*CRASH!!!*
Denethor II grimaced as he turned toward his young son. A pair of wide grey eyes met his, then looked towards the badly scuffed antique shield the boy had just slid down the staircase on.
"It makes a good sled, Father!"
"Boromir, how many times have you used that shield to slide on?"
"I can't count that high yet, Father."
Denethor rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the coming headache. "Where is your mother?"
"With her Ladies-in-Waitering."
Denethor almost smiled at the boy's mistaken name for his wife's servants. "Why are you not with her?"
"They were talking about babies again. That's all they talk about now. I don't know why. They act as though one might drop through the roof any day.¹"
"Perhaps one will, little Boromir. Now, let's go and see what my father wants to say about you using his shield as a sled."
Five-year-old Boromir grimaced as he was led towards his grandfather's receiving chambers. Ecthelion² of course loved him, but sometimes. Well, his punishments weren't always the cookie-cutter 'go to your chambers' treatment.
"Father, I am afraid my son has been sliding down staircases on you shield from the Last Alliance again."
The Steward sighed. What was he going to do with his son's boy? Suddenly, he had an idea that would keep the young Gondorian out of everyone's hair. Everyone, except one man. "Guards!"
The pair of guards posted at the door to the throne room appeared immediately. Ecthelion motioned to the one on the left, then dismissed the other. "What is your name?"
"Baranor, my lord."
"Baranor, is it? Well, Baranor, you have just received a promotion."
"How so, my lord?"
"You have been removed from your previous rank of guard-" At this Baranor looked confused, for to be Guard of the White City was to hold one of the highest and most sought-after positions, "-and placed in charge of my grandson, Boromir. This change in your fortunes shall be most appreciated, as your pay shall be increased three-fold. I believe you will find young Boromir of an easy temperament, obedient and quiet, and such an easy boy to look out for, you will think you ought to be paying us for just the chance to be near him."
"But.but.my lord, I."
"I am glad you are so happy with this opportunity. Here is the boy now."
Boromir and Baranor stared at each other, their eyes widening, until the young child screeched and took off back down the hall.
Ecthelion looked amused. "He is your charge, Son of Gondor; go after him!"
After looking at the Ruling Steward for a moment in disbelief, the now former guard ran after the boy of the House of Húrin³.
*```````````````````````````*
¹ At this point, Finduilas of Dol Amroth, mother of Boromir, is heavily pregnant with Faramir.
² Ecthelion II, father of Denethor II, grandfather of Boromir (II), was Ruling Steward until a year after Faramir's birth, when he died, and Denethor replaced him.
³ The House of Stewards was called the House of Húrin, after the Steward of King Minardil, Húrin of Emyn Arnen, a Man of high Númenorean race.
Denethor II grimaced as he turned toward his young son. A pair of wide grey eyes met his, then looked towards the badly scuffed antique shield the boy had just slid down the staircase on.
"It makes a good sled, Father!"
"Boromir, how many times have you used that shield to slide on?"
"I can't count that high yet, Father."
Denethor rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the coming headache. "Where is your mother?"
"With her Ladies-in-Waitering."
Denethor almost smiled at the boy's mistaken name for his wife's servants. "Why are you not with her?"
"They were talking about babies again. That's all they talk about now. I don't know why. They act as though one might drop through the roof any day.¹"
"Perhaps one will, little Boromir. Now, let's go and see what my father wants to say about you using his shield as a sled."
Five-year-old Boromir grimaced as he was led towards his grandfather's receiving chambers. Ecthelion² of course loved him, but sometimes. Well, his punishments weren't always the cookie-cutter 'go to your chambers' treatment.
"Father, I am afraid my son has been sliding down staircases on you shield from the Last Alliance again."
The Steward sighed. What was he going to do with his son's boy? Suddenly, he had an idea that would keep the young Gondorian out of everyone's hair. Everyone, except one man. "Guards!"
The pair of guards posted at the door to the throne room appeared immediately. Ecthelion motioned to the one on the left, then dismissed the other. "What is your name?"
"Baranor, my lord."
"Baranor, is it? Well, Baranor, you have just received a promotion."
"How so, my lord?"
"You have been removed from your previous rank of guard-" At this Baranor looked confused, for to be Guard of the White City was to hold one of the highest and most sought-after positions, "-and placed in charge of my grandson, Boromir. This change in your fortunes shall be most appreciated, as your pay shall be increased three-fold. I believe you will find young Boromir of an easy temperament, obedient and quiet, and such an easy boy to look out for, you will think you ought to be paying us for just the chance to be near him."
"But.but.my lord, I."
"I am glad you are so happy with this opportunity. Here is the boy now."
Boromir and Baranor stared at each other, their eyes widening, until the young child screeched and took off back down the hall.
Ecthelion looked amused. "He is your charge, Son of Gondor; go after him!"
After looking at the Ruling Steward for a moment in disbelief, the now former guard ran after the boy of the House of Húrin³.
*```````````````````````````*
¹ At this point, Finduilas of Dol Amroth, mother of Boromir, is heavily pregnant with Faramir.
² Ecthelion II, father of Denethor II, grandfather of Boromir (II), was Ruling Steward until a year after Faramir's birth, when he died, and Denethor replaced him.
³ The House of Stewards was called the House of Húrin, after the Steward of King Minardil, Húrin of Emyn Arnen, a Man of high Númenorean race.