My take on the first few days of a certain important warrior of Middle Earth...I'll leave you to figure it out.

Disclaimer: Alas I am still a starving student...and got nothing out of this except a paper cut and some baby cooing...you'll see...

Flames will just be left to burn off to the side, but real feedback is always welcome.


He was as quiet as he could be as he made his way through the chamber to their bed. Gently, he pulled back the drapes and poked his head in.

"Is he quite done with his protestations?" he said.

"Oh, he's content now," she answered, rearranging her shift, as well as the babe in her arms.

"May I?" he asked.

"Of course you may, he's your son."

"Well I did not wish to rob him of a good meal." She laughed at that.

"He's eaten as much as he will, I had to tickle his feet to make him stay awake long enough to finish. He'll be hungry again soon enough," she said before letting out a yawn.

He took the infant into his arms as she settled back into the bed.

"You are exhausted love…we do have a wet-nurse, that is what she is here for, so that you may have a full night's sleep."

"I'll do no such thing," she said firmly, "I can produce and therefore shall continue to nurse my own child. He shall not always wake every few hours, it is but a temporary lack of sleep."

"He is mere days old!" he argued, "He won't sleep through the night for at least two months!"

She raised an eyebrow at this, wondering when he came to this knowledge. Looking rather sheepish, he turned slightly from her.

"I asked," he said.

This amused her greatly. "You could sleep in a separate chamber, my Lord," she replied off-handedly.

He would've responded, but the child made himself known at that moment, fussing and scrunching his little knees to his stomach. The new father tried to comfort him but nothing seemed to be working.

"His little belly hurts. Move him to your shoulder and pat his back to bring up the air."

"Oh yes?" he replied, trying to cajole the crying infant.

"Here," she said, rising from the bed, "Put this cloth on your shoulder and rest his chin on it."

He gently shifted the child to his shoulder, patting the tiny back and sure enough, the bubble came up.

"Oh my," he chuckled, "Such a large noise from such a little thing. I hope that is not a prelude of things to come, child. You must learn better manners than that!"

"With every belch, there usually comes a bit of dinner. Is your shoulder damp?" she asked.

"No, but my hand is," was the reply. Again she laughed and took the babe, laying him down on the bed.

"We have a nurse for that."

"Yes…we do," she said as she began to change the boy.

Just as 'Daddy' leaned in to watch, a stream of liquid nearly hit him in the face and he jumped back.

"Well…I suppose I am now officially a father," he exclaimed.

"Indeed love, perhaps we should call him squirt, as little boys are wont to do when cold air hits little bottoms!"

She finished changing the soiled linens and finally the boy stopped fussing. They both settled in the bed, just watching his drift off to sleep.

"He is the spitting image of his father," she said proudly.

"You think so? I think he favours his mother more so. He has your eyes."

They were silent a bit longer before he spoke once more.

"I am still in awe that we created such perfection," he said, gently brushing the baby's downy head.

"While you are in awe," she said, rising once more, "I shall go make use of the lull."

Left alone with his tiny son, he picked the child up once more and cradled him. Tiny fingers curled around one large thumb and the love was complete as he stooped to kiss the baby's forehead.

"No matter how big you shall become, you'll always be my little one…my Boromir."