. “Look at me” Boromir obediently lifted his gaze to the lieutenant. “Answer me. You know we shall bring your brother back safely, do you not?"
Boromir struggled, clearly wishing he could dispute Damrod as he so wanted to join us. But, finally, he gave Damrod a nod and murmured, "Aye, sir. Of course you shall bring Faramir back safely."
Damrod gave him a significant look, cast Aragorn a quick glance, then looked at Boromir again. Interesting.
Boromir turned to Aragorn and said with quiet courtesy, "Forgive me, sir. I-I should not have spoken to you in such a disrespectful manner. I understand my duty, and I shall of course obey your orders."
Legolas, usually so elvishly stoic, gave the lad a look of appreciative surprise, whilst Aragorn placed a hand on his young Steward's shoulder and said with a soft grin, "I know that I am leaving the city in the best of hands." Boromir looked at him, his eyes shining. "And when we return we shall spend every other day for a week explaining to Faramir the error of his ways."
Boromir released a soft gasp, his gaze skimming across to Damrod and Legolas. "What. You mean?” He turned back to Aragorn. "All four of us?"
"There are just enough every-other-days in the week for each of us to have a turn with him over our knee," Legolas said, looking most eager. "Have you any objections, little brother?"
Boromir's thoughtful gaze calmed. "None whatsoever," he replied. "But I want him on the final day."
Gwinthorian had been crying steadily and with his typical enthusiasm since I began, his bottom now warm and rosy pink. We hadn't been at this long, but Gwin had experienced a shock when turning around to find the five of us standing in the cave, so he was already shaken ere I turned him over my knee. I spanked him silently for awhile, making him focus on where he was and what was happening to him, letting him feel all he needed to with no distractions.
"Can you not simply talk to me from the time you start?" he had once asked me a few minutes into a spanking.
"I could, but I choose not to," I'd replied.
"Whyyy? I mean why not?"
"Because I choose not to, Gwinthorian," I had quietly repeated. "And that is all you need know."
There was, in fact, little to talk about. We both knew why my elfling had made this journey. Gwin's reasons for doing anything were as predictable as they were uncomplicated. Attention, attention, ever attention. I understood why he craved it, and I never tired of giving him all he needed. It usually went no further than that. However, Gwinthorian's desire for attention was occasionally driven by something more meaningful, something deeper. He, of course, would have considered Faramir's invitation to be nothing more than an exciting adventure, for Gwin was by nature an eternally playful elfling looking for fun. But he was also as blind to his own hidden drives as he was when we first met. In essence he knew what he was doing when he chose to invite a spanking, but he could not on his own see the deeper reason behind why he had chosen to do it.
"Nor does Devon," Garrick had once told me during one of our quiet nighttime talks. "He senses some reason behind his actions, but he cannot always find it without guidance. He needs to be led there."
"And he is best led there when he is over your knee," I'd said, thinking of my elfling curled up asleep next to me.
"Aye. From there I can help him find the cause," Garrick said, petting the golden locks of the lad sleeping with his head pillowed on Garrick's thigh. "It lies hidden within."
"And the same causes come up for them from time to time," I said. "They need reminded of what they have learned before."
"Mmm." Garrick puffed his pipe silently, then he said, "Of course you already know this, Halbarad. You have been disciplining Aragorn for a long time."
It intrigued me that within these exceedingly bright younglings lay this shared inability to recognize those deeper reasons behind their actions, especially in Aragorn's case. He clearly saw those reasons in Legolas, but he remained heedless of his own. I felt safe in presuming that young Faramir also shared this inner unawareness. Another brilliant yet unmindful lad, all three of them on the same path, all three oblivious to the reasons that put them there.
"Hal!"
"I am here."
"Hal'brad, AHHHpleeease!"
"You have something you wish to say to me, Gwinthorian?"
"I-I am sorrrrrryyyyy!"
"You are sorry you’re being spanked, little elfling, not for what you did."
"You always say thaaaat!"
"It is always true."
"I know, but I am sorry! I r-really, truly am!"
"Very well," I said, slowing my swats on his now rosy bottom. "What are you sorry for?"
"Sorry we ran-ranned off without telling you and s-sorry we came here all b-by our own selves!"
"And why was that unacceptable behavior?"
Gwin had no answer for me, so he groaned and tried to writhe, getting nowhere.
"You do not know?" I said, and I stopped spanking him long enough to release his wrists and lift him up over my lap.
Gwin gasped, stretched his slender legs and drew his hands up to grasp my cloak in his fists, crying, "I do know! It was danger-ous, and it made you worry, and . . . ."
I watched him pause and think for a moment, then, to my astonishment, the bratling growled at me. It was low and he snuffled it into my cloak, but it was, most assuredly, a growl.
"But, you did not worry, did you?" he said in a shockingly scornful tone given his situation. "You knew where we were the whole t-time! Rangers were watching us! You knew we were safe! All of you knew! The whole t-time you knew-OWWW!"
"Enough of your insolence, young sir," I said, delivering several singularly hard spanks that made him yelp and kick.
"AHHHH! But Hal'brad--!"
"Intent, Gwinthorian. Intent. What matters is what was in your mind when you carried out the deed. You three undertook this hazardous journey with little regard for your own safety and no concern for the feelings of others, what they might think and what they might go through."
"But, you did not go through anything because you kn-knew - OWWW!"
"You are choosing to be dull-witted, little one," I said. "You know the meaning of intent and you understand me fully."
"Sorry, Hal! Sorry,sorry,sorry! I do know, and I know you know I know."
"And?"
"And it doesn't matter what you did or didn't go through. We did not c-care that you might be scared. We didn't want to think about your scared. We . . . We --"
"You wanted to do what you wanted to do and that was all that mattered."
Gwin disliked the truth of this as much as Faramir had earlier. My elfling squirmed and kicked as though trying to somehow escape his uncomfortable feelings until I delivered another especially hard swat.
"Gwinthorian."
"Yes, Hal! Yesss!" he cried, "Was all that mattered. We did n-not care about you and your scared. We did what we wanted t-to. We did. Oh, Hal!" Gwin wept into his open palms, his crying mournful and full of remorse.
I rested my hand on his bottom, rubbing the soft, hot skin for a moment, then I gathered Gwin up, feeling him shudder. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and held on, his face buried against me. "Tis hard to admit such a thing, is it not, sweetling?" I murmured in his ear. He nodded, making hitching, snuffling sounds into my hair.
"Was so bad of us, so bad of me to do that to y-you, my Hal. So, sooo b-bad. I didn't think of y-you. How-How could I--"
How could he? Gwinthorian always wondered how he could have behaved the way he did after the fact. It rarely stopped him from doing something similar the next time. But that was my Gwin. He achieved so many goals with his unruly behavior. However he never liked asking himself how he could have done it. No matter. I knew what he needed.
"Shhh, shhhh,” I murmured. “Hush now. My Gwin is never bad. Naughty, aye. But my Gwin is never bad."
I rocked back and forth, waiting for him to catch his breath before I drew him back to look at him. His eyes were red, his cheeks wet with tears and Gwinthorian was utterly beautiful. "Look at me," I said. He often had to be told this when he was in trouble and finding it difficult to look into my eyes. He was now too ashamed of himself to meet my gaze, so I tipped him towards me and lightly swatted his bottom. He yelped and arched. "Come now. Look at me, sweetling," I repeated.
He slowly obeyed me, his glistening eyes swimming with anguish. "Gwinthorian, nothing you do will ever drive me from you. You know this, do you not?" He did know it, but the weight of what he and his friends had done hadn't hit him before now and Gwinthorian could torment himself with runaway fears. So he could never hear my assurances too much, and I never tired of giving them to him.
He watched me with his searching gaze, sniffled and said, "Aye, but, but --"
"Nayyyyy, little one. There is no 'but,'" I said, wiping away his tears. "Listen to me, Gwinling. Nothing you do, no matter how big and naughty, is bigger than my love for you. I shall be waiting for you at the end of all your naughty misdeeds and I shall turn you over my knee and spank you and all will be well again. That is how it has ever been between us and how 'twill ever be. Nothing you can do will change that. Do you understand?"
"Na, Hal." It was barely whispered, his small elvish, 'yes.' He gazed up at me, and I saw that, for now, he heard me.
I kissed his cheek and gathered him close again, saying, "Good. Very good."
And it was good, exceptionally good, for even after all our years together Gwinthorian still found it hard to be able to hear those words at all, much less dare to take in their truth. Given his background, I understood why my elfling struggled so. Gwin's wounding had taken place over a period of hundreds and hundreds of years. The echoes of what Legolas had told me about my Gwin’s early life sometimes rippled through me and the cruelty of it made me sick at heart. But he was mine now, and I never tired of giving him all the attention and affection he craved and needed and deserved.
At the moment Gwin needed me to guide him through the muddle in his head and lead him to the reason behind his choice to do something so potentially dangerous and astoundingly disobedient. My elfling acknowledged only the delightful aspects of their adventure and the illicit thrill of defying authority. Behind all that sat his true cause, a simple one this time, although Gwin was unable or unwilling to see it. But before we approached that, he needed to be reminded of what he already knew yet struggled to accept, that he was safe and loved no matter what he had done.
"The naughtiness still needs to be answered for, does it not?" I said against his hair before drawing him back again and giving him a serious look.
"Uh huh," Gwin whispered, casting me a woebegone, must we? look.
"Then let us get on with it," I said, and I flipped him back over my knee and settled him across my lap, rubbing his warm behind. Gwin mewed and fussed and wriggled until I pressed my arm down more firmly across his back, wrapped my hand around his narrow waist and said, "That is enough of that, Gwinthorian. We have more to discuss and your bottom is not nearly the color I want it to be."
"Ohhh, Hal, nooo . . .!"
Gwin whimpered and I patted his backside, saying, "Shhh, Gwinling. You know I am more than happy to see to all your needs. Nothing is too much for you, little one."
"OhhhnooooAHHHHHH!"
Onward to chapter six.