Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear.

This time we had some fun with the Russian language. The passage used is from Candide, a work of Optimism by Voltaire, and is recommended reading for those with a taste for bizarre humour.

Voltaire and his works will appear in later chapters as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Russian Ramblings

"My Lord, it is time we were about our duties again." Faramir said politely to his King and Lord. The two of them had taken lunch together with their ladies, and now it was time that they resumed their work.

Faramir stood and bowed twice, once in the direction of each lady present. Then he turned to face Aragorn who stood reluctantly.

"Thank you for the pleasant company." Aragorn offered never the less. He kissed his wife tenderly while Faramir brushed his lips softly against Eowyn's cheek. The two men left the room and headed down the hall.

"I do not want to go back to my desk." Aragorn groaned as soon as they were out of ear shot of the ladies.

"I would be lying if I said I looked forward to it with much eagerness myself." Faramir smiled faintly. "Yet its not all that bad, most of it is only routine at this time."

"You do not understand Faramir, there were papers on my desk when I left." Aragorn groaned again and wished he could flee. Was there not any Orc army that needed to be defeated yet? Surely it was easier to defeat an army of raging Orcs than to win a victory over the paperwork.

"My Lord, the last time I looked there were papers on booth our desks." Faramir pointed out carefully. It was not the first time Aragorn whined about the amount of papers littering his desk, he had tried to take on some more of it himself, thinking that the King might be overwhelmed by the amount, but some of it was for the King to deal with, and only the King. There was also no way that he could take on all the work, it was eating up his days as it were.

"I do not think I can recall how my desk looked without papers covering it, that's just the way things are."

"You still do not see it Faramir." Aragorn complained. "Whenever I leave my desk with papers on it, there always seems to be more papers on it when I return. I know that there shall be a mountain on it when I return."

"And my desk had a mountain of papers on it when I left." Faramir shook his head. "Face it my Lord, that is a battle we can not win, we shall never get to the foot of that mountain in our lifetime. There is too much pouring in."

"I know of the amount that pours in every day." Aragorn fixed him with his eyes, a look that came near pleading. "Yet there is somehow more than that. I swear that bloody desk's breeding paperwork Faramir, there is no other explanation for it."

"Ah, yes sir. Er, I agree that it seems like that at times." Faramir tried to think of a perfectly polite and respectful way to tell one's King that one believed that he was losing his mind. He seemed to be at loss of expressions for that situation. "I'm sure that it is just the way it looks though." Faramir decided that it was most likely the work burden that was getting on Aragorn and making him weary. "Mayhap you should call the day early today." He suggested. "I am sure that Lady Arwen would be most happy."

"I'm not sure whatever I dare leave that worm ridden piece of lumber alone." Aragorn growled. "Valar knows what I would find when I came back."

They had taken wine with the food, but all of them had filled their glasses from the same bottle, and that was not even a very potent wine, so Faramir ruled out drunk. For all the tactical skill Faramir had been told he possessed he could not think of any course of action. Was he supposed to suggest to his King that they should post a guard detail on the King's desk, to ensure that it did not make free with the Kings paperwork.

If he gave that command to a guard they would tell Eowyn he had gone mad, and then they would most likely lock him up somewhere for his own safety. They would certainly not heed that order, and that was the same guards that would not go against Denethor's command when he sought to burn his own son.

Actually despite the fact that he was rather partial in his opinion Faramir might agree that Denethor's desperate attempt to burn him on the pyre was not half as crazy as the thought of guarding Aragorn's desk so that it could not breed.

"I'm sure that it will be perfectly safe." Faramir said soothingly, what else could he say. He had no desire to find out just where they locked up those who were considered crazy.

Taking in his Steward's puzzled look Aragorn realized what he must sound like.

"Ignore me." He said with a grin meant to reassure his friend and Steward that he was not crazy. "I was not cut out for that kind of work I'm afraid, and it seems to make me speak like a fool. Pay me no heed when I do."

"As you wish sire." Faramir heaved a sigh in relief that his King was not crazy after all. The tedious work had to be getting on his nerves as well for his mind to jump off in such directions as it had.

They separated to go to their different studies, and Faramir eyes the mound of papers that awaited him in his. Most of the desk was clean surface, kept that way by storing papers in the desk drawers. He was tidy by nature and did not like it when he could not even work out the wood of the desk.

He and his brother had always been so different at that, Faramir neat and orderly, and Boromir right at home in the chaos. It was strange, for Denethor had always spoken of order, yet Boromir was never rebuked for the mess that was his desk, yet Faramir was never praised.

