"How long will you be gone?" Gwenel demanded as she climbed onto the bed. "You're packing an awful lot of clothes."

"I do not know," I replied, taking a new pair of stockings out of Braneth's hands; she was the most accident-prone girl I had ever met, and I did not want her tearing a hole in them before I even had a chance to wear them. "I suppose that depends on how many children the Lord and Lady eventually have."

"Oh, I wish I was going with you," sighed Minuial dreamily. "Minas Tirith sounds so exciting! So many banquets, so many handsome young men! And you'll be right there, in the middle of all of it!"

I restrained myself from rolling my eyes. Minuial certainly appeared to be taking after Mother – how on earth was she going to look after the young ones properly if she could not tear her attention away from every man who wandered into her sight? "I doubt I will be in the middle of anything except a nursery," was all I said. "Nannies do not normally receive invitations to formal gatherings, Minuial. And I am not going so that I may find a husband." No matter what Mother thought.

Braneth sat down next to Gwenel, who was digging through the trunk and undoing all of my careful folding. "We will miss you," she said in her quiet voice. "Will you be allowed to visit at all?"

I had no idea, but said, "Possibly, but it is a long trip – I do not know that the Lady Finduilas would want to subject an infant to that."

Suddenly Braneth's eyes were shining with tears. "But you will write?" she asked.

I stopped in my packing and took her hands. "Of course I will," I assured her. "It may not be very interesting, for I will be much occupied with the baby, but I will write."

To my surprise, Minuial came up behind me and put her arms around my waist. "Every week," she insisted, resting her chin on my shoulder. "And we will write you as well – or at least Braneth will."

"Every week," I agreed, putting my hands over hers.

It was not until that moment that I realized I was actually going to miss my siblings.

A present for Allie Meril

I could not say anything – I had already skirted the edge of insult when I had informed Lord Denethor that a baby should not be held as if he were a saddlebag. Fortunately, he was so enamoured of his firstborn that he did not seem to notice my impertinence.

However, I knew he would not ignore it if I expressed my disapproval of his latest notion – showing off little Boromir to everyone in the Tower and Citadel. Honestly – carrying a newborn all over like that? Into kitchens and dirty stables and crowded noisy guardhouses?

And Lord Denethor had only just learned how to cradle the baby properly; I was forever having to rewrap the child, for he kept removing the swaddling to examine Boromir's tiny legs and feet and arms. Lord Denethor did not seem to understand that the baby needed to stay warm and be held closely, not brandished about like a new sword.

I knew he was proud of his son, and rightfully so, but I was having a difficult time convincing myself that Boromir would be returned to me in one piece. I was positive that he would come back dirty, cranky, and, probably, having caught some potboy's cold.

But of course all I could do was wait impatiently, pacing the nursery, muttering to myself about men and their lack of appreciation for what it took to keep a baby whole and healthy.

Finduilas sighed, looking at the piles of gifts.. Elaborate daggers, intricate tapestries, hideous sculptures, tiny gowns heavy with embroidery, not meant to be worn.  All ostensibly "for" Boromir, now just one month old.

The next gift was in a small wooden box, with a note that read, I thought your Boromir might like a gift that he can actually play with.  Morwen of Rohan.

A simple stuffed pony, made of boiled wool, mane and tail of soft rope. No other decoration at all. 

Finduilas laughed, turning toward the bassinet at her elbow. "Look, Boromir", she whispered, "your first horse from Rohan."

 Today was to be Boromir’s formal presentation, and so of course he had to look his best. Privately, I thought it was rather silly – he was only a month old, and “looking his best” consisted mostly of bathing him and dressing him in an elaborately embroidered gown. Additionally, it was not as if most of the people attending would even be able to see Boromir – only the most important lords and ladies would be near enough to the dias to recognize him as a baby, and not just a bundle of fabric.

More irritating to me was the fact that the ceremony was scheduled for a time when Boromir was usually fast asleep. He was a very light sleeper, and would certainly not be able to sleep through all the noise and excitement, which meant that he would be returned to me a very unhappy baby.

But of course I had no say in the matter, so I dutifully prepared him for his first court function. Unlike many other infants, Boromir liked water, and did not wail and squirm when I bathed him; in fact, he often cried when I took him out of the small tub. So I frequently just let him lie in the water, holding him steady as he kicked his legs and waved his arms happily, making funny little noises that always reminded me of a baby duck’s quacking.

Finally I lifted him out and was relieved when he did not show signs of protesting. He seemed in a peaceful mood as I wrapped him in a drying cloth, watching me with wide eyes. As ever, the front of my gown was soaked, but it did not matter. It was not as if I had any place to be, other than the nursery.

I heard Lord Imrahil’s cheerful voice come floating into Boromir’s room. “How fares my young nephew? I am bid to see if he is ready for his important day.”

I did not turn when he walked in, as I was in the middle of trying to catch a small waving arm so that I could slide it into a sleeve. “He will be ready shortly, my lord – I’ve just to comb down his hair, once this is on.”

Lord Imrahil came to watch my progress, and I was grateful I had Boromir to claim my attention, for the Prince looked very dashing in his formal attire and the blue velvet and brocade were a striking complement to his black hair. Lord Denethor intimidated me greatly, and sometimes ruffled my pride when he acted as if he did not quite believe I was capable of tending his son, but Lord Imrahil – truth be told, Lord Imrahil made me uncomfortably aware that I was female. I was sure part of it was also the fact that he was Prince of Dol Amroth, the Lord of my own city, and therefore more impressive to me in particular, but part of it was no doubt simply that he was a very confident,handsome man. I was not the only woman to ever be affected, but knowing that did not keep me from being irritated at my reaction. I was not some feather-headed girl who giggled at every nobleman who walked by, and I had scolded myself more than once for finding myself on the verge of acting like a fourteen-year-old girl whenever Prince Imrahil was about.

I managed to get all over Boromir’s limbs into the gown, and moved on to the comparatively easy task of combing his wet hair. “He looks quite the tiny little lord, does he not?” Lord Imrahil grinned, reaching out and catching one of Boromir’s waving hands.

“He does indeed,” I agreed, smiling fondly at Boromir as I drew the comb through his dark, fine hair. “And I suppose he had better get used to such functions.”

Prince Imrahil laughed, nodding. “This is only the first in an endless line,” he said, then eyed me in a strange way, and I strove not to blush at his scrutiny. “Shall I take him to Finduilas, while you prepare yourself?”

I gave him a startled glance. “My lord?”

He raised an eyebrow at my surprise. “Well, I am sure you are not wearing a wet gown to the ceremony, and I assume it would be easier for you, if you do not have to worry about the baby while you are…..” he trailed off, looked at me more closely. “Have you not been told that you are to attend?”

My jaw dropped. “Me?” I tried not to stammer, and only the knowledge of who I was speaking to kept me from panicking. “No-one said…I didn’t ..” I took a deep breath, gathered what was left of my composure and went on. “I’ve nothing at all suitable, my lord.”

Lord Imrahil looked puzzled, and faintly reproving, I thought. “Surely you knew that you would be required to accompany Boromir to such affairs, and brought a formal gown with you?”

“I did,” I admitted, “but…it is not finished. I had planned….I did not know I would need something so soon, and I have not had much time for sewing.” The gown in question was still half in pieces in a trunk and we simply had not had time to put it together before I left home. I had been lucky that Mother even allowed me to cut down one of her more elaborate gowns, jealously as she guarded her wardrobe. I was certainly not going to tell him that, though. I did not think someone of Lord Imrahil’s station would understand the need for economy.

He studied me for a moment, and I smoothed down Boromir's hair again, for no reason other than to have something to do with my hands. He gurgled at me, blinking solemnly, and I could not help but smile down at him.

When Prince Imrahil spoke again, there was a hint of annoyance in his voice, though I did not think it was aimed at me. “Well, it is not your fault that you were not told, miss, but it is nothing that cannot be mended.” I looked at him, not quite sure if he was making a joke about sewing or not; his grin told me that he was, and I relaxed a bit. “It is not a hard task - Boromir will be laid in a crib near the back of the dias during the opening speech by Lord Ecthelion. When he is finished, you will hand him to me, I will hand him to Finduilas, who will hand him to Denethor. He will also make a speech, and present Boromir to those gathered. I believe they have decided that the guests will be allowed to file past the crib, as if at a reception, so they can see Boromir for themselves. And you will tend to him as needed during the banquet.”

I must have looked dismayed, for Prince Imrahil chuckled. “Yes, there will be many speeches this evening – though the food should be excellent.”

“When will we be allowed to leave?” I asked, and flushed when Lord Imrahil laughed. I would have to remember to think a little more before I spoke. “What I mean, my lord, is that I do not wish for Boromir to be kept awake til all hours. He is just a baby, and he does not sleep when there is noise. It is not good for an infant to stay awake for so long.”

“Ah, yes.” He looked thoughtful. “I will ask my sister – doubtless Denethor has not taken that into consideration.” I wanted to push the point, but he had changed subjects. “Now, I shall take Boromir, and you do whatever you need to do to prepare.”

“But – “

“Time is short,” he reminded me, not unkindly. “Do not worry about a suitable gown. It shall be seen to.”

And before I could ask what he meant by that, he scooped up Boromir (properly, I noted with approval, just as I had shown him not long ago) and left. Feeling a little stunned, and not half nervous at the idea of attending such an important event, I went to see if I could coax my hair into looking less disheveled.

I was getting nowhere, and starting to fret when a knock came at the nursery door. When I went to see who it was, I discovered two of Lady Finduilas’ own maids, one of whom was carrying an armful of clothing, including a gown of pearl-grey. “I am Rodwen, this is Thiad,” said the one who had the gown, “and Lord Imrahil sent us to help you. Now we’ve not much time, so come along! It will not do for you to be late!”

They were brisk and efficient, and said not one word about my lack of formal clothing. Within moments, I was hurried into appropriate underskirts, laced into the gown, my hair was brushed and gathered into a smooth roll at the base of my neck, and I looked a proper member of Lord Denethor’s household. “Whose gown is this?” I asked curiously as they walked around me, straightening my skirts here and there. “It is too fine –“

“It is a sample,” Thiad said, pulling wisps of my hair forward to frame my face. “Every tailor in Minas Tirith created such things to show their art, when Lady Finduilas first arrived – they all wanted her patronage. You are fortunate there was one to fit you so closely.”

“It’s bit too long in the arms, slightly too loose in the bodice, and a fraction too short,” Rodwen said critically, “but it is nothing that would be noted by any women who is not a lady’s maid – “ she gave a sudden, wide smile, “- and I daresay there will be none of those at the banquet! There, you are quite ready – I must say that colour suits you -- and you’ve time to spare as well!”

“Oh yes,” Thiad exclaimed, “we are to take your unfinished gown to the seamstress. You will certainly not have time to finish it, not with a baby to care for!”

I tried to protest, but they would have none of it, and I was obliged to give them the unfinished dress, though I was discomfited by the idea of someone performing the task for me. I had always made my own clothing.

“I do not know how to thank you,” I said, still a bit in awe at how quickly I’d been transformed, and by Lady Finduilas’ own maids, “I could never have managed on my own…”

Thiad was ushering me toward the door as I spoke. “Of course you could not have,” she said, but she smiled to take any sting out of her words, “it is what we do, miss.”

“You are both very good at what you do,” I said with no exaggeration, and they both looked terribly pleased. “Now – where I am to go?”

The ceremony went smoothly, and there was a huge cheer when Lord Denethor presented Boromir to those gathered, and even from a distance, I could see Boromir stirring in displeasure at the noise. I hoped he would not start crying; that would be taken as an ill-omen by many people. But he did not, and I breathed a sigh of relief when Lady Finduilas brought her son back to me. She beamed with pride, and I could tell that she did not really want to return him so quickly, but she could hardly eat and engage in polite conversation as she must if she were cradling a baby in one arm. When she handed him to me, she gave me an approving nod, and I felt slightly less self-conscious about being at such a grand occasion, wearing a very fine borrowed gown.

As predicted by Prince Imrahil, there were many speeches, far too many for my liking, all of them basically the same: praise for the Lord Denethor and his Lady, as well as the Steward, and much referring to Boromir as if he were already a skilled warrior and diplomat. At least the speeches given by Lord Imrahil and Prince Adrahil were heartfelt and unmistakably sincere –as I had seen over the past few weeks, they were both delighted with the new addition to their family.

He had also been right about the food. There were many dishes native to Dol Amroth, in the Lady Finduilas’ honour, I supposed – sea bass with spicy rice, poached eels, feather-light pastries stuffed with conchmeat, scallops in some sort of wine sauce. I did not hesitate to fill my plate, for I knew it would be quite a long time before I had the opportunity for such familiar delicacies again, though I ate as carefully as I could, afraid that I might drop something and stain the gown. It was a lovely heavy brocade, with deep blue embroidery round the wrists and neckline, and I wondered if this tailor had been the one who gained Lady Finduilas’ custom.

Boromir was well-behaved, content to watch the ceiling, and once or twice, he even seemed to drift off. But then the noise level in the room would rise; his little body would jerk in surprise and I would quickly soothe him, before he could begin to fuss. He blinked any time someone approached his cradle to stare him, and it did not take long before I became highly irritated with all the people who kept insisting on disturbing him. Though we were sitting almost behind Lady Finduilas and Lord Denethor, it felt like every noble in Gondor wandered by to get a glimpse of Boromir. Fortunately, once the meal started in earnest, they left us alone in peace.

I did not pay much attention to what was happening in the hall – I had been to many banquets, and they were all equally dull. The dancing was usually at least amusing to watch, but I hoped we were gone and asleep well before the dancing began. I did catch myself glancing at the Prince a time or two, and sternly reprimanded myself for doing so, turning my attention back to Boromir, patting his stomach gently, hoping to keep him in a pleasant temper.

It could not have been two hours before the lady herself approached and gave her permission to leave. “Thank you, my lady,” I said with great relief, a little startled that we would be allowed to depart so quickly. “He does need to sleep.”

She picked up Boromir and held him close. She murmured something to him in Sindarin, too low for me to hear, kissed his forehead lingeringly, then reluctantly put him in my waiting arms.

I rocked him to sleep without changing my clothing first, but he was so tired that it was swift work. I hoped that he would eventually learn to sleep more soundly – right now, any voice above a whisper woke him.

I hung the borrowed gown with greatest care, and wistfully admired it for a few moments, wondering what it must be like to wear such a garment every day. Troublesome, I decided. It was very heavy, it laced very tightly, and there was so much material in the skirts that I had nearly tripped more than once. And it was very warm, especially in the crowded heat of the great hall. But it was still a beautiful gown, though I could never hope to own one of its like.

As usual, I was awakened late in the night by a sound from Boromir’s room. When I went to investigate, I stopped just short of the doorway, surprised.

Lady Finduilas sat in the rocking chair next to his cradle, holding Boromir, softly singing a ballad I knew well, and next to them sat the Lord Denethor on the little footstool I used. I could not tell if he was watching his wife or his son.

I stood silently, unnoticed, for a few moments, then made my way back to bed. They would call me if they needed me.

During the first 18 months of his life, I had, by and large, been Boromir's sole companion. He was a friendly baby, rattling cheerful nonsense at everyone from the lowest scullery maid to his grandfather, the Lord Ecthelion. He loved attention, and it did not seem to bother him that he spent his days surrounded by adults.

It bothered me, however. If Boromir had had a sibling, I would not have given it a moment's thought. But it seemed unnatural, somehow, for him to have no contact at all with other children . When I hesitantly suggested to Lady Finduilas that perhaps Boromir would enjoy playmates of his own age, she agreed straightaway. "I had been thinking that very thing," she smiled, "for I had been remembering my own childhood, and how I enjoyed playing with my older sister." 

It was arranged that some nannies would bring their charges to visit and play with Boromir. It was all very carefully organized, of course - invitations were extended to the children according to their father's rank, highest to lowest. If a lord was currently out of favour with Lord Ecthelion or Lord Denethor, his child would not be granted the privilege of such a visit. I did not like this; it would have been better for Boromir to see the same children all the time, but I understood that this would only lead to charges of favoritism being thrown at Lord Denethor and the Steward.  

I was aware that I was somewhat of a mystery to the other women who cared for noble children. I was scarcely seen outside the walls of the Citadel -- when I took Boromir outside, we went to his mother's garden, or to the garden of the Houses, or sometimes strolled the parapets. We never ventured into the City. And, though I had heard no gossip about myself, I knew enough to know that it likely existed. So I had no idea as to how I might get along with the other women.

 At first, it appeared that my worries were unfounded. All the women asked the same questions, and I gave the same answers: Yes, it is a great privilege to be in Lord Denethor's service. No, I am not related to Lady Finduilas. Yes, it is a very nice household, yes, I am well treated, no, Boromir is not a troublesome child. I smiled and made chit-chat about the weather and the state of the City dutifully -- though truth be told, I was very bad at doing so. I had never been one for small talk, and I was not about to say anything even vaguely political. I liked my position, and my charge, a great deal, and did not want to lose either because of a careless remark. A handful of the other nannies were friendly and did not push me toward conversation I would rather not have. These women were far outnumbered by those who seemed almost offended that I showed no interest in sharing gossip. I began to dread the visits, for I never knew which sort the visiting nanny would be. 

Boromir, however, was thrilled to discover that there were other little people like him, who enjoyed the same type of games he did. He would run and greet the new arrival -- always a boy -- with bubbling delight, then he would herd the other boy toward whatever toys lay scattered on the ground. Even the children who were somewhat shy soon relaxed and became animated. I was not surprised at his willingness to make friends - I was more surprised at the fact that he shared his things as well as he did. The nursery was always a wreck when his companion of the day finally went home.

 Today was no different, as far as Boromir was concerned. Lord Pelinlas' son, Culas,had come to play, and the boys were happily involved in the wooden éored which had been a first-year gift from the King of Rohan. 

I was rather unhappily involved in a conversation with Culas' nanny, a prettily snub-nosed woman called Olleth. She was perhaps five years older than me, but she reminded me of my mother, for she twittered on and on, mostly about clothing, men, and making a good match. Fortunately, she did not seem to require any response from me other than the occasional "That sounds lovely" or "And what did he say next?" She also did not keep a very close eye on Culas, who was inclined to put everything he touched into his mouth, including Boromir's hand. More than once, I went to make certain that he had not gnawed one of the horses into splinters, yet Olleth seemed unconcerned.

 I had heard the bell signaling eleven o' clock, and groaned inwardly. Another hour of this woman -- I was not sure I could stand it. At least she had not asked the same dreary questions -- she had been too busy telling me about herself and her numerous suitors and how valuable she was to Lord Pelinlas' household.

"But enough about me," Olleth said out of the blue, turning in her seat to study me, "you have barely said one word! Come, tell me about yourself." 

"There is not much to tell," I said truthfully. "I am sure that you have heard my short history by now." This was said perhaps a bit too tartly, as Olleth's eyes widened for just a moment.

 Then she smiled, showing far too many teeth. "Well, yes," she admitted with a laugh that I was sure was affected, "You know how women will talk, when they get together. But I would like to hear more about you - what I've heard is so dull! Surely you have stories to tell of your life in the Citadel, perhaps of a handsome guard?"  

"I have been in Minas Tirith not yet two years," I pointed out, using the bland voice I used with my mother when she was being particularly vain, "I have not had much time for handsome men, guards or otherwise." As if I would tell her even if I had such a man.

 "What a shame, what a shame," Olleth sighed, "and you so young. Well, I understand, of course -- it is difficult to find time for one's self when one is busy tending to a child." She did not look in Culas' direction, though I did. They were peacefully arranging the horses in a large circle. "Or perhaps someone closer to home has caught your eye?" 

Something about her tone made me glance at her sharply. She was wearing a coy smile, and had one eyebrow arched, as if waiting for me to admit something. I repeated her last words in my head, and did not like the possibility at which I arrived. 

"I cannot get much closer to home, as you say, than a Citadel guard," I said, needlessly straightening my skirts, "but my little Boromir takes up all of my time." He looked up at the sound of his name, smiling, and I smiled back at him.  

"Surely he cannot take up all of your time," Olleth persisted, "why, there must be hours and hours between the time he goes to sleep and the time you finally seek your bed." 

She gave me a conspiratorial look when she emphasized the word "your", and I tried to ignore the way her words irked me. But I could not keep myself from saying, "I am not sure I understand you."  

Olleth studied me for a moment. "Yes, I can see how that wide-eyed innocence act would be appealing to an older man," she said, almost admiringly, and my stomach clenched in sudden anger. "You should cultivate that, my dear. It will serve you well -- but then, it already has, hasn't it?" 

I stared at her in shock, unable to think of a response. She could not possibly mean what I thought she meant. 

She laughed again, and she sounded honestly amused. "Oh, come now! How else would you win such a sought-after position? It is not as if you have rank to spare, is it?" I was still gaping like a landed fish, struggling to find words as she went on. "It isn't unusual, you know. Especially with nannies -- we seem to have a special appeal to our lords." Here she almost preened, as if this was something to be proud of. "You must be quite a sly girl to keep that lord's interest. He's handsome enough, but he seems so cold. You do look a bit like Lady Finduilas, though your eyes are rather bluer --perhaps that's how you drew his attention so easi --" 

"Get out." I was on my feet, nearly shaking in anger. 

"I'm sorry?" Olleth was startled. "What did you say?" 

"I said, get out," I repeated, stalking toward the door. "Collect Culas, and leave at once." 

"What?" Now Olleth was the one gaping. "But --" 

"Get out of this nursery, and do not dare show your face here again, is that clear enough?" I snapped, taking a step toward her, and I admit that it gave me a fierce joy to see her shrink back in her chair. I was struggling to keep my voice down, but from the wide-eyed looks the children were giving me, I had not succeeded. I was too infuriated to be calmed by the knowledge that I might be scaring them. "Culas is welcome back any time he likes, but you are certainly not. Get out now."  

"Well -- I --- who do you think you are, to speak to me so?" Olleth stammered as she stood, wisely backing away from me. "You cannot throw me out of ---" 

"I can and I am," I shot back, clenching my fists in the hope that my hands would stop trembling. "You have insulted me, my lord and lady, and the Steward, and I will have you here no longer. Now I say again -- leave this nursery immediately, or else I will call a guard to remove you." 

I had been told by my older brothers that when worked into a rage as I was now, I was rather an intimidating sight, and it seemed that Olleth agreed, for she scurried over to Culas and scooped him into her arms, hugging him protectively to her chest. "No matter how you please Lord Denethor," she snarled as she hurried to leave, "you are much mistaken if you think that the Lord Pelinlas will stand for you threatening me, and his son." 

I had not said one word about harming either one of them, and my hold on my temper failed completely. I jerked the door open, and shouted down the corridor, "Guard!" Olleth went white, then red, and a tiny lucid part of my mind, quickly silenced, realized that I was throwing myself into deep waters indeed.  

A guard appeared as if out of thin air. "Yes, miss?" he said, and eyeing both of us curiously.  

"If you would take Olleth and Master Culas to their escort?" I said, speaking as evenly as I could. "I am afraid that I have a headache." 

"I'm sorry to hear that, miss," the guard said, and though his voice was placid, his eyes were full of questions. "Shall I call for a healer?" 

"There is no need," I assured him with a smile that only made him look at me more closely. "I am sure that it will soon depart."

 "As you say." The guard inclined his head, then led Olleth away as she shot one murderous glance over her shoulder at me. 

I shut the door, being very careful not to slam it as I wanted to, then, without warning, I burst into tears. Surely she could not be right. Surely nannies and laundry girls and stable boys and housemaids and cooks and footmen all over the City were not talking about how I had earned my place as Boromir's nanny on my back, or about how I was keeping my position by entertaining the Lord Denethor with my favours. 

Of course they were, I thought bleakly, covering my face with my hands. She was right; I had no rank and no connections. I myself was not sure why Lady Finduilas had engaged me -- what else would total strangers think?  

I could not seem to stop weeping, and I did not even know that I was sitting on the floor until Boromir kneeled in my lap and put his plump little arms around my neck. "No, no," he said, anxiously trying to soothe me, "no, no cry. No cry." Naturally that only made me sob harder, and Boromir looked on the verge of wailing. 

I managed to get control over myself and hugged him tightly, not wanting to upset him further. "I'm all right," I assured him, though my voice still wobbled, "I'm all right, Boromir." 

He did not look as if he believed me, so I gave him a weak smile. He was still not convinced, but his face did ease some. "Hurt?" he asked, looking for my injury. "Kiss better?" 

"Kiss better," I nodded, almost breaking down again at his worry. He planted a very wet kiss on my cheek, and snuggled against me, pleased with himself.  

It was not until I had put Boromir down for his nap until my anger wore off enough that I understood how big of a fool I had been. If I had been able to hold on to my temper, and continued to smile pleasantly, feigning ignorance, none of this would have happened. But no, I had to fly into a rage and throw that stupid woman out of the nursery -- I had to call a guard to escort her out, and the news of that would soon be all over the Citadel. My lord and lady would certainly want to know what had made me do such a thing, and I would have to tell them. I trembled at the thought -- I did not know who it would be worse to face, Lord Denethor or Lady Finduilas.  

There was only one thing for it. I would have to go to Lady Finduilas and confess what I had done before she heard it from anyone else.  

Before I could lose my nerve, I sat down and wrote a note to Lady Finduilas' secretary, requesting to speak with my lady. I rang for a page, and jumped when a knock came at the door almost simultaneously. Opening it, I saw a page standing there, and we looked at each other silently for a moment.  

"This is for the Lady Finduilas…" I started. 

"This is from the Lady Finduilas…" he said at the same time, then he trailed off, chuckling.  

I could not even smile at him, so we exchanged notes, and he left with a courteous "Good day, miss." 

Lady Finduilas had already heard of the incident, and wished to speak with me tomorrow at this same time. And what was more, she was coming to the nursery, rather than inviting me to her sitting room. My stomach began to ache.  

What was I going to say? I could not just blurt out the vile things Olleth had said! What was she going to say? I could be sent home in disgrace -- I thought it quite likely that I would be. No-one wants a tempersome woman raising their child. I did not want to go home; I liked my work, and I loved Boromir dearly, even if I was not fond of Minas Tirith. Oh, what if Lord Denethor was there as well? How would I be able to face both of them? 

Boromir was restless, and he shrieked and shrieked when I tried to put him down for the night. Perhaps he sensed my unhappy mood. I was too troubled to fight him, so instead I held him, pacing the floors, hoping he would drift off to sleep. 

I wished I had someone to talk to, someone to tell all that had happened today. It would have been a weight off my chest just to put my fears into words, but I had no such --oh. Oh. Yes, I did.

I went weak in relief. We would walk the halls --the guards were used to our night ramblings when Boromir could not sleep; they would think nothing of me taking a new route. We would walk the halls right into the kitchens. 

"Come, Boromir," I whispered into his ear. "We are going to see Mag."

Once I had decided to speak to Mag about Olleth's rumours, I felt much less anxious. Most of what I knew of Mag came from observation. I had half a day off every week, and, as I did not really know what to do with myself, I often spent time in the kitchens. To be honest, I was a bit lonely, and had not found a group of friends in which I felt completely comfortable. The kitchen was always an inviting place in which to spend a few hours. Neither Mag nor the head cook seemed to mind who lingered there, as long as no-one got in the way of the day's work. I usually sat at a table in the corner, watching the hustle and bustle, and being more than mildly amazed at how smoothly things ran. Mag was very cheerful and lively, always had a friendly word for anyone who entered, and more often than not, some freshly-baked treat as well. We had spoken in passing several times, and she struck me as a no-nonsense woman, but generous and thoughtful as well.

So I gathered up a shawl to cover us -- the stone corridors could get quite chilly at night -- and headed for the kitchens. As I walked, however, I wondered how I was going to bring up what was troubling me. I had never spoken at length with Mag -- what if she thought I was being presumptuous, bringing such a matter to her? I did not expect her to solve my problem-- I simply wanted another person's opinion on the situation, and I thought Mag would be ideally suited to give such advice.

Boromir showed no interest in our short journey, and was content to rest against me while we walked. When we reached the kitchens themselves, however, he sat up in my arms and looked around with wide eyes. Of course he had never been to the kitchens before, and I could see he was fascinated by everything the room held -- the stoves, the chopping blocks, the spotless copper pots hanging from the rack, the huge fireplace, though this late, the fire burned very low. He did not struggle to get down, which told me how tired he was, for all that he refused to sleep. A few hours ago, he would have been begging to explore every nook and cranny.

Sure enough, Mag was still there, and, thankfully, she was alone. She was wiping down countertops, and she looked up when we entered. For a moment, she looked startled -- I suppose we did look an odd pair, me with my loose hair and rumpled dress, sleepy-eyed Boromir in his nightshirt, the two of us wrapped in a shawl. "One of you is up past your bedtime," she said, smiling and coming toward us.

I smiled back, adjusting Boromir on my hip. "Have you had the chance to meet Boromir?" I asked, and her smile grew wider.

"I met him once, when he was just a wee babe," Mag replied, chuckling. "His father the Lord Denethor came 'round, showing off this lad to any who would look. Since then I've not seen him except from a distance. How he's grown!"

"Boromir, this is Mag," I told him, and he studied her. "Will you say hello?"

He crumpled his forehead thoughtfully, then asked, "Rusks?" and I could not help but laugh. Though Boromir was past teething, he still loved the hard crumbly rounds of bread.

"Yes, duckling, this is the woman who makes your rusks," I agreed, and Mag looked inordinately pleased. "I talk to him about …well, everything. Apparently he remembers who prepares his favourite treats."

Mag fairly beamed at this. "You just tell me what his favourite treats are," she told me, "and he can have them whenever he likes." She was watching Boromir as intently as he was watching her, and I was struck with the odd certainty that Mag was very partial to my little man, though she'd not seen him more than a handful of times.

"Would you like to hold him?" I asked impulsively. "He is very friendly, and loves the attention, especially when he is this sleepy."

Mag looked taken aback. "Oh, no," she said, shaking her head. "I'd be afraid I'd drop him and break his head, and then where would we be?"

I did not understand this fear-- but then, I'd been holding children since I was five years old, and it was as natural to me as breathing. I would likely react the same way if Mag asked me if I would like to bake a pie.

"Now what has brought the two of you to the kitchens so late?" she wanted to know. "In search of a snack, or perhaps just a nice cup of tea?"

"Oh, tea would be lovely, if it's not too much trouble," I said, just as Boromir piped up hopefully, "Rusk?"

Mag laughed, reaching out to briefly touch Boromir's bare foot where it peeped out from under the shawl. "Tea is no trouble," she assured me, "and I imagine that I could find a rusk or two as well. Now sit down, and make yourself comfortable."

I sat down at one of the tables, adjusting Boromir in my lap, as Mag busied herself with the tasks at hand. I was a bit surprised when she set three mugs on the table along with the teapot. I said cautiously, "Mag, I do not think Boromir is quite of an age for tea…"

She poured a teaspoon's worth into one of the mugs, then filled it the rest of the way with milk I had not even seen her warm up. "Bit of cinnamon and honey in there as well," she said, winking at me as she joined us at the table. "That ought to ease him towards sleep."

"Rusk?" Boromir asked, eagerly reaching for the plate. "Please thank you?"

"Ah, and see how well-mannered he is!" Mag smiled, handing him one. "Such a lovely child, though quite a handful, I'm sure."

"Oh, he is not as rowdy as some I've cared for, " I replied, thinking of my younger siblings. "And there is only one of him, after all. He's not yet difficult to keep up with."

"I'm sure that's a comfort," Mag said, watching Boromir as he began to eat. "And you - are you enjoying life in the White City, and your position here? It's quite different from Dol Amroth, I'm sure, though I've never been there. I've heard tell it's a lovely city too. All that seafood must be a treat. Or do you become sick of it after a while?"

"It is....different here, you are certainly right about that. Busier, I guess. I did not really expect Minas Tirith to be so large!" I admitted, remembering how overwhelmed I had been when I first arrived. "As for me, I have never tired of fresh seafood -- it is one of the things I miss most." I had been surprised at how much I missed having seafood whenever I pleased -- here, it was a treat, not an everyday dish.

Boromir was trying to lift his mug, but could not quite get his small hands around it, so I helped him lift it, and held it while he drank. "And I am enjoying my position - Boromir is a sweet boy.  He has recently had some of the lords' sons come in to play, and he seems to enjoy that." I could not have asked for a better opportunity to approach the subject.

"Was that your idea?" Mag asked. "What a clever girl! 'Tis true, not that he's a spoiled child -or not overly spoiled, you keep a good eye on that. But he'll need to learn to get along well with others, if he's to lead. What kind of games do they play?"

I blushed, for it was not often someone called me "clever". "Thank you -- yes, I thought he needed some companions his own age.  I have many siblings, and it seemed odd for Boromir to have no children to play with.  They play whatever strikes their fancy - he's got so many toys to choose from! Often they like to pull out everything he owns and play with all of them together." I thought it was curious that Mag was so interested in this -- most women without children could have cared less what little boys did to occupy their time.

Boromir was after his mug again -- rusks were by nature very dry --and again I held it for him. "Drink more slowly, Boromir - you are getting it all over." I dabbed at the spot on his nightshirt with the shawl, and went on, carefully choosing my words. "The other nannies... they mostly sit and chat with me.  I've not had a chance to meet most of them before, and...they seem to like to gossip a great deal."

"Ah, gossip! The City runs on it, more than water or food it seems sometime!" Mag exclaimed knowingly. "Those magpies are always chattering away. There's an old expression, too - 'knowledge is power' -- and there are always some to want to trade in that kind of coin, if you take my meaning. They'll exchange pieces of stories, embroider what little of truth they've got, and make up the rest." She laughed, and I wondered if she was going to dismiss my fears as just something that I would have to put up with for as long as I lived here. But then Mag cast an appraising eye at me. "Has one of those magpies said something that is hurtful to you?"

I wiped milk from Boromir's face, then took a long drink of tea, giving myself time to screw up my courage further. It was, after all, why I had sought Mag out. I took a deep breath. "Have you...I am sure you hear a lot of things, with all the people that come in and out of your kitchen ...have you heard anyone say that I ...that there is something…um...inappropriate between me and Lord Denethor?" The words spilled out in a rush, and I could feel my face turning bright red.

Mag choked on her tea. "With the Lord Denethor? That cold.…" she was giggling as if she were years younger than me, which, somehow, put me at ease. "Forgive me....it's just that...him, of all people!" She lowered her voice conspiratorially. " Now his father, Lord Ecthelion....now he was a one. They warned us about him, first thing, and so we warned all the other new ones as they came along. Free with his hands, he was, and there are some as said he was like that with the lads as well ...but now I'm gossiping, just as bad as those magpies! But Lord Denethor....no, he's not ever a one for anything like that." She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

I was blushing furiously, but managed to reply, "Mmmmm, yes, I was warned about Lord Ecthelion, not that I am ever in his presence. So....so you've heard no rumours about… ...about how I got this position? One of the women -- she told me that everyone believes I earned my place by....um…"

"By what? Oh -- " she took a look at my face and I am sure saw that I was too embarrassed to be more specific. "Oh, my dear...not that you're not a lovely lass, but no, oh no, not a bit. Anyone who works here would laugh at such a tale as well. We know him, you see, and of course we know you, too. But those outside, as well as inside, have such little lives of their own that they need to create tales to fill up the holes in their own brains."

I was a bit confused as to how anyone in the Steward's household knew me, considering how little I interacted with any of the other servants, but Mag's assurance did bolster my confidence. "I suppose it is understandable, when people talk about those in a high position. But I am just Boromir's nanny. Why would she --why would anyone- make up something like that about me? I do not know her -- I have never done anything to harm or upset her...well, until today."

"Jealous, probably," Mag nodded, smiling as Boromir reached for another rusk. " 'Tis a goodly position, and there was quite a bit of curious talk as to where and how a nanny would be found. You were quite unexpected, dear, to most, and likely put a nose or two out of joint. But we all thought it understandable for her to want someone from her own land, to be a comfort to her among strangers."

I bit my lip, realized I was doing so, and made myself stop. "I do not know that being from Dol Amroth will help me," I confessed, unnecessarily straightening Boromir's hair. He was oblivious to all, perfectly content with his rusk and his sweet milky tea. "I got very angry at the other woman  -- she cannot sit and say such vile things in the Steward's house and expect me do nothing! So I...um...I threw her out of the nursery. Had her escorted out by one of the guards."

"You did what?" Mag began chortling again.

"I threw her out," I repeated, half-mumbling. "Olleth was just --sitting there, looking smug, as if she had caught me with my hand in the cookie jar! And she was so -- oh, she made me so angry!" My voice had risen with indignation just remembering the look on Olleth's face, and Boromir looked at me.

"Angry?" he said anxiously, touching my chin.

"No, Boromir, I am not angry," I told him, lowering my voice to a less strident level. "I'm sorry, little one. I did not mean to be so loud." He beamed at me, and turned back to his rusk, which he was breaking into pieces and dunking into his tea.

"Olleth, was it? Good for you!" Mag declared, and something in her voice made me think that this was not the first time Olleth had roused someone's temper. "And what did you say to her?"

"I told her to get out, and that she was not welcome back," I said, "and that she had given great insult to the Steward's entire family. She would not leave immediately, so I -- I called one of the guards to help her on her way. And now…" I sighed, "Lady Finduilas wishes to speak with me tomorrow about this, and -- I do not know what I shall say to her! I cannot simply repeat those things to my lady... "

Mag was still chuckling. "…Called for the guards...oh, so that was what they were talking about! I heard something about Olleth, and 'mad as a wet hen'. Now it all makes sense.…"

"Oh,no," I gasped. "You have already heard of this?  Oh.... so it is already all over the Citadel." My stomach was churning again. Lord Denethor had likely heard as well. Oh, no…

"Well, there's another example of how fast word spreads here," Mag shrugged, "and a proof for you that there was no gossip, ever, about you, else it would have been all around already."

I had been so worried that this very obvious fact had escaped me. "Hmmmm.....you are correct about that. I just -- I do not really know what goes on in the Tower. So.....do you think that the Lady will be angry with me? I -- I do not want to be sent home. I do not know how to explain my actions without saying something -- offensive."

"Sent home?" Mag scoffed. "That's the silliest thing I ever heard! Why should you be sent home because that girl is a ninny?"

"Because I lost my temper with her -- it is not a very good example to set for Boromir," I explained. "And if Lord Pelinlas decides to take offense, it could create a great deal of trouble. No-one wants a servant who starts trouble."

Mag shook her head, looking sympathetic. "Lady Finduilas may look fragile, but she's no fool. She comes from a royal house, remember, and she's seen toadying. And heard a fair bit of gossip, true or not in her days, as well. And she knows you. She knows your patience, and your affection for our dear Boromir, and the care you put into everything you do. She'll hear you out. You have nothing to fear from our lady. She is the kindest, sweetest lady who ever lived, but strong underneath."

Mag was so confident that I was starting to feel a little ridiculous about working myself into such a state. "You know her better than I do," I said, "I do not speak to her very often, and you have been in her service much longer. I have been worried that she is the type to be hysterical over such things....hysterical woman do not often let you tell your side of the story." I was thinking of my mother -- she was apt to succumb to the vapors if the bread was slightly too brown.

"Hysterical? You mean with crying, and carrying on, and such things?" Mag considered a moment. "No, I've never, ever, heard of such behavior from our Lady Finduilas."

"More?" Boromir asked, showing me his empty mug. "More tea?"

"I do not know if there is more," I said, looking to Mag, who nodded with a smile. "And I would like it if you asked properly." I did not believe in talking to young children as if they were incapable of understanding me, and had always spoken in such a manner to Boromir. He had been able to say "please" and "thank you" for six months, and I insisted that he do so, most times.

"More tea please?" Boromir directed his words at Mag, giving her a smile that could melt a heart of stone. She gave a delighted laugh, and went to refill his mug.

" I suppose the thing to remember is our Lady Finduilas wasn't born this very morning," Mag continued, "and has seen and heard things in her time - she knows people like to gossip; but she knows you, and she knows her lord, and I daresay she knows Olleth, too, and her ilk."

"Perhaps I am just used to the way my mother carries on," I said wryly as Mag returned to the table, and her smile grew wider when Boromir thanked her very sweetly. "Perhaps it will not be as bad as I have been thinking...I just do not want to upset the lady. But you are right - Lady Finduilas certainly knows her lord, and such a thing would be impossible to keep a secret, if it were happening. And you are right again -- I have been so concerned about myself that .. I forgot that the lady has probably seen worse things than a nanny losing her temper at a spiteful woman."

"You have nothing to be afraid of at all, dear," Mag assured me, patting my hand comfortably. "It'll work out just fine."

I gave a hugely relieved smile. "Thank you, Mag -- I have been fretting myself sick.....I feel much better now…"

There was a noise behind me, and Mag looked up as another woman entered the kitchens. "Nall!" she exclaimed. "I didn't realize it was that late already. This is my good friend Niallis. Nall, this is Boromir's nanny."

"Hello, Nall," I said. "Do you work in the Citadel as well? I do not know many people."

"I work in the laundry, over at the Houses," Nall said. "I've seen you, though, when you've brought our little lord over to the garden. How he's grown!"

I laughed as I stood, hoisting Boromir back to my hip. His eyes were heavy, though he was still watching with interest. "And keeps growing, too. Boromir, will you say hello to Nall?"

Mag rose, and began lowering the flames on the lamps, closing up the kitchen for the night.

Boromir hesitated an instant then said, "H'llo," and quickly hid his face with his hands.

"When have you ever been bashful?" I teased him, then said, "thank you, Mag. I did not mean to take up so much of your time, and you have been so helpful."

I wrapped the shawl tighter around Boromir-- his legs seemed chilly to me. We paused at the entrance to the kitchen, and Mag shyly reached out to stroke Boromir's cheek. "Sweet boy," she said fondly, and  Boromir grinned, grabbing her fingers.

"Good night, Mag, Nall," I said. "And thank you again."

"Good night, dears," Mag said, and Nall echoed her.

Boromir yawned, "Night," and waved sleepily at them, and as we began to make our way down the corridor, I heard Mag's soft, pleased laughter.

~*~
 

 

A/N - All of Mag's dialogue written by her creator, Annmarwalk.

Boromir fell asleep before we reached the nursery, and did not stir when I lay him in his crib. I stayed awake for a short while longer, thinking over what Mag had said to me, and decided that I had been quite silly for being so worried. All I had to do was keep my composure, explain what Olleth had accused me of, and look suitably chastised if necessary. I knew before I spoke to Mag that Lady Finduilas was not a flighty, high-strung woman; I had just gotten carried away by my own anxiety.

However, knowing all this did not make me less nervous when I awoke the next day. Boromir was in high spirits as I prepared a bath for him - he had been very restless the previous night, and I had been too troubled to argue with him about it - but now he happily splashed in the tub, chattering away in half-intelligible sentences. As my skirt was soaked by a spray of water, I wondered, with some amusement, how two people as quiet and restrained as Lord Denethor and Lady Finduilas had managed to produce such a boisterous little boy. Then the little boy in question grinned at me, and I could not help but be grateful that Boromir was not a meek, delicate child. "Are you nearly finished, duckling?" I asked, grinning back.

"No," he replied, shaking his head and sending droplets of water all over me. "No, I like water!" And he began quacking, which never failed to make me laugh.

I let him play; he was much easier to handle when confined to the tub, and I used the time to think and prepare myself for his mother's visit. I was willing to do or say most anything that was necessary to in order to keep my position; I did not know what I would do without Boromir to look after. Though I sincerely hoped Lady Finduilas did not want me to apologize to Olleth. I did not think she deserved an apology.

The morning seemed to drag on forever. I was ready to have this talk with the Lady Finduilas over and done with, so I could stop fretting about what she might have to say to me.

Boromir kept me distracted from my worries, asking me over and over if we were going to the kitchens again. I had already decided to take him to see Mag more often - she had seemed to enjoy his presence. I could not tell if Boromir wanted to see Mag, or if he simply wanted to explore an unfamiliar place, but when I told him that sometime we would indeed go visit the kitchens again, he clapped his hands in glee. "Now, we go now?"

"Later," I promised, knowing that at this age he had no concept of when "later" might be. This satisfied him, and he went back to his toys, singing a song of his own making that consisted solely of the words "rusks and tea".

Finally it was time for luncheon, though I could not manage more than a few bites. That sick feeling was back in the pit of my stomach, and no amount of scolding myself did anything to banish it. Boromir, as usual, ate anything placed in front of him, but he was not yet adept at using a spoon, and I ended up with mashed carrots on the front of my dress. Sighing inwardly, I washed his face and hands, and put him down for his nap. For once, he did not protest, only asked for his stuffed pony, and was asleep within moments.

I hurried to make certain that I was presentable - it would not do to receive the Lady Finduilas with flyaway hair and food all over my clothing. I was just dabbing at the carrot-stain when a knock came at the door, and my stomach lurched. I took a deep breath, which did little to steady me, and went to greet her.

Lady Finduilas was followed by one of the kitchen girls, who was carrying a large tray that bore a teapot, cups, and several small plates of biscuits and breads. The kitchen girl set these on the table as I managed a smile and a curtsey. "Good afternoon, my lady," I said, hoping I did not look as apprehensive as I felt. I also felt rather like a street urchin next to Lady Finduilas- my drab gown was wrinkled and not entirely clean, hers was a brocade of emerald green, pressed and spotless; my hair was pulled back in an almost severe, yet haphazard braid, hers was a charming creation of artful curls, nary a hair out of place. It only increased my tension to appear so unkempt when Lady Finduilas was so polished.

She did not seem to notice the differences in our appearances. "Good afternoon," she replied with a warm smile that did much to relax me. "Come, sit here with me, and we shall talk." She moved toward the table, making me envious of the graceful way she walked.

The kitchen girl threw me a glance and, to my surprise, flashed a smile. "Shall you need anything else, my lady?" she asked, bobbing a quick curtsey.

"No, this is quite enough," Lady Finduilas said. "Please convey my thanks to Mag."

I reached for the pot, asking, "How do you like your tea, my lady?" and jumped when Lady Finduilas laid her hand on my wrist. Her skin was cool, and very smooth.

"I can see that you are nervous," she said, not unkindly. "I wish to discuss this ..situation with you, but before we begin, I would like to put your mind at ease, and tell you that there is no need for you to worry."

I was too startled to speak. She took advantage of my confusion by taking the pot from my hands, and pouring the tea for both of us herself, as if it were normal for a woman of her position to serve a woman of mine.

Lady Finduilas gave me a moment to prepare my tea and select a bit of the food provided -- I had time to wonder how Mag knew I liked gingersnaps, and to note that she had sent rusks as well. Then my lady said, "I would like you to tell me what happened with Olleth. I have heard other people's versions of the story; now I should like to hear it from you."

I did not look at Lady Finduilas -- this was difficult enough for me. "She…Olleth, that is…she made accusations that were insulting, both to me and to my lady's family." I was not foolish to think that was enough of an explanation, but I wanted to make certain I phrased my words carefully.

There was a silence, then Lady Finduilas said, "What type of accusations?"

I dared to look up at her, and saw neither anger nor impatience in her eyes. She was serene, and that horrible twisting in my stomach eased just a bit.

"She…made certain implications concerning…um…the Lord Denethor .." my face was growing hot, and I had to force the words out, "…and improprieties …." I floundered, losing any of the words I had prepared, and took refuge in my teacup.

"With you?" Lady Finduilas' voice was gentle, and when I looked at her, I saw compassion on her face.

"Yes," I nodded, my voice no more than a whisper.

Lady Finduilas took a sip of her tea. "I had thought it might be something like that," she revealed, "though I had not heard this in so many words."

I wondered how she had heard at all - surely no-one would be stupid enough to spread gossip within Lady Finduilas' hearing. I was also astonished at her easy acceptance of Olleth's words. Was that her entire reaction? Only understanding?

"And your response was to throw her out of the nursery?"

I nodded again. "Yes, my lady," I replied. "I -- I lost my temper, and told her that she was not to set foot in the nursery again. I should not have -- it was very ill-done."

I was taken aback when Lady Finduilas gave a wry smile, an expression that was very out of place on her delicate face. "I would beg to differ."

"My -- my lady?" I was puzzled. "I am sorry, but I do not understand."

She nibbled at a frosted biscuit, and with a start, I realized that she was giving herself time to gather her thoughts, as if she were as concerned about her words as I was about mine. "You have not had many dealings with gossip about yourself, have you?"

"No," I admitted. "We are not a highly-placed family, my lady, and I am only the eldest daughter. There are many people more interesting than me in Dol Amroth."

Lady Finduilas nodded.. "I thought as much," she said, leaning towards me. "I am afraid, my dear, that you will have to learn to ignore such gossip, now that you are in my lord husband's employ. Many women -- women with far more experience and higher connections -- were resentful that I chose you, rather than one of them. Resentful women are often spiteful women, and I daresay that some will continue to try to tarnish your reputation."

A thought occurred to me. "Was -- did Olleth want this position?"

"Oh, yes," Lady Finduilas said, a small smile on her lips, "she was certain that she would be the one to care for my children."

I pondered this, then said, "Your pardon, my lady -- but I still do not understand why you are not…angry with me for losing my temper, and in front of Boromir and his playmate, as well! Was I not overstepping my bounds, to have her escorted out?"

"It is regrettable that the children had to witness the scene," Lady Finduilas said, "and if you are so determined to be scolded, I can certainly rebuke you. However --" I breathed a sigh of relief, "--you were well within your bounds."

I must have had a very odd look on my face, for Lady Finduilas laughed. "The insult Olleth delivered was quite beyond bearing," she told me, and for the first time, I saw a flash of anger in my lady's eyes, "and if she was foolish enough to say such things to your face, then she should have expected you to respond.. She will not be coming back to the nursery - you may trust me in that."

"Thank you, my lady," I said, though those words did little to convey my full gratitude. "I am sorry that Boromir and Culas had to see it, but she ---" unexpectedly, my temper was rising, and it was with an effort that I held it in check. "I will learn to pay no attention to vile talk in the future."

"You will hear yourself maligned again," she said, now solemn."It is something you will not be able to avoid, as you are now part of a noble household, in a highly sought after position. You must not only disregard these slurs against your character-- you must not let it affect you. I do believe that you acted properly in confronting Olleth as you did on this occasion; however --" she grew stern and I shrank back a bit in my chair, "you cannot respond so vehemently to anyone who insults you. You are a bright girl - I trust that you know the difference between a true insult, and wagging tongues that are only trying to bait you into reacting?"

I had to swallow before I could say, "Yes, my lady. I do. And I will find a way to keep my composure."

She reached for her teacup, looking pleased at my answer. "After hearing Olleth's tale-- and people will hear it, mark my words -- I do not think that anyone will dare speak slander in your presence again. It will be much easier to ignore those who whisper behind your back. And do not worry," she smiled so warmly that I could not help but smile back, "those who are aquainted with you know malicious gossip when they hear it. It will not be believed by those with a shred of common sense."

It was somehow comforting to hear Mag's words echoed by the Lady Finduilas, and I was preparing to thank my lady yet again when a noise caught my ear. Surely he could not be awake already?

"Your pardon, my lady," I said, standing. "I think I hear Boromir stirring."

It did not occur to me to wait until she granted me leave; I simply hurried into Boromir's room. He was not awake - he still lay under his blanket, clutching his pony - but he was tossing and fretful. I knew this meant he would soon wake in a fussy mood. The only way to soothe him when he was like this was to walk with him, so I picked him up, and he subsided when I cradled him against my shoulder.

"Is he awake?" Lady Finduilas' low voice made me start.

"Not quite," I said, turning so she could see his face. He then proved me a liar by lifting his head, and looking around the room groggily.

I thought it odd that my lady did not immediately take him from me. I did notice that she was watching Boromir with a look in her eyes that I could not interpret. Somehow, that gaze also made her seem more approachable, so I took a chance, and asked her the question that had been bothering me for months.

"My lady," I said hesitantly, "if ..if I may ….why did you chose me, rather than one of those other women?" I had been shocked to discover that my lady even knew who I was -- I had never met her before I arrived in Minas Tirith, and we were related only peripherally by a tangle of marriages so convoluted that no-one but a scholar (or my mother) could trace the relation.

Lady Finduilas smiled. "You were child-tending at a banquet some years ago, and you were so patient and kind to the little ones and managed them so easily that I thought, 'That is the kind of woman I want to care for my children.'" She laughed softly, and Boromir looked up at the sound, reaching for her. Now she took him from me, and held him close, murmuring into his ear.

I did not remember any particular banquet -- my mother was so enamored of her connections to Dol Amroth's ruling family, no matter how distant, that she dragged us to any banquet we could feasibly attend, and, with five younger siblings, I was always child-tending. Of course I did not say this.

She continued, as Boromir played with her curls, "But why should I have gotten a woman like you, when I could just as easily get you yourself?" Her smile faded. "And I did not want a woman of Minas Tirith tending my son -- he will be consumed by this City soon enough. I wanted a woman of my own land."

For an instant, Lady Finduilas' tone was somewhere between bitter and resigned, but in the next moment, she was smiling again, running her fingers through Boromir's sleep-tousled hair. "I did not want a woman who looked at my little one as just another in a long line of children," she said, attention fixed on her son, "I wanted someone who would truly care for him and keep him safe." She gave me an appraising glance. "I believe I chose well."

I was blushing again - compliments tended to make me very uncomfortable - and managed, "Thank you, my lady. You have done me a great service."

Lady Finduilas smiled, and for the first time, I saw that Boromir had his mother's smile. "Must he go back to sleep?" she asked, and I was as startled by her wistful voice as I was by the fact that she was deferring to me, in regards to his care.

"He will not go back to sleep now," I said, perhaps a bit too ruefully, for my lady laughed quietly, and Boromir giggled in reply. "Once he is awake, he is awake 'til bedtime."

"Not bedtime!" Boromir scowled. "Time for snack?"

"Yes, duckling, it is time for a snack," I said, laughing at his fierce expression. "And there is a special treat for you today."

"Rusks?" he gasped, starting to squirm in his mother's arms. "Down, please!"

Lady Finduilas set him on his feet -- reluctantly, I noted -- and Boromir tugged at her hand. "Rusks, Mama -- come!"

Her face lit up at his persistence, and she allowed him to pull her toward the playroom. I followed, smiling at his excitement.

I set him in his chair, and was beginning to prepare a plate for him when I realized that Lady Finduilas was hesitating. "My lady?" I asked. "Is something amiss?"

"I should like to stay," she said, and again I was taken aback by how she seemed to be asking me for permission.

"He is your son, my lady," I pointed out, hoping I did not sound impertinent, "and this is your household."

Lady Finduilas looked at me, and that indefinable expression was back in her eyes. She made as if to speak, but Boromir piped up, "Sit, Mama! Sit here!"

She laughed in delight, and obeyed, and Boromir began talking so rapidly that even I could not make out most of the words.

I did not try to involve myself in the conversation, unless Boromir spoke to me, or Lady Finduilas asked for a translation. She had little enough time with him, and he was overjoyed to have his mother with him for even a short while. I watched them, smiling into my cup, and tried not to think on why she occasionally seemed so far away.

  "No no no," Boromir protested, batting at the damp cloth.

"Yes yes yes," I replied, finally catching his chin. "How do you manage to make such a mess? "

He had porridge on his hands, all over on his face, and even in his hair; jam was smeared from ear to ear, and milk was spilled all down the front of his tunic.

"No, still hungry!" he insisted, pulling away from me. "More please!"

I sighed, gave up, and handed him the last piece of toast. "I suppose I should just be glad that you have such a healthy appetite."

"Kitchen?" Boromir said, bouncing in my arms as he realized which way we were walking. "Tea with Mag?"

"Yes, we are having tea with Mag today," I replied, smiling at his wide grin. "But you must sit at the table with me, understand? No playing in the kitchen."

"No playing," he repeated, shaking his head sadly. "Eating."

"Yes, just eating," I laughed.

As we walked down the corridor to the kitchen, I saw several men coming towards us, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Probably guards just off-duty; many of them liked to sit in the kitchen and have a quick chat with whoever happened to be there before they headed home. If any such men came in while we were there, Boromir always sat perfectly still and stared at them, fascinated. Of course they all knew who he was, and would take a moment to greet him, which delighted him to no end.

I noticed one man lagging near the back of the group who did not look like a guard, however; his posture was all wrong. Maybe a Ranger, just in from Ithilien? Boromir would be thrilled, I thought. The first time he'd seen a Ranger, his eyes had gone so wide I was almost afraid they would fall out of his head.

Boromir noticed the men and gasped. "Guards, guards!" he whispered, patting my shoulder and pointing. He raised his voice to its normal level. "Hello, guards!"  

They stopped for a moment, greeting us cheerfully. "Ho there, young master!"  "Good day, little man, miss!" "If you hurry, Mag has still got warm scones." "Unless that rascal Celeblas has eaten them all, of course."

The man who was not a guard  did have the look of a Ranger about him, now that I saw him more closely. However, he did not acknowledge Boromir, me, or even the guards, only looked as if he were irritated at the fact that we were blocking his way.  In fact, we were not, for he went by easily, at quite a brisk pace.

"Then we should hurry," I said to the guards with a smile, "for it would not do to let Celeblas have all of Mag's fresh scones."

"Scones please!" Boromir exclaimed happily. "Good-bye, guards, good-bye!"

Laughing at his eagerness, they bid us farewell, and we continued to the kitchen, though I was more than a little annoyed with the impoliteness of the Ranger. He had acted as though we did not even exist - even the busiest of lords could be counted upon to give  a quick  "good-day" if he encountered the two of us in passing.

The kitchen was empty of guards, Rangers, or loitering household staff. At this time of day, there was a short lull in between distributing trays for tea and beginning preparations for the evening meal, so only Mag and a few kitchen workers were there. When we entered, Boromir piped, "Hello, hello!", and Mag turned with a wide smile.

"There you are!" Mag exclaimed, catching Boromir's waving hand. "Ready for your tea, are you?"

Boromir nodded. "Yes, yes, please, tea!"

We sat in our usual spot, and when Mag brought us tea and cinnamon scones (which were indeed still warm), I asked, "Mag, who was that Ranger that just left the kitchen?"

"A Ranger?" she said, dusting her hands on her apron and joining us at the table. "I don't remember seeing a Ranger, dear. What did he look like?"

"He was not wearing any sort of uniform," I said, buttering a scone for Boromir, "he was wearing - it looked like travel leathers...I'd never seen him before."

Mag chuckled. "Ah, that must have been Captain Thorongil," she revealed.

"That was Captain Thorongil?" I was more than a little surprised.  "No, Boromir, scones are not for dunking - it will just fall apart in your tea..." I turned back to Mag, "..the Captain Thorongil?"

 "And why are you interested?" Mag wondered, a twinkle in her eyes. "Have you got a fancy for him?"  

"Certainly not," I answered a little tartly. "He had rather a...roguish look to him, and he was rude to Boromir! Boromir said 'hello', loud as you please, and the man walked on by without a word! Everyone else spoke to us."

"Perhaps he didn't think Boromir was speaking to him," Mag said, helping herself to a scone. "He is a bachelor, you know. Most bachelors pay no mind to little ones, no matter how sweet they may be."  She directed a smile at Boromir's crumb-covered face. "And I've never heard of the Captain being rude before...."

"Well, the guards stopped and spoke to Boromir," I pointed out, "and he ignored all of us.  He just strode by as if we were not worth his time."  I caught Boromir's hand just in time to keep him from shoving half a scone in his mouth. "Not so much at once, silly boy."

"He's only just gotten back," Mag said as I broke the scone into quarters, "and I believe he was on his way to see the Lord Denethor.   He likely had other things on his mind, dear."

I could not fault him for that - if I had been summoned to see Lord Denethor, I likely would not notice a choir of Elves singing in six-part harmony. "You may be right," I admitted grudgingly and Mag chuckled softly. "But I do not ---"

"Mag, have I left my map case in here?"

All three of us glanced up, and there stood the subject of our conversation. He was lean, with very intense eyes and a face that gave nothing away.  I had been right; he was wearing travel leathers that looked as if they had seen much hard use.

"Indeed you did, Captain," Mag replied with a glance at me. "It's just here." She stood up and went to the shelf where she kept lost items.

He was very tall, and moved with uncommon grace, but he did not seem like a mighty warrior, as the rumours about him would have one believe. He was not nearly as handsome as many women said, and while his smile was warm, his presence was somehow quietly overwhelming.  I was a bit uncomfortable around him, truth be told.

I, however, was not an 18-month-old boy. Boromir was utterly fascinated; his eyes, wide with curiosity, followed every move the man made. But when the captain spoke to him, Boromir hid his face in my shoulder.

"Why are you so bashful?" I asked, surprised. "Come, say hello to Captain Thorongil."

He glanced up uncertainly. "H'llo."

Thorongil crouched down so that he was nearer to Boromir's level, impressing me with his thoughtfulness. Most people did not understand that it made a child uncomfortable to have someone looming over him.  "I am pleased to meet you, young Master Boromir," he said with a smile that suddenly warmed his entire face. "And to meet you, miss."

Emboldened by the friendly reaction,  Boromir reached out with grubby fingers to touch the silver star on the captain's cloak, and I made to stop him, but the captain shook his head. "It is all right," he said, "it has certainly seen worse things than a little boy's sticky hands."

"Star," Boromir announced, all shyness now vanished.  "Star please?"

"Boromir!" I exclaimed, aghast. "That is the captain's, not yours."

Captain Thorongil laughed, a merry sound that was at odds with his rather fierce appearance. "Very like your father, are you not?" he said. "You have no qualms about asking for what you want."

"I am sorry," I said, while Boromir was studying the Captain carefully, "he -"

"There is no need to apologize," Captain Thorongil assured me with an understanding grin that melted the last bit of my irritation towards him, "it never hurts to ask, even if the answer is no." He stood, wincing as if his knees pained him, then tousled Boromir's hair. "Perhaps I shall see you again, Master Boromir - for now, I have an appointment with the Lord Denethor, and I have kept him waiting long enough."  

Mag had been standing ready with the map case; I knew perfectly well that she was waiting in order to give Captain Thorongil's actions a chance to change my mind toward him. Now she handed the case to him, saying, "Remember, there's always bread and cheese on the sideboard, if you get peckish in the middle of night. You look as if you haven't had a proper meal in weeks!"

"That is very nearly the truth," the Captain said with a grimace, "I shall keep it in mind. And thank you for keeping this," he  patted  the case, "in a safe spot." 

"Goodbye!" Boromir called, waving. The Captain returned the gesture with a hint of a smile, and left the kitchen as silently as he had entered it.  

Mag sat back down and sipped at her tea in silence, though I could see an amused sparkle in her eyes.  Boromir returned his full attention to his scone. I sat there, drinking my own tea and pretending to be oblivious to Mag's gaze.

"Oh, all right," I said at length, and Mag burst into laughter at my reluctance. "Perhaps he is not such a rogue after all."

Emptying Boromir's small belt pouches was always an adventure, for I was never quite sure what I might find inside. The boy picked up anything that struck his fancy and stuffed it in one, and he had more pouches than any grown man, of all colours. He simply loved to carry things around.

I sat on the low stool next to the copper tub, knowing I was going to be splashed, but unwilling to stray too far. I have taken care of enough siblings to know that leaving a little one alone in a bath was a stupid, perhaps dangerous thing to do.

Boromir was pitting his new wooden ships against one another -- the Prince of Dol Amroth was visiting, and his young nephew was mightily impressed with the tales of maritime warfare that Lord Imrahil had told.

Boromir kept up a constant stream of chatter, advising me of the progress of the battle. "And now see, these are Corsairs! And this is my uncle - take that, you wicked pirates! You will not escape the wrath of Imrahil! Die, Umbar scum, die!" And a jet of water splashed into the air as the hapless Corsairs were capsized by the soap.

I listened with half an ear as I dumped the brown pouch out on the ground. Here was a rock, as expected, no different from any other rock, that my adult eyes could see; a blue feather, a white one, probably from one of the chickens; a small carving of a horse -- "Boromir, where did you get this?" I held the carving up, for I had not seen it before.

He glanced at me. "One of the grooms gave it to me," he shrugged, turning back to his ships. "Now look, oh no! The pirates have come back, and their ghosts are chasing brave Imrahil!"

I set the horse aside in a "keep" pile, setting the feathers there as well, and putting the rock in the "discard when Boromir was not looking" pile. There were enough stones in his treasure-box already.

Next pouch, this one green -- more rocks; some twigs and leaves, holly berries, a bit of moss, a piece of blue eggshell.

"Aaaahhhhh!" Boromir shouted, and the hem of my skirt was soaked as the two ships hit the water. "But the ghost pirates have not reckoned on the ferocity of Imrahil! He is not afraid of spirits or shades! "

I ignored my wet clothing, for past experience had taught me that I was likely to get much wetter. I had also found that if I let Boromir be a bit unruly in the bath, it was a great deal less difficult to get him into the tub to begin with. Due to Prince Imrahil's visit, Boromir was up far past his normal bedtime, and rather overexcited, so if he was more boisterous than usual, I was inclined to overlook it. And it was only water, after all.

Now he was singing "pirates pirates pirates" under his breath, and I smiled fondly at him.

Thus I was not looking when I foolishly put my hand inside the red pouch, and let out a squeak of surprise as something nipped at my finger.

Boromir looked at me, startled, but looked away again so swiftly that I realized he knew what was in that pouch. Cautiously, I up-ended it, and out fell a turtle no bigger than my palm.

"Boromir," I sighed, "What is this?"

He gave the creature a dismissive look, and I saw he had faint circles of tiredness under his eyes. "Um… a turtle?"

"Yes, I can see it is a turtle," I replied with a bit of exasperation. "What have I told you about putting live creatures in your pouches?"

He heaved a much put-upon sigh. "Animals-don't-like-being-taken-from-their-homes-by- little-boys-and-if-I-put-them-in-my-pouch-I-might-forget-that-it's-there-and-then- they-could-get-smashed-or-starve-and-how-would-I-like-it-if-someone-put-me-in-a-pouch, " he rattled off and I had to look away to keep from laughing.

"Absolutely correct," I nodded once I'd calmed myself. "So why did you pick this one up?"

"I wanted to play with him in the bath," Boromir admitted grudgingly. "He was going to be the dragon. I was going to take him back tomorrow!"

"But you forgot he was there," I pointed out.

"He wouldn't have starved," Boromir said indignantly. "Look, see --"

I looked where he pointed, saw a handful of grimy sugared almonds had fallen out of the pouch as well, and had to fight down a laugh again. "At least you left him something to eat," I relented, "but I would rather you do not bring back animals at all, my duckling. Will you please try to remember that?"

"Yes," Boromir said, nodding his head vigorously, then he saw me scooping the almonds into the "discard" pile and wailed, "No, don't throw those away -- those are mine!"

"Mag will give you more tomorrow, of that I have no doubt," I reminded him. "These are covered in dirt, and you know that you may not have sweets after your dinner is finished. And if you are going to pout," I warned, seeing his expression grow mutinous, "then you will not have any tomorrow."

