A Wizard's Wisdom

by Emma Keigh

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: Mithrandir/Faramir

Summary: Faramir learns more than history from Mithrandir

Website: http://www.ithilas.com/chezemma

Disclaimer: The characters and melieux from The Lord of the Rings are the property of the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema (AOL). I only play with them from time to time for my own amusement and without compensation. No harm; no foul; no profit. Anything or anyone new, however, is mine (left-overs again!).

Warning: This story contains explicit scenes of sex between consenting adult males. If you are under age or don't care for this, LEAVE NOW. Beta-read by Nikki Memmott. Thanks, merci beaucoup, tapadh leibh, gracias, danke, grazie, spazebo, arigato, obrigado.


"Faramir the younger son... welcomed Gandalf at such times as he came to the City, and he learned what he could from his wisdom..."
-- LOTR, Appendix A (iv) "Gondor and the Heirs of Anárion" The Stewards

Minas Tirith, the Third Age.

Faramir hurried down flight after flight of stairs, every turn taking him deeper and deeper into the Citadel. There, carved into the living rock of the mountain, far beneath the courtyard of the White Tree, were the archives of the Kingdom of Gondor.

There was only one level remaining after this one, he realized when the first whiff of pipeweed smoke reached his nostrils. A broad smile crossed his face and he stopped his headlong rush at the last landing. He took a deep breath and tugged on his tunic, then combed his fingers through his unruly hair, only recently let grow past his ears since he'd come of age.

"Is that you, Faramir?" a familiar voice called from the chamber below. Trying to appear calm and mature, the younger son of Denethor made his way down the remaining stone steps.

"Yes, Mithrandir," he answered when he first beheld the wizard. "It's me."

"I," the wizard prompted.

"Yes, of course," Faramir responded, the correction not unexpected from his favorite tutor. It had been years since the Grey Wizard had been in Minas Tirith, years since he had taught the young sons of the Steward history and languages.

Boromir had studied history for the tales of war and battles, but Faramir had wondered about the people and their lives, reading tales and songs from long ago. "How long have you been here?" he asked the wizard. "Are you staying long?" It was all he could do to keep from embracing Mithrandir, his joy at seeing the old man threatening to burst out of him.

Mithrandir sat back from the stack of ancient parchments he had been reading. He took a long pull on his pipe and blew the smoke toward the arched ceiling. "The answers to your questions are not long and I don't know." A sparkle lit his eyes as he looked at Faramir. "But let's have a look at you," he went on. "You're a boy no longer!"

Squaring his shoulders, Faramir stood as tall as he could. He would never have his brother's height or bulk, he had come to realize, but he was a man grown now, by every measure made.

The sun had set and the sky was darkening when Faramir again sought out the Grey Wizard. He found him standing at the easternmost point of the battlements, leaning his elbows on the wall, his chin resting on one fist, looking to the east. The new moon had closely followed the sun into the west, leaving the night sky to the stars.

The wizard seemed to lean forward, straining to see something just above the eastern horizon. The mountains of Mordor filled the bottom part of the sky with their dark bulk backlit by the ruddy glow of the fires of Mount Doom. But above the ragged peaks of the perilous mountains, the star-filled sky defied the evil that resided in Mordor.

"What are you looking for?" Faramir asked, his voice quiet in the evening stillness.

Mithrandir stood silently for a long moment, and at first Faramir wondered if he'd been heard at all.

"There," the wizard finally said, raising his right arm to point to the north east.

"What?" Faramir gazed in the direction Mithrandir pointed, but his eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness from the brightly lit dining hall where he'd eaten his evening meal.

Without moving his head, Mithrandir drew Faramir to stand between the stone wall and himself. With one hand on the young man's shoulder, he pointed again, his arm directing Faramir's gaze to a patch of sky that at first seemed no different from the rest.

"Let your eyes adjust," he whispered in Faramir's ear, and they stood quietly for several moments.

"Now do you see it?" Mithrandir asked. "It's a comet," he explained. "All we can see now is a milky smudge - in a few more nights you'll be able to see it more clearly."

"I think I can see it," Faramir muttered. "Like a thin cloud, just above the horizon." He was intensely aware of the Wizard's hand on his shoulder, of the warmth from the tall form standing so closely behind him. His heart beat faster and his breath caught in his throat

"Yes," Mithrandir said, nodding. "Yes, that's it, my boy." He let his hand rest lightly on Faramir's left shoulder, his arm stretched across the young man's back.

Faramir gazed at the wisp of a comet for a moment longer, secretly welcoming Mithrandir's continued embrace. Subtly he shifted his weight, gently bringing his body into contact with the Wizard's. Ever since he had first become aware of his body's needs and the pleasures of the flesh, Faramir had desired his tutor. He knew there could be nothing between them as long as the were teacher and student, but now that he was of age, and long out of the schoolroom, he hoped the Wizard would share his feelings. He was not entirely surprised to feel his tutor's arousal against his hip. His own member was throbbing, confined as it was in his snug leggings. Closing his eyes he leaned his head back, and felt the soft beard brush against his neck and cheek. A grey-sleeved arm encircled his waist, pulling him more tightly against the Wizard, and Faramir sighed audibly.

"I'm very glad you came," he whispered as warm lips brushed against his jaw.

"Hmmmm," the Wizard hummed. He nuzzled Faramir's back-stretched neck for another moment, then spoke. "This is far too public, dear Faramir." He gently kissed the edge of the young man's ear, then stood back, releasing his embrace. "Come," he entreated, and together they quickly found their way to the guest quarters assigned to the visiting Wizard.

Once behind the closed and bolted door they faced each other, their lips finally meeting in a heated, passionate kiss. Mithrandir's gnarled fingers threaded through Faramir's hair, holding the young man's head.

Faramir opened to Mithrandir's questing tongue, welcoming the probing heat into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around the Wizard's body, pulling the lean form closer so he felt the stiffened flesh still hidden beneath the loose robes pressed against his own aching groin.

Were it not for the need to breathe, Faramir thought, he would kiss the Wizard until the end of time. But breathe he must, and tenderly he pulled away from the Wizard. He didn't, however, release the hold that kept their bodies tightly pressed together.

He tried to speak between gasps for breath, and found his voice roughened and deeper than usual. "Custom demands I ask if you require a companion for the night," Faramir managed to say.

A sly smile crossed the Wizard's face and his blue eyes twinkled in the lamplight. "I desire no other companion than present company," he answered before claiming another kiss from the Steward's son.

"I had hoped," Faramir finally found the breath and courage to say, "that we could share something other than our love of books and lore." He looked deeply into the Wizard's blue eyes, the kindest, wisest eyes he'd ever seen. Though most would call the pale blue eyes cold, he saw only warmth and affection.

"Yes," the Wizard agreed. "Yes, indeed we can."

Was it some magical spell, Faramir wondered, that held him a willing prisoner in the Wizard's gaze? He could not, nor did he desire to, pull his eyes away from Mithrandir's, though he was aware of being undressed by the Wizard's gnarled but still nimble hands. His tunic and undershirt were unfastened and slid over his shoulders, baring his chest and strongly muscled arms. He shivered slightly in the cool air of the evening, his anticipation building. He moved his hands to Mithrandir's belt, sliding the long leather strap out of its knot and loosening the buckle. The rough-woven grey robe opened to reveal a muslin shirt and breechclout, all of which soon found their way to the growing heap of garments on the stone floor.

The Wizard broke his hold, lowering his eyes from Faramir's. He ran his hands lightly over the young man's shoulders and chest, then untied the laces of his bulging leggings. He pushed the snug fitting trousers over the slim hips until they fell to the floor with their own weight, releasing Faramir's throbbing manhood, letting it spring to full salute, a drop of pearly fluid escaping from the rosy crown. Raising his eyes to Faramir's face once more, the Wizard smiled. "You have grown up well, my boy," he said. He pushed an errant strand of hair from the young man's brow, then pulled their lips together again.

Their bodies met unimpeded, skin to skin, their twinned members caught between them. Faramir let his mouth be plundered by the Wizard's tongue, the sensations coursing through him from head to toe as strong hands gently caressed his back, sliding lower and lower until they cupped his rump.