He had often helped Boromir write out his reports, just to keep those who had to read them sane. Deciphering Boromir's scrawl was enough to send a man into madness at times.

Faramir was concentrating on the first order form when there was a knock on the door and Aragorn entered. Even Faramir had stopped knocking and waiting for answer, it took to much time, instead they knocked and then entered.

Aragorn was holding a half crushed paper in his hand, and gesturing with it. Muttering something about that 'bloody desk,' as well as 'fire wood' and 'bloody thing multiplies.'

Faramir steadied himself and waited for the King to tell him what had him so upset.

"This was in one of the stacks of papers on my desk." Aragorn laid the paper down in front of Faramir. "I swear I have never seen it before and yet it was in the middle of one of the piles. How did it get there?"

Faramir smoothed the paper out, once he knew what it was about he could probably offer a better answer as to why it had been delivered to the King. He looked at it, and suddenly knew why the King was so upset by it.

"It's Russian my Lord." He exclaimed. "I have not the slightest idea how it came to your desk, sire. There are no one here that uses it." It was definitely Russian though, he had seen enough of it to recognize it.

"I swear that it's that desk." Aragorn muttered as he tiredly sank into a chair and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "There are all those queer documents that does not make sense, and that inkwell is dry again."

Faramir ignored him, after all he had the King's command that he should ignore him when he was not making sense. Then again one had to listen enough to determine whatever he was making sense or not, so that one could then proceed to ignore him. It would not do to ignore him when he was actually making perfect sense. There was also the fact that he might start making perfect sense in the middle of it, so once again one actually had to listen to what he said, and then ignore it after you had heard it.

Faramir decided that it was one of the more difficult commands that the King had ever given him.

"Can you translate that, so we at least know what it is?" Aragorn asked, he was not sure he wanted to know. It could be anything, and he was afraid of just how bad anything could be.

"It will take time." Faramir said. "I know Russian, but I am not fluent in it." It was a slightly difficult language.

"I'll be very grateful if you can figure it out." Aragorn eyed the papers that littered his friends desk. "Though it looks like you have quite a lot of work to do already."

"Why, these are just the ones I work with for the moment." Faramir said absently as he was still concentrating on the paper. "The rest of it I keep in the drawers."

"Just how much work would that be?" Aragorn asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and eyed the papers on the desk. Faramir was always elusive when asked about how much work he did. Aragorn had always expected that he was doing more than Aragorn wanted him to do. The main hint being that whenever Faramir came to leave him papers he tended to take some other ones with him when he left, and he always seemed to take more than he left.

He had asked his Steward countless times not to do more work than was reasonable, but Faramir was good at not admitting just how much he did. Now that he was distracted it appeared that Aragorn could finally get a truthful answer out of him.

Faramir absently counted of the different routine documents that always littered his study. The number of requests, reports and various other forms.

As he counted them of without really paying heed to the King's response Aragorn committed them to memory. He would not say anything now. That would only alert Faramir to the fact that he had finally given away the information he had guarded for so long.

Instead Aragorn would delegate some of it away before his Steward could lay hands on it. That way Faramir would be ignorant of the fact that he was not in charge of all of it, and being ignorant of it would make it rather hard for him to object. His normal claim that it was his duty to aid the King in all possible ways would be rather hard to stick to if he was unaware that the King had delegated away the work. Then again if anyone could stick to the claim after the reason for it had been removed it was Faramir.

Hopefully Aragorn could distract him so that he did not notice the missing loads of papers. Mayhap that desk had actually done him a good turn, if naught else it had distracted his Steward. He decided that he should try to strike a truce with the desk. The question was how was one supposed to communicate the proposition to a piece of lumber.

"Do you wish for me to bring it to you once I have been able to finish the translation?" Faramir asked. Normally the King would wait where he was, but this would take some time as he was not all that certain of the grammar, and since his vocabulary was rather limited. He would have to be very careful and check full passages for possible errors.

"You are working for me, I think that the least I can do is keep you company while you do it." Aragorn grinned and waved his hand in an off hand gesture. "Will you allow me to send for a glass of wine and we could actually enjoy ourselves for some time." He suggested. Then passed the request to a servant before there could be any objection.

So while Faramir was scribbling down notes, as well as flipping through a few odd books they continued the pleasant small talks. Aragorn hiding amused grins. It appeared that whenever Faramir was distracted with books it was much easier to have a relaxed conversation.

"There my Lord, I have finished it." Faramir said after some time, laying down the paper and grinning pleasantly.

"Let's hear what it is." Aragorn encouraged him. After all the effort Faramir had put into translating that thing he hoped that it was something worth it.

"Everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds. At the most inappropriate of times. " Faramir read slowly. He looked up at the King. "It appears to be an extract from some book, sire. There is that first paragraph, and then what seems to be the title. Candide, and it says here that it was written by Voltaire, though that is a name I have never heard of before." He frowned at the paper.

"Is there any more of it?" Aragorn asked curiously. "I'm not sure whatever the one who said that is optimistic or not. Either he is trying to make the best of it, or he have a queer sense of humour."

Faramir smiled faintly. "There is more sire, I think that someone is making fun of the optimistic way of seeing a situation." He read the rest of the text. "The little society, one and all, entered into this laudable design and set themselves to exert their different talents. The little piece of ground yielded them a plentiful crop. Cunegund indeed was very ugly, but she became an excellent hand at pastrywork: Pacquette embroidered; the old woman had the care of the linen. There was none, down to Brother Giroflee, but did some service; he was a very good carpenter, and became an honest man. Pangloss used now and then to say to Candide:

"There is a concatenation of all events in the best of possible worlds; for, in short, had you not been kicked out of a fine castle for the love of Miss Cunegund; had you not been put into the Inquisition; had you not traveled over America on foot; had you not run the Baron through the body; and had you not lost all your sheep, which you brought from the good country of El Dorado, you would not have been here to eat preserved citrons and pistachio nuts."

"Excellently observed," answered Candide; "but let us cultivate our garden."

"That is optimistic thinking." Aragorn chuckled. "Sounds to like everything that could go wrong went wrong."

"Yet still it would seem it could have turned out worse." Faramir smiled. "After all, all is for the best, it is only the timing that could have been better it appears."

"I shall keep that in mind the next time you complain that there is to much work." Aragorn snickered. "Then I shall claim that there is not much work at all, it only happens so that all the work comes at the same time."

"There is only one flaw in that plan, sire." Faramir said with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"And what would that be?" Aragorn challenged.

"It is very rarely me who complains that there is to much work."

Aragorn looked just slightly baffled as he recalled that it was indeed he himself that most often complained about the amount of work.

"Then you shall have to be the one using it on me." He allowed with a grin.

"I would never use my King's word against him." Faramir said in a flat voice and with his back straight. Then he smiled again and his eyes sparkled with mirth. "I would study that more and come up with something even better."

Aragorn laughed as he had been bested by his Steward and friend.

"Though if you would excuse me sire I would continue with my work now." Faramir said as he handed the paper back to the King, as well as the translation he had been able to work out. "I promised Eowyn that I would not forget myself and work overly long this eve as she wanted me to go riding with her."

"Then you had best not be late." Aragorn grinned. "I do not think that there is any way for it to turn out for the best if you fail to meet her on time."

"I rather doubt it myself, and am in no hurry to find out whatever it is so or not." Faramir offered a bow. "I bid thee a pleasant evening my Lord."

Aragorn wished him a pleasant ride, urged him to leave his desk early rather than late, and headed back to his study.

All is for the best in the best of all possible worlds, it had said. He wondered what world his desk lived in. There were thankfully no new supply of strange documents littering it, but the inkwell was dry again.

I shall have to end this here as the language Aragorn uses upon the finding a dry inkwell is not one that I can translate. Rather I can, but then I would be kicked away from for using words that should never be expressed as there is not rating high enough to cover it.

Therefore I find it safest to put yet another temporary ending here, even if Celebríon's language use upon finding the word temporary here, might also make the rating unsafe. We shall just have to hope for the best I think.

Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:

Why would a simple word like 'temporary' make me use inappropriate language? I can't for the world imagine why. I think you know more curses than I anyway...

Well, still nothing for me to do except beta-ing...

Steelelf: As always we are very happy to know that you enjoyed it. Hmm, we have not done accents yet, but as we never know everything that will happen, and as we always welcome ideas, who know? There might be that as well.

Lindahoyland: Lord Barladro is a very nasty person, he is not very nice at all, in fact he is actually rather evil.

There might also be more of him.

I was also thinking, maybe we should involve a goat here as they seem to be very funny. ;)

Silver Sniper: We love to get your reviews even should they be late, I hope that you are feeling better now.

Mir is a very funny child, he is a mix between Boromir and Faramir as we see them. He have Boromir's love for fighting, and Faramir's for books, so he makes for a very interesting contrast between the two of them.