His face darkened momentarily, but he subsided, for Boromir loved Mag's sugared almonds and did not want to be deprived of such a treat.

"I will wash your hair in a moment, duckling," I told him. "Is there anything in this one I should be warned of?" I held up a blue pouch.

"No," he assured me, but the odd look on his face made me wary nonetheless.

I emptied the pouch gingerly, and found only two slightly crushed flowers: one a rose of deep red, the other a brilliant purple iris.

"The rose is for Mother," Boromir informed me, eyes anxious, "and the purple one is for you. The gardener said you should give girls flowers."

I could not help but smile at him, for he looked so sober. I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "The gardener is right," I nodded, tucking the iris into my hair, and a proud smile came across his earnest face as he watched me. "It was very sweet of you, my little one." It was an indication of how weary Boromir was that he did not object to being called "little one". "Now, we shall get you clean, and then you may take the rose to your lady mother."

"I will try not to put any more turtles in my pouches," he assured me seriously, covering his eyes as I rolled up my sleeves and began working soap into his wet hair.

"Nor frogs nor mice nor baby chicks nor anything that breathes."

"Not even worms?"

"Well -- all right, worms. And grasshoppers or crickets. But no snakes."

"Oh." His guilty tone made me look at the top of his head suspiciously. "Um…please don't look in the black pouch."

Pick up your things, and then we will go have tea in the kitchens," I told Boromir, who was sitting in the midst of a scatter of toys.

"I don't want to clean up," Boromir said, frowning at me. "I want to go to the kitchens right now."

"We cannot go until all your toys are put away," I said. "Set them back on the shelves or in the box, and then we will go see what is happening downstairs."

"I don't want to," Boromir declared flatly, throwing the horse in his hand to the ground. "I don't want to clean it up --you do it. The nanny is supposed to do everything!"

I wondered who he had been talking to. "Why should I pick up all these toys?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "I may be the nanny, but I am not the one who dumped them all over the floor, Boromir. You did that -- and you will be the one to put them all away. You are old enough to pick up your own mess."

"I.Will. Not!" Boromir yelled, making me jump in surprise. "I don't want to, I don't want to!"

"Then we are not going to the kitchens," I shrugged, hoping he was not going to launch into a full-fledged tantrum. "And if you continue to shout so at me, you will not go to the kitchens even when you do put your things away."

It was, of course, too much to hope for. At these words, Boromir let out an angry screech and did not stop. He tilted his head back and began screaming at the ceiling, as if I were beating him with a switch.

I groaned to myself. Lately, he had begun truly testing me with these explosions of temper. If he had been asserting his independence, I would have had some patience with him. But this was simply an tantrum because he was not getting his way.

So I proceeded to ignore him, sitting down and pretending to read a book. It was difficult at first -- Boromir could be louder than any child I'd ever met, even when he was playing happily. But I had much experience in ignoring such fits, thanks to my younger siblings, and after several moments, it was just background noise, effortlessly shut out.

I did keep a watch on him from the corner of my eye, wincing when he threw himself backwards onto the rug and began kicking his legs. With some amusement, I wondered how long he could keep this up - he would bellow for an impossibly long time, suck in a deep, angry breath, then begin again.

The door burst open, and I looked up as one of the guards entered. "Miss, is everything all right?" He was older than I, and he stared at Boromir with wide eyes. Boromir kept roaring at an ear-piercing volume as I went to speak to the guard.

"Everything is fine," I assured him, not glancing in Boromir's direction. "He is only angry because he cannot have want he wants."

I was taken aback when the guard half-smiled. "Aye, my youngest boy tried such tactics," he nodded. "Never did him a bit of good, either."

"I don't like you anymore!" Boromir shrieked suddenly, hurling a block in my general direction. "You are mean and you go away and get out of my room!"

I took a deep breath, clenching my teeth, and was preparing to confront Boromir when the guard surprised me yet again. "I'll stand here," he said, almost grinning. "You go catch your breath out in the corridor."

I gaped at him for a moment, then managed to say, "Thank you." And with that, I strode out the door. I stood in the hallway for a moment, regaining my composure, then realized I had best let the kitchen know that we would be taking tea in the nursery. I found a kitchen-girl who was delivering a tray to the Steward, gave her the message, then I returned.

The room was quiet except for Boromir's sobs. They were not feigned, but genuine, and I was a bit startled to see that Boromir was picking up his toys and setting them back on the shelves. The guard -- I remembered suddenly that his name was Balrant - was standing exactly where I'd left him, doing a poor job at hiding a smile. "He stopped the second you left the room," he said in an undertone. "Then he went to crying like that."

I nodded my understanding. "Thank you," I said again, "I am much calmer now."

He winked at me, which would have made me uncomfortable, if he had been nearer to my age. "I'd better get back," he said. "Hirvegil will be wondering where I've gotten to."

Boromir looked up as the door shut behind Balrant and tore across the room to me. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he exclaimed, voice quavering. He buried his face in my skirts. "I didn't mean it, Nanny, it was an accident."

I sat down on the floor and he climbed into my lap, still crying. "I'm picking up my toys," he said with a hiccup. "See, I picked them up."

I smoothed his hair. "Yes, I see you are cleaning up," I said, "and that pleases me, Boromir. It is not such a hard task, is it?"

He shook his head and looked up at me, wiping at his face with both hands. "Are you mad?" he asked, chin trembling.

"I am not happy with your behaviour," I told him gently. "You know better than to act like that! You threw a block at me, Boromir, and you were shouting at me. That makes me very unhappy."

He gave a shuddery sigh. "I'm sorry, Nanny," he said again in a pitiful little voice. "But you made me mad."

"Being mad is not an excuse to throw things and behave like a dreadful little monster!" I said, not wanting to be harsh, but unwilling to be too easy on him. If I did not scold him, he would be more inclined to do such a thing again. Boromir hung his head, and I felt a whisper of guilt. "You are not a dreadful little monster, duckling," I went on, and he relaxed a bit. "You are a very sweet boy, but you need to learn to better control your temper. You can be angry with me, but when you scream and throw things, I will not listen nor talk to you. What if that block had hit me? Do you like it when your playmates throw toys?"

He bit his lip. "No," he said, shaking his head. "No, it hurts to get hit by a block."

A certain lord's son had done that very thing just this week, and Boromir had wailed as if the White Tower had fallen on his head. I wondered if that child had told Boromir that nannies were supposed to "do everything".

"Yes, it does hurt," I agreed. "It is also rude to try and get your way by harming people. That is unacceptable behaviour, and if you do such a thing again, you will be in great deal of trouble, understand?"

"Understand," Boromir repeated, solemnly laying his hand on my wrist. He knew that a "great deal of trouble" involved a confrontation with both his parents, and revocation of any and all privileges for several days. It was not often a necessary course of action, but it was a very effective way to ensure his good behaviour.

"And Boromir?" He looked at me again, and his eyes were seconds from overflowing. "I am not angry now, but it made me sad when you said you did not like me anymore. If you do not like what I am saying, then tell me that instead. If you shout at me, you cannot expect me to want to stay in the same room with you."

Now he was sobbing again. ""I do still like you, Nanny," he said, hugging my neck tightly. "Don't go away again - I didn't mean it."

I held him close. "I know you didn't," I assured him. "But you should try and say only things you mean, Boromir. It is not nice to hurt people's feelings, just because you are angry with them."

There was a knock at the door, and one of the maids came in with our tray. She set it down on the table and left hastily, casting one curious glance over her shoulder. I hoped that Balrant had not already told the entire Citadel of Boromir's tantrum.

"Can we….can we go to the kitchens tomorrow?" Boromir was hesitant. "If I don't act like a dreadful little monster?"

"Yes," I said, smiling as I kissed his forehead. "I am happy to let you have special treats, little one, when you behave as nicely as I know you can."

His smile wavered somewhat. "I will behave nicely," he promised, sniffing.

That was all could I ask of him. Of course he would have more tantrums - he was only three, after all -- but hopefully, none would be quite this bad.

"Now, you still have toys out," I said, "please put the rest away, and I will set out our tea while you are doing that."

Now ungrumbling, he went to finish his task, as I turned to mine. I saw that Mag had sent honey-bread that was still warm, and smiled.

"Where do you go when you're not here?" Boromir wanted to know as he ate his meal.

He was referring to my half-days. I had a half-day every week -- most women in my position only had a half-day every fortnight, so I was fortunate in that-- and I usually explored the City. The first time, I had gotten dreadfully lost, of course. Fortunately, in the fourth circle I had run across an off-duty guardsman, and he had escorted me back to the Citadel just before I would have been late. I still did not know the City as well as those born to it, and probably never would, but after three years, I had learned my way around those winding lanes well enough.

I told him this, and he seemed fascinated. "So where are you going tomorrow?"

"I think that I shall go to the markets," I said, smiling and handing him a piece of buttered bread. "And perhaps I will buy something special to eat. Sometimes it is fun to eat different things, you know. Maybe I shall bring you something new to try."

"Can't I go with you?" Boromir asked.

"Please do not talk with food in your mouth, and I do not think your father would allow it," I said, sitting at the table across from him. "I am going clear to the first level - it is a very long way."

Boromir swallowed. "I've never been to the markets before," he said, grabbing for another piece of bread. "Can I ask Father if I can go?

"You must eat something else, Boromir," I informed him sternly, moving the bread out of reach and pointing to the meat on his plate, "before you are allowed any more honey-bread. And certainly you may ask your father. But do not be too sad if he says no."

I assumed that Lord Denethor would sooner sell Boromir to the Haradrim than let him traipse around the first circle, so I did not think there could be any harm in allowing Boromir to ask. His father would say no, Boromir would pout, but he would not be upset with me for denying him.

I assumed wrongly. That evening, when I took Boromir to bid his parents good-night, Lord Denethor considered Boromir's request for a few moments. He spoke briefly with the Lady Finduilas, then said, "As long as you take a guardsman with you, I see no reason why not, my son. It will be an interesting excursion for you."

I almost gaped in surprise. I had been certain Lord Denethor would refuse to allow such a thing, for the first circle was not a place where one found nobles of any age. Now I was going to be corralling a boisterous three-year-old on what should have been most of a day spent on my own. I loved Boromir dearly, but I also loved having a small piece of time when I did not have to concern myself with his welfare, and I was displeased to have to give up that time.

As I readied Boromir for bed that night, I tried to hide my irritation. Luckily, he was so excited that he did not even notice that I was in a less-than-pleasant mood.

"Will there be oliphaunts?"

"No, Boromir."

"What about puppets? That boy in the kitchens said there were puppets!"

"There may be puppets -- we will see."

"And a witch! Do we get to see a witch?"

I laughed despite my ill-humour. "A witch? There are no witches in Minas Tirith, Boromir."

He kept talking as I pulled the nightshirt over his head. "Uh-huh. The last time he was here Uncle said he met a very pretty witch at a tavern , and ---"

"Your uncle," I broke in, caught between laughter and embarrassment, "should not be telling you about witches or taverns."

"He wasn't telling me," Boromir said, "I heard him talking to another man about witches."

I made a note to have a word with the Lady Finduilas about this. I did not need Boromir bringing up 'tavern witches' at a formal dinner.

Boromir continued to chatter until I threatened him with staying home if he did not go to sleep right now. As was normal, once I had gotten him to be still and stop talking for a few moments, he fell asleep almost immediately. I tidied up the playroom and spent some time trying to write a letter to my mother, but I was so annoyed that it kept coming out rather too antagonistic. Finally, I gave up trying, and went to bed.

Of course, dawn had barely broken before Boromir was up and poking me in the shoulder. Usually he was very slow to wake, which suited me well, as I was the same way, but this morning, he was so full of energy that I wondered how I would make it through the day. In fact, he had dressed himself - though his shirt was on backwards, he could not lace his boots and he had not bothered to comb his hair -- and he was impatient to leave. "We are not going until the guard arrives, Boromir," I informed him, yawning, "go and eat your breakfast so I may get dressed in peace."

He scampered off, and I dawdled in getting ready; I was still grumpy at having to spend my half-day trying to control a lively little boy in the markets of Minas Tirith.

Our guard arrived shortly -- an older man named Hirvegil, who knew the lower circles quite well. "Grew up down there," he told me with a friendly grin, "oh, and the Lord Denethor sent this." He held out a small pouch, which turned out to hold quite a pretty sum of money. "Feel safer if I carry that?"

"Yes, please," I nodded, a little overwhelmed at seeing that much coin. "Wait--is there any copper?" There was, a small amount, and I gave a handful of the coins to Boromir, who promptly stuffed them in one of his belt pouches and began bouncing to hear the jingle. "Boromir -- Boromir! I would like your attention for one moment, please."

He stopped bouncing with a visible effort. "Yes, Nanny?"

"Here are the rules," I said, ignoring his little groan of protest. "No running off -- you will stay in sight of me or Hirvegil at all times. If you cannot see us, we cannot see you. If you run off, I swear to you, I will tie you to my wrist with a rope."

"Yes, Nanny," with an eager nod of his head.

"If either I or Hirvegil call you, you will come immediately. If we say 'stop', you will stop immediately."

"Yes, Nanny."

"If, despite all this, you get lost, stay put. Do not roam off trying to find us. Tell someone your name, and we will find you. Understood?"

"Yes, Nanny…Are you going to leave your hair braided? You never wear a braid when you go out."

Hirvegil stifled a chuckle, and I rolled my eyes at Boromir's distraction. If this was any indication, it promised to be a very trying day. "Repeat that back to me, and I will take the braid out."

"No running off or I get tied up, come if you yell, and don't roam if I get lost."

"That will have to do, I suppose. Now we may go."

Oh, the walk from the Citadel to the markets had never taken so long. Boromir wanted to stop and see every little thing, from flowerpots to pigeons to wives sweeping their doorsteps. Finally I was obliged to say, "If you wish to see the markets, duckling, then we must hurry our pace. Perhaps we could stop to see all these things on the way back?" (Knowing full well, of course, that by that time, Boromir would be far too tired to want anything but his bed.)

He started to complain, but then Hirvegil offered to carry Boromir on his shoulders, and we moved much more quickly, though Boromir did feel the need to greet everyone we passed, while waving madly. He was so cheerful and excited that I was starting to lose my rather sour mood; simply watching Boromir take everything in was quite amusing. By the time we reached the markets, he had managed to maneuver me into a much more pleasant temper.

Hirvegil was not wearing his uniform, but a simpler black-and-silver surcoat with no elaborate heraldry on it, which marked him as in the employ of the Citadel, but not necessarily as a member of the Guard. When I questioned this, he confided that the Lord Denethor had thought it best if we did not draw attention to who Boromir was. I could not disagree; if he had been in uniform, unsavory types might wonder who Boromir and I were that we warranted a Citadel Guard as escort. There was little unrest in the City, and therefore almost no chance that anyone might wish harm to the Steward's family, but there was no point in tempting fate.

"Look, Nanny, look! Belt pouches! Oh, let me down!"

Hirvegil looked to me, and when I nodded my assent, lifted Boromir from his shoulders to the ground. Boromir tore to the leatherworker's stall, and began touching every single pouch the man had. "Oh, look --I don't have this one! May I have one, may I have one? OH! Swans!"

That child and his belt pouches. After much deliberation and discussion, in which it was firmly decided that he was only allowed one belt pouch, and no, it could not be the one with a slavering warg's head on it, he settled on a green pouch embossed with a golden sword. Of course he insisted that he had to pay with his own money, so there was a moment of silent adult conspiracy as the merchant accepted Boromir's copper with a wink; as I was fastening the pouch to Boromir's belt, Hirvegil paid the stall-keeper with the coin supplied by Lord Denethor, and slipped the copper back into that pouch.

I had no actual destination in mind; when I came to the markets on my own, I just wandered, talking to merchants and perhaps buying a bit of fresh produce. Of course we always had such things in the Citadel, but there was something very pleasing about eating a fresh peach as I wandered the streets at my leisure. So I was more than willing to let Boromir dictate our path.

The stalls we walked among first were mostly those which sold material items, rather than food, though of course there were food stalls at intervals. There were cobblers and sawyers; potters and weavers; carters and dyers, and Boromir had to stop and see them all. He ran slightly ahead of us, which I was willing to allow, for there was no point in trying to keep up with him. He would stop, examine the merchant's wares, then shout back to me, "What is this? What does it do?"

The merchants were amused at his inquisitiveness, and would answer anything he cared to ask, much more thoroughly than I could ever hope to. Predictably, Boromir was enthralled by the weapons, and we spent a great deal of time observing the smiths, bowyers, and fletchers who had set up stalls to advertise their shops and to display their merchandise. I was not particularly interested in such things, and I was content to leave Boromir under Hirvegil's watchful eye as I browsed neighboring stalls. I half-listened as the crafters explained their art to Boromir, noting that a number of these men seemed to be acquaintances of Hirvegil, as well.

Boromir was an engaging, friendly boy, and people could not help but respond to his open nature. I was a bit surprised to find that we came away from many of these stalls with small tokens -- a handful of feathers which were useless for fletching, a ruined crosspiece for a dagger, a scrap of splintered wood that had once been an arrow. It was lucky I had brought a woven carrying-bag along, for all of Boromir's trinkets would not fit in his belt-pouches.

I did hear a smith ask Boromir his name, and turned to see the man's startled expression when Boromir gave it. As far as I knew, he was the only child in the City called "Boromir", and from the smith's face, he had drawn the correct conclusion as to who this boy was. Then I saw Hirvegil shake his head slightly, and press one finger to his mouth in shushing gesture, and the other man made no comment about my little one's name.

Somewhere along the way, we also acquired a dog as company, which delighted Boromir to no end, and I began planning an explanation of why we could not take a stray mongrel home with us.

I had worried that Hirvegil might find this sort of duty dull, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. "Got three of my own," he told me as Boromir watched a woodcarver with wide eyes. "Two boys, one girl, all grown, no grandchildren yet. It's nice to be around a little 'un again. You forget how curious they are. And he's right well-mannered." I got the distinct impression that Hirvegil had feared Lord Denethor's son would be spoiled and unbearable, as so many noble children were.

"I do not allow children under my care to be ill-mannered," I said, a bit insulted, "no matter who their parents might be."

"Beggin' your pardon, miss," Hirvegil apologized with a tilt of his head, and I thought I saw a spark of approving amusement in his eyes at my affront.

"I'm hungry," Boromir declared, smelling the chunk of cedar that the woodcarver had given him. "When is it time to eat?"

"Whenever you please, little one," I replied, trying to flatten his unruly hair with my fingers. "We can go to the areas that sell only food, and you will have many choices. But you are not going to have just pastries." This last added as we approached a baker's stall.

"Can I have a scone for while we walk?" he said, greedily eyeing the trays piled with baked goods. "I'm really hungry."

Hirvegil chuckled at Boromir's plaintive tone, and I agreed with a laugh of my own, partially because the smell of cinnamon scones were stirring my own hunger. And I knew that there was no chance of ruining Boromir's appetite -- he ate any time food was offered to him, and always seemed to have room for more..

We meandered along, eating our scones -- the dog ended up receiving a large portion of Boromir's -- until we came to one of the larger squares, where a sizable crowd, mostly children, had gathered. Boromir gave a shout of glee. "Puppets! It's the puppets! May I go watch?"

"You may," I smiled at him. "We will be over here, all right?"

"Come on, dog," Boromir said, laughing as the dog licked his face, though I cringed, "come on, it's puppets!" They took themselves off, and I could see Boromir making his way to the front. Satisfied that he would not move from that spot until I dragged him away, I sat down on the edge of the square's fountain to rest my sore feet.

"You look as if you could use a bit o' drink," Hirvegil pointed out, grinning but sympathetic, "You like me to go fetch something?"

"That would be wonderful," I said gratefully. "I had forgotten how tiring it can be trying to corral one this young in public. Have I -- I have not spent too much of Lord Denethor's coin, have I?"

Hirvegil looked. "You've spent naught, except for that pouch o' his," he replied. "I think you can spend a bit more -- I think you'd better, or Lord Denethor will wonder why you were so stingy with his boy."

He was joking, but frankly, I suspected he was correct. So Hirvegil went to a nearby stall, and returned shortly with two small wooden mugs of soft cider. We sat, waiting for the puppet show to end, chatting amiably about our families and exchanging Citadel gossip. When the show was finished, Boromir came running back over and scrambled into my lap, hugging my neck fiercely.

"Thank you, love!" I grinned down at him, ruffling his hair and hugging him back. "But why are you all wet?"

"Oh, I fell in a puddle over there," he said, waving his hand vaguely.

He had muddy pawprints on the front of his shirt, and I suspected he had not so much "fallen" in the puddle so much as "got knocked in the puddle." But as he was not hurt, nor upset with the dog, there was very little point in my scolding either one of them. It was also never worth the energy it took to try and keep Boromir clean when he was absorbed in something new.

I still had half a mug of cider, and Boromir drained the contents when I offered the mug to him. He also looked flushed, so I soaked my handkerchief in the fountain, and wet his face to cool him down. This did not stop him from rattling on excitedly about Corsairs and Captain Thorongil, which had been the subject of the puppet show, as we continued on our way.

In the greengrocer's aisles I had to keep a closer watch on Boromir; there were more people, and I was afraid I might lose him in the bustling crowd. But he was content to hold to me with one grubby hand, and listened avidly when I explained the unfamiliar foods to him. And, of course, he wanted to taste almost everything. He devoured a baked apple, puckered at a lime and asked for more, turned his nose up at all the greens except for asparagus, but begged for roasted yams as if he'd never eaten before in his life. I laughed at him, and mostly gave in -- he was not stuffing himself with rich cakes or candies, although, naturally, he did nearly shriek with delight at the stall which carried such things. And, as Boromir was sharing everything with the fortunate dog, I knew that it was quite possible he was still hungry.

I indulged in the yams, as well as a baked gingered pear, for I loved pears and only infrequently had the chance for such a treat. I spent a bit of Lord Denethor's money on more pears, and also on various things which caught Boromir's fancy, such as the limes, blueberries, radishes, and fat black olives. He kept giggling at the artichokes --"they look like hedgehogs!" -- but showed no interest at all in eating one. Hirvegil chose to wait for the cooked meats, which were available closer to the butcher's market.

I had made a passing aquaintance with a few of the women, so I stopped to visit with them. Most had a child or two with them, and Boromir was happy to play with these children while I talked. They chattered and laughed and ran around the stalls, chasing each other and the dog, and the nearby merchants barely noticed. I decided that if none of the matrons had ever lost their child, I could stop worrying about losing Boromir, at least for a moment. As long as I could hear Boromir's voice, I knew where he was, and he rarely got to play so unencumbered. Most noble children were a bit intimidated by him, an attitude which was probably instilled by their parents, and it was refreshing to see him with children who had no idea who he was. We stayed in the greengrocer's lanes much longer than I normally would have, but Boromir was having fun, I was enjoying myself, and Hirvegil knew people here as well, so he had conversation with which to occupy himself.

Eventually we reached the butcher's aisles, which was not a section I cared to frequent often. It smelled too strongly of blood and sweat and animals, and in addition, it was a great deal messier than the other areas of the market. But Boromir was desperate to see, and I could not see any harm in it.

"Chickens!" Boromir exclaimed, and ran over to the crate where the birds were kept.

"Don't let that dog get near 'em!" the matron who kept the chickens warned, rightfully so, for the dog was sniffing the crate with far too much interest.

"Hirvegil, will you?" I asked, and he obligingly pulled the dog away. "And do not put your fingers in the crate, duckling. They might peck you."

"Oh, they will not peck me," Boromir argued, "see, they like me. Look at that one, with the -- ow!" He jerked his hand out of the crate, glaring at the bird. "Bad chicken!"

"I did warn you," I reminded him as he came back over to me, shaking his hand.

"Are those eating chickens?" Boromir asked, still scowling at the red hen.

I laughed, examining his hand to make sure the bird had not drawn blood. "You want to eat her because she pecked you?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I didn't hurt her."

"You were aggravating her." I said. "If you aggravate chickens, my little one, you may very well get pecked. We are not buying a chicken, but the mistress has boiled eggs, if you would like one of those."

"Oh, yes, please!" he brightened immediately, and forgot his grudge against the chicken.

He was morbidly captivated by the entire area, dwelling on the blood that had pooled under sides of meat and sheep's heads, asking that I hold him up so he could watch one of the women pulling the innards out of a piglet, gaping at the fishmonger as he deftly chopped off trout heads and tossed them to the side. I had to keep Boromir from picking one up and putting it in a pouch, although I reluctantly allowed him to feed several to the dog. Smelling of fish was not going to make his rumpled state any worse.

We did not linger in the butcher's aisles - it always seemed much hotter there, and there was not that much to see. And it was getting late enough that I decided we had best start for home -- it was still a long walk back to the Citadel. Boromir protested, but only half-heartedly. By now I could see that he was growing tired, and it would not be long before he would become snappish and contrary.

As we left the markets, however, I saw that he was chewing something. "Boromir," I asked, puzzled, "what on earth are you eating? I did not give you that. You did not find it on the ground, did you?"

He showed it to me. It looked like some sort of fried meat. "No, I'm not allowed to eat things off the ground," he reminded me with a bit of indignation. There had been a short period where Boromir would indeed eat any food he found on the ground -- including horse oats and chicken feed-- and it had driven me half-wild trying to break him of the habit. "It's a oyster."

"An oyster?" I repeated, frowning. "At the market in Minas Tirith? I did not see anyone selling oysters."

"That boy at the butcher gave it to me," Boromir answered, taking another bite. "He says his father has them all the time."

I heard Hirvegil snort. "Boromir," I said, a suspicion forming, "did he say what kind of oyster that is?"

Boromir nodded, his grimy little face smiling up at me. "From the mountains."Hirvegil was now laughing so hard that he had to stop walking.

"Mountain oysters," I exclaimed, covering my face with my hands. "You cannot be serious."

Boromir held it out to me. "You can have a bite."

"No thank you," I said firmly, torn between bursting into laughter and demanding he throw it away, "That you do not need to share, duckling." I threw a look at Hirvegil, who had subdued himself somewhat, but was still grinning hugely. "Mountain oysters."

"Surprised you know that," Hirvegil said, looking at me curiously as we resumed walking.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I have two older brothers. I know a number of things that I perhaps should not."

The trip back seemed to take an eternity, partially because my feet were swollen, partially because it was uphill, and partially because, after we reached the gate to the second circle, Boromir insisted on being carried. Hirvegil offered to again carry Boromir on his shoulders, but Boromir refused vehemently and clung to me, resting his head on my shoulder. He was dirt-smeared, he smelled of dog, sweat and every place we had been today, his hair was damp with perspiration, and he was starting to be cranky. I did not look forward to cajoling him into the bath-tub this evening.

"Where is that dog?" he asked, raising his head to look behind us. "Did we lose the dog?"

"The dog probably went back to his home, Boromir," I said, glad that the dog was not still trailing us. "He cannot live at the Citadel, you know."

"Oh," he said, laying his head back down, one sticky hand toying idly with my hair. "Where does he live?"

I had not realized Boromir was that tired -- I had been prepared for a terrible tantrum about the dog. "Maybe he lives in the market," I suggested, shifting Boromir a bit. "He liked those fish heads, didn't he? If he lives in the market, he will have fish heads all the time."

"But what if it rains?" He yawned in my ear.

"Dogs find them a place to hide from the rain," Hirvegil chimed in, and I smiled my thanks. "He'll be all right."

I had to stop to rest halfway to the fourth circle. Boromir had gotten so much heavier in the past year; soon I would not be able to carry him with any ease, and I felt a stab of regret at that inevitability.

"You sit here," Hirvegil said, "I'll be back in a moment."

I wondered where he was going, but my back and arms were aching too badly to argue with him. He disappeared inside a wineseller's shop, and returned swiftly, wearing a satisfied smile. "Now there's a man over there, friend o' my sister's husband," he pointed, "who's got him a donkey cart. He says he'll take us on up for just a bit of coin."

"Do you know everyone in the City?" I wondered tiredly, and Hirvegil looked abashed, but flattered. "That would be lovely. I should still have enough left, shouldn't I?"

"Oh, you got plenty," Hirvegil assured me. "And he don't want more than a few coppers, anyhow."

"I would give him the entire contents of that pouch, at this moment," I said with no exaggeration. "I am not sure I could carry Boromir one more step."

"I'll fetch him."

There was only room for Boromir and me in the cart, but as the donkey did not walk very fast, Hirvegil could keep pace easily. His sister's husband's friend walked as well, and they talked between themselves as we moved along. Boromir did not wake, though he would stir if we hit a rough patch, and I myself nearly drifted off once or twice.

Finally we reached the gates to the sixth level, and the guards there would not allow the cart to go any further. I knew it was proper procedure, and did not argue, though in my weary state it frustrated me a great deal. However, Boromir had awakened once we'd stopped, and he allowed Hirvegil to carry him the short distance to the Tower, so I was spared both an argument and strained muscles.

Hirvegil bid us farewell, and went to return the money to Lord Denethor, as Boromir and I made our slow way back to the nursery. The door had barely shut behind us when there was a perfunctory knock, and, to my surprise, both Lady Finduilas and Lord Denethor entered. Usually I took Boromir to them, before putting him to bed, and they almost never came to the nursery together at this time of the day.

Boromir perked up at the sight of his parents and went to hug them both, and I prepared myself for some sort of disapproval at the filthy state of their son. Lady Finduilas' nose wrinkled, when she got close enough to smell Boromir, but she said nothing. Lord Denethor, however, favoured me with a stern look, and I bit my tongue. I was too exhausted to be prudent at this moment, so it was best to say nothing. I was not certain Lord Denethor would understand the utter futility of trying to keep Boromir clean during such an outing.

"Look, Father," Boromir was saying as I readied his bath in the other room, "Look, see! The man who does the daggers gave me this! He said that it got too hot and he couldn't use it so I could have it! And Mother, Mother -- smell this wood!"

"You did indeed have an eventful day," Lord Denethor smiled, an expression I saw so rarely that it always startled me. "You will have to tell me all about it tomorrow, while Nanny is out. Now you should have your bath, and eat your dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Boromir said, words I had never heard come out of his mouth unless he was ill. "I had an apple and a scone and lots of yams and a oyster and radishes--"

"An oyster?" Lady Finduilas was as skeptical as I had been, and she looked to me. "Nanny let you eat oysters from the market?"

I groaned inwardly. "It was not a sea-oyster, my lady," I said.. "I certainly would not have let him eat one of those from an open market unless he was in Dol Amroth, and perhaps not then."

Lady Finduilas looked confused. "What do you mean, not 'sea-oysters'?"

I felt my face turn bright red, wondering how I was going to delicately explain this to my lord and lady. I could not think of one single thing to say that would not be highly improper.

Then, to my amazement, I saw an twinkle in Lord Denethor's eyes. "Boromir," he said, obviously trying to repress laughter, "that would not have been a mountain oyster, by chance?"

"Uh-huh," Boromir nodded as he began examining the contents of his pouches. "I got it from the butcher."

"I am sure you did," Lord Denethor nodded, almost grinning. "Come, my lady wife -- let us leave Boromir to his bath and bed. And I am certain Nanny wishes to have a bit of rest as well. "

Lady Finduilas was still mystified, but she gingerly kissed Boromir's forehead, then took her husband's arm, and I fervently hoped that Lord Denethor would explain "mountain oysters" to her, for I very much did not wish to have that task fall to me.

Then I remembered something Lord Denethor said a moment ago. "Your pardon, my lord," I hastened to say, "but -- you said I shall be out tomorrow? Where -- where am I going?" I was stricken with the fear that I had been dismissed with no warning, though I honestly thought it unlikely.

He regarded me for a moment, as if I should know the answer already. "Where ever you like, miss," he told me, a small smile on his face. "You may take your half-day tomorrow, as you spent all day today showing Boromir the City."

I managed to keep my mouth from dropping open, for I had assumed that I had lost my half-day for the week, which was why I had been so cross about the whole excursion. "Oh. Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord, my lady."

They left after bidding us good-night again, and, as the door closed, I heard Lady Finduilas say, "Husband, what on the earth did she mean by 'not sea-oysters?"

Then came Lord Denethor's answering laughter, as loud and unreserved as Hirvegil's had been.

The door banged open, and in tore Boromir, covered with flour.

"Did you have fun with Mag?" I asked, smiling at him.

He rattled excitedly about scones while I washed his face. For once I was glad of the aridity of Minas Tirith - at home, the air was often so heavy that the flour would now be a paste in his hair.

I noticed that Boromir was clutching something in his hand. "What have you there?"

"A consumate work of art!" He displayed the smiling scone proudly, and I choked down a laugh, wondering where he'd heard that phrase.

"What have you got there?" I looked at the small bundle that Boromir was holding in his cupped hands.

"I made you a present." Boromir looked almost shy as he held it out to me. It was wrapped a piece of green linen and tied with a faded blue ribbon.

"For me?" Surprised, I took the bundle from him. It was rather heavier than I expected it to be. "But what is the occasion?"

"Cause…cause I wanted to," he said, and my curiosity was raised when I saw that he was blushing. Boromir was not often a bashful child, and had never been with me. "Will you…will you open it?"

I smiled at him. "Of course I will, duckling," I said, sitting on the rug. He stood next to me, fidgeting in either anticipation or nervousness, and I wondered if I should be concerned as to the bundle's contents. It did not feel like it was alive –on the contrary, it felt like a rock. But then, so did turtles.

The linen had seen better days, and the ribbon was looped around the package several times before being tied. Boromir had tried very hard to make a bow, but he had not had enough practice yet to do it properly. It was charming, and I was touched by the effort he'd gone to.

"I wrapped it up myself," he said proudly. "Mother showed me how."

"You did a very good job," I told him, laying my hand on his cheek, and he beamed. "Now I shall see what treasure you have made."

The ribbon took a bit of work to unknot, but once that was done, the linen fell away easily.

Well, no wonder it was so heavy – it was solid, lumpy clay, baked hard and painted bright yellow. I held it up, studied it from every angle. The neck was a bit long, and very thick, the head was slightly lopsided and flat on top, and the body was round as an apple. But the huge orange v-shape which stuck out below two black eyes was definitely a beak.

Boromir was in an agony of excitement, bouncing in place, waiting impatiently for me to speak. I thought I knew what it was, but I did not want to be wrong and break his heart. But I had to say something. "What a wonderful duckling!"

Boromir gave a little squeak of delight and hugged my neck. "I told Mother you would know what it was!" he exclaimed, overjoyed, and I had to laugh at his enthusiasm, even though he was squeezing too tightly. "See, his mouth is open and he is quacking! And there, there –" he pointed to some squiggly lines on the side of the body, "those are his wings! I wanted real feathers, but Mother said that they would burn up in the oven. Do you like it?"

"It's lovely!" I assured him, hugging him back. "But when did you make it?"

"When you were gone out," he said, grinning as he released my neck. "Are you surprised? You didn't guess?"

"I had no idea," I replied in perfect truth. "Even when I washed clay out of your hair and paint off your hands, I had no idea." His smile threatened to take over his entire face, and I could not help hugging him again. "Now, where shall we put him?"

"Don't you want to keep him in your room?" Boromir frowned, looking anxious.

"I would love to keep him in my room," I said, and his expression lightened. "But we could also set him on a shelf out here, so that I may see him all during the day, and not just when I am going to sleep."

"Oh," he looked thoughtful, and glanced around the playroom. "He would like to be out here, I think."

"And that way, I could also show him to everyone who comes in the nursery," I pointed out, and Boromir's eyes lit up with pride. "Where shall we set him?"

"I will find a spot!" Boromir said, and went to examine every inch of free space.

Unable to stop smiling, I examined the duckling while he searched for a suitable place to display his work of art. It was very strangely proportioned, and it bulged in odd places, but it was obvious that Boromir had worked very hard to make it. I could see his fingerprints pressed into the clay, and on the bottom, he had crookedly written the first letter of his name, which was all he knew how to write so far. I thought it was the finest present I had ever been given.

Finally Boromir decided that over the fireplace would be best, because "he can see the whole room from there." So I set the duckling on the mantle, and smiled every time I saw it there, leaning to the left, watching over us with its unevenly painted eyes.

I hated being forced to attend banquets as a child, and I didn't care much for them as an adult, especially considering Boromir was as unwilling to attend as I was.

However, there was no way we could avoid making an appearance at this one. It was being given in honour of the seventh wedding anniversary of Lord Denethor and his Lady, and I suspected that Lord Denethor might have plans to formally announce Lady Finduilas' delicate state as well.

Resigned to a dull evening, I dressed us both: Boromir in a new tunic of silver and black, which he complained itched abominably. Likely it did; I could still smell the acrid dye in the fabric, but I was not consulted as to Boromir's wardrobe. I myself had a gown of midnight blue, also trimmed in silver. The gown was new, and I wondered if Lady Finduilas had coaxed Lord Denethor into gifting me with such a luxury, or if Lord Denethor thought I had not the taste to pick a suitable dress on my own. I was not inclined to care much either way; I had not had a wholly new gown in years.

"Will you wear the swans?" Boromir wanted to know, scratching his neck as watched me pin up my hair. Habitually, I wore only a plain silver-and-coral ring, a gift from my father. Other ornamentation was rather needless, for a woman in my position. But my mother had sent me a necklace and bracelet, small silver swans alternating with beads of black pearls, insisting that I would need such things for formal occasions. She was right, if for no other reason than the bracelet kept Boromir still. He would sit quietly next to me, hooking and unhooking the clasp or spinning the beads round and round.

"If you like," I told him, fastening the last braid in place. "Would you like to bring them to me?" And he tore off into my room in search of the small driftwood box that held my small treasures.

Though the food was marvelous -- there was even fresh shellfish--the banquet was just as tedious as I had feared, with long-winded speeches from various lords and endless toasts. Boromir behaved perfectly, other than the occasional scratching, and I saw his father beaming proudly at his son's manners when Prince Imrahil made mention of it. I felt rather self-satisfied, as I had taught him those manners, and I flushed in surprise when Lord Imrahil caught my eye and gave an approving nod.

After the meal, there was music and dancing. I had hoped we would be allowed to leave once we had finished eating, but alas, it was not to be. This irritated me; Boromir was getting fidgety, which meant that in a short amount of time, he would become quite cranky and intractable. But Lord Denethor indicated we should stay, so stay we did.

Fortunately, we were allowed to walk the hall, so I took Boromir's hand and we wandered at our leisure. This activity calmed his restlessness, as did being able to talk after having been quiet for so long. I had slipped some candied fruits and the beloved sugared almonds in the reticule I carried, in case they were needed as a distraction. But when I offered one to Boromir, he frowned up at me. "You said I could not have sweets after my dinner," he reminded me, suspicious.

I laughed involuntarily. "I did say so," I nodded, "but this is a party, and parties are different. I would not offer you a treat, if you were not allowed to have it, Boromir."

He hesitated only a moment longer, then took the apricot I held out. "Did Mag make these?" he wanted to know as he nibbled.

"She may well have," I said, having no idea. "You should ask her, the next time you visit the kitchens."

"Are you going to dance?" He changed subjects abruptly, watching those who were currently dancing with wide eyes.

"No, little one," I replied, smiling, "I am happy to pass the evening with you." I could not keep from thinking that Boromir's company was preferable to any young lord's; those men were full of false flattery, and I did not like such artifice.

"I'll sit and be still if you want to dance," he went on, coming to a stop as he caught sight of his uncle dancing with a woman I did not know. "Father does not like to dance with anyone but Mother, but I am sure Uncle would dance with you."

I could not repress a laugh at that notion. "I am fine, Boromir," I assured him. "Come, there are other children over there. Would you like to meet them?"

He agreed, and we began to wind our way through the crowd, toward the corner of the room where several other nurses sat with their charges.

I wondered why there were always children at these affairs. The children did not enjoy themselves much, and I saw my own boredom reflected in several of the other women's faces. I assumed it was merely another way for the lords to show how grand they were by displaying their offspring. I did not understand what this accomplished, for without fail, as the evening wore on, at least one child would throw a tantrum and have to be removed, which could not reflect well on the child's father. And none of the children could be taken to bed until Boromir had departed. It all seemed pointless to me.

We had nearly reached the corner when a young man stepped directly in our path. He was not familiar to me; I supposed he was some minor lord's son or perhaps a country relation. He was overly dressed, even for such a formal gathering; his clothing was a slightly too-yellow shade of green, his hair was more artfully arranged than my own, he wore too many rings, and too much scent. He executed a graceful bow, flashing a wide smile. I disliked him immediately - I knew this type well, and was on my guard.

"Your pardon, my lord," I said with a polite half-curtsey, and made to walk around him.

He moved to block our way, and I could not help but be annoyed. "My lady," he said in a smooth courtier's voice, "Surely you can spare a moment for conversation?"

I glanced down at Boromir, who was holding on to me with one hand, and toying with the swans at my wrist with the other. "As you can see, my lord," I replied, fixing a pleasant expression on my face, "I am otherwise occupied. But thank you for your kind attention."

"You are from Dol Amroth," he said, as if he had worked out a difficult puzzle. "I have always been fond that accent --although perhaps I should have guessed from your necklace." His eyes lingered at my neckline for a bit longer than necessary, and I counted swiftly to ten in my head.

I should have counted to fifty, for then I would have missed his next words. "I have heard tell that women from Dol Amroth are as tempestuous as the sea," he said, and I could tell by the way his smile widened that he thought himself charming. "But I have never had chance to discover the truth, til this evening."

This was blatant fabrication - women from Dol Amroth are often considered cold and heartless as the sea, and apparently it is great sport for young nobles to attempt to melt such a woman. I had been the target of many such nobles, all of whom were unsuccessful in cozening me. I suspected that someone had put me forth as a challenge to this stranger.

"What is your name?" Boromir suddenly burst out. "It is polite to introduce yourself."

From the imperious tone of his voice, I knew that Boromir was irritated that he was being ignored. I opened my mouth to chide him gently, but the haughty young man spoke first.

"Hold your tongue, boy," he said lazily, as if he were brushing away an insect that buzzed around his head. "Children should not speak until spoken to."

Boromir looked shocked, for I never spoke to him in such a dismissive tone, but I barely noticed as anger flared within me. "Speak that way to my child again," I snapped, drawing Boromir closer to me, "and you will find out exactly how tempestuous this woman of Dol Amroth is."

A sly, approving light came into the young man's eyes, which did nothing to soothe my temper. "Ah, so the rumours are true!" he chuckled. "So tell me your name, fair lady. I think we have much in common."

I never failed to be surprised by the arrogance of these young lords. They seemed to think that women, particularly women in service, would throw their skirts over their heads at the smallest bit of attention. If a woman claimed disinterest, they assumed she was playing a game, and persisted in their suit. This one was a fool as well as arrogant, if he did not have the sense to realize whose child was in my care. If he could not tell from the designs on Boromir's surcoat, then I was certainly not going to educate him.

"As I have said, my lord," I repeated coldly, "I am otherwise occupied. And now I bid you good evening." I made to lead Boromir away, but yet again, the infuriating young man placed himself in front of us. I glanced around the room, searching for a Citadel guard, but they were all too far away to summon discreetly. I did not want to shout and bring wrath of the Steward and his son down on my head for spoiling the festivities.

"Surely there is someone else who can tend to the child," he said coaxingly, touching my hand. I jerked away, glaring, but he had spotted the women and children in the corner. Several of them were watching us with great interest.

"Send him over there, and spend a moment in more mature company." So saying, he placed both his hands on Boromir's shoulders, and made as if to direct the boy that way.

Fury overwhelmed common sense, and without a thought as to the consequences, I slapped him with all my strength.

All around us, there was silence. I could feel the eyes of many people on me, though fortunately the hall was large enough and filled with enough guests that only those in our immediate area had witnessed what I had done.

"Ooooooh," Boromir breathed in awe, his hand tugging at my skirts, "you hit him."

The young lord was pressing his hand to his cheek, staring at me incredulously. "You do not know what you have done," he ground out through clenched teeth. "I will have you out on the streets by morning. "

I gave a sharp, hard laugh. "You may try," I told him, still shaking in anger, "but make no mistake, you are the one swimming in deep waters. This boy's father will be less than pleased to discover that you laid hands on his son, and he will not disagree with my actions." I hoped fervently that this was true -- it was entirely possible that the Lord Denethor would dismiss me for striking a young noble, no matter how ignorant the man was.

The young man took a menacing step toward me and I stepped in front of Boromir protectively. "I think you underestimate my patron," he hissed. "I will not be so insulted. I hope your pride will keep you warm, when you are sleeping in a first-circle gutter."

"Uncle!" Boromir's piping voice shook with relief, and I had a moment to feel guilty for worrying him so.

A steadying hand was laid on my shoulder, and I felt a stab of vindictive triumph at Prince Imrahil's casual voice. "How does my favourite nephew this evening?"

If I had not still been in the grip of my rage, I would have laughed at the young man's expression. He was clearly tracing Gondorian bloodlines in his head, and coming up with only one answer as to whose son he had been treating with such disrespect.

In the space of a heartbeat, his demeanor went from vicious and threatening to utterly horrified. "Prince…..Prince Imrahil," he stuttered, and I was peripherally aware that Lord Imrahil had picked up Boromir, "It is a pleasure ..to meet you. I am.. I --"

"Yes, you are known to me, Turos," Lord Imrahil said, in exactly the same manner the younger man had spoken to Boromir earlier. "You are here with Lord Forlong, are you not?"

"Yes…yes, my lord, I am." The mark of my hand stood out on Turos' pale face like a brand. "He was kind enough --"

"My lord, may I assist you?" A breathless guard, one of Lord Imrahil's own, had just arrived, his face as pale as Turos'. Two more followed hard on his heels, and all three looked petrified, as if they had been caught sleeping on watch.

"Take this boy to Lord Furlong," the prince said, his tone like ice, even as he fondly ruffled Boromir's hair, "and stay with him until I arrive. I am certain that the Steward and the Lord Denethor will wish to speak to him before the night is ended."

The guards bowed, and Turos tried to stammer out some polite farewell as two of them escorted him away.

"My lord, my deepest apologies," the remaining guard was saying. He was not much older than me, and his face was crimson with shame. "We did not have a clear view -- it looked only as if the lady was speaking with the lord -- we could see nothing untoward until she--"

"I understand," Prince Imrahil nodded, grinning at Boromir, who was examining his uncle's sash of office. "But in the future, I expect you to keep a closer eye on this lady, and remember that where she is, there my nephew is also. Now, if you will inform the Lords Ecthelion and Denethor that I wish to speak with them privately in a few moments?"

"Yes, my lord," the guard said, bowed deeply. Then, to my surprise, he bowed to me. "I am sorry, my lady -- I was remiss in my duty, and I am sorry if my lapse caused you and the Lord Boromir any pain. "

I had no idea what to say, but I was expected to say something. I could not say it was of no matter, but I could not bring myself to berate this man, either. "Thank you for your apology," I said after some consideration, and, as the prince began speaking to his man again, I saw that the women in the corner were chattering animatedly amongst themselves. The incident would be spread the length and breadth Gondor in a week's time, if I was any judge.

I was trying to think of some way to put a stop to the gossip, and it was a moment before I heard someone was speaking my name. Startled, I realized it was Prince Imrahil. Of course he knows your name, I scolded myself. After all, he is the person who engaged you, when Lady Finduilas requested you as a nurse. "Are you unharmed?" Lord Imrahil was saying.

"Do not worry yourself, my lord," I replied, attempting to tow in my temper, which was still simmering. "I am more worried about Boromir." I looked at the little boy closely. "I am sorry if I frightened you, Boromir."

"That man tried to push me!" Boromir told his uncle indignantly. "Then she hit him hard!"

"Yes, I saw," the prince said. His voice was even enough, but I saw a spark in his eyes that belied his outer calm. "Come with me, if you please."

I followed Lord Imrahil outside, and he led me to an unoccupied corner of the balcony. He set Boromir down, and the boy ran immediately to me, wrapping his arms around my knees. I knelt, so I was eye-level with him, and took his anxious little face in my hands. "Did he hurt you, duckling?" I asked softly.

"No," Boromir shook his head, "he just made me cross. He wasn't very proper, was he?"

"No, he was not," Prince Imrahil agreed, voice tight. "Not proper at all."

"Boromir," I said, not wanting him to hear what I was about to say to his uncle, "will you bring me some flowers from that box over there?"

He grinned and bounded away. I stood, and turned to face the lord of my homeland. "I should not have slapped Lord Turos," I acknowledged, "but he provoked me beyond enduring."

"I happened to see the entire incident," Lord Imrahil told me, "and I will relay it to Denethor."

"There is no need for you to be so involved," I began, not wanting the Lord Denethor to think me afraid to speak to him, but Prince Imrahil's severe glance quelled any protests.

"That young man has been shuffled from household to household," the prince went on, "for improprieties to women both common and noble. And if Furlong or any lord wishes to take issue with your actions, I believe we can prove that you are of higher rank than Turos."

I stared at Prince Imrahil blankly. "I am just a nurse," I pointed out, "surely any lord's son is higher…"

He laughed. "Firstly, you are the 'Governess to Lord Denethor's Children'," he said very dramatically, and I could not help but smile, "which lends some rank to you, were you a milk-maid from Lebennin. Secondly, I happen to have your family's bloodline for ten generations past in my study, and I feel certain that your heritage is, eventually, stronger than Turos'."

I must have been gaping, for Prince Imrahil laughed again, this time rather dryly. "You did not think the Lord Denethor would engage you without thoroughly examining your origins?"

"I -- I never gave it any thought," I said, blushing.

"Well, trust me, Denethor gave it a great deal of thought," Lord Imrahil said, glancing toward Boromir, who was happily digging in the flowerbox, getting his new clothes filthy in the process. "And you need not worry about being reprimanded, if I have anything to say about it."

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Thank you, my lord. I ….I did not know what else to do. The guards were not near enough, and I was afraid he would hurt Boromir."

He studied me curiously. "You speak only of my nephew," he pointed out, "did Turos behave in an unseemly manner toward you?"

"It is of no matter, my lord, " I said, trying to sound nonchalant, "I am a woman full-grown. But Lord Turos spoke rudely to Boromir, and put his hands on him. And that I will not stand for." Residual anger was bubbling within me again, and I forced myself to the appearance of tranquility.

The prince was silent for a long moment. "How often are you bothered by such men?"

My first instinct was to deny that such things happened, but under the Lord of Dol Amroth's sharp gaze, I could not. "Often enough that I have learned to deal with them," I admitted reluctantly, toying with my bracelet. "But many of them do not seem to understand that I truly have no interest." For no reason, I suddenly remembered Prince Imrahil's rather rakish reputation, in his younger days, and I looked down at my feet, embarrassed that he might tell my thoughts from my expression.

"And you have not spoken to my sister or her husband of these troubles?" he asked, appearing to have no inkling of the workings of my improper mind.

"It is nothing with which they should be concerned," I said, uncomfortable. "They do not need to be bothered with such trifles."

Prince Imrahil snorted. "That sounds as if you are quoting Denethor, miss. I take it he has told you that they do not need to be bothered with such things?"

I flinched, but nodded, even as I wondered how he had guessed so swiftly. I had paraphrased Lord Denethor's words: "Do not bother either me or my wife with any trifles such as difficulties with young men . Your life, outside of caring for our son, is not something that concerns us. And you will not use your position for any gain, personal or material." I had been mildly insulted, for Lord Denethor seemed to be implying that I was so flighty as use my new place to land a husband. I had no such ambitions. And I did not know if Lady Finduilas agreed with him, for she had not been present at that interview. But when young men began pestering me unasked, I did not dare approach her for advice or help, when Lord Denethor had so strictly forbidden me to do so.

"Mother!" Boromir cried joyfully, and I looked to see him running across the balcony to Lady Finduilas, strewing flowers in his wake. She broke into a wide smile at his approach, and lifted him into her arms.

"You are growing so swiftly, my son!" she laughed, coming over to where Lord Imrahil and I stood. "I do not know how your good nurse has the energy to keep up with you."

I bobbed a curtsey, which Lady Finduilas did not appear to notice, for her attention was on her brother. "Imrahil," she said, "the Steward and my husband are waiting to speak with Lord Furlong until you arrive."

"I wished to make certain that Boromir and this good woman were not distraught," the prince told her, standing. "but as they seem to be well, I will leave them in your care, Finduilas."

Lady Finduilas waited until her brother was gone before she turned to me. "You may retire now," she said, "for it is far past Boromir's bedtime." Boromir groaned his dislike of the idea, but she stilled him with a glance much like the one Lord Imrahil had given me. "And I suspect that you do not wish to return to the hall."

"You suspect correctly, my lady," I said ruefully, taking Boromir from her. He immediately began to run his grimy fingers over my necklace, smearing dirt all over it, my neck, and the front of my dress. I noted that Lady Finduilas had small handprints on her gown, and when I remarked on this, she simply brushed the dirt off, as if she had not even noticed. She seemed paler, as if she had been recently ill. "Are you well, my lady?" I asked cautiously, not wishing to overstep my bounds.

Lady Finduilas smiled, but could not keep the weariness from her face. "I am always tired these days," she confided, placing one hand over her belly. Then, to my surprise, she reached out and touched my cheek. "Do not fear," she said quietly, "you are in no danger of losing your position. I will not allow it, not after you so ferociously defended my son."

I stared after her as she made her way back into the hall, wholly taken aback. I did not have much cause to be in Lady Finduilas' company on a regular basis, and sometimes, I felt as if she was not even aware of my presence in her household or her son's life. I did not take this to heart; it was normal for nobles to take their staff for granted, and I had never expected anything else. But apparently Lady Finduilas did not take me for granted, and I found that both flattering and a bit unnerving.

Despite the assurances from both Lady Finduilas and her brother the prince, as I readied Boromir for bed, I could not help but worry that any moment Lord Denethor would burst into the nursery and demand to know what right I had to go about slapping Lord Forlong's nephew or cousin or whoever Turos was. I had never been chided or reproved directly by the Lord Denethor, and he seemed rather fearsome. I was not eager to face his displeasure.

I did not have to. The Lord Denethor never spoke one word of correction to me about my behaviour, not on that occasion. In fact, neither he nor Lady Finduilas made mention of the incident ever again, though for the next week, Boromir would bring it up, as gleeful as if I had slain an orc. And from the looks I received, I was certain that every wagging tongue in Minas Tirith was talking about me.

The very next day, a footman delivered to me a small box. "From the Lord Denethor, and Lady Finduilas," he said.

"You got a present!" Boromir exclaimed, "open it, open it!"

I did so, and found a small silver brooch in the shape of the White Tree. There was also a note, written in a strong masculine hand, which read, "With thanks for your dedicated service to the House of Hurin." .

"Oh, oh, come quick! Flowers! The page has brought you flowers!"

"He's brought me what?"

"Come on!"

"There is no need to tug at me so, duckling. Good morning, Bronad."

"Good morning, miss. I was bid deliver these to you."

"But…who would send me such a thing?"

"Here is a note, miss."

"Thank you, Bronard."

"Good day, miss, Master Boromir."

"A swan! It is from Uncle!"

"A swan on the paper does not mean it is from your uncle, Boromir. I hardly think he would be sending flowers to me."

"But why not?"

"….I will explain it to you when you are older."

"You always say that….Blue ones and yellow ones and white ones and leaves. Can I smell them?."

"May I read this note first, please?"

"….You are reading too slow, Nanny. Who is it from?"

"Hmmm. Now which one was he? Oh!"

"Nan-ny!"

"They are from one of your uncle's guards -- a man called Dúrvain. He apologizes to me -- to us -- for not watching us more closely last night."

"Was he supposed to keep that man you slapped from shoving me?"

"You needn't sound so gleeful, Boromir. I should not have hit that man."

"He wasn't being nice."

"That is true. But that does not mean I should have hit him."

"They are very pretty flowers, Nanny."

"Yes, they are."

"Why are you smiling?"

"Because they are very pretty flowers, Boromir."

"Now can I smell them?"

"Yes, you may. Let me lift them from the table first. They will be easier for you to reach."

"Ishouldhavekickedthatmanintheleg."

"What did you say?"

"Umm…nothing."

"Hmmm. Nothing indeed."

 "Sleep

Sleep tonight

And may your dreams

Be realized…"

"Stop singing that song to that baby."

I looked up from Faramir's sleeping face, and saw Boromir standing there with his hands on his hips.

"Why?" I asked, continuing to rock the chair. "It works very well - see?"

I tilted my arms so that Boromir could see his baby brother.

"I don't care," he replied, refusing to look. He crossed his arms over his chest, for a moment looking very much like his father. "That is my song, and he can't have it."

Now I understood. "Why can't Faramir have it?" I asked him as I rose, watching for any sign that the baby might wake at the motion. "I thought you told me you were too old for nursery songs."

Boromir followed me, stomping his feet, as I carried Faramir to his cradle. "That doesn't matter," he informed me, voice growing louder. "It is mine."

"Quietly," I whispered to him, covering the sleeping child with a blanket sent from the Prince. "If he wakes, I'll just have to put him back to sleep."

I placed my hand on Faramir's head, making certain he had not been disturbed. It was unlikely; this child seemed to be able to sleep through anything. In comparison, when he was an infant, Boromir had wakened at any voice above a whisper, though he had gotten over that by the time he was six months old. True to form, Faramir did not so much as twitch, and I leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Boromir tugged at my skirts, setting me off balance. "You come away from that stupid baby right now!"

I turned, ready to scold him, and saw that Boromir's eyes were filling with tears.

"Oh," I said, bending down and sweeping him into my arms, "I am sorry, duckling. I didn't know --"

He had buried his face in my shoulder, and I could feel his small body shaking against me. I picked him up, carried him into the playroom, and sat back down in the rocking chair.

"Whatever is wrong, little one?" I asked, stroking his back. I knew what was wrong, but I wanted him to tell me.

"I hate that baby!" he burst out, voice muffled against my shoulder. "He makes Mother tired, and she doesn't want to see me; Uncle brought him all sorts of presents and didn't bring me nothing but one old ship; Father talks about him to people and doesn't say nothing about me, --" my gown was becoming soggier by the moment, "--and he takes up all your time and you don't play with me!"

He was right, of course. The entire country was talking about the Steward's newest grandson, and no-one was paying any attention to Boromir. The Lord Denethor would tell anyone who would listen how promising Faramir's grip was. The Lady Finduilas was more often sleeping than awake, and took very few visitors other than her brother, and that Lord of Dol Amroth had spent almost all his time at his sister's side, for the birth had not been easy on her.

I had tried to make sure the baby wasn't monopolizing my time, and, though Faramir was the least troublesome child I'd ever had to care for, any infant requires a great deal of care. Apparently I hadn't succeeded. I should have remembered that Boromir had had me all to himself for five years, and that he would not like the disruption to his ordered world.

I rubbed his back as his sobs increased, and murmured nonsense. Finally he quieted, though his breath still came in gulps. I shifted him in my arms, so I was cradling him much as I had been Faramir, and had a flash of memory back to Boromir's infancy.

"I am sorry, Boromir," I told him, combing my fingers through his hair, knowing how that calmed him, "I didn't realize I had been ignoring you so. But just because I have Faramir doesn't mean that I don't still care for you, my little one."

"Promise?" His eyes were threatening to overflow again, and I felt mine grow damp in response.

"Of course I promise," I assured him, kissing the top of his head. "I will be here for you as long as you need me. You just have to learn to be patient sometimes."

He was quiet for a long moment, then said, "He can have the sleeping song. But he can't have the hush baby song."

"All right," I agreed.

"I am not too big for that song," Boromir told me, settling himself against my chest, "if you wanted to sing it."

So I sang for him:

"Hush, little baby,rest your head

Close your eyes, it's time for bed

The ships are in, the tide is high,

And papa's gonna be here by and by

He'll bring us pearls and rings of gold

He'll bring us songs and tales of old

He'll bring us dreams from far away

He'll come back soon, and then he'll stay

No more he'll roam, at home he'll be

No more he'll sail the raging sea

Til then you sleep safe in my arms

Mama's gonna keep her boy from harm."

A/N: The first song is a bit of a U2 song, which is in no way a lullaby. The second is to the tune of  "Mama's Gonna Buy You a Mockingbird".

Boromir was peering over the edge of the cradle, watching the baby with equal parts suspicion and fascination. "Nanny, what is he doing?" he wanted to know. "Why's he doing that?"

I went to his side and looked into the cradle for myself. Little Faramir was not doing anything unusual that I could see; he was only staring up at Boromir with eyes that were not quite focused. "Why is he doing what, duckling?"

"He stopped doing it." Boromir sounded resentful. "He was scrunching his nose up, like - there, see!" He pointed triumphantly, and sure enough, Faramir was wrinkling his nose and working his mouth as if about to speak. "Why's he doing that?"

"He is sleepy," I said, picking up Faramir and marveling at how light he was, compared to Boromir at the same age. It was as if his bones were hollow, like a bird's. "Come, would you like to help me rock him?" It was not strictly necessary, of course - he would fall asleep no matter what I did, but it was hard for me to resist the opportunity to rock a little one again.

"No, I don't want to help," Boromir replied with a touch of aggression, and I sighed to myself. He had been showing small signs of jealousy - there had been no notable incidents yet, and though I hoped there would never be, I doubted I would be that fortunate.

Boromir stood stiffly by the rocking chair, watching with narrowed eyes as I settled his brother in my arms. "He's doing it again," he said, almost accusingly, but then he grinned. "He looks like a rabbit when he does that."

I laughed softly. "You are right," I agreed, lightly brushing Faramir's tiny nose with a fingertip, which made him twitch it again.

Boromir giggled and came nearer to us. "Can I do it?"

I nodded, smiling, and tilted my arms a bit so he could reach more easily. He copied my gesture, and again burst into giggles at Faramir's response. This time, however, Faramir not only wiggled his nose, but gave a wide yawn and murmured fretfully.

Boromir's face darkened. "Boring," he declared. "I'd rather have a real rabbit."

There was a hesitant knock at the door. Carefully keeping my voice low, I  bade, "Enter."

Their nanny entered. The look on her face annoyed, but did not surprise, me.  I watched her take in Boromir, stretched out full-length on the couch, fast asleep with his head resting on my leg; saw her eyes drift to Faramir, still barely awake, cradled securely against my shoulder, one tiny hand entangled in my hair. 

Her startled expression cleared, and she curtseyed, saying, "I am sorry, my lord, that you were obliged to -"

"What have you to apologize for?" I  asked. Though my voice was quiet, it was still stern enough to make her wince, though I am sure she thought I did not mark it.  She always acted as if she expected me to be angry when I spoke to her, and I did not know why.  I did not speak with her often; she had no reason to fear censure or temper from me. "You are back within your allowed time. And I have little enough opportunity to be with my sons, miss. I do not grudge them a few hours." 

In truth, I wished that she had stayed gone a bit longer. I did not have enough time alone with my sons, and often this pained me.

"Yes, my lord," she replied, almost meekly, but I knew enough of this woman to know that meekness was not one of her outstanding virtues."Shall I …shall I take them to bed now?"

I regarded her for a moment, amused to see concern flit across her face. Of course she had heard the rumours that I had the gift of seeing into men's minds; all the servants had. Such tales were wildly exaggerated, of course, but they had their uses. I was pleased when she straightened her shoulders and faced me properly. I knew very well how I intimidated her, and I also knew how determined she was that she should not act as if this were so.

"If you would move this book," I  gestured with my chin to the book in my lap, which I had been reading to Faramir.  It was heavy, and very old, and she picked it up almost reverently.  She  placed it carefully on the side-table, and I saw her glance at the spine.   Did she have enough Sindarin to read the title?  Apparently, for she seemed puzzled by the idea that anyone would read The Fall of Númenor to an infant. But I had found that the cool, liquid sound of the Elvish soothed Faramir in a way that little else could. I had also heard that reading aloud to children from an early age spurs the intellect, and I was eager to test this theory on Faramir.

"Faramir is nearly asleep," I said, smiling down at the top of my son's dark head, "and I would not disturb him. Can you manage Boromir?"

"I am not sure anyone can manage Boromir," she said wryly, and I could see that she immediately regretted the flippancy of that remark. She always seemed to say such things around me; and she always seemed to instantly regret saying them. She was right, of course – the comment was inappropriately familiar to me, and disrespectful to my son.

 However, I knew what she meant - Boromir was a strong-willed child, and had been known to drive every person in the Citadel to impatience with his headstrong ways.  It was one of the reasons I held him so dear; even at his young age, Boromir knew what he wanted, and would do what he could to achieve his goal. With such determination, he would make a powerful Captain one day, as well as a man I would be proud to have lead Gondor when I could no longer do so.

And, as reluctant as I had been to giving a total stranger such a prestigious position within my household, I was glad that Finduilas had prevailed. To my surprise, this woman, as young as she was, had proved herself capable of guiding Boromir so gently that he never noticed that he was being led, without allowing him to run roughshod over her.  She seemed to understand that such a clever, high-spirited child needed special attention.

"You do well enough," was all I said, of course.  Even this small praise flustered her so badly that it took her a moment to thank me.  I  merely nodded in reply, then asked, "Can you move Boromir without waking him?"

"I think so," she said. "He is not too heavy yet -- though he soon will be."

I heard a hint of wistfulness in her voice, and again studied her closely.   It made her nervous, as it did any time I looked at her so, and she turned to Boromir, clearly grateful that she had him as a valid distraction.
Carefully, she manuvered the sleeping Boromir into a sitting position, then lifted him into her arms.

"..too much nutmeg," he mumbled, squirming a bit, then settling himself against her shoulder.

She choked back a laugh.  "Visited Mag today, did you?" she whispered fondly, running her hand over his head, and he quieted.

I was struck with the understanding that this woman cared very deeply for my son, and I was not certain why this realization surprised me. 

I turned my head to look at Faramir, and saw that his eyes had finally drooped closed, though his tight grip on my hair had not loosened. When I saw that she had Boromir arranged to her satisfaction, I led the way to the nursery.

While she tended to Boromir, I carried the now-sleeping Faramir into his room, prying his hand slowly from my hair, then laid him in his crib with the greatest care. He gave a little sigh, stirring a bit as I slid my arms out from underneath his small, warm body, but did not waken. I covered Faramir with the swan-embroidered blanket that Imrahil had sent in celebration of his birth, and impulsively laid my hand on his forehead. He was so tiny that my palm looked huge against him, and an absolute calm came over me.

"Thank  you, my little one," I murmured, stroking his delicate skin, marveling, as always, at the perfection of it. "One day you will know the joy of sons, and of the peace they can bring a troubled heart."

 I heard the whisper of skirts in the doorway, but did not turn.  I did not want or need her presence. After a moment, she left us alone, and I remained there, watching Faramir sleep. 

for Astara's birthday

 "Nanny! Nanny!"  Boromir sounded frantic, and I wondered what could have happened in the time it had taken me to walk into Faramir's room. "That baby has Clover and he won't let go!"

Oh dear.

I hurried back, for Clover was Boromir's dearest toy, and his reasonability would only go so far, if he thought his stuffed pony was being hurt.

Faramir was sitting in the middle of the rug, contentedly chewing on Clover's front leg. Boromir had hold of Clover's back legs, almost crying in anger. "You let go, baby! He's mine, he's mine!"

I knelt by them, saying, "Come, Boromir, let me, "  but of course he refused to listen.

"He's slobbering all over Clover!" Boromir exclaimed, panicked. "Make him stop, make him stop!"

"You must let go, duckling," I said, "you do not want to tear poor Clover in two by tugging on him so hard, do you?"

Horror crossed Boromir's face, and he immediately released the pony, though I could see his hands twitching, as if he were restraining himself from jerking the toy away from his small brother.

Carefully, I peeled Faramir's fingers from the pony's leg, noting that he had, indeed, slobbered all over Clover. Of course the toy had seen much worse treatment – he was Boromir's, after all – but I understood Boromir's reaction. Clover had been with him as his whole life, and he was very  possessive of the pony.  In fact, I had taken to putting the toy away when other children came to visit, for Boromir would fly into a temper if they laid so much as a finger on that pony. Other toys, he would happily share – but not Clover.

I returned the pony to Boromir, who examined it anxiously. "Look, he's all wet  and dirty!" he exclaimed, raising a tearful face to me. "That baby just grabbed him and wouldn't even listen when I told him he couldn't play with Clover!"

Faramir, realizing that he would not be getting his toy back, started wailing in protest.  I took him into my lap, whispering soothingly in his ear, and had to stifle a chuckle when I saw that Boromir doing the same thing to Clover.

After a moment, Faramir quieted, and I turned to Boromir. "You know that Faramir did not mean to hurt your pony," I said. "He is just a baby, love."

"He messed up Clover," Boromir sulked, clutching the toy horse jealously to his chest.

"If we wash Clover, he will be good as new in no time," I said, looking around the room for something to give Faramir as a distraction. "Although he may not be dry in time for you to sleep with him tonight."

"That's all right," Boromir said, scowling at his brother. "Just as long as the baby slobber is gone. Why does he have to touch my horse?"

 "If you do not want him to play with Clover, then you need to keep a closer eye on your pony," I said. "Faramir does not yet understand that Clover is yours, and not his." 

Boromir muttered something under his breath that I could not quite catch, then he went to pick up the grey stuffed rabbit lying under the table.  "Here," he said, dropping it into Faramir's lap. "That is yours."  He pointed to the as-yet unnamed rabbit, a gift to Faramir from his uncle's wife when she had learned of my nickname for her youngest nephew.

Faramir looked down at the toy, gave a happy chirp, and promptly began gnawing on one of the rabbit's long ears.  "Good," Boromir said, frowning darkly. "Now you don't touch Clover, and I won't touch your rabbit, all right?"

Faramir babbled something that Boromir took as agreement, for he suddenly smiled and turned to me. "Please will you wash him?" he asked, holding the bedraggled pony out to me.

I set Faramir on the floor, and took Clover. "I will, once Faramir is taking his nap,"  I said, setting Clover on the mantle for safekeeping.

Boromir sighed heavily, but nodded. "Will you use the lavender soap?"

"Yes, I will use the lavender soap."

"And dry him in the sunshine."

"Yes, of course."

"And be careful with his ears – he doesn't like it when you get water in his ears."

"I know, Boromir."

"Sometimes you forget."

"I will not forget."

"And Nanny?"

"….yes, Boromir?"

"Thank you for making the baby give him back."

"You are welcome, duckling."

It had not been a good day, for any of us, and it seemed to be getting worse.

I had gotten very little sleep the night before. Faramir was cutting his first tooth, and nothing soothed him for long. He was uncharacteristically cranky; I was on edge and less than tolerant.

Though I knew Faramir had kept his brother awake as well, Boromir was more energetic than usual, though perhaps he only seemed more energetic duty to my own fatigue. He ran from one toy to the next, hardly taking a moment to play with one before losing interest and moving on. Soldiers, horses, blocks, and balls lay strewn about the nursery like so many fallen foes.

Additionally, Boromir was in one of his belligerent tempers, which were tiring enough when I'd had a good night's rest. He argued with me about everything -- picking up his toys; what he wanted to wear; what he wanted to eat; whether his father was older than his uncle; whether Faramir could talk yet; whether Faramir was a boy or a girl; whether orcs were edible (where he'd gotten that notion, I will never know), and on and on until I was ready to shake him.

After the mid-day meal, I readied Faramir for a nap. He had calmed, though I'd no idea why, and seemed content to gnaw on his tiny fist as I rocked him in my arms. I hoped his good humour would last, although I had my doubts.

Loud banging from the other room told me that Boromir had again begun assaulting something with one of his wooden swords. This was another argument we had had today - whether or not he should be allowed to hit the chairs with his swords. Normally, I allowed this method of play --they were old chairs, already battered, and it could do no harm. Boromir, however, had been furious that I asked him to forgo killing everything in the room for just one day. But my head was throbbing dully, and I was in no mood for such noise.

"Boromir, please stop beating that chair with your sword!" I called to him. Not only was it worsening my headache, I did not want the racket to keep Faramir from sleeping. He looked so tired.

There was silence for a moment, then the banging resumed. I clenched my jaw, and Faramir began to whimper softly. "Ssshhh, little one," I whispered, rubbing his back soothingly. "It's all right. It's just your obstinate brother, slaughtering some furniture."

Though the banging did not abate, Faramir quieted, and gave a yawn that was almost bigger than his own head. I laid him in the crib, and cautiously backed away. His eyes followed me, but he did not protest.

I stalked into the playroom. "Boromir!" I said sharply, and he jumped back from the table he was attacking. "I believe I have asked you to stop that twice today already. You are making a great deal of noise, and I would like Faramir to be able to sleep." Boromir frowned darkly, and grumbled something under his breath. I chose to ignore it. "Now, I am going to finish clearing away these dishes, after which it will be time for your nap as well. And if you do not stop clattering that sword, I am going to throw it over the balcony, do you understand?"

Boromir regarded me thoughtfully. "Yes, I understand," he nodded, tone rather too docile.

"Thank you," I said, as politely as I could. But I knew what the little imp was thinking from the defiant gleam in his eye.

Sure enough, as I began piling the tray with dishes, the banging began again, louder than ever. I took a deep breath, trying to control my exasperation, and turned toward Boromir. I do not know what expression I had on my face, but it must have been fearsome, for Boromir immediately dropped the sword and stepped back from it. "I'll stop," he promised, holding up his hands, "I'll stop, I won't do it any more, I mean it….."

I ignored his words as I picked up the toy and strode toward the doors that led to the balcony.

"No, no --" Boromir protested as he ran after me, pulling at my skirts, "No, I'll stop -- no, that's my favourite!" He howled in dismay as I stepped out onto the balcony and -- after looking to make sure no one stood below-- dropped the toy over the edge. He stood on his toes, trying to see over the railing, but he was still too small. "Oh, get it back, get it back!"

"You shall not get it back," I said shortly, "and if you are going to throw a tantrum about it, then you will not be allowed to play with any of your other swords, either. I told you what would happen if you kept hitting things, Boromir, did I not?"

"Y…yes," he admitted sullenly. He looked tired as well, which was no doubt causing part of his petulance. "But it's mine - it's not fair..."

"It is fair," I contradicted him, "I warned you what would happen, and you did it anyway, just to see if I would do it. What is not fair is that your pounding is keeping your brother awake when he does not feel well!" Boromir's scowl deepened. "It is time for you to rest." He started to protest, and what little patience I had left deserted me. "If you are going to further argue with me, I promise that you are not going to like the results, Boromir son of Denethor son of Ecthelion. Go. Now."

He knew better than to argue; I never called him that unless I was truly at my wit's end. After staring at me for a long moment, he silently turned and walked toward his room, shoulders sagging dramatically.

I was so relieved to have some time to myself that I lingered in cleaning up the meal. I heard Faramir begin to wail, but before I could set down what I had in my hands, he subsided. When he did not cry out again, I turned back to the task at hand. But I could only draw it out so long. Eventually, I finished, and was obliged to go see if Boromir had obeyed. I hoped he had; I did not want to keep quarrelling with a not-quite-six-year old, and he was normally so amicable that it annoyed me more than it should have when he got in these moods.

He was not in his room. Muttering to myself, I started to look in all the normal hiding places -- but then a low murmuring voice from Faramir's room caught my ear. Curious, I went across the hall, peeked in, and found Boromir.

He had dragged a chair from somewhere in the room, and had then proceeded to use it so that he could crawl into the crib with Faramir. They were lying on their backs, side-by-side, and Boromir had a picture-book propped against his bent knees. "That is an oliphaunt," he whispered to Faramir, pointing at the picture. "Say oliphaunt."

Predictably, Faramir had no interest in the book; his head was turned toward Boromir, and I could imagine those oddly solemn eyes studying his older brother.

"You're right, that is a hard word," Boromir agreed, turning the page. "Umm..there. That is a dragon. They fly and spit fire and sometimes they eat up babies. But not you. Father would not let them. Say dragon, Faramir."

Faramir gave a happy gurgle, waving his legs and arms. Boromir sighed. "That didn't sound like dragon," he said, "I think Nanny is right - you can't talk yet. But I'll still show you the pictures. Now this -- this is a troll. See its ugly head?"

I stood outside the door, and listened while Boromir explained the pictures in his own unique way, and Faramir made his cheerful baby noises in reply. I had no intention of disturbing them, but I must have made some sound, for Boromir glanced toward me, and started to sit up, alarmed.

"No, it is all right," I assured him, coming over to lean on the rail of the crib. "But whatever brought you in here?"

"He was crying," Boromir told me as he lay back down, "and he stopped when I came in. He looked lonely." Faramir made a grab for the book, and Boromir held it out of reach. "No, Faramir, you aren't big enough yet." He turned his attention back to me. "May I… may I sleep in here?"

"Of course you may," I said, pleased at the request. "Though you may be a bit crowded. Would you like me to cover you?"

Boromir nodded, and I spread a blanket over the two of them, although Boromir promptly re-arranged it so he could still see the book. "May I sit and listen?" I asked him, and one of his bright smiles lit up his face.

"Oh, yes," he said, "but you can't interrupt."

I smothered a laugh. "I will not interrupt."

Faramir had been watching the two of us with that somber intensity that only very small children seem to be able to manage, and now he gave a fitful, restless murmur that could have easily turned into a squall. "It is all right, Faramir," Boromir said seriously, turning his head to look at the baby, "I will finish reading. But you have to be patient sometimes."

And wonder of wonders, Faramir fell silent, as if he understood Boromir's words.

I went to fetch the daily mending, intending to get a bit done while all was peaceful. But as soon as I'd seated myself in the rocking chair next to the crib, I was lulled to inaction by Boromir's quiet voice. Very soon they both drifted off, and the room was absolutely silent. I attempted to start sewing, but I found myself dozing, and, after such a difficult morning, I was too tired to fight to keep my eyes open. The last thing I recall before falling asleep was a feeling of deep relief that, after six months of ignoring him or complaining about him, Boromir was finally showing an interest in his brother.

I was re-making Boromir’s bed.  The chambermaid had already been in, but whoever taught her to make a bed clearly had no idea the proper way to do it. The coverlet was crooked, the pillows were flat, and there was a hard lump under the covers at the foot of the bed -- a boat, unless I missed my guess. Muttering, I pulled the bedclothes off, reminding myself to have a word with the head maid.

I could hear Boromir chattering, and Faramir occasionally chirping a reply. Boromir was very proud that I would leave him alone with his small brother for any amount of time, and he took the task very seriously. I had watched him when he did not know I was there as he followed a crawling Faramir around the room, like a shepherd with a very small flock.  I never left them for too long, for no matter how pleased Boromir was for the responsibility, he was not yet six, and would soon grow bored with what he called “baby-games”.

There was an odd noise from the playroom, and I stopped, listening. “Boromir,” I called, “was that the door?”

“Yes,” his cheerful voice drifted in. “I was putting the cat in the hallway.”

“Oh, all ---wait. Boromir, you do not have a cat.”

Now he sounded irritated. “That’s why I was putting it out in the hallway. Father said we cannot have pets in our room.”

I considered for a moment, then shrugged and returned to tending the bed. He was correct; the Lord Denethor did not want even one small kitten in the children’s room, but cats being cats, one occasionally slipped in. I supposed it was possible that Boromir had even smuggled one of the stable kittens in under his tunic and then turned it loose in the Citadel. He had done worse things.

I made short work of Boromir’s bed, then returned to the playroom. Boromir sat in the midst of a tumble of blocks, seeing how high he could stack them before they toppled. Faramir was ---  “Boromir, where is your brother?”

“He’s in the hallway,” was the unconcerned reply.

I stared at him for a moment. “He is in the hallway?”

“Uh-huh,” Boromir nodded, wholly focused on his tower. “He’s being a cat.”

I flew to the door and jerked it open. Sure enough, there was Faramir, merrily crawling along as if he had some place very important to be. That boy could crawl faster than any child I’d ever met -- he was nearly around the corner at the end of the corridor.

I went and retrieved the little runaway -- who only smiled blissfully at me -- and returned to the room. “Boromir!” I exclaimed, making him jump. “Your brother is not a cat!”

“He was pretending to be a cat,” Boromir explained patiently. “Faramir, say ‘meow’.  Meeeeeeyooooow, Faramir. Meeeee-yooooow.” He sounded distinctly cat-like, and Faramir echoed him obediently.

 I chuckled in surprise, and Boromir grinned as I set Faramir down on the floor, but the expression faded when I turned to him. “Boromir, he is just a baby! You cannot leave him alone like that!”  I was more than a bit exasperated with him. “What if he had gotten to the stairs?  Do you know what would have happened to him them?”

“Ummmm -- he would have fallen down the stairs and broken his neck?”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling -- I could not count how many times I had warned Boromir of doing that very thing as he tore up and down the staircases. “Yes,” I said severely. “He very well could have. He is still far too little to be let out on his own. We have to watch over him.”

“But I was!” Boromir protested, eyes starting to well up. “I was playing with him, and he was being a cat, and --”

 “I understand you were playing,” I interrupted gently as I went to kneel by him, keeping one eye on Faramir‘s progress around the room, “but if you agree to watch Faramir for a few moments, then it is your duty to keep him from doing things which might hurt him, even if it is just a game. Were you playing a game when you climbed up on the back of that chair?”

“Y-yes,” Boromir replied reluctantly.

“And what happened?”

“I fell and broke my arm,” he said, absently rubbing the arm in question.  Oh, what a tense few days that had been, too. I was sure at any moment that I would be shipped back to Dol Amroth for my negligence, but I was not, to my surprise. Later, I discovered that  Lord Ecthelion had managed to calm the Lord Denethor by reminding his son of a similar incident when Lord Denethor was a child. 

“We do not want Faramir to have an accident like that, do we?” I asked, and Boromir shook his head, chin trembling as he tried to hold back tears. “So we must take care of him, because we are both bigger than he is, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Boromir choked out, “I’m sorry, Nanny. I don’t want Faramir to break his neck.” Then he did start crying, and I put my arms around him.

“I know you do not,” I soothed, “you just have to remember to be careful with him when he is little, all right?”

“All right,” he managed. “I will take care of him.”

Of course, for the next week Boromir would hardly let Faramir do anything at all, for fear that Faramir would harm himself. But that over-protectiveness faded, and soon Boromir developed very good instincts about what would and would not be an appropriate manner of play for his little brother. He never grew too overbearing, which I had feared he might do, and most days, Faramir was perfectly content to do as his brother commanded.

 Most days.

Boromir was stalking around the room, exaggerating each step, bringing each foot down with a stomp. Faramir was looking on with wide eyes, giggling from time to time.  I watched Boromir, trying to figure out the purpose of this game, but finally had to ask,  "What are you doing?"

 "I am showing that baby how to walk," he replied, frowning at his little brother. Boromir had mostly gotten over his jealousy, but when Boromir was exasperated or angry, Faramir was still "that baby".   "It's so easy – why won't he do it?"

I chuckled. "He will not learn simply by watching, Boromir," I said, going over to where Faramir sat on the floor. "You have seen how I help him?"  I leaned down and held out my hands to Faramir. He immediately grasped my fingers and pulled himself upright; then, after a moment of wobbling, took an unsteady step. "See?"  I said to Boromir as Faramir continued his slow progression onward.  "You have seen him holding on to the furniture when he moves around the room, haven't you?"  Boromir nodded, gaze fixed on Faramir. "Right now, he needs something to help him keep his balance, but he will learn soon enough how to walk on his own."

"Can…can I do it?"  Boromir asked, studying the pair of us. "Will he let me?"

"I am sure he will," I smiled, knowing full well that Faramir would let Boromir do most anything he wanted. I moved in front of Faramir, working one of my hands out of his grip, and he stopped, looking up at me uncertainly. "Come, just let him take your hands, and do not rush him."

Boromir stood behind Faramir, as I had been doing, and cautiously let his brother grab his hand. "He hangs on so tight!" Boromir exclaimed in surprise as I was pulling my other hand free. "Why's he so strong?"

"Because he does not want to fall," I said as Faramir flailed a moment, then caught Boromir's left hand,  "and he knows that holding on to you will keep him steady."

"Are you ready, Faramir?" Boromir asked, looking down at the top of Faramir's head, which barely cleared Boromir's belt. "I won't let you fall. Now come on…"

Faramir gave a happy squeal, and began his shaky steps forward again, babbling all the while. Boromir let his little brother lead him. "Am I doing it right?"  His eyes were dark with concentration, as if he were afraid that he would do something wrong and cause Faramir to crash into a wall. 

 "Yes, you are doing just fine," I assured him as they made their way around the room. "Just let him take his time, and soon he will be ready to try it by himself."

Boromir nodded. "I will help him until he is ready," he declared, turning his full attention back to Faramir.  I sat back and watched as they circled the room, smiling at the delighted grin on Faramir's face, and  the intense expression on Boromir's.  With help as determined as that, it would not surprise me if Faramir was walking within a fortnight.

 “Where are you going?” Boromir demanded. “Why are you wearing a pretty dress?”

“While you are with your mother, I am going to walk with Dúrvain, your uncle’s guard,” I told him, taking a final look in the mirror. Then I noticed that Boromir was frowning at me. “Whatever is the matter?”

“I don’t like that man,” he declared. “You should stay here today.”

I was startled at the vehemence in his voice. “Dúrvain is a perfectly nice man. Why don’t you like him?” I was stricken with the fear that Dúrvain had said or done something unkind to my duckling. It did not seem likely – he was one of the kindest men I had ever met.

Boromir was scowling horribly. “You’re going to marry him and go away,” he said flatly. “That’s what happened to Arhael’s nanny. She married a man and went away and now he has a new mean nanny and I don’t want you to get married!” Now his chin was quivering, and I knelt down to meet him at eye-level.

“It is too soon to say whether or not I will marry Dúrvain,” I told him gently, though the idea had definite appeal. “And even if I do, I will not just leave you and Faramir.”

“You will,” Boromir said darkly. “You’ll get married and move away to Dol Amroth and you won’t want to take care of us anymore!”

I drew him close to me, and he put his arms around my neck, laid his head on my shoulder. “I will not get married and leave you,” I said in perfect truth. “I will stay here until you do not need a nanny any longer.” And I would tell Dúrvain so, if the question ever arose.

“Promise?” Boromir glanced up at me, eyes still shiny with tears. “I don’t want a new mean nanny.”

“I promise,” I nodded, kissing his forehead.

“All right,” he said solemnly. “But you promised, and you have to keep promises.”

“I will keep my promise.”

He gave a little shuddery sigh, and looked me straight in the eye. “You should wear a different dress, though. That one’s too pretty.”

"Luncheon will be here soon," I said to Faramir, "then I will read you a story, and you shall have a rest. What do you think they have made us to eat? Shepherd's pie? Perhaps some of those cheese pastries you like so well?"

Faramir, playing with his carved soldiers, did not answer, which was not surprising. Though nearly 18 months old, he still had not spoken a single word. Oh, he would rattle off gurgles and babblings, as if in reply, sometimes echoing my intonation exactly, which always made me laugh. But he'd not yet used any identifiable words.

I always replied just as though we were having an actual conversation, as I had done with Boromir before he learned to talk. With both boys, this was partially because I hoped it would encourage him to talk, but also because I did not like the silence. Additionally, it seemed far too quiet in the nursery when Boromir was at his lessons. But it was good that I had time alone with Faramir. Faramir was so amiable that he could entertain himself with little effort, but I had to be careful that Boromir's often-rowdy presence did not claim all my attention.

So I chattered as I knelt in front of the shelves, straightening the toys Boromir had thrown there so haphazardly. "Perhaps this afternoon we shall go to the gardens and look at the fish again, hmm? But this time, no trying to catch the fish. We must at least attempt to keep you dry."

A hand tugged at my sleeve. "Bo'mir?"

"He is at the stabl -- what?" I turned, astonished. "Faramir -- did you just say your brother's name?"

"Bo'mir?" he repeated, a frown creasing his forehead.

I picked him up and hugged him, delighted. "Boromir is learning to ride a horse, little one," I told him, kissing his round cheek. "He will be here when you wake up, and he will be so surprised! Will you say it for him, I wonder?"

Faramir studied me for a moment, then patted my face with his small, soft hands. "Bo'mir!" he said happily, as if he had made some momentous decision.

"Well, I am not Boromir," I teased him, "but yes, Boromir will be here after you sleep."

He giggled --at my words or something else, I did not know --and gave a little gasp when there was a knock at the door. "Bo'mir!"

"No, love," I said, "that is lunch."

And he sighed, just as if he were disappointed.

Boromir, of course, was thrilled to discover that Faramir could say his name. Neither Boromir nor I realized that would be the only word we would hear out of Faramir for quite some time.

I was straightening Faramir's room, when I heard it start yet again.

"Bo'mir?"

"Yes?"

"Bo'mir."

"What is it, Faramir?"

"Bo'mir!"

"No, that's a horse. Say horse." Boromir's voice had an irritated edge to it.

"Bo'mir!"

"Horse."

"Bo'mir?"

"No, horse." He was definitely annoyed, and I couldn't help giggling to myself, though it was a terribly childish reaction.

Faramir still hadn't spoken any word except Boromir's name, and it was starting to wear on Boromir's patience, which was never his strong suit. Boromir wasn't mean-spirited, however. He couldn't quite bring himself to be dismissive to his small brother, when Faramir so clearly adored him. But some days, it drove Boromir mad that Faramir said, "Bo'mir" for anything and everything, no matter how many times either one of us gave Faramir the correct word.

I might have been worried, but that Faramir seemed to understand what we said to him, most of the time. He looked up when I said his name, came running when I told him we were going outside, frowned at the word "nap", and in general, responded when spoken to exactly as I would expect a not-yet-two-year-old to do. It was just that he had only one word of his own.

"Bo'mir."

"Stop it."

"Bo'mir?"

"Faramir, quit."

"Bo'mir?" Faramir's little voice was puzzled.

"Naaannny!" Boromir wailed, "he's doing it again!"

With an effort, I wiped the smile off my face and went into the playroom. "He's doing what again?" I asked, sitting on the floor between the two of them.

"He's calling the horse 'Boromir'," Boromir said with a glare at his brother. "He calls everything 'Boromir'. Can't you make him talk ?"

"I can not 'make' him talk any more than I can make you --" I almost said "keep quiet for more than a moment at a time", but caught myself and changed it to, "--King of Rohan. He will speak properly when he is ready, duckling, and not before. He is learning."

Boromir scowled. " I don't want to be King of Rohan," he said, "I want him to stop calling everything 'Boromir'!"

"Bo'mir!" Faramir echoed, grinning in delight as he climbed into my lap.

"No, that is Nanny!" Boromir corrected, nearly grinding his teeth together. "Nan -ny."

"Bo'- mir," Faramir repeated gravely, nodding as he grabbed hold of the end of my braid.

I couldn't keep from laughing, and Boromir shot me a disgusted look.

"You should be proud, Boromir, that out of all the words there are, he has chosen to say only your name," I pointed out, wincing when Faramir pulled a bit too hard. "Gently, little one."

"But it's boring," he complained. "I can't talk to him about anything fun!"

"You said the same thing before he could walk -- 'it's boring!' -- but he learned to walk, did he not?"

"Yes," Boromir sighed. "But he took so long."

I laughed again at Boromir's long-suffering expression. "He learned to walk more quickly than you did, my impatient little man."

"Did he?" Boromir tilted his head and studied Faramir for a moment. "Well, that's prob'ly because I showed him how."

"Quite possible," I chuckled, shifting Faramir to the side so he wasn't crushing my knee.

"Bo'mir," he said, smiling up at me and leaning against my shoulder.

"You'd better hurry up and start saying something else," Boromir told his little brother severely, "else I am not going to talk to you any more."

Faramir stood, and went over to his disgruntled brother. "Bo'mir," he sing-songed as he gently patted Boromir on the head.

Boromir stared at him for a moment, and I braced myself for an explosion of frustration. But to my surprise, Boromir gave a resigned smile. "All right," he said, "I will still talk to you. But you must try to learn all the words soon, Faramir. Now you come sit down here- you be Eorl, and I will be Cirion and we will kill that wicked dragon."

I moved to one of the chairs, and watched them play, pleased with Boromir's reaction. I'd be trying to teach Boromir patience for years, and it seemed Faramir was succeeding where I had failed.

"Faramir, stop taking my horses!" Boromir protested. "You have your own!"

I looked over to where they stood playing with soldiers at one of the low tables, and saw Faramir watching me. When I caught his eye, he made a grumbling noise, almost slammed the horse in question on the tabletop, and pushed it towards Boromir.

I did not make them share all their toys; I thought that each should have a few that belonged to him alone. If they wanted to share those special toys voluntarily, they could, but I would not force them to. Everything else, however, was a "sharing toy", like the wooden army they were playing with now.

Usually this arrangement worked well, but today Faramir seemed determined to test both my patience and Boromir's, for he kept trying to hoard all the toys, and got very cross when one of us reminded him that he needed to share.

I went back to the mending, wondering what had gotten into him; Faramir was the most even-tempered child I'd ever met, even when he was ill. I wondered if he was entering some sort of disobedient period; I had not been expecting that so soon-- he was barely past two years old.

"No, those are mine too!" I heard Boromir say, clearly frustrated. "These are mine, and those are yours. We're sharing, you can't –" he broke off with a screech, and I looked up just in time to see him shove Faramir, hard, right in the chest.

"Boromir!" I leapt up and ran across the room. Boromir was wailing and holding onto his own hand; Faramir was sprawled on the ground, glaring at both of us, showing no signs of being injured. "What in the name of –"

"He bit me!" Boromir bellowed in disbelief. "That stupid little orc baby bit me!"

"He what?!" Startled, I glanced at Faramir, who was getting to his feet. "Let me see, duckling."

Boromir held his hand out, now crying, and with good reason. Faramir had bitten his brother's thumb nearly to the bone. I stared at Faramir in astonishment, but he had returned to playing with the soldiers, as if nothing had happened.

I turned my attention back to Boromir, put an arm around him and held him close. "Come, duckling," I said, gently patting his back, "I know it hurts –" he leaned against me as he sobbed, " –but will you let me take care of it? It does need to be washed and bandaged."

He looked skeptical and a little frightened. I coaxed, "It will only take a moment, Boromir. It will be all right – I will be very careful, I promise."

He gulped, and nodded, though reluctantly. Relieved that he was not going to put up a fight, I fetched the witch hazel I kept for tending their scrapes and bruises, then took Boromir into my lap, hoping this would calm him. I examined the bite more closely, still unable to believe that my peaceful little Faramir had done such a thing. It was bleeding quite freely, which was good, but the mark was very ugly and I thought it would definitely leave a scar.

Sighing to myself, I set about cleansing the wound, being overly cautious – I did not want to hurt him further. He tried to remain perfectly still while I worked, but his arm trembled under my hand and tears continued to trickle down his face.

Finally I was done, and I wrapped his hand with a bit of cloth, hugging him comfortingly. "That was not so terrible, was it?" I asked, smiling at him. "But I am afraid it may need to be stitched, little one."

Unexpectedly, Boromir slid to the floor and whirled on his brother, furious. "You stupid orc baby!" he scolded. "You don't bite! Biting is bad!"

With no warning, Faramir threw the toy in his hand at Boromir, and ran at his brother so quickly that I almost did not catch him in time. I managed to pluck him off his feet before he could inflict any more damage, though he kicked and shoved at me with small fists.

Stunned, I decided it was best to remove Faramir from the situation, so I carried him into his room, deposited him in the crib, and had to pull my hand away quickly when he made as if he were going to sink his sharp little teeth into me next. "Faramir!" I exclaimed, shocked. "No! You do not bite! No biting, do you understand me?" I was started to get exasperated with him, which was not precisely fair– he was still just a baby - but my tone of voice did make him look a bit startled, which was certainly an improvement over the lack of remorse.

"Now I am going to help the healer see to Boromir, and so help me, if you try to get out of this bed…." I tried to think of something suitable, "..then I will take Hanu away and give him to Boromir. Do you understand?"

Sometimes it was difficult to tell what he did and did not understand, since he had yet to speak, but usually he managed to make himself clear enough. And right now he had snatched up his precious rabbit and was scowling darkly, which relieved me. He had crawled out of this bed more than once, and I did not want to have to deal with his peculiar temper right now. "Very well," I said, hoping that he would calm down after some time alone. "I will be back when we are done."

Faramir ignored me, threw himself to the mattress, and curled up in a tight little ball, muttering to Hanu.

Completely bewildered, I left him to it, and went to ask one of the guards to send for a healer. He looked curious, but nodded.

Boromir was sitting in the chair I had vacated, and was peeking under the makeshift bandage. "Do not poke at it, " I told him. "Now come sit with me, and tell me what happened, Boromir."

"He wasn't sharing!" Boromir said as he climbed into my lap again. "I was just showing him which toys were mine and he bit me!" He was near tears again, as confused as I was and outraged as well. "I didn't do anything, Nanny, he just bit me like a dreadful little monster!" he insisted, echoing words I had said to him more than once about how not to behave.

I believed him when he said that he'd not done anything. Boromir would usually confess to misbehaviour when asked directly, and he was not good at hiding things, either. I sighed to myself; I hoped Faramir was not going to turn into a biter – the climbing was bad enough.

The healer arrived, and after a quick examination, agreed that the wound would need several stitches. "Certainly don't want his sword hand to get infected," she said, and I wanted to slap her. Of course he had been taking swordsmanship lessons, but he was only seven years old, and I did not like thinking of him as a soldier.

He stayed in my lap, and I held his hand motionless on the tabletop, whispering to him soothingly as she worked. He whimpered quietly and his whole body was tense, but did not scream or try to pull away. I was glad that it went quickly – I did not like to see him in even this small amount of pain.

She wrapped his hand in a clean bandage, bade me to keep the wound clean with the witch hazel infusion (as if I did not know that already), and gave me a small jar of ointment to help it heal.

As the healer was leaving, the kitchen girl arrived with the lunch tray, and I repressed a groan, knowing that she would spread news of the healer's visit all over the Citadel. "Wait a moment, if you will," I said to her.

I hastily wrote a note to Lady Finduilas, telling her what had happened, and assuring her that Boromir was fine. I would have liked to have been a bit more formal, but I could not risk the lady and lord hearing of this from servants' gossip. I gave the note to the kitchen maid, and bade her deliver it to Lady Finduilas.

I set Boromir at the table, and went to fetch Faramir. He had fallen asleep, and I touched his forehead with the back of my hand, wondering if perhaps he were falling ill, but he had no fever. Maybe he was simply cranky, and that was the cause of his unusual behaviour? I let him sleep, hoping this was in fact the case.

By the time Faramir awoke, Boromir was gone again to his lessons; I had sent a note to his tutor as well, explaining that he might not be in a particularly attentive mood.

Faramir ate his lunch, then I put him on the floor to play. I studied him, looking for signs of foul temper, but he seemed happy enough. "Why on earth did you bite Boromir?" I wondered aloud.

He glanced up at me, frowning and clutching his blocks to his chest. "Bo'mir," he stated flatly, and began sweeping every toy near him into his lap.

Was it just that he did not want to share? Or perhaps that he preferred to play by himself? Well, I could certainly arrange that.

And I did – that evening, when the boys were playing, I kept them strictly separated, after explaining why to Boromir. He was more than willing to agree, since his thumb was aching, and his mood uncertain. He kept shooting suspicious glances across the room at his little brother, who did not appear to notice or care.

Lady Finduilas and Lord Denethor both appeared later, making me very nervous indeed. Fortunately, Boromir was already asleep, and could not put on a big show, as he was wont to do when showing his parents even the most minor of scratches.

"And what precisely are you planning to do about this?" Lord Denethor demanded. "It is not acceptable that any child should behave so!" Much less one of mine, I could all but hear him say.

"We are of course concerned," Lady Finduilas said, and I was grateful for her calm voice, for Lord Denethor too frequently put me on the defensive. "We understand that he is too small to reason with as one would an adult, but there must be something that can be done."

I had to hold back a laugh. I had never found one solution that worked with all children, when it came to biting; I told them so, and tried not to flinch when Lord Denethor looked very displeased with this answer. "Faramir will have to play by himself for a while," I went on, "and Boromir is angry with him. It is very possible that this will be enough to make Faramir understand that his behaviour is not allowed – he does not like to be kept apart from his brother." Usually, I amended to myself. Hopefully.

"That is the whole of your solution?" Lord Denethor was frankly skeptical. "Merely to keep them apart?"

"I am sorry, my lord," I said, trying not to clench my jaw, "I do not know what you would have me do. Faramir is still a baby; there are a limited number of ways to impress proper behaviour upon him."

"Shall we consider this a starting point?" Lady Finduilas interjected smoothly. I had a hunch that she knew perfectly well how Lord Denethor ruffled my feathers. "You shall keep them separated, and if that does not achieve the desired result, then we will visit the topic again?"

"Yes, my lady," I replied demurely, a little too demurely, if the way Lord Denethor raised his eyebrows was any indication. But he agreed with my lady, and they departed, first requesting that Boromir visit them after breakfast the next morning so that they could see the wound for themselves.

~*~

Initially the boys were content to stay on opposite sides of the room. Boromir had his stitches to remind him of the indignity of being bitten, and Faramir continued not to care.

After two days, however, Faramir became fretful. He would stand up and peer across the room at his brother wistfully, then go back to playing with his toys half-heartedly. Once he approached me and tugged at my skirt. "Bo'mir?" he asked hopefully.

"I am sorry," I told him gently. "Boys who bite have to play alone, Faramir. And boys who do not share have to play alone."

He heaved a sigh, and wandered off to build a tower with his blocks. A few moments later, Boromir came over to me. "I'm bored by myself, Nanny," he whispered. "When can I play with Faramir again?"

"Not yet, duckling," I told him. "Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after that."

He, too, heaved a sigh, but miraculously, did not argue.

They continued to occupy themselves with their own little games, but every now and then, I would see one cast the other a curious glance. Once Boromir waved at Faramir, who gravely returned the gesture. Shortly after that, Faramir came back over to me, laid his head on my knees, and remained like that for some time. I said nothing, just combed my fingers through his hair while he watched Boromir play.

The next morning, after breakfast had been cleared away, I instructed both of them to "their" sides of the room as I had for the past three days, and Faramir burst into tears. "Bo'mir," he wailed, reaching toward his brother.

I knelt down to face him, and asked sternly, "Are you going to bite any more?" He shook his head emphatically. "Are you going to share the toys without fighting?" A nod, just as emphatic. "Faramir, if you bite him again, Boromir is going to bite you back."

"I am?" Boromir was startled.

"Yes," I said firmly, "You are. But only if he bites you first, understand?" I turned back to Faramir. "No biting, do you understand me?"

He nodded solemnly, and so I said, "All right, you may play together today."

Faramir ran over to his brother; they hugged fiercely, as if they had not seen each other in months, then turned to the business of building a castle with blocks. Boromir chattered amiably, but Faramir was quieter than normal.

About halfway through the morning, I saw Faramir reach out and touch Boromir's bandaged hand. "That's where you bit me," Boromir said matter-of-factly. "Only orcs and dogs bite, Faramir. Biting is mean. You're not supposed to be mean."

Faramir rubbed his eyes as if he were about to start crying again. "Bo'mir," he said softly, and Boromir sighed.

"I know you're sorry," he said, "but don't you do it again!"

Faramir shook his head, and handed the block in his hand to his brother.

I never did figure out exactly what had set Faramir off that day, and though they had various epic battles after that, he never did resort to biting again.

And several days later, when he watched the healer remove the stitches, Faramir gripped my hands tightly, eyes wide and face pale.

Today Boromir would be taking lunch with his lord father, so I did not need to concern myself with his whereabouts until the dinner-hour. The weather was so lovely that I could not bear to stay inside, so I gathered up Faramir, begged a packet of food from Mag, and we took ourselves off to the gardens.

The sunlight was perfect, neither too warm nor too weak; the breeze was light, and from the west for once. Faramir was overjoyed to be able to run and shout as he pleased, although of course his “shouting” consisted mostly shrieks of happiness and funny little noises, as he still had not spoken more than his brother’s name.

He ran ahead of me, stopping to inspect flowers and bushes; chased a squirrel down the path and partway up a huge old oak before I got nervous and made him climb down; dug in the tilled dirt of an unplanted flowerbed -- he even managed to catch a grasshopper and brought it to me for inspection, beaming proudly. He also stuffed several sticks, leaves, fallen petals, and rocks into my pockets for safe-keeping. I exclaimed properly over all the little treasures he found, and allowed him to lead me where ever he wanted to go.

“Shall we have lunch?” I asked him, smiling at his dirty face. “We can sit by the pond and watch the fish while we eat, if you like.”

He gave a pleased chirp, nodding his head as he tugged at my hand. Laughing, I followed him – he knew the way as well as I. When he was smaller, he had nearly fallen in trying to catch one of the fat orange fish which swam there, and even now, it was almost impossible to keep his hands out of the water.

“You may splash to your heart’s content in a bit, little one,” I said as I spread a blanket on the grass, “but first you must eat.”

He gave the pond a longing glance, but obediently came to sit by me as I opened the luncheon basket. Mag had provided us with bread and cheese, cold chicken and potatoes, boiled eggs, lovely olives and carrots, two plums, and the small cheese pastries that Faramir adored, as well as a flask of lemon water. I wondered if perhaps she’d thought Boromir was going to be with us; it seemed a great deal of food for just Faramir and me.

But I had forgotten that Faramir had not eaten much breakfast; now he ate everything I offered him and still wanted more. “You should have told me that you were hungry,” I teased, brushing crumbs from his cheek. “I cannot remember the last time I saw you eat so much!”

He merely grinned at me, then his eyes went wide. “Oooooo!” he breathed, pointing.

I turned to see a mother duck coming waddling across the grass, followed by four young ones. “Oh, how sweet,” I exclaimed. “You have not seen the ducks before, have you? Shall we try to feed them?”

Faramir immediately held out the pastry in his hand toward the ducks, and I chuckled. “I think that they will not like the cheese, love,” I said, smiling at him. “Ducks and their ducklings prefer bread.”

“Bo’mir?” he said, glancing around the garden eagerly.

I looked as well, and saw no-one but us. “No, Boromir is not here. Now,” I tore a piece of bread into smaller pieces, “if you toss these gently at the ducks, they will eat it.”

He did as instructed (though his bread-tossing was anything but gentle), and gasped in delight when the birds ran toward his offering, quacking and peeping. The ducks that made their home in the gardens were very tame creatures indeed, and once those bits of bread were gone, the mother and her little flock came toward where we sat on the ground.

Hastily, I put most of the food back in the hamper, so that the birds would not eat something that might make them ill, and said, “Faramir, you may give them all that bread if you like – but make the pieces small so that the ducklings do not choke.”

“Bo’mir!” he said again, now standing and looking toward the Tower.

I wondered if he was simply missing his brother, but put the thought aside, saying, “Here, come sit with me, and we shall feed them together.” One full-grown duck rarely became aggressive, but I did not want Faramir’s fingers to get bitten by a defensive mother.

He agreed cheerfully, and arranged himself in my lap, extending his hand for a share of the bread, which I gave him. He would tear off a piece, hold it out toward one particular duckling, then burst into uncontrollable giggles when the duck jerked the bread from his hand. He looked up at me, grinning and chattering in delight and I had to grin back at him.

“That is their mother,” I said, pointing, and he nodded, “and those are her little ducklings. They must live very nearby, for they are too small to –“

“Bo’mir?” Faramir said yet again, twisting to look up at me. “Bo’mir?”

I did not know why he was convinced that his brother was about, but then he pointed to the ducklings, repeating puzzledly, “Bo’mir?”

I started laughing so loudly that the ducks scurried a safe distance away. “Oh, no, little one!” I said. “Boromir is not really a duckling, that is just what I call him! “

He narrowed his eyes at me, clearly thinking this over. “Bo’mir,” he said, shaking his head.

“No, not Boromir,” I agreed, still chuckling. “Those are not Boromir, any more than you are really a rabbit. Those – “ I indicated the ducks again, who were wandering away, “those are baby ducklings. Boromir is your brother, and he is at lessons.”

Faramir made a noise that sounded very like, “Hmph,” and scowled at me, and I burst into laughter again at his annoyed expression.

“I am sorry, Faramir,” I said. “I was not trying to trick you. It is just – well, I have always called Boromir ‘duckling’. But no matter what I call him, I promise - he is still your big brother.”

He grumbled under his breath, then all at once his face lightened. He pointed off into the distance, then asked me something, judging by the tone of his voice, and pointed to himself. I gave a moment’s thought to what buildings lay in that direction – guardhouse, stables, dog kennels, hawk mews, chicken pens -- “Oh!” I exclaimed. “You would like to go see the rabbits?”

Faramir nodded, grinning widely.

“We certainly may,” I replied. “And we still have some carrots left, do we not? Perhaps we can feed those to them.”

He clapped his hands, pleased, and helped me fold up the blanket, then we began to walk toward where the rabbit hutches were kept. Rather, I walked, and Faramir hopped, stopping every so often to look up at me. I laughed, and he tilted his head, twitching his nose. “Yes,” I assured him, “you are very like a rabbit.”

A/N - Faramir says his first complete sentence here

 "No, no," Faramir said, pushing the mug away. "I don't like that."

"You don't like tea?" I was surprised; he had never protested the drink before. "Since when?"

"No, I don't like Bo'mir's tea," Faramir replied.

I looked at him a moment, trying to decipher what he meant. He was still too young for proper tea, so it was just a few tablespoons of tea in a mug with milk and cinnamon and honey. "But that is yours, not Boromir's," I pointed out. "I made it for you."

"No, it's Bo'mir's," he insisted. "Sticky – don't like sticky tea."

"Sticky?" I frowned, then had a thought. "You mean you do not like the honey? Is it too sweet?" I'd always made his tea exactly as I had Boromir's, out of nothing more than habit, but apparently Faramir did not share his brother's sweet tooth.

"Too sweet!" Faramir made a face. "I like milk and the cimmanon."

I laughed, picking up the rejected mug and dumping the contents in the fire. "All right – would you like just a little bit of honey?"

"Just a little bit," Faramir agreed. "Please and thank you?"

I remade his tea, amused, as he watched me carefully. I handed him the mug; he sipped at it gingerly, and grinned. "I like that, Nanny."

"I will remember it, little one," I smiled. Faramir had been drinking his tea like Boromir's for some months, but he'd only recently started talking – no wonder I had not known that he did not like it that way. I reminded myself to ask about such things in the future; just because they were brothers did not mean they would always have the same tastes.

"I'm done!" Boromir announced, shoving half a piece of toast in his mouth as he slid out of his chair. I stopped him before he could turn toward the door.

"Wash first," I reminded him. "You have jam all over your face and hands."

He did so hurriedly, for he was none too fond of the speeches he got when he was late for his lessons. He had gotten better about arriving on time, but privately, I was surprised that he ever found his way to the classroom without an escort; there were a great many interesting things between the nursery and the tutor's apartments to distract a reluctant student.

"Am I clean?" he asked me, displaying his palms.

"You are clean," I declared, brushing the last bit of crumb from his cheek. "Now go, and please do not stop to look at the armour."

Boromir waved to his little brother. "You eat up all your breakfast like I told you, Faramir!" he commanded, but Faramir was staring glumly into his bowl and did not even glance up. Boromir did not seem to notice as he ran out the door, failing to close it behind him.

I shut the door, smiling a little at Boromir's parting words to his brother. He was not often overbearing, but sometimes, I thought that Boromir simply couldn't resist telling Faramir what to do. My siblings and I were no different; the older children felt that they had every right to give orders to the younger.

Faramir had obediently begun to eat his porridge, but I saw that tears were sliding down his face as he ate. This was not unusual; some days, Faramir hated to see Boromir leave, and if not distracted, he would remain gloomy until his big brother returned.

"It's all right, little one," I said, hurrying to comfort him. "Boromir will be back for lunch, remember?"

"I…know…." he replied, still crying as he put another spoonful in his mouth.

"Faramir, love," I said calmly, sitting in the chair next to him, "I know you are sad that Boromir is gone, but you should not eat while you are so upset. Come, sit with me a moment."

I leaned forward to pick him up, but to my surprise, Faramir pulled away, swatting at my hands. This was odd, for he was usually a very affectionate boy. I felt his forehead to make certain he wasn't coming down with a fever, but his skin was no warmer than it should have been.

"What is the matter, little rabbit?" I asked, frowning. I tried to gently tug the spoon from his hand, but he held on to it tightly. "I do not want you to make yourself sick -- please, let me have the spoon, and tell me what is wrong, Faramir."

Though I had kept my voice low and persuasive, Faramir began wailing. "No, no, no! I have to eat them! Bo'mir said eat them all!"

"Eat them?" Now I was truly mystified. "What do you mean by them, Faramir?"

He stabbed his spoon at the bowl, choking out each word between sobs. "All…those…bugs. "

"Faramir, what on earth …" I looked in the bowl, and saw nothing unusual in the bowl: porridge, a little cream, a little honey, and a generous number of currants. "What do you mean, bugs? It's only porridge, like you have every morning." I saw no insects, though I supposed it was not impossible. If there were insects in the Citadel's porridge, however, I was certainly not going to be the one to tell Mag. "There are no bugs in there, rabbit."

"Bugs!" Faramir shouted, an edge of hysteria to his voice. He scooped up a spoonful of porridge and brandished it under my nose. "See?"

I was flabbergasted. I'd never seen Faramir react so violently to anything. "I am sorry, Faramir, I don't see anyth--"

"Bo'mir…said… bugs!" He poked his finger at one of the currants, sending porridge into my lap.

"Boromir said -- " I trailed off as understanding dawned. Boromir had told Faramir that the currants were bugs. And no doubt he had gotten the idea from me, for I had told him of the time when my older brothers had done that very thing to me, though I had been much older than Faramir, and had known they were teasing. I should have known that Boromir would try such a joke on Faramir. "Oh. Faramir, come. Sit with me, please."

Now he allowed me to pick him up, and though he still did not release the spoon, he turned his face into my shoulder and began crying harder. I let him weep for a few moments, patting his back, then asked softly, "Did Boromir tell you that you had to eat all the bugs?"

Faramir nodded, looking up at me. "Yes," he answered, utterly miserable, "He said you would be mad if I dint."

That little rat.

"Why would I want you to eat bugs?" I asked, wiping his tears away. "Bugs are not for eating, Faramir, unless you are a bird."

"But…but…Bo'mir said…you would be mad..." Faramir repeated. He had calmed down once I picked him up, but his eyes were still wet with tears. "He said I had to." And Boromir, of course, was the source of all knowledge, if only to his little brother.

"Boromir cannot tell you what you have to eat," I said firmly. "I can. And I would not want you to eat anything as nasty as insects, rabbit." He looked as if he might protest further. "Boromir was playing a game," I tried to explain, "like when you pretend you are a cat. Those are not bugs in the porridge, Faramir -- they are only currants. You've had them before, haven't you?"

"Bo'mir said it's bugs," Faramir told me stubbornly, and I knew better than to try to convince him otherwise. Faramir would believe that I did not want him to eat bugs, because he did not want to eat them, but he was not yet willing to believe that Boromir would play even a harmless trick on him. Arguing would only distress him further. But I could not leave it at that, so I tried another approach.

"Faramir, do you want to eat bugs?"

The expression on his face was pure wretchedness. "No," he whispered, as if he were giving away a great secret. "But Bo'mir said…"

I predicted that I was going to grow very weary of the phrase "Boromir said" over the next years. "Yes, Boromir said you had to," I said, pushing his hair from his face. "But listen, little one---" I hesitated, for though he was an uncannily perceptive child, I knew Faramir was too still young to understand that brothers teased each other, sometimes ruthlessly, without meaning any harm. I did not want to say anything that might make him distrust Boromir. " --- you do not always have to do what Boromir says, if you do not want to."

Faramir tilted his head at me, brow furrowed in concentration. I took this as a good sign, and went on. "If Boromir tells you to do something, and you do not want to do it, or if you think it is wrong, come and ask me, and I will tell you if you have to. Boromir is not yet in charge of what you do." There will be time enough for that when you are older, and he is leading you into battle, I added silently, the thought twisting my stomach.

He was quiet for a moment, then asked tentatively, "I don't really have to eat those bugs?"

"No, love," I assured him, hugging him close. "You do not. But you still need to have breakfast. If I take all the currants out, will you eat?"

He nodded, and I put him back in his chair. He watched me carefully with those sea-grey eyes as I picked the offending fruit from the porridge, then set the bowl back in front of Faramir. He examined it closely, poking at the porridge with his spoon, then, satisfied, began to eat as if he had not had food in a week.

For the rest of the morning, Faramir seemed rather subduded. When he played alone, he was rarely as loud and boisterous as Boromir, but he usually chattered happily to himself, or his toys, or me. But not this morning. If he had been older, I would have said that he was brooding on some important decision. Perhaps he was, for once I saw him put his hand in the rubbish bin and pull something out. A currant, I supposed, and watched him study it carefully before he threw it away, and wandered off, scowling and grumbling to himself.

Therefore, when Boromir returned for lunch, I was not surprised when Faramir did not run to greet Boromir as he normally did.

Boromir, of course, was puzzled. "What's wrong, Faramir?" he asked, kneeling next to his little brother, who was playing with blocks while I readied the table. "Aren't you happy I'm back?"

Boromir got the shock of his life when Faramir raised one small fist and hit his brother in the chest. "Nanny says no bugs!" he shouted, face thunderous. "It's not bugs, and she said I don't have to eat them!"

Boromir looked at me, his expression half-guilty, half-bewildered. He had not been on the receiving end of Faramir's temper before, and he was not sure how to react. I said and did nothing; I wanted to see if they would work this out on their own.

"But -- I was pretending, Faramir," Boromir attempted to explain, turning back to his angry little brother. "I was teasing.I don't want you to eat real bugs!"

"Mean," Faramir declared, glaring. "I don't like that teasing, Bo'mir! And you are not in charge yet!"

The confusion on Boromir's face was almost comical. "I'm sorry!" he said hastily . "Don't be mad, Faramir." Tuned as I was to Boromir's moods, I could hear honest anxiety in his tone, and I felt a little sympathy for him. I knew he hadn't meant to upset Faramir, but Boromir needed to realize that his little brother was not a toy that he could order around for his own amusement. "I won't be mean. I won't be in charge. Don't be mad at me."

I was a little taken aback when Faramir did not immediately yield. "You don't be mean," he said stubbornly, "or I don't want to play with you." His voice broke on the last word, but before I could move to do anything, Boromir grabbed Faramir's hands.

"Don't cry," he begged. "I'm sorry, Faramir. Don't cry - I won't do it again.You will still play with me, won't you?" Boromir looked crushed at the thought that Faramir would reject him.

Then Faramir was sobbing again, even as he crawled into Boromir's lap. "I'm not mad now," he tried to assure his big brother. "I'm not mad now, Bo'mir. "

I had been planning to have a word with Boromir about teasing his adoring little brother so, although I did not know what I would say. Older brothers teased younger brothers, and always had; Boromir's prank was quite mild compared to some of the tricks my brothers had played on one another. But watching them, I realized that Faramir's anger was a far more effective deterrent of such behaviour than anything I could ever say. Any rebuke I had for him could wait until evening, when Boromir and I normally talked about his day; right now, they did not need to be interrupted.

"Morgoth! DIE!" Boromir yelled, righteously assaulting the chair with his wooden sword.

I stepped out of the way of Boromir's wild swing, not wanting to be accidentally hit again.

"Morg'th die, Morg'th die," Faramir sang amicably, pushing his horses around on the floor.

"You are playing Morgoth?"

Boromir and I froze.

I turned to face the Steward, having no idea what I would say;the Lady Finduilas had clearly stated her dislike of this particular type of game.

"I can hear you in the corridor," Lord Denethor said sternly.

Then he smiled. "Be quieter, my son, or your mother will hear."

The rain afforded a bit of a respite from the heat, but I was trapped inside with two small boys and wishing fervently for sunshine.

"That is my horse!" Boromir snapped, jerking the toy from Faramir's hand. "You have your own!"

Faramir scowled at his brother, retorting, "You broke my horse! You stepped on it!"

This had been going on all day, and my patience abruptly vanished.

"Boromir, on the couch!" I ordered, pointing. "Faramir, in that chair! You will stay there until you can play in peace!"

Muttering, each grudgingly headed for his appointed destination.

A blissful quiet descended.

 The Weather Outside is Frightful

"You should have said the wind was hurting your ears," Boromir frowned. "Nanny says you have to go inside when your ears hurt."

"B-b-but I w-w-want to finish the s-s-snowman," Faramir protested through chattering teeth.

"We'll finish him later," Boromir said. "You are too cold and we have to go in. Nanny will give us hot lemonade and we'll sit by the fire and your ears will feel better."

Faramir threw a longing glance at the still-headless snowman, and sneezed. "All right," he agreed reluctantly. "But don't tell Nanny –"

"I won't," Boromir promised. "We don't want her to worry."

~*~

The Fire Is So Delightful

When they arrived, red-cheeked and dusted with snow, all was waiting.

Blankets and fleece-lined slippers were heated by the fire, steaming mugs of hot lemonade waited on the table, as did thick slices of bread and cheese, ready for toasting.

Boromir carried Faramir on his back, because, Boromir explained, Faramir's feet were cold. I could tell by the careful way Faramir held his head that his ears were cold, too. He never remembered to come inside until his ears were fairly ringing with pain.

Sighing inwardly, I helped them out of wet snowy clothing and wrapped them in snug, warm blankets.

~*~

No Place to Go

"Do your ears still ache?" I asked.

"Not as much now," Faramir replied, looking up from his blocks. "Can I go back outside?"

"Certainly not," I said. "You are not going outside until tomorrow, if then. Are you sure they feel better?" I knew how he tried to avoid the olive oil remedy for earache.

"I'm sure," he nodded, then frowned. "My throat hurts a little, though."

"I thought it might," I smiled, "so I made this for you." I handed him a freshly-brewed cup of anise-mint tea, which he loved.

Fortunately, anise-mint tea was also good for sore throats.

Faramir sat cross-legged on the couch, staring fiercely at a book in his lap. I could see that it was one of Boromir's first readers, and wondered what Faramir found so fascinating. There were some illustrations, but not enough to keep the attention of a child who was not many months past his third birthday.

I watched him a moment. He did not turn the pages, just sat glaring at them, so finally I asked, "Would you like a different book?"

He looked up, and I realized that he was very angry. "Whatever is wrong?" I said, going to sit by him.

"This book won't teach me to read!" Faramir exclaimed, smacking the book with his open palm. "Boromir said he learned to read from it!"

I hid my grin behind my hand, for it was obvious that Faramir was extremely frustrated. "Well, little one, this book is for older children," I said, earning myself a scowl from him. "And Boromir had a tutor to help him as well."

"But I want to read it," he insisted. "Will you show me how?"

I thought this over. Teaching Faramir his letters had been a swiftly-accomplished task; within a week, he had been able to recite them with no prompting. He knew what sound each made, and could identify them separately. "All right," I decided, "but I think we shall use a different book."

I went and found a picture-book, one that had coloured drawings of animals and plants, each clearly labeled. Faramir started to protest, but subsided as I pointed out that this book also had words. He took it in his lap, and opened it to the first page. "What does that say?"

"What is that picture?" I asked.

"It's a dog," Faramir replied, "but pictures aren't reading!"

"Calmly," I soothed. "Do you not see the word under the picture?"

He spelled it out, somewhat impatiently. "But what does it – " he trailed off, and turned an excited face to me. "Does that say 'dog', Nanny?"

I chuckled. "Yes, it does. Now, what sound does each letter makes?"

He sounded it out in that funny distinct way that all children learning to read have, and I had to smile at his eagerness. "I can read that!" he gasped. "That says 'dog'!"

"That is not all there is to reading, rabbit," I warned, "but it is a good start. Now shall we read through this book? Then if you have not gotten bored, perhaps we will work on seeing if you know words without pictures to help you."

"I won't get bored," Faramir assured me, eyes shining. "I want to know all the words!"

I laughed. "I am sure that one day you will," I said, ruffling his hair. "Now what is that on the next page?"

He settled against me, and we spent the rest of the afternoon curled up on the couch, happily matching words to pictures.

A hand on my elbow startled me, but of course it was only Faramir, awake from his nap.

As was his habit, he climbed into my lap without a word, making himself comfortable and rubbing at his eyes. He liked to sit quietly as he woke up more completely, and I found it very soothing to simply hold him. There has always been something very comforting about the heavy weight of a sleepy child resting against me..

Once Faramir had settled himself, I turned back to the letter I had received from my sister Braneth, absently combing my fingers through his hair as I read. After a time, he asked, "What are you reading?"

"A letter from my sister," I replied, glancing down at him.

He looked curious. "You have a sister? Do you have a brother, too?"

"I have four brothers," I smiled.

His eyes went wide. "That's a lot," he said. "Are they bigger than you?"

"Two brothers are older than me, but all the others are younger," I replied, wondering why he was suddenly so interested in my family. "I took care of them before I came here to take care of you and Boromir."

Faramir frowned. "But…now who takes care of them?"

"They do not need much looking after now," I said. "The littlest ones – Gwenel and Talagan - are 13 years old."

"Oh," he said, looking much relieved. "That's too big for a nanny, isn't it?"

"It is," I agreed, "though my sister Braneth still takes care of them sometimes. You are never too big for a sister – or brother."

He grinned. "Will I get more brothers or sisters?"

I strongly doubted that. Lady Finduilas had seemed to grow more delicate in the years since Faramir's birth, and she often seemed more distant, as well. But all I said was, "It is always possible."

"What's their names?" he wanted to know. "Are your brothers soldiers?"

"No, but Pilimór is a sailor," I said.

"Like Uncle Imrahil?"

I chuckled at that idea. "No, not like your uncle. Pilimór is a fisherman, with his own. boat. My older brother Mellonar works for my father, traveling all over Gondor. Inthenin is just turned 19, and he …." I trailed off, frowning, for I could not recall what trade Inthenin had taken up. He had only been nine years old when I left Dol Amroth, and Braneth sometimes did not relay all of his activities. They were only three years apart, and did not get along very well. Inthenin was not one to write, and Mother, when she wrote, was so overly dramatic that I never knew what to believe.

Then I remembered a rare letter from my father. "Oh, I was wrong, little one. Inthenin certainly is a solider – I believe he is becoming quite a good archer."

"Like a ranger?" Faramir and Boromir both were fascinated by rangers, for they did not often get to see one, and when they did, would stare with round eyes, whispering excitedly back and forth.

"Not exactly," I said with a smile. "There are no rangers in Dol Amroth, rabbit."

He looked disappointed, then began counting on his fingers. "Pilimór, Mellonar, Inthenin, Gwenel, and Talagan --that is five brothers, and you said four."

"Gwenel is a sister, silly boy," I corrected, though I was impressed that he had remembered all those names."Talagan is a brother – Gwenel's twin - and he is apprenticed as a scribe." Braneth had had the care of the littlest ones, so I always knew what they were doing.

"What's a twin, Nanny?" Faramir wanted to know.

"Twins are two children born on the same day, at the same time, who look very alike, sometimes so alike that you cannot tell one from the other," I explained. "I could not tell Gwenel and Talagan apart when they were babies, but as they got older, it became much easier."

Faramir looked as if he was thinking something over. "Do they have the same birthday?"

"Yes, they do," I nodded.

"I wouldn't like that," he declared. "I wouldn't want to have to share my birthday party with someone else."

"Not even Boromir?" I teased.

"No, I don't want to be twins with him," Faramir said seriously. "I like having a big brother. But he could probably share my birthday party, if he didn't eat all the cakes."

I laughed. "You always have enough cakes at your birthday party, do you not?"

"Yes," Faramir nodded, then changed the subject, as he frequently did when we talked like this. "Gwenel is a sister, and… ummm..who sent the letter?"

"Braneth."

"Braneth. Is there any more?"

"There is Minuial," I supplied. "She takes care of the books for our father." No-one had been more surprised than I when I heard that news. But apparently Minuial had showed quite an aptitude for numbers, and, as Father had not been entirely pleased with the man who had been keeping his books, he had been more than happy to turn that task over to his daughter. From Braneth's letters, I knew that Minuial still as flighty as ever when it came to men, but she was all seriousness when it came to the ledgers.

"She takes care of books?" Faramir's eyes lit up. "Like at the archives? Does she dust them and put them back in the right place and tell children to wash their hands before they touch anything?"

I had to laugh. "Not those kinds of books, my rabbit. I mean that she adds and subtracts to see how much money people have paid our father, or to see how much money Father must pay other people."

"Oh," Faramir looked overly displeased at that, as if I had somehow tricked him. "That doesn't sound like as much fun as taking care of real books."

"I do not think it sounds like much fun, either," I admitted. "I prefer taking care of curious little boys."

"I don't know curious," he said, interested as always at hearing a new word. "What is that? Is it good?"

"You are that," I told him, chuckling. "Curious is asking many questions. And yes, I think it is good. Asking questions is how you learn new things."

He gave a self-satisfied little grin. "Is Boromir curious, too?"

"He is," I agreed. "But you two are curious about different things, which is also good."

Though fully awake, Faramir showed no inclination to move. He fell silent a moment, however, and I wondered what question my curious little boy was coming up with next. Finally he asked, "You like taking care of us, Nanny?"

"Of course I do," I assured him, giving him a quick hug. "I would not have come to Minas Tirith if I did not like take care of you."

"Will you ever go back to Dol Amroth?" he went on. "I like it there, when we visit, and Mother likes it a lot, too."

"I will, when you get too big to need a nanny." I was a little wistful, thinking of that inevitable day. However, thinking of the other letter I had received today, I knew that returning home would not be so melancholy, for then I would have a chance to start my own family.

"But I won't be too big for a long time?" Faramir asked anxiously. "I won't be thirteen for a long time."

"Nine years," I said, "well, several months less than nine years. But yes, that is a long time."

Faramir heaved a sigh of relief so deep that I nearly giggled. "Good," he said, sitting up and hugging my neck tightly. "I like having you here."

I hugged him back, kissed his cheek. "And I like being here, my little rabbit."

My words were mostly true, though even after eight and a half years, I had not warmed much to Minas Tirith herself. But I did not have to like the White City; I only had to love and care for the sons of her Steward. And that was no hardship.

Boromir's bed was a mess. The sheets were thrown back and wrinkled; the coverlet was shoved to the foot of the bed in a pile. I looked across the hallway into Faramir's room – his bed looked perfectly made.

Wondering if the housemaid had gotten distracted, I went to straighten the bedclothes when I heard a giggle, then Faramir's head popped out.

"What are you doing under there?" I asked.

"Ssssh!" he said. "I'm hiding from Boromir!"

Just then, Boromir shouted, "Ready or not, here I come!"

"Don't tell!" Faramir ordered, scrambling back under the blankets.

Chuckling, I promised I wouldn't.

The boys were off at the stables to see a new foal, and would be gone until midday. I was enjoying a bit of quiet and catching up on the mending, which I had been ignoring shamefully.

I had finished that task, and was now trying to knit a blanket. My eldest brother had written, relaying the news that he was soon to be a father, and though I had not seen him in years and had never met his wife, I knew that I would be expected to send some sort of gift.

I was so involved in the process – my knitting skills were terribly rusty – that I jumped when the nursery door creaked open, and Faramir entered.

It was early for him to be back – lunch was not for another hour, and they never returned from the stables until they absolutely had to. "Faramir, is all well?" I asked, then I saw that he was near tears. I started to stand and go to him, but he made straight for me, climbed into my lap, and began sobbing into my shoulder.

He was too upset to talk, so I simply held him and rocked him, wondering what on earth had happened. He did not act as if he had been injured, and I could see no marks or scrapes on him. And his weeping did not sound as if he was in pain.

At length, his crying faded, and, worried, I asked, "Little one, whatever is wrong?"

He looked at me, face blotchy and distressed, and whispered, "Boromir doesn't like me any more."

"What?" I was startled. "Why would you think that?"

His chin wobbled, and his eyes threatened to overflow again. "He told me that I was a baby and I couldn't play with him and the other boys and that," he gasped for air, "and that I had to go away and find some other baby to play with."

I winced inwardly, even I tried to suppress my irritation. Of late, Boromir had been more domineering than usual, and there had been more than one quarrel between the brothers. I was content to keep an eye on the arguments, and let them work out their differences on their own, but I had been obliged to intervene several times when such rows degenerated into full-blown shouting matches.

"I am sorry that Boromir said such things to you," I told Faramir, smoothing his hair. "Will you tell me what happened?"

"We looked at the foal and then he wanted to go with the other boys to the guardhouse and I wanted to go with them but Boromir – " his voice broke pitifully "- Boromir said he was tired of me following him around all the time and he said I couldn't come and that he wanted to play with boys big as him instead of a little baby who doesn't even have a real sword yet!" Faramir was crying again, and he buried his face against me, clinging to my neck as if I were his only friend.

I let him weep. I knew that Boromir had not meant to hurt his little brother's feelings, and I knew that at nine years old, he did think himself too old to spend time on the quieter games Faramir often liked to play. But I would never have expected him to lash in such a way – for all that he ordered Faramir about like a raw recruit, Boromir was not a mean-spirited child. I wondered who "the other boys" were, for I knew stablemen's lads were happy to play with Faramir, even if they were older than he was.

After a bit, he calmed again. "Why doesn't he like me any more, Nanny? I can't have a real sword yet, Father said not til I'm seven." He was so bewildered and wounded that I wanted to find Boromir and shake him until his teeth rattled.

I hesitated, then said, "He still likes you, rabbit", as I wiped his face with the blanket I had been knitting. It did not matter – I had made a poor job of it anyhow.

"No he doesn't," Faramir protested sadly, leaning against me. "He doesn't want me around him, he said."

I sighed, trying to find a way to explain that would not hurt Faramir's feelings further. "Sometimes you like to play without Boromir, don't you?" I asked.

"Sometimes," he nodded, sniffing. "But I don't yell and be mean and –"

"I know you do not," I interrupted gently, "and Boromir was wrong to say those things to you. But sometimes Boromir likes to play by himself, too, you know."

"But – but he wasn't by himself!" he cried, frustrated. "He was with those other boys! Why does he want to play with them and not me?!"

I thought quickly. "Faramir, do you go everywhere with me, all the time?"

"N-no," he said, "sometimes you go out to the market or that other place or to talk to Mag."

"Does that mean that I do not like you any more?"

He looked shocked. "Oh, no, Nanny, I know you like me."

"Then why do I go to talk to Mag by myself, when I know that you like to visit the kitchens?"

He considered this for a moment. "Cause you're talking about me and Boromir and you don't want us to hear?"

I choked down a laugh. "On occasion," I admitted, "but not all the time. No, sometimes I just like to talk with Mag by myself. It is not because I am angry with you or anything of the sort – sometimes, I just want to spend my time in a different way. And maybe that is why Boromir wants to play with those other boys. Do you understand?"

Faramir was quiet for a long moment, and I almost thought that he had fallen asleep when he spoke. "But ...but I don't have anyone else to play with," he said softly. "Boromir has all those other friends to play with, and I don't have any friends that are four."

With a start, I realized that he was right. When Boromir was small, I had made certain that he had children his age to play with, but I had done no such thing for Faramir, thinking that he would be satisfied with his older brother's company. And he was – Faramir was always pleased to play with Boromir and the older boys and shadow them all over the Tower. I – or Lady Finduilas – had never formally invited any of the younger siblings, so of course Faramir had not had the opportunity to meet them.

I counted in my head, and came to the conclusion that Faramir knew perhaps three boys his own age, and they were infrequent visitors at best. I made certain that he and I had time alone – after all, Boromir had had me to himself for five years, and it would not have been fair for Faramir to get no such attention – but I had not considered finding appropriate playmates for Faramir.

That was not all I had to feel guilty about - I had not stopped to think how Boromir might feel about having his little brother tag along, once he began to grow older. And I should have – I had gotten very, very weary of having my younger siblings haunt my every waking moment.

I hugged Faramir close. "I am so sorry, little one," I said. "I did not think. Would you like it if we found you some friends who are four?"

"I…I think so," he replied, looking relieved. "I like playing with Boromir but those other boys sometimes are mean."

"I shall talk to your lady mother this very day," I assured him.

He gave one of those sweet, content smiles that always melted my heart, but then it turned into a frown. "Do you think I'm still a baby?" he asked worriedly, toying with my sleeve.

"Of course not," I said, smiling at him. "Babies cannot read and write, and you do both very well. And babies also are not allowed to have lessons even with wooden swords, are they?" He shook his head. "Using a wooden sword does not mean that you are a baby," I went on, "it simply means that you have not had enough lessons yet." My stomach twisted at the sudden image of this small boy grown, wielding a proper sword in battle.

"Now," I said, shoving such thoughts away, "are you ready for your lunch? They will bring it soon."

"Will you tell me a story while we're waiting?" Faramir asked hopefully.

"Of course I will," I replied, "what would you like to hear?"

"The one about the fisherman who married a seal-lady."

"All right," I agreed, and he settled himself against me. I combed my fingers through his hair as I began to speak. "Once there was a poor fisherman who lived on Belfalas Bay…"

Lunch arrived before I could finish the story, but when I looked down at Faramir, he was fast asleep. I was not surprised; he was likely worn out from the excitement of a visit to the stables, as well as by his emotional outburst. The food would keep til he awoke.

I carried Faramir to his room, laid him on his bed, and had just re-entered the playroom when the door banged open and Boromir tore in. I was ready to scold him until his ears rang – but when I looked at him, I saw that his face was white, and he looked very much as if he was holding back tears.

Before I could say anything, however, he stepped forward, swallowed hard, and blurted out, "Nanny – I lost Faramir. I yelled at him and he ran off and he's lost and I thought he would be here but now I can't find him and I don't know where he is and it's all my fault and no - "

"He is here," I said simply. Though I was angry at him for his behaviour, it was obvious that he was nearly frantic with worry, and I could not let him continue to think that Faramir was gone.

"Oh!" Boromir's mouth snapped shut, and the anxiety on his face was replaced with a kind of resigned guilt. "Did he –" he took a deep, shuddering breath, and faced me squarely. "I'm sorry, Nanny. I shouted at him and called him a baby. I told him to go away, and that I was tired of him pestering me all the time. And then he ran off."

I was rather surprised by Boromir's straightforward confession, but in truth, I was also relieved. "And why did you say those things to him?" I wanted to know. "You hurt his feelings very, very badly, Boromir. He thinks you do not like him any more."

He turned bright red, and I had to strain to hear his answer. "Nobody else has their little brother following them around all the time. I can tell they don't like it when he comes along."

Ah. Just what I had suspected. I sat down in one of the chairs at the table, and motioned Boromir over to me.

Reluctantly, he obeyed, and I took his hands in mine. "Do you like it when he comes along?"

"Sometimes." His voice was uneven. "But he's little, and he can't play our games – he will get hurt." I could see he was conflicted. "I still like him, Nanny. But…I don't want to play with him all the time. Sometimes I want to play with other boys. "

"Of course you do, duckling," I said calmly, and he looked surprised at my reaction. "There is nothing wrong with that. However – " I grew stern, "I am very disappointed that you would say such unkind things to Faramir. Would you like it if your uncle called you a baby in front of all his knights and told you to go away?"

Boromir winced. "No," he admitted quietly, tightening his hands on mine.

"And how do you think Faramir felt, when you called him a baby because he didn't have a proper sword, and in front of all those older boys?"

Now he pulled away from me, shame written all over his face. "I'm sorry," he whispered miserably. "I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, I just – " he gulped, "I just wanted to play with my friends without having to worry about him."

"I understand," I said, "and you are right, you should not have to feel that you are looking after your little brother all the time. That is my fault – I should have known that, and from now on, you both will have time to play with other children. But you must promise me that you will learn to think before you speak! I do not care what those other boys do, Boromir, you can not let what other people think cause you to be so cruel and thoughtless as you were today. Just because they say horrible things does not mean that you should, or that it is right."

"I will learn to think first," he promised, biting his lip. "Is – is Faramir angry?"

"I do not know," I said truthfully. "And if he is, he has reason to be."

Boromir sighed. "I would be angry if he'd said things like that to me," he said sadly. "I will tell him I'm sorry."

"That is all you can do," I told him gently. "And do not be too surprised if he stays angry for a little while. He was very upset when he thought that you did not like him any more."

Tears sprang to his eyes, though he did not let them escape, and I leaned forward to draw him into a hug. "Just be patient, my duckling, and give him time to calm himself. He still likes you as well, else he would not have been so hurt."

Boromir threw his arms around my neck. "I'm sorry I disappointed you, Nanny," he said in my ear. "I don't like to make you unhappy, and I don't like making Faramir angry. I won't let those other boys make me say mean things again."

He did apologize to Faramir profusely, though, as predicted, Faramir ignored his brother almost completely for the next two days. I knew better than to interfere, though it was difficult to see how stoically Boromir took Faramir's displeasure. Eventually, of course, Faramir forgave him, and I never heard either boy speak so harshly to the other again.

Boromir was given time each week when he could play with the older boys without Faramir's presence; Faramir quickly made a circle of friends amongst the younger children. The nursery was almost devoid of ugly squabbles, and for a while, life was, thankfully, much less stressful.

When I returned from my half-day and heard of Boromir's fall, I ran straight to the Houses, heart pounding with fear. I found him asleep, looking very small in that man-sized bed. With the healer's approval, I approached him and gently brushed the hair away from his pinched, grey face. He did not stir.

"Oh, my poor little duckling," I murmured, overwhelmed with guilt that I had not been there to comfort him. "However did this happen?"

Somewhat hesitantly, the healer told me.

I was going to shake the little imp til his teeth rattled out of his head. A dare.
 

Lord Denethor had decided that we would stay in Dol Amroth for a month, while he had gone back to Minas Tirith less than a week after the funeral. I had not minded, for I missed the scents and sounds of my home --such familiar things steadied me. Boromir and Faramir did not care where they were. We walked the shores daily, and it seemed to me that the boys, too, were soothed by the ocean. They would tear up and down the sand until they tired of running, then they would sit and let the water wash over them, troubles momentarily gone.

Faramir trailed me like a lost kitten, and he had taken to calling "Nanny?" at intervals, as if he were afraid that I, too, would suddenly be gone. Boromir was by turns sullen, quiet, or frantically involved in some activity. Only when he was with Faramir or running along the beach did he seem anything like his old self. I knew this was to be expected, and I knew that eventually, the first shock of grief would fade, but it tore at me to see their peaked, bewildered faces.

Now Boromir, Faramir and I had been back in Minas Tirith for a week, and we were just beginning to settle back into our routines. I was weary beyond belief, and was looking forward to finally getting a day out again. I had had no such luxury while we were in Dol Amroth -- I could not leave the boys so soon after laying the Lady Finduilas to rest. I had not wanted to leave them.

But there was no mistaking the fact that I needed to get away, just for a few hours. I went to bed exhausted and woke up exhausted. Every night I was awakened by one, or both, of the boys crying, and I would go and sit with them or hold them until they drifted off again. Of course I was glad to give them comfort, for they needed it badly, but it was taking its toll on me. After so long in Dol Amroth, the walls of Minas Tirith pressed in on me closer than ever. It was particularly bad in the Citadel. A deep silence seemed to have fallen over everyone, especially those of us who had been in the Lady Finduilas' service for years. Chambermaids were unnaturally reserved, pages wore grim expressions, guards appeared to be weighed down by sorrow.

Part of this was, no doubt, due to Lord Denethor's temper. If what I heard was to be believed, his mood veered from dark and snarling to apathetic and empty in the space of a heartbeat, and those who were regularly in his presence walked on eggshells. He had never been a frequent visitor to the nursery, preferring to have the boys come to him, but as yet, he had not summoned nor come to see them. I wondered how long he planned to avoid them, though neither boy asked for him often. They were still too confused.

I was overwhelmed with relief simply knowing that I was going to be able to get away from the bleak atmosphere of the Citadel. I had no plans other than to walk the City; of course Minas Tirith was in mourning, but in the streets it would not be so suffocating and all-encompassing.

The girl who would be would be looking after Faramir while I was out would arrive soon. Today Boromir had taken up his studies again, but Faramir was still too distracted for even his simple lessons, so he was not to start again til the next week. He followed me while I brushed out my hair, frowning suspiciously, and kept pace with me when I went back into the playroom to wait. He climbed onto the couch, and sat next to me without speaking, resting his head against my arm. I started to read him a story, and soon there was a knock at the door.

The girl, Halwen, was terribly young, but I had been told that she had numerous siblings, so I had no true fears as to her competence. She was a scribe's daughter - I did not know which one. I showed her around, told her the rules, introduced her to Faramir, whose frown had deepened, and let her know when I would be back. She seemed kind, and though Faramir did not speak to her, I thought they would get along well.

"Faramir," I said, "I am going out for a bit, but Halwen will keep you company. Shall I bring you a gingerbread pig, or would you like something different today?"

Faramir ran across the room to me, looking stricken. "Where are you going?" he demanded, grabbing onto my skirts with both hands. "Are you coming back?"

I knelt down to face him. I had anticipated this reaction. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I come back? I am just going into the City, rabbit."

"No, stay here." Faramir shook his head. "You stay here with me, Nanny. You don't need to go into the City.You need to stay here."

"I do, Faramir," I said gently. "I want to go to the markets, and I have to go out to do that. Halwen will play with you while I am gone."

"I don't want to play with her," Faramir replied, voice rising. "I want to play with you. She doesn't know my games!"

"Then you will get teach her," I pointed out, rubbing a smudge from his cheek. "I will be back before dinner, Faramir -- that is not very long, is it?"

"No," he said. There was a note of alarm to his voice. "No, don't go. You stay here and play with me. I want you to stay here!" He grabbed hold of my wrist and held it so tightly that his hand shook. "Please, please --- stay here. I don't want you to go out!"

"Faramir, I will come back," I reassured him as he began to cry. "It is just for a short while…."

"Please," he said again, voice desperate and cracking. "Please please please, don't go out, Nanny. Stay here -- I'll be good, I won't run and be loud -- please stay here!" He buried his face in my shoulder, weeping brokenly. "Please," he kept repeating, and with each repetition, he grew louder until he was nearly shrieking. "Please!

I was astonished. I had known that he would not be happy about my leaving, but I had not expected this. I had expected a mild tantrum, but this was not simply Faramir throwing a fit to get his way. His entire body shook against me as if in fear or fever, and each time he wailed, "Please!", his tone had edged closer to hysteria. Now he was clutching at me, pulling at my sleeves, choking on his sobs.

I wanted to get out and be alone for a while. I needed to get out of the Citadel. Knowing that I was going to be able to escape its gloom had been the only thing which had made the last few days bearable. But how could I leave him like this?

I sat on the floor, and drew him into my lap. "Ssshhh, little one," I murmured into his ear as I stroked his hair. "All right. All right, I will not go. I will stay."

Halwen had been waiting patiently, and now I looked to her. "We will not need you today," I said, trying not to let my disappointment show. It was not easy, for I felt like bursting into tears myself. I was so tired. "You may go."

"Miss?" she said, puzzled. "But -- what am I to do? What am I to tell ---"

"I don't care," I said wearily, rocking Faramir back and forth. She seemed a bit wary at my tone; I supposed she had heard that I could be stubborn, when it came to my boys. "Consider yourself at leisure, if you like. They will not be expecting you back for a while, so you should take advantage of having a bit of free time. But I will not be going out today."

She looked startled by the notion of having free time in the middle of the day, but merely nodded. "Shall I come back next week?"

"Yes," I replied, wishing she would just go and leave us alone. "We will try again then."

Halwen left, and I turned my attentions to calming Faramir. He was clinging to me, still crying weakly. I held him tightly, saying nothing, until he finally quieted. Then I washed his face with a cool cloth and gave him a drink.

"Shall you and I go into the City?" I asked, for I was not going to stay within these walls, and it would also do Faramir good to leave the Citadel.

Faramir rubbed at his face. "You'll stay with me?" There was still an underlying hint of panic in his voice.

"I will stay with you," I told him, finding a smile somewhere. "Now come - we will get a lunch from Mag, and we will go look at the fountains."

He held out his arms, I picked him up, and he nestled against my neck. He was really too old to be carried around, but he looked so fragile that I could not refuse him. It was only a week, after all, and by then he would be with his tutor when I left. I glanced at his careworn little face, and hoped that the dark shadows in and under his eyes would soon fade.

Boromir didn't even open his eyes when a small hand touched him on the shoulder. "Come on," he said, drawing back the bedclothes and moving over to make room for his little brother. "Just don't put your cold feet on me."

Faramir scrambled into the bed and quickly arranged himself against Boromir, who tucked the blankets snugly around them. "Dreams again?" Boromir whispered. He knew that right now, Nanny didn't care if they shared a bed, but she would care if she heard them talking this late.

Faramir nodded, almost bumping Boromir's nose with the top of his head. "It was Mother, in the gardens," he said, voice wavering, and he didn't need to explain further. Boromir hugged his brother tightly, even while he himself blinked back tears.

"Uncle says that after a time, it won't hurt as much to think about Mother," Boromir said, trying to sound confident. "He says that after a time, we'll be happy to think of her."

"But it hurts right now," was Faramir's choked reply.

Boromir sighed. "I know it does."

They lay in silence for several moments, then, very carefully, Boromir said, "You – you can't sleep in here forever, Faramir." He heard his little brother's shocked gasp, and hurried to add, "I don't mind, really I don't, but – some time you'll have to learn to sleep in your own bed again."

"But I like it in here with you," Faramir protested. "I don't like being over there all by myself."

"I'm always right across the hall," Boromir pointed out, "you can hear me from your room, can't you?"

"Y-yes," Faramir admitted, reluctant. "But it isn't the same. It's…it's warmer in here."

"You know there's nothing in your room to be scared of," Boromir said quietly, feeling very guilty. He liked it better, too, when his brother was there.  But he had overheard Nanny talking to Mag, just that day. I do not mind, Nanny had said, it has only been three months and if it brings them some peace, that is only for the good.  But soon I will have to tell them that they cannot sleep together all the time, and I dread it.

 "You can hear me, and I can hear you, and Nanny can hear us both," Boromir went on. "You're not all alone."

"It's empty in my room," Faramir said softly, and Boromir could picture the wounded look on his face. "I don't like it."

A thought occurred to Boromir . "What if – would you like it better if I gave you Clover to sleep with?"

 Clover had been Boromir's companion for many years; he had never let any other child, including Faramir, play with the stuffed pony, and had, in fact, gotten very upset if anyone else even touched Clover.  When he stopped sleeping with Clover, Boromir had set him on one of the shelves in his room, between his treasure-box and the first, now-battered ship that his Uncle Imrahil had given him. More than once, Boromir had seen Faramir eyeing Clover with great longing. However, since their mother had died, he had relented and let Faramir hold the pony for very short periods of time. Boromir wasn't sure why he allowed this, after refusing to let Faramir anywhere near Clover for so long. He knew, however, that it pleased Faramir a great deal.

 "Your pony?" Faramir sounded awestruck. "But…he's yours. That queen gave him to you."

"He is mine," Boromir agreed, "but I don't sleep with him anymore, and I can give him to you, if I want to. Would you like that?"

There was a long pause, and then he felt Faramir's head nodding against his shoulder.  "Yes," he said. "I would like that. And….and you can borrow Hanu, if you want." 

Hanu was Faramir's stuffed rabbit, and Boromir was about to explain that he was too big to sleep with stuffed animals when he realized that Faramir was trying to be brave in offering to share his most beloved toy. Refusing would only hurt his brother's feelings. So instead he just said, "Thank you – I will borrow him if I need to."

 "Can I still sleep with you sometimes?"

"Sometimes," Boromir said, yawning, "just not all the time."

There was silence, then his brother's worried voice. "Do I – do I have to go back to my bed right now?"

Boromir smiled and hugged Faramir again. "No," he replied. "You can stay here tonight.".
.

I was looking for Faramir; now that he was older, he often ended up in the gardens, reading or talking with the gardeners, while I was taking my half-day.  I heard his voice nearby and walked in that direction, only to stop short when I caught the distinctive odor of pipeweed. He was with Mithrandir; I could just see the wizard's grey hat over the hedges.

I was loathe to disturb the two of them - Faramir did so enjoy Mithrandir's company - so I did not approach them right away.

"But how did they get all that treasure?" I heard Faramir ask in a puzzled voice.

"Most of Smaug's was stolen from the dwarves," Mithrandir replied, "although he did have some spoils of battle. Many dragons had such - after they had attacked a town, they would sack it as well. Some towns were not able to rebuild, so poor were they after a dragon had finished with them."

"No, I mean how did they take the treasure back to their cave?" Faramir said, in that tone of voice which I knew meant he was wrestling with something that confused him. "Gold coins come in a bag, and dragons don't have hands. You said that dragon's teeth and claws are sharper than swords, so wouldn't they tear the bag if a dragon tried to pick it up? And I don't see how a dragon could carry golden plates and silver cups, or jewels - although if they  were in a chest, I guess a dragon could carry that carefully. But all treasure doesn't come in a chest."

Mithrandir's voice held a hint of amusement. "How do you think a dragon carried treasure back to his lair?"

I could not tell if Mithrandir knew the answer, or if he simply wanted Faramir to work it out on his own.

There was a silence, and I could easily picture Faramir's thoughtful face as he pondered the question. "He couldn't use a wagon to carry things like we do," he said finally, "because dragons can't  drive a wagon, and I think he would rather eat the horses. Maybe - did dragons have men who worked for them, like Father's chamberlain?"  This possibility was spoken doubtfully.

I could hear the smile in Mithrandir's voice. "If one did, I have not heard of it," he said.

"I don't think a dragon would want to pull a wagon himself," Faramir mused, "if they are as proud as you said. Oh!" His voice brightened. "He could carry the wagon in his mouth or claws, couldn't he, without smashing it, if he were very careful? He could scoop the treasure into the wagon, and then just carry the wagon back to his cave!"  He sounded very proud, and I could not help but smile, even as I wondered what Mithrandir's response would be.

The wizard chuckled, a puff of smoke drifting over his head. "I think that sounds very practical," he answered, and there was fondness in his tone. "I have never seen a dragon making off with its treasure, so I cannot tell you if it is true or not, but it seems a likely idea."

"I wish I could see a dragon," Faramir said wistfully. "But they're all gone now, aren't they?"

"There might be a small one lurking in a dark corner of some land," Mithrandir said, and I shuddered to think it might be true. "But I have not heard of one being seen for many, many years."  I saw him lean towards where I assumed Faramir sat. "Now, it grows near the dinner-hour - should you not be returning?"

"Nanny will find me when she comes back," Faramir said confidently. "She knows I come to the gardens when she goes out, if it's not cold or raining."

I hesitated; I did not want to step forward and reveal that I had been eavesdropping on their conversation. But then Mithrandir said, "I wager that she will be here any moment, if she knows your habits so well," and I realized that he had known I was there all along.

"And here I am," I said, coming fully into the garden. "Have you had an enjoyable visit with Mithrandir?"

"Oh, yes!" Faramir replied, eyes shining. "He has told me all about the Battle of the Five Armies and dragons!"

"He was not too inquisitive, I hope," I said to Mithrandir, for I knew how relentless Faramir's curiosity could be.

"He is never too inquisitive," he assured me. "And I welcome such thoughtful company."

Faramir's ears turned red, a reaction I knew meant he was both proud and a little embarrassed. "Thank you for telling me those stories," he said earnestly as he came to stand next to me. "It's much more interesting to hear what happened from someone who was there."

Mithrandir said, " You are very welcome, Faramir. Perhaps we will have the chance to speak again, ere I leave Minas Tirith?" His smile was warm and sincere, but a shadow flashed across his face, so swiftly that I was unsure whether or not I had even seen it.

Faramir looked up at me eagerly; I nodded, and he replied, "I would like that, very much."

We bid the wizard good-night, and for the rest of the evening, Faramir talked steadily of  Mithrandir and dragons.  I listened to him, asking questions when it seemed required, and wondered if the odd expression I had seen on the wizard's face had been regret or wistfulness. Both, I decided, feeling a surprising sympathy for him, for he had no children of his own that I had heard.  What must it be like? I thought. To be so old and wise, and yet to have no child or kin  to brighten his life?

Faramir had turned to sketching dragons. "Come look, Nanny!" He held up the sheet of parchment in his hand.  "This blue one is for you -" he knew how I liked to save such things, "-do you think Mithrandir would like a drawing of Smaug?"

Impulsively I bent and kissed the top of his head, and he grinned at me in surprise. "I do," I said, pleased at his thoughtfulness. "I think he would like that very much."

For Acacea

I was sitting in front of the fireplace, reading a letter from my mother, when a small voice said, "Nanny?"

There stood Faramir, who had gone to bed an hour ago. "Why are you awake, little one?" I asked. "Bad dreams?"

"No." He denied this a little too vehemently, but lately he had been subject to nightmares which he could not articulate.  "No, I know dreams aren't real. I'm -- I'm cold."

I smiled, set aside my letter, and lifted the blanket I had draped over my legs. "Come sit with me," I invited, and he scrambled into my lap, snuggling against me.  His bare feet were like ice, and I wrapped us both in the blanket. His face was too conflicted for one so young, and I wished he could tell me what he had dreamed that upset him so badly. "Shall I sing to you?"

He thought a moment. "Will you sing the seagull song?"

It was a rather melancholy song, but the tune was soothing enough, so I settled back into my chair and sang for him.

Seagull soaring over yonder bay
Take my heart and dreams and fly away
Find my love,
I am only waiting for my love to come back home
I am only waiting for my love no more to roam

Seagull soaring over yonder quay
Bring my love back home from stormy sea
He'll return,
He is only waiting to find harbour in my arms
He is only waiting to find shelter from all harm

Faramir was fast asleep before I had even begun the second stanza, but he was warm against me, and I had no desire to disturb him. Stretching, I could just reach the letter from my mother. There was nothing of importance in it, but it kept me awake, and let Faramir sleep undisturbed  for a bit longer, safe from whatever haunted his dreams.

~*~

A/N - song is a filk of "Blackbird", by the Beatles.

The nursery was quiet, though Denethor could hear the nanny moving about in Boromir's room.  Faramir, not surprisingly, was sitting on one of the couches, his head bent low over a -

Denethor blinked, sure he must be mistaken. But he was not; it was no book which held Faramir's attention, it was a sock.  A sock which Faramir appeared to be mending. Irritation arose with in him immediately - why was his son performing such a menial task?

 Before Denethor could speak, Faramir glanced up and saw him standing there. "Father!" he exclaimed. "Father, look!"  He slid off the couch and displayed the sock proudly. "I'm fixing the hole - see how I'm weaving this thread across? And then I'll weave it up and down til the hole's all filled in -I have to keep it flat though, or it'll bunch up inside my boot and rub my foot. See - " he stuck his hand inside the sock and pulled out a smooth egg made of some pale wood. "That's what this is for, to help keep it still while I sew it."

"Darn," Denethor corrected absently as he examined Faramir's work. "When you are repairing socks, it is 'darning'." Despite himself, he was impressed with the neat woven stitches; Faramir was nothing if not meticulous. But the Steward was still very displeased to find his youngest darning socks as if he were some common first circle urchin who had to earn pennies for food.  "You have made a very clean job of it," he said, and Faramir beamed as he carefully slid the egg back inside the sock, "but - why are you darning your own socks? Is that not your nanny's task?"

Faramir's smile faltered and Denethor realized that he has spoken more harshly than he intended.  He did not want to direct his annoyance at his son, when clearly it was the nanny who was to blame. "I .. I thought it looked interesting when Nanny did it,"  Faramir said slowly. "So I asked her to show me. She said when I am grown and a solider, I would need to know how to se - to darn  my own socks and sew up holes in my shirts."

Denethor was a bit startled at this reply. He would not have expected a merchant's daughter from Dol Amroth who had no soldiers in her family to realize that men in the field often had to tend to holes and tears in their garments. He also could not help feeling a bit rueful at his own forgetfulness. It had been years since he spent any significant time in the field, but in those days, he had indeed repaired his own clothing when it was needed.

He could not remember who had taught him the skill, how to make tiny careful stitches. One of his sisters, perhaps?   He did remember, however, that his first efforts had been less than pleasing.

"I'm not allowed to sew?" Faramir's voice held a note of disappointment.

He looked down at his son's solemn face. "It is a useful thing to learn," Denethor said at length, smiling, "and I think perhaps Boromir should learn as well. Now - " he seated himself on the couch, and Faramir sat beside him, "show me what you will do next."

Nanny re-entered the room just then, arms full of clothing. She cast them a curious, somewhat apprehensive glance, as if she expected Denethor to express his disapproval.  He merely nodded to acknowledge her presence, then turned back to Faramir's explanation of the process, faintly amused at the relief that flickered across the woman's face. 

I came running at the screeches from the nursery.

The room was a mess -- wooden soliders and blocks underfoot, overturned chairs, a water pitcher shattered on the floor-- and the midst of this chaos, Boromir flat on his stomach, Faramir sitting on his shoulders, pummeling his brother with small fists, yelling, "Do you yield?"

"Faramir son of Denethor!" I shouted, disbelieving.

They both turned toward me, startled, but Faramir showed no inclination to move.

"What is going on here?" I demanded.

They exchanged puzzled glances.

"Nothing," Boromir said as he sat up.

"We're just playing," Faramir agreed.

Not for the first time, I wondered how much simpler my life would be if the Steward had had girls.

We were walking through the gardens, enjoying the coolness of early evening. Faramir was taking great joy in pointing out plants and giving them their Sindarin names, and he beamed with shy pride each time he found a plant that was unfamiliar to me. There were many of that variety; I had little herb-lore, except what was needed to keep a body healthy.

"Nanny?" I heard him ask from behind me. I turned to see him standing still in the middle of the path, frowning at the sky. "Did you see that?"

"Did I see what?" I replied, looking upwards.

"I think I just saw lightning up there." He pointed towards the White Tower. "But it doesn't smell like rain. And…" he hesitated a moment, "it looked like it was coming from that window. So it couldn't have been lightning."

I looked where he pointed, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Perhaps it was someone merely lighting a lantern for the night?" I suggested, trying to ignore the way his preoccupied expression raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

"Maybe," he said doubtfully. "But it was brighter than a lantern."

I did not know what to tell him, for I had no idea what he might have seen. I did know that he seemed to be pointing to the window in a room that had not been used until the Lady Finduilas had died. Now, however, Lord Denethor often retreated to that room at the end of the day. "I do not know what it might have been," I said, "but I think we should go in now. It is almost time for supper."

He did not argue, but took my hand as we turned to leave the gardens. He cast one puzzled glance over his shoulder as we walked, but did not bring the subject up again that night.

And if I saw a strange flash from the corner of my eye, I did not dwell on its source.

"Is it today?" Faramir was fairly bouncing in his chair as he attempted to eat breakfast. "Today we’re going to sleep in a tent?”

"It is today!" Boromir exclaimed. "You said yesterday that it was tomorrow and now it is tomorrow!"   He wasn't wiggling like his brother was, but his tone told me that he was just as impatient.    

"You are both correct," I smiled at them as I buttered Faramir's toast. "And it is not just sleeping in a tent – you will do many other things as well.”

"What other things, Nanny?" Faramir wanted to know.  He was normally a neat eater, but today was managing to smear porridge all over in his hurry to finish.

"I am not sure," I answered, deciding it would be wasted energy to clean his face now. "You shall have to ask Halhigil and Elchim."

"Who are they?" Boromir asked. "Are they going to camp with us?"

"They are Rangers," I revealed. "They are going to teach you some ranger skills."

 Both boys stopped eating and stared at me with wide eyes.  "Are you teasing?" Faramir asked, slightly breathless.  

"No," I assured him. "I am not teasing. You shall spend much of today with them, in fact.”

They traded looks of astonishment, and burst into excited chatter.

“But –“ I interrupted them, knowing how their minds ran, “you are not going anywhere without breakfast.”

Obediently, they began to eat again, though, of course, still speculating as to what the day held for them.

When I had approached Lord Denethor with the idea of letting them camp out in the gardens, he had not only agreed, he had arranged the whole thing much more efficiently than I could have, including finding Ithilien Rangers to take charge of them for the day.  "They've not yet learned many important wilderness skills," the Steward had declared, "and this would be a fine time to start. They shall need a guard for the night as well - they certainly cannot be left alone, and I do not think it would be seemly for you to sleep in the gardens overnight.”

 I did not know any Rangers;  I hoped that they had volunteered for the duty, for if they did not know how to manage children, it could be a trying day for all involved.  

Finally Boromir and Faramir finished; then, without urging, scrubbed hands and faces cleaner than I had ever before seen them do voluntarily. Their small packs and bedrolls – worn blankets bound with twine – lay waiting expectantly on one of the couches.    Boromir slipped his pack and bedroll over his shoulders easily then shoved his wooden sword through his belt. He helped Faramir struggle into his pack, then demanded, "Where are we going? Where is our tent?" 

"We are going to the gardens," I said. "Do you remember where there is a tall willow?" 

"Can I go?" If Boromir had been a horse, he would have been stamping his feet and snorting. "I know where it is, can I go?" 

"You may both go," I nodded, and they did not need to be told twice. 

Lord Denethor had informed me that he himself would assist the boys in setting up their small camp, and when I glanced out the window, I could see that he was already in the garden, so I did not hurry to follow them.

~*~

When I reached the garden, the boys and their father were deeply involved in pitching the small tent. Lord Denethor and Boromir were cutting poles to a proper length, and Faramir was hammering pegs into the ground with a mallet

I did not interrupt them, but settled on the grass to watch. The boys were enjoying themselves hugely, running to and fro to follow their father's directions, and I was quite pleased with myself, for my idea  had certainly gone over well.

I was peeking into the pack to see what treats Mag had prepared when Faramir caught sight of me.  "Nanny!" he exclaimed, running over to me and seizing my hand. "Look, look at our tent!"

"I have been watching you put it up," I told him, restraining the urge to brush the dirt from his knees. "What a good job you have done!"

"No girls!" Boromir had his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.  "There aren't any girl Rangers, Nanny, and you are a girl, so you can't play."

I did not particularly want to stalk rabbits and sleep outside, but Boromir's tone of voice was rather too arrogant for my liking. I was preparing to chastise him when Lord Denethor spoke.

"Boromir," he said sternly, and his eldest turned reluctantly to face him. "That is not polite, especially considering that Nanny arranged for this outing. If you cannot be appreciative, then you will go inside by yourself, is that understood?"

I was caught off-guard by this reaction – I could not remember ever having heard the Steward defend me before, and it was very disconcerting.

"Yes, Father," Boromir replied, looking much abashed. He was not an unkind boy, but he was so impulsive that he often spoke before he thought. "I'm sorry, Nanny," he went on, turning back toward me, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but…but there aren't any girl Rangers."   He was now so earnest that I had to hide a smile, and I would have sworn that I saw the corner of Lord Denethor's mouth twitch upward.

Faramir looked as if he had been thinking something over and had not liked the conclusion he had come to. "Then where are you sleeping?" he asked me worriedly. "Are you going to leave us here?"  

"I am sleeping in my own bed," I told him gently.  Faramir  had yet to spend a night more than one room away from me, and he was still young enough that he wanted me close by.  "But of course you will not be all alone – you will have Boromir and Haloth to keep you company."

 Faramir looked up at me, unconvinced.   "Will you tuck me in and sing to me?"

I kissed his dirty little forehead. "Of course I will," I assured him, and he seemed much happier.

When Lord Denethor had gone, I set the boys to unloading their packs and setting up their bedrolls inside the tent. Before they had completed that task, one of  the promised Ithilien Rangers had appeared. Halhigil had been in the Houses of Healing, having just recovered from a bout of lung illness. "Of course I volunteered when the Lord Steward asked," he told me, "though the healers were none too pleased - can't stand being kept in abed when there’s nothing wrong with me."

“I do not know what you know of children,” I said cautiously, not wanting to offend him, “but know this about these two – Faramir will climb anything that looks climbable, and Boromir is…..stubborn.”

Halhigil regarded me for a moment, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “I have none of my own,” he admitted, “but  nieces and nephews a-plenty. I will keep your words in mind, and return your chicks safely to you, miss.”

 Boromir and Faramir were dumbstruck by Halhigil’s very presence, and it took a bit of friendly coaxing on his part before either boy would say a word.  They saw guards of the Citadel and soldiers every day, but Rangers were like oliphaunts – oft discussed, rarely glimpsed, and, to their young minds, the subject of many legends.

But once they started talking, there was no stopping them.   Halhigil patiently answered their questions, then led them all over the garden, halting now and again to show them something on the ground or to point at a tree or plant.  They wandered out of my vision, but of course I was not worried – what could happen to them here, in the company of a Ranger?  Why would I be worried?

I was being ridiculous, and I knew it, and what was more, I had no say in the matter. Halhigil could take them into the deepest Harad, and I could say nothing, for Lord Denethor wished them to learn skills of the wild.  

Sighing, trying not to fret, I set the pack of food inside the tent, and went back to the nursery.  It seemed very quiet and empty.

~*~

“Where are we going?” Boromir demanded as Halhigil led them through the garden gates. “We’re not staying here?”

“We are going out onto the Pelennor,” Halhigil revealed. “We shall meet a friend of mine called Elchim, and we will have some Ranger training in the woods there.”

Halhigil saw the boys exchanged an awed look; likely they had never been outside the City walls except in a carriage.  

“What will we see?” Faramir wanted to know, and Halhigil was surprised when the boy took his hand and held it tightly.

The Ranger smiled down at him. “We shall see many things, young master Faramir. Birds and squirrels, different types of trees, perhaps a fox or two. I shall show you how to tell one animal’s tracks from another, and if we are fortunate, we will follow some creature to its den.”

 “We aren’t going to catch them, though, are we?” Boromir asked, glancing anxiously at his brother.

Halhigil hid his amusement. “No, we are not,” he agreed, though that had indeed been part of what he had planned. Apparently the sons of the Steward were not yet ready to trap  their own supper. They would learn soon enough.

~*~

Elchim was resting in the shade of a tall maple when they arrived, and true to their Nanny’s warning, Faramir immediately began to climb into its branches while the two Rangers spoke together. Halhigil did not stop him, only kept an eye on his progress.

Boromir, however, had other ideas. “Faramir!” he called authoritatively. “If you go too high and get stuck, I’m not going to come get you!”

“I won’t go very high, I promise.” Faramir’s voice drifted down from among the leaves.

Elchim choked back a laugh. “Are you sure we’re needed at all?” he said to Halhigil. “Sounds as if Boromir has the situation well in hand.”

Halhigil grinned. “Brothers will brothers,” he shrugged, and turned his attention towards the children. “Come, young men, let us begin your instruction!”

Halhigil was impressed with how eager the Steward’s sons were to learn. He had volunteered to accompany them because he was bored of lying in the Houses, and had half-expected two unmanageable boys. But while they were high-spirited and energetic, they were obedient, and listened to what he and Elchim had to teach them. It was a little odd; Halhigil was not used to having such a captive audience when he explained the difference between rabbit tracks and fox tracks.

They paused for a meal of cold meat, bread, and cheese, and the Rangers were amused to find a small leather provisions bag in with the other food.  “Here is Ranger food indeed,” Elchim said with a grin.  He showed the boys the contents of the pouch:  twists of jerked meat, hard flatbread, a mix of dried berries and nuts, a little pouch holding sweetened oats suitable for making porridge.

The boys were eager to try the unfamiliar food, but both grimaced at the meat, and Boromir refused to have anything to do with the flatbread. Faramir, however, proved rather fond of the berries and nuts, and filled one of his little belt pouches with the mixture.

The men would have lingered over the food, for fresh bread and cheese were not to be taken for granted, but the children were impatient to return to exploring, so luncheon was a quick affair.

They stayed within sight each another, but Boromir tended to end up trailing Halhigil, while Faramir was never far from Elchim.  Halhigil kept an eye on Boromir, who was now wandering off the narrow path, while Faramir was asking endless questions about the surrounding foliage.  Elchim had been surprised at how much the boy already knew; when asked where he had learned to identify plants by their leaves, Faramir had shrugged and replied, “From people – Nanny and Mag and the gardeners and Mother. They told me.”

“What is this one?” Faramir was reaching to touch a crawling vine, and Elchim hastily ordered, “Stop!”

Faramir froze, but asked, “Why?”

“Because that one will make you itch dreadfully,” Elchim explained, and Faramir backed away from the plant. “Your hand would swell up; you would have to bathe it in starch to make the itching stop, and your nanny would have my head for letting you get into such a mess.”

“Come look at this!” Boromir shouted. “I found something!”

 Halhigil saw a crow take startled flight from a branch just above the boy’s head.  He could not help but grin; both boys had been so loud all day that it was a wonder there were any animals left in the wood at all.   

Elchim and Faramir joined them where Boromir was crouched, peering under some thick brush at a hole set in the side of a low knoll.

“Does something live in there?” Faramir’s eyes were wide.

“That is a fox den,” Halhigil said. “Do not put your hand in there, Boromir – “ the boy jerked back guiltily, “- what if the fox were inside?”

“He would bite you,” Faramir supplied, frowning at his brother and ignoring the scowl he got in return.

“Where is he?” Boromir asked. “Where is the fox? I want to see him.”

Elchim chuckled. “He is probably hiding,” he replied. “We have not been very quiet today, and foxes do not like a great deal of noise.”

“If we are quiet, will he come back?” Boromir wanted to know.  “I’ve never seen a fox before. We could sit here til he comes back.”

“He will not come back until we are gone, I’m afraid,” Halhigil said, exchanging a grin with Elchim. “Not only can he hear us, but he can smell us, as well, and he thinks it is not safe to return.”

“Smell us,” Faramir giggled, leaning forward and sniffing his brother. “You smell like dirt.”

“You smell like dirt, too!” Boromir shot back. “And you’re loud! If you would stop being loud, the fox would come back!”

“You’re loud!” Faramir pointed out, offended. “You’re loud right now!”

“You are both loud,” Halhigil laughed.  “And we all smell like dirt – Rangers do not have nice warm baths all the time, you know. They have to make do with cold water from the river.”

“Really?” Faramir forgot the argument with his brother. “Do we get to bathe in the river?”

Elchim chuckled. “The river is too far, but there is a stream just a bit further up that would serve the purpose. Do you know how to swim?”

“Oh, yes,” Boromir said proudly. “Uncle taught us to swim! Is a stream like the ocean?”

“No, indeed,” Halhigil shook his head. “Come, we will show you what a stream is.” He could not imagine a child of Boromir’s age having never seen something as simple as a woodland stream, but, he admitted, he could also not imagine what the sea must look like.

Both boys were astounded at how small the brook was. “I could walk to the other side,” Boromir said, sounding a bit disappointed, then he brightened. “Can I walk to the other side?”

“Take off your boots and socks first,” Elchim bade. “Never let your boots get wet if you can help it – wet boots will give you blisters and can cause a terrible rot of your feet as well.”

Faramir sat down next to his brother to pull off his boots. “I don’t want a rot in my feet,” he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“Then keep your feet dry,” Halhigil said with a half-smile, removing his own battered boots. He had known more than one man who had not been able to do that very thing, and the results had been most unpleasant.

The boys were tentative at first, but the sun had warmed the water, and soon they were   shouting with laughter and splashing each other wildly. Boromir spotted a frog, and they ran clumsily through the water trying to catch it –“No, Faramir, he went that way! That way!” – and after Boromir slipped and fell for the third time, Halhigil wished he’d had them remove their clothes entirely. He had forgotten that little boys were incapable of simply wading.

Finally Halhigil called them out of the water, and they came readily enough, eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed, and mud up to their knees. “I’m hungry,” Boromir announced. “Can we eat now?”

“We shall to go back to your campsite,” Halhigil said. “There is food waiting there, and it is growing late.”

“Will we have a fire?” Boromir wanted to know. “I want a fire!”

“We will see,” Halhigil replied, though he doubted the gardeners would want a fire pit dug in their carefully tended grass. “Put your boots on, and we shall start back.”

Elchim saw that Faramir made no move to obey. “Come, Faramir, you need to put your boots on.”

“My feet are wet,” Faramir said fretfully. “They will get a rot in them.”

Elchim did not laugh, though Halhigil could see from his expression that it was a close thing. “Here, dry your feet with your socks,” he said kindly, “and then wear your boots with no socks. You should not do that very often, but it will be all right for the short time it takes us to walk back to the City.”  

Looking mightily relieved, Faramir obeyed, and soon they were on their way back to Minas Tirith.   Both boys were drooping with weariness by the time they reached the gates, and Faramir did not protest when Elchim picked him up. Boromir stubbornly managed to keep on his feet until half-way up the fifth circle, and Halhigil took pity on him as well.

Boromir livened up a bit when he saw their night-guard, Haloth, lounging on the grass next to the tent, for Haloth was a friendly young man and a favourite of the Steward’s sons.  Halhigil was grateful to set the boy on his feet, for he was no light burden.

“How was your day of rangering?” Haloth asked, and it was the right question, for Boromir began to talk so excitedly that his words could barely be made out.

“I’m hungry,” Faramir said, sounding cranky and very tired. “Where is supper? Is Nanny bringing supper?”

“Supper is here,” Halhigil said, bringing out the pack he’d found in the tent. “While I am setting out the food, you two change into drier clothing – you do have clothing in your packs, yes?”

Faramir scowled, and Elchim took a deep breath to brace himself for an argument, but surprisingly, Boromir tore himself away from Haloth. “Come on, Faramir,” he coaxed, “I’ll help you – you can’t go to sleep in wet clothes.” 

The younger boy grumbled, but he went into the tent, and the Rangers looked at each other in appreciation at how easily Boromir guided his brother.

Mag had provided a great deal of food – apparently she had heard that there would be more mouths to feed than just the boys and one Ranger.  There was squab and cold venison, soft cheese and bread, potatoes, cheese pastries which Faramir was loathe to share, plums and apricots, a flask of lemon-water for the children, and ale for the men. 

At length, Halhigil rose, stretching. “We must take our leave of you young men now,” he said - the sun had set some time ago, and it had been a long day, even for seasoned Rangers. He had forgotten how tiring looking after children could be.  “I hope that you will remember what you learned today?”

“Will you take us again?” Boromir asked hopefully, and Faramir nodded his approval of the question.

“If we are able,” Elchim answered with a smile. “We are not often in the City, but if we can, we shall.”

“Come, it is late for you to be awake,” Haloth said as the Rangers departed. “It is time for you to go to sleep.”

“Nanny said she would come and sing to me,” Faramir suddenly remembered. “I have to wait til she comes.”

“She will come,” Haloth assured him. “And she will be most pleased to see that you are waiting for her in your bed.”

They obeyed, though Faramir looked unhappy, and Haloth sat outside the open tent flap, meaning to stay there until they fell asleep. Contrary to how tired both boys seemed, they did not drop off immediately, but began whispering back and forth, talking about what they had done and seen that day.  After a while, Haloth stood, and began strolling the gardens, staying close enough that he could still hear them. 

There was a lull in the conversation, then:

"Let's sleep on the grass!" Boromir suggested. "If it rains, we can go in the tent." 
 
They dragged the blankets outside, flopped onto their makeshift bedrolls. 
 
"It's so noisy," Faramir whispered. "Birds and crickets and leaves and wind…" 
 
"..bears and wolves," Boromir added. 
 
"Are not." 
 
"Are too." 
 
"There aren't any wolves or bears here!" Faramir argued, though he looked worried. 
 
"They won't get us," Boromir sighed. "I brought my sword, and Haloth will help keep them away." 
 
Faramir glanced at the guard, who was leaning idly on the garden gate. "You better," he scowled. "If bears get me, I'm telling Nanny." 

 Haloth smothered a laugh at this exchange; well did he remember his own older brother trying to frighten him about what lurked in the dark. Then Faramir’s alarmed voice made him hurry back to the little campsite.

“Where is Hanu?” Faramir exclaimed as he looked through his blankets. “I forgot him!”

“Rangers don’t sleep with toys,” Boromir said heartlessly.

“Hanu isn’t a toy!” Faramir protested. “He’s – he’s a pet! Rangers can have pets! I have to go get him…” He made as if to run out of the gardens, and Haloth was obliged to stop him.

“You cannot wander about alone at night,” the guard said firmly,  “And I cannot leave you, so I am afraid that you have to sleep without him.”

Faramir looked on the verge of tears, and Boromir gave a heavy sigh. “Can I go get him?”  he asked, looking both annoyed and concerned for his little brother.

“Is there a Ranger here missing his pet rabbit?”

“Nanny!” Faramir cried, leaping up and running to her. “Did you bring Hanu?”

“I did,” she said, smiling.  “Good evening, Haloth.”

“Good evening, miss,” he returned, sighing in relief at her timely appearance. He had not relished the notion of arguing the point with a grouchy four-year-old.

“Now I see you are ready for bed,” she said to the boys, “so come and lie down, and I shall sing to you, all right?  Tomorrow you can tell me all about your day.”

“All right,” Faramir nodded, clutching the stuffed rabbit to his chest as he scrambled back under his blankets.

Nanny – Haloth realized he did not even know her name – pulled their blankets smooth, tucked the edges underneath them, and sat down between the boys. That surprised him – very few women, even women in service, would sit on grass without even bothering to see if the ground was muddy, but she did not seem to care. He was also surprised that she was so calm; he had expected her to be all a-flutter with anxiety, for everyone in the Citadel knew how protective she was of the Steward’s sons, and putting them in the care of someone else for a whole day had likely been trying for her. 

 “Now, what shall I sing for you?” Nanny asked fondly, combing her fingers through Faramir’s hair.

“A Ranger song,” Boromir declared sleepily.

Nanny looked startled. “I am afraid I do not know any Ranger songs,” she admitted, glancing at Haloth for help.

Fortunately, he did know one Ranger song.  “Might I sing for you, instead of Nanny?” he asked.

Faramir lifted his head and frowned. “She is not your Nanny,” he said severely. “She is ours.”

Nanny gave a cough that sounded more like a laugh. “It is no matter, Faramir,” she said, the faintest hint of rebuke in her voice. “Haloth may call me that if he wishes. Now shall he sing?”

The boys agreed, and Haloth took a moment to remember all the words.

Oh darling, my darling, remember

That my heart lies with you when I’ve gone

This parting will not be eternal

Though I must be away with the dawn

Now softly I kiss your sweet lips

That I’ll miss so when I’m far away

Don’t cry, love, we’ve still time to linger

Til then, in your arms I will stay

One day ‘twil be no need for fighting

One day ‘twil the road lead me home

One day I’ll have no need to wander

One day, I’ll have no need to roam

“That is lovely,” Nanny said softly, “though I think they were both sound asleep before the first chorus.”

“My uncle was a Ranger,” Haloth told her. “And my aunt sang it often when he was away.”

She carefully moved Boromir’s arm from where it was sprawled across her knees, and stood, sighing. “It has been so quiet in the nursery today,” she said wistfully. “But I know you shall watch over them well.”

“I would not dare do otherwise,” Haloth replied as they moved away from the sleeping children. “It is well-known how you respond to those who do not treat these boys properly.”

He grinned when he saw her flush in the dim moonlight. “Cheeky,” she said with a wry smile. “I  am not quite as hot-tempered as everyone seems to think – but if it serves my little ones well, then I do not mind.”  She cast a last glance at Boromir and Faramir. “Good night, Haloth – and thank you for guarding them.”

~*~

I did not sleep well that night, though I knew they were safe.  They were only in the gardens, after all, and Haloth was there.  Yet still I lay awake for some time, dwelling on the day when they would both be grown and gone, and wondered how hard it would be to sleep when they no longer needed to be watched over.

A/N: The Ranger song is a filk of  “Kitty”. The version I used is  performed by the Pogues, but it’s a traditional song.

Written for the "Brothers of Gondor" 2006 zine.

“This is boring,” Boromir complained. “Why do I have to do this? You mend all my clothes!”

I took a deep breath, trying not to show my exasperation. I had known that Boromir would not be receptive to learning to sew; he was not one to be satisfied in carrying out such small tasks. “But I shall not always be able to do so, duckling,” I said. “When you are a grown man and a soldier, you shall need to know how to repair your own gear.”

“See, like this!” Faramir chimed in, proudly displaying the shirt he had just finished mending. His stitches were neat and even, and I gave him a pleased smile. I had not been surprised when he had asked me to teach him to sew; Faramir greatly enjoyed any task that required careful attention to detail. “It’s not hard, Boromir – you just have to be patient.”

That was the biggest obstacle, of course. The words “Boromir” and “patience” went together as well as “Faramir” and “unfriendly”.

Boromir scowled, heaved a much belaboured sigh, and turned back to the tunic he was attempting to mend. I was sure the only reason he continued was that he did not want to be shown up by his little brother, but I was not about to argue that motivation. Lord Denethor had instructed me to teach Boromir, therefore I was required to do so, whether or not the job was thankless.

“Master Alhael says we’ll have to learn to repair armour, too,” Faramir said as he took up a sock. “He says you should always take care of your own armour, because it’s the most important thing you’ll wear.”

“I know that,” Boromir snapped. “I’ve been learning from Master Alhael longer than you, Faramir.”

Faramir did not look chastened or hurt by his brother’s tone; in fact, I thought I saw him grinning as he threaded a darning needle. I chuckled to myself – apparently Faramir realized the source of Boromir’s reluctance, and had taken it upon himself to help overcome it. Briefly, I considered asking Master Alhael for some cast-off armour, so the boys could practice on it, but decided not to. I thought he might take that as me intruding upon his domain.

I returned to mending the more badly-abused garments, and they continued for a bit, Faramir in peaceful silence, Boromir muttering and occasionally hissing angrily when he pricked his finger. I had offered him a thimble, but he had complained that it “didn’t feel right” and had refused to use it.

“This is stupid,” I heard Boromir whisper to Faramir. “I’m going to have someone to take care of my things! Father has Mormegil –”

“But you’re not going to have someone for a long time,” Faramir reminded him. “So you better–“

“Well, I’m not going to be in the field for a long time, either!” Boromir countered, then his voice turned persuasive. “And wouldn’t you do it for me, if I asked you to?”

“Not if you’re just being lazy,” Faramir said heartlessly, and I had to swallow a laugh. “I would if you were hurt or sick, though. And anyhow, I couldn’t do it for you if I was in Ithilien and you were somewhere else.”

Faramir had gotten it into his head that he wanted to be a Ranger; I had no idea what Lord Denethor’s plans for his youngest son were, so I did not encourage or discourage this idea. I did think that he would make a very fine Ranger, indeed, for he could spend hours reading on woodland lore, or in the gardens, studying different plants and pestering the healers as to their uses.

Boromir grumbled under his breath, clearly annoyed that his little brother was not being properly sympathetic. But he stubbornly kept focused on the tunic, though I doubted his stitches were going to be acceptable, with the haphazard way he was drawing the needle through.

Abruptly Boromir gave a yelp, making both Faramir and I jump. “Boromir, if you would just use the thimble, you wouldn’t…” I began, but he stood up and threw the tunic to the ground.

“I’m not going to do this any more!” he announced. “This is women’s work -- ”

“..I’m not a woman!” Faramir protested indignantly.

“…well, it’s not my work!” Boromir amended as he glared at me defiantly. “My work is to kill orcs and fight, and I don’t need to learn this!”

I sighed. I had been expecting some sort of outburst, but I was certainly not looking forward to trying to explain to Lord Denethor why I was no longer teaching Boromir how to sew. Then it occurred to me that I didn’t have to tell him. Boromir was old enough to present his case to his lord father. “Then I suggest you discuss it with your father the Steward,” I said blithely. “He is the one who wanted you to learn, after all.”

Boromir looked at me, startled. I was sure he had expected me to argue with him, but I had no desire to do so, and he needed to start being able to express himself and defend his opinions to Lord Denethor. “I will!” he declared. “I will right now!” With that, he collected his practice sword – he hardly went anywhere without it these days – and stormed from the room.

Faramir glanced at me, puzzled. “You’re …you’re not going to make him do it?”

“No, rabbit,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile. “It is likely that I would not have taught him at all, had your father not asked me to do so. And since it was your father’s wish, then I think it proper that your father make the decision as to whether or not Boromir should continue.” A thought crossed my mind. “Faramir, would you prefer to stop learning to sew?”

“Oh, no,” he told me. “I like it, Nanny. But….if Father wants me to learn something I don’t want to learn, can I ask him to let me stop?”

Oh. “You may,” I said slowly, standing and going to sit next to Faramir, “but you will have to give him very good reasons why you should not have to learn this thing. Is there something you are learning right now that you do not like?” I hoped it was not something vital, like archery or dagger-fighting, but he had always seemed enthusiastic about all his lessons.

“No,” Faramir admitted. “But there might be, one day.”

I smiled at him, relieved. “Yes, there might be,” I agreed, ruffling his hair. “And if that day comes, I will help you find all those good reasons you should be allowed to stop, agreed?”

“Agreed.” Faramir nodded with a sunny smile. “But I like learning new things; I probably won’t need to talk to Father about that.”

I hoped not. I was fully aware that the Steward was not as…tolerant of some of Faramir’s boyish whims as he was of Boromir’s, and while it deeply annoyed me, there was not much I could do about it if Lord Denethor gave me an order regarding his sons. Though he had sworn to Lady Finduilas that I would not be dismissed until Faramir was twelve years old, I did not want to antagonize him with open defiance, unless it was a matter of great importance.

I was not particularly surprised when I received a note from Lord Denethor, telling me that Boromir did not have to learn any more sewing. “I only hope that you do not find yourself far from home one day, with holes in your clothing,” I said to Boromir. “Then where will you be, with blisters and without the skill to mend your socks?”

“I’m not worried,” Boromir said in a tone that was irritatingly smug. “I’ll have someone to do those things for me.”

“Only if you are not too proud to ask,” I could not keep from saying. I well knew how reluctant Boromir could be, when it came to admitting that he needed help, and I hoped that tendency would not cause him grief as he grew older.

A/N: Boromir eventually did learn to sew a bit. However, I suspect that he was too proud to ask Nanny to show him after he made such a big deal about not needing to learn.

A/N: Inspired by this drabble, by Annmarwalk

“What is that?” I asked Faramir, pointing to a small, covered basket. “That did not come from the kitchen.”

Faramir took his seat at the breakfast table. “It’s for you,” he said, pushing it toward me as he tried to hide a smile.

Curious, I pulled the cloth from the basket. Underneath were four lovely, smooth apricots, at the perfect stage of ripeness, if their colour was anything to judge by. “Oh,” I breathed, picking one up and inhaling deeply of its delicate scent, “Faramir, these are wonderful! I have been missing apricots so badly – “

“I heard you talking to Mag about them,” Faramir replied, now grinning with delight that his surprise had gone over so well, “so I asked if I could have some for you.”

I was puzzled. “But – Mag said she’d not be getting any for a week or more. Or did she help you with this?”

“Oh, no, I didn’t get them from Mag,” Faramir said as he carefully poured cream into his porridge, “The widow has an apricot tree in her garden, and she said I could have as many as I liked.”

“The widow?” I frowned at him, trying to figure out who he meant. “What widow, Faramir? One of the Healers?” Now I assumed he’d gotten the fruit from the Houses - in the past few months, Faramir had begun waking before dawn, and I had given him permission to explore the gardens until it was time for breakfast. I was not such an early riser, and Faramir was old enough that I did not need to tend his every waking moment. Additionally, having such a freedom made Faramir feel very grown-up. Of course, I would never have allowed a nine-year-old Boromir to do such a thing; at that age, he had been far too reckless and I would have been sick with worry every moment, thinking that he was hopelessly lost or fighting with first-circle urchins or that he’d jumped off the City walls on a dare.

Faramir, however, was steadier and more cautious than his brother, and when he said he would return by breakfast, he returned by breakfast, even if he came running breathlessly through the door just before the bells finished striking. Once he’d stopped climbing everything in sight, I had not worried much for Faramir’s safety; he had a good head on his shoulders for one so young, and did not often give me any reason for anxiety.

He shook his head, swallowing a mouthful of porridge. “No, the widow with the herb garden.”

I sat down in my own chair, turning the apricot over in my hands, reluctant to eat it until I knew where it had come from. “Where did you meet this woman?”

“She lives in the fifth circle, down a side street,” Faramir answered, reaching for his tea. “I met her when I was out walking.”

“The – fifth circle ?” I tried to keep my voice from squeaking. “When were you out walking in the fifth circle?”

He looked confused. “In the mornings,” he said as if this should be obvious, “before breakfast. You said I could go look at gardens in the morning, Nanny.”

I stared at him for a moment, speechless. Finally I said, “I meant the gardens of theHouses, Faramir, not private gardens in the City! You should not be out wandering the streets alone, before dawn! How – how have you even left without anyone noticing?”

“They do notice,” Faramir said, looking more and more puzzled. “I say good morning to the guards, and I told them that you said I could go walking as long as I’m back by half-seven.”

And they, of course, believed him, because it was Faramir. Boromir would have been questioned, for all the Citadel guards knew that he would try to bluff his way past them out of sheer mischief.

“Nanny, what’s wrong?” Faramir asked, breakfast forgotten. “I haven’t gotten lost or hurt, and I come back on time.”

“That is true, rabbit, but –“ I hesitated, “ – you are too young to wander around the City all by yourself! Too many things could happen, and I would not know where you were, or where to begin looking for you.” What I did not say was that any stray ruffian could realize who he was, take him, and be gone before I’d realized Faramir was missing.

“I’ve never gone further down than the fifth circle,” he said seriously. “It’s mostly lords’ houses there, Nanny. Almost no-one’s even awake when I get there.”

I took a deep breath to steady myself. I did not think he wasn’t being obstinate on purpose; he honestly did not see a reason for a fuss. Faramir was the most trusting child I had ever met, and while it was one of the things I loved most about him, it could make him completely oblivious to danger. I did not truly think that this mysterious widow was a threat, but I could not smile and nod and let it go at that.

I tried a different approach. “What is this lady’s name?”

He considered this, tapping his spoon on the edge of his bowl. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “She’s never told me.”

I wanted to groan. “And have you introduced yourself?”

“No,” Faramir replied. “She hasn’t asked my name.”

Well, that was something, I supposed. At least he wasn’t announcing his heritage to every random stranger he encountered, and there was nothing about his everyday clothing which would mark him as a son of the Steward.

“How do you know she is a widow?”

“Because she says, ‘It is so thoughtful of you, to visit an old widow’,” Faramir replied, turning to his toast. “She likes it when I come see her. She tells me all about her herbs, and she has a cat that follows us around the garden.”

I gave myself a moment to think by sipping at my tea, then asked, “What do you talk about?”

Faramir shrugged. “All sorts of things; the herbs, her flowers, what the City was like a long time ago, sometimes she tells me stories about her husband…” he trailed off, frowning. “I think she is lonely, Nanny.”

“She probably is, rabbit,” I agreed, feeling a touch of sympathy for this lady, and pride that my little one would understand this. “Can you tell me where her house is?”

He gave me the name of the street she lived on, described the house, and told me about her garden. He was quite right in assuming she was lonely, if I had guessed her identity correctly. The lady in question had lost her husband some years ago, and had no children, though she still had a small circle of friends. She came to court gatherings only rarely, and I thought I had seen her once or twice speaking with Finduilas, years ago.

I found it curious that she would be interested in such a young visitor – in my experience, most women without children did not have a great deal of tolerance for their questions, and Faramir was more curious than most. But he talked about her enthusiastically, and from what I could gather, it did seem that she enjoyed his company. And I suspected that Faramir had been a bit lonely, too, since Boromir had moved out of the nursery. Many days, Boromir took breakfast and dinner with us, and obviously I was still there, but I could see that Faramir missed his older brother’s presence.

I sighed to myself. “I am glad that you have made a new friend,” I began, choosing my words with care, “but do you understand why I am unhappy that you’ve been wandering in strange places?”

Faramir looked thoughtful. “Because…because you need to know where I am, so that Father doesn’t get angry with you if I get lost?”

“That is certainly part of it,“ I half-smiled, “but more importantly, I need to know where you are because you are dear to me, Faramir. If anything were to happen to you – even if you simply got a little lost – I would be very upset. I do not want harm to come to you if I can help it.”

He listened saying nothing, so I went on. “I do not want you to think that the world is full of brigands, because it is not. But neither is everyone as friendly and kind as your widow.”

Something flickered in Faramir’s eyes, making him look much older than he was for an instant. “I know, Nanny,” he said solemnly. “I know that some people are not nice, and I don’t talk to those people, even if you’re with me.” That was true enough, though I had never worked out how he instinctively knew which people were not quite honest or trustworthy. “I’m careful, I am. But I don’t want you to worry, and I’ll stay to the gardens of the Houses if that will make you feel better.” He tried to hide his disappointment.

I reached across the table and took his hand in mine. “That would make me feel better,” I admitted, “but I am not going to forbid you to visit this widow, for I think it a valuable friendship – but there are some conditions.”

He looked relieved, but wary. “What are they?”

“First, you may go where you like on this level.” There was no point in worrying about him on the seventh; everyone kept an casual eye on him and had no qualms about reporting questionable behaviour to me, as Boromir had been chagrined to discover. “Of course you may still visit the Houses as you please – but if you are going anywhere else, you must leave me a note telling me exactly where you are going. Until you are a little older, I must know where you are. You are under no circumstances allowed to go lower than the fifth level. And if I find out that you have been anywhere but the places you said, then you will not be allowed out in the mornings, understood?”

“What if I am with Boromir?” Faramir asked.

“I would still like to know,” I said, “but if you are with Boromir, or a guard, then I will not worry at all – and you still must be back by half-seven unless you have permission to come back later.” I did not want to restrict him too much, because that would only lead to frustration. But the idea of Faramir ambling around the City on his own made me very uneasy, no matter how steady or cautious he was.

He regarded me a moment, as if he might have other questions, but then he nodded. “I promise,” he said. Faramir being Faramir, he would probably present me with a map detailing his chosen path, each possible stop marked in red ink. “Is that all?”

“One more thing.” I smiled at his flash of impatience at my words. “I should like to meet this lady who grows such lovely apricots.”

I was surprised when his face fell. “Are you…are you going to come with me all the time?”

I understood. Faramir liked having a friend all his own, someone who had no contact with me or Boromir or his father or anyone he already knew, and he was afraid I would ruin that. “No,” I assured him, “ I just want to meet her once and thank her for the apricots, and then I will leave the two of you alone. I will not come with you all the time.”

He brightened. “All right,” he said with one of his sweet smiles. “I think she would like that, anyway. And maybe it would be nice if you came with me, sometimes.”

“Maybe sometimes,” I agreed, “but I will not come unless one of you invites me.”

“Oh, I will invite you,” he replied happily, returning his attention to his breakfast. “I like you, Nanny.”

I laughed, pleased. I should have been used to such declarations by now, but it still delighted me when, seemingly from nowhere, Faramir announced his fondness of me, or anyone, for that matter. He was so sincere and unaffected that it always made the rest of my day a bit more cheerful. “I like you, too,rabbit,” I replied, smiling at him.

He beamed at me, and not for the first time, I counted myself lucky to have the caring of such thoughtful, good-hearted boys.

Warning for trauma

Caliniel answered the knock at the door.

 She returned to the sitting room, expression a combination of curiosity and unease.  Following behind her was a man, dressed in the livery of the White Tower;  the chamberlain of the Steward’s residence in Dol Amroth.  I had not seen him in years.

I could not even stand to greet him. “Which one?” I managed, reaching for Caliniel’s hand.

He looked almost relieved, even as his legendary composure cracked. “Boromir.”

 I do not remember him leaving. I do not remember my daughter worriedly pressing my hand and speaking to me.  I do not remember walking into the bedroom and lying down on the bed.

I was remembering a small, cheerful boy with boundless energy and loud, free laughter; the heavy weight of him when he fell asleep against my shoulder; his fierce protection of an adoring little brother. I was remembering the first time I saw him, and the last. 

“Mother?”  Caliniel’s frantic voice snapped me back to the present.  “Mother -- drink this…“   a cup was put into my hand, and I obediently swallowed its contents.

She was kneeling next to me, anxiety written all over her young face. “Mother, please –“

I took a deep breath that was more like a sob, and laid my hand on her face. “Call me when it is time for dinner,” I said in a voice that was not mine.

Caliniel did not look happy, but she obeyed, and left me alone.

I closed my eyes, as if this would help keep back the grief or keep me from picturing my little duckling lying broken on some far-away battlefield.

 I wondered who would comfort Faramir.