This is what Faramir had dreamed of since he was thirteen. He'd guessed at what he would find beneath the Wizard's robes, but his imagination had fallen far short of picturing the strong but lean body and the smooth, unblemished skin as pale as milk. He had always thought of Mithrandir as aged, with his grey hair and long beard, his gnarled hands and lined face. He ran his hands across the smooth chest and over the surprisingly strongly muscled shoulders. The Wizard's skin was warm to the touch, heating with passion as their explorations of each other continued.

They parted for a moment to discard their boots and remaining garments, then Mithrandir took the young man by the hand, leading him to the bed in its private alcove. "Come, my boy," he said. "We shall both learn much tonight." Pulling the coverlet from the bed, Mithrandir sat near the foot of the bed, and patted the mattress at his side.

Faramir sat next to the Wizard, then slid to the center of the bed, his arms open invitingly, and Mithrandir moved into their embrace, stretching to lie closely alongside the younger man. The Wizard's alabaster coloring seemed like moonlight next to the golden sunlight that was the Gondorian's skin, the texture of the pale, cinnamon shaded hair that curled around the base of his manhood and across his chest contrasted with the smooth, hairless body.

No more words passed between them; the lessons they studied were those of taste and touch, of giving and receiving. In his dreams it had always been the Wizard who took charge, who brought him to ecstatic release, and now the gentle caresses and heated kisses filled him with unimagined pleasures. How could he have known how it would feel when the Wizard took his straining manhood into his mouth, how the long beard would tickle between his legs? His hips bucked uncontrollably as he poured his seed into the Wizard's throat.

After the shuddering climax, Mithrandir again brought the lengths of their bodies together, his own unrelieved need pressed between them. Hungrily he drew Faramir's tongue into his mouth, sharing the taste of the young man's essence. The probing kiss left Faramir breathless, and through heavy-lidded eyes he looked again into the Wizard's eyes. The pupils were still dilated with arousal, his breath ragged.

Watching as the Wizard retrieved a jar of salve from the small table beside the bed. Knowing what it was for, he shifted position to turn over, but Mithrandir stopped him

"Shhhhhh," he hushed laying a finger on Faramir's lips, "sweet Faramir." He brushed a gentle kissed across the stilled lips, then went on. "The lessons are not yet complete."

"Anything," Faramir managed to gasp. "Anything you say."

Another smile graced the Wizard's visage, and he instructed the younger man to raise and part his legs, then positioned himself between the leanly muscled thighs.

The salve was cool at first touch, applied to Faramir's puckered entrance. Instinctively he drew his knees to his chest, offering Mithrandir easier access to his most intimate regions. The slow circles the Wizard's fingers traced soon relaxed the opening, then one by one, slid inside, opening him more fully. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath, but mesmerized he watched as the salve was carefully applied to the Wizard's rampant erection.

"Now, Mithrandir," he gasped, "take me now."

The rounded crown of the Wizard's phallus slipped past the well-prepared entrance and into the tight channel. Slowly the full length of the thick shaft was enveloped in the young body, joining the Wizard and the Gondorian into one flesh. They moved together in an ancient rhythm, every thrust taking both of them higher and higher in a spiraling ascent toward the pinnacle of their passion, and they tumbled from together into the abyss of completion.

"Mithrandir?" Faramir whispered an untold time later, when his body and mind had finally recovered and he could breathe and collect his thoughts. He pressed a kiss to the top of the grey-haired head, luxuriating in the warmth as they held each other closely, the Wizard's face tucked into the curve of Faramir's neck.

A low hum was the Wizard's only audible response, and he snuggled even closer to the young man's body. Faramir couldn't see that the blue eyes were open and the soft, rosy lips curled in a smile. Not knowing if the Wizard was awake or asleep, he nevertheless continued. "I'm glad you came back to Gondor." With a deep sigh he let his eyes close and drifted into the deep slumber reserved for sated lovers.

As his breathing and heart rate slowed, Mithrandir softly kissed the warm skin beneath his lips and whispered, "So am I, dear boy. So am I."

THE END