Chapter Three
A/N Third person narration. And dialogue as promised :-)
-The Shire-
"Well now, young master! And here I was thinking you'd forgotten us!"
"As if I could forget you, Sam!" The young Man stepped gladly over the threshold of Bag End, glad to be back once again in the restful atmosphere of the Shire, and in the company of the Hobbits who interested him so much.
"Well, I'm glad to see you at any rate." Samwise Gamgee declared, embracing his guest briefly before shooing him into the kitchen. "You're always welcome here, my lad, no matter how long you leave it between visits. Well! Haven't you grown? You're almost as tall as old Strider!" Boromir chuckled. It always amused him to hear the King referred to thus.
"Not quite yet, Sam, but soon I shall be. In a year or so I'll have to bend down to get through your door!"
"Sit down, then, before you bang your head on the ceiling. I'll get you some tea and we've got new made biscuits somewhere. Rosie! Rosie, dear, come along, we've got a visitor." Sam bustled off as his wife, a comfortable Hobbit wearing a simple but pretty blue dress, came in to greet the new arrival.
"Here you are again, turning up like a bad penny, I see! Anyone would think you hadn't parents of your own! Do you want us to adopt you?" Smiling she stepped forward and kissed the young Man on the cheek.
"I wouldn't mind." He grinned. "But my father would wonder what had happened to me. Where's Elanor, and Frodo and the rest of the brood?"
"Oh, here and there, who can keep track of them all? I dare say they'll be here shortly. Not those biscuits, dear, they're old. The ones on top of the oven." Sam, who had arrived with a loaded tray, scurried off again, shaking his head, only to return a moment later with a pot of tea and the correct biscuits this time. He set them on the table, then dropped into a chair beside his wife.
"Nothing seems to have changed here." Remarked the guest, taking a biscuit.
"No, no, nothing much does, thank heaven, nothing much does, not in the last twenty years or so anyway. We're all getting a little older but apart from that life goes on the same as ever, eh, my dear?"
"As you say, dear." Replied Rose. "It's as well we have visitors to bring us tidings of far-off lands."
"Right indeed! So what's the news from Gondor? Is the King in good health, and how's your father?"
Boromir was glad to talk at length about these subjects, and kept the Hobbits amused with the tale of how he had slain a vicious wolf stalking the forest near his home, which had preyed upon the animals of the farmers and caused great commotion in the city. Boromir, who had inherited his father's shrewdness, recognised that one Man silently hunting would have more chance with a cunning wolf than a noisy group of angry attackers. Over several days he had tracked the animal, waited for it to emerge from its lair, and killed it via the element of surprised, returning with the tail as a gift for the King. Sam laughed when the young Man explained in unhappy bewilderment how the Princess, far from swooning in admiration at his valour, had lamented the fate of the wolf! King Elessar however had been impressed, though slightly alarmed at the boy's recklessness, and had nicknamed him Rácaumbar*, to the young Man's pride.
Late in the afternoon Sam and Rosie's brood of children arrived, all exclaiming over their long-missed guest. Following afternoon tea, Boromir departed with the eldest of them, Elanor and Frodo, for a ramble through the Shire, and to discuss such things as amuse the young, but serve to exasperate or concern their elders.
"Did you realise," asked the young Man, as they walked, "that soon it will be the twenty-first anniversary of the day - the very day - on which the Fellowship of the Ring was created?"
"The Gaffer made some passing mention of it." Frodo replied. 'The Gaffer' was the name by which he referred to Sam.
"What are we going to do?"
"Do?" Elanor dropped onto the soft springy grass beside the path, pulling Boromir down with her. "What d'you mean? I don't suppose we can do anything. Unless you were thinking of a party or something."
"No, no! Nothing like that. We should do something to mark the occasion: something noble, something exciting, something worthy of our parents! I've had an idea."
"I don't much like your ideas as a rule, Boromir." Muttered Frodo suspiciously, settling down beside them. "They always seem very wild and out-of-the-way to me. You have too many thoughts and passions, that's your problem. It'll get you into trouble some day, you mark my words." Boromir laughed.
"Well I will, Frodo son of Samwise, just so I can prove you wrong! *You* want to hear my plan, don't you, Elanor?"
"O! Yes, very much." Replied the Hobbit-maid, blushing a little.
"Well then, it's this - and when you hear it, you'll change your mind, Frodo…"
-The Citadel-
"What *sort* of Quest?" The girl's voice was high and fluting, managing in some way to combine a woman's musical tone with the tempestuous, slightly brattish key of a child. "What do you *mean* by a Quest?"
"Well, you know what a Quest is." The boy's voice was deeper and rougher, but with a lyrical quality of its own. "It's to find something, or travel somewhere, or achieve something. In this case it's a special journey."
"Then why not call it a Journey?"
"Because it's a Quest!" Exclaimed the Steward's son in frustration. The King's daughter regarded her friend with sly amusement.
"I love it when you get angry with me."
"I'm not angry with you. So. Do you think it a good idea or not? You are cleverer than me, Istelardai. Tell me what you think! Would it please the King?"
"Is your only motivation to curry favour with my father?"
"I seek no one's favour!" Growled Boromir furiously. Istelardai laughed, and clapped her hands in delight.
"I say it only to make you scowl at me, my love! You look so dangerous when you scowl. But I am not afraid of you, Boromir. You are my own dear lapsëhuo**."
"You should not call me that when I don't know what it means. It is most impolite."
"Well, if you spoke the language of my mother's people you would know what it meant!"
"You could teach me. I don't like lessons but I would take them from you."
"Perhaps." Murmured Istelardia. A wicked gleam came into her eye. "Ananta, caurënyë vánlyë hanyas, Boromirya.***"
"I do wish you wouldn't do that." He grumbled. She leaned across and pressed his hand.
"I mustn't tease you so cruelly! Your idea is very good. I am sure my father has been considering ways to mark the occasion - after all, the twenty-first anniversary of the Quest of the Ring is an important date."
"Very important!" Replied the young Man, his annoyance forgotten in enthusiasm. "It has always been my dream, Istel, to honour the Fellowship in some way. My uncle would have wanted it, don't you think?"
"I am sure he would." Murmured the princess. "You are very proud of him, I know. And he would have been proud of you. My father says you are much like him in appearance and manner." That pleased the youth immensely.
"My father says the same." Istelardai smiled a little absently. She was deep in thought.
"The best thing to do," she said after a while, "would be to propose the Quest officially to father. Ask his royal favour and that sort of thing. It would mean much to him to have your respect. I'm sure he will say yes, for you are very tall and strong now, and almost of age. And then…we can depart!"
"We?" Boromir had been listening with pleasure to his friend's description of his virtues, but was confused by this last statement.
"I am coming too, of course." The princess replied, as though this was quite inevitable. "If you wish to represent in the company each of those who walked with the Fellowship you must surely have me, to honour my father. Why do you look at me like that? Do you think me too young? I am not a child!" The young Man was doubtful. It had simply not occurred to him, as he had explained his plans excitedly to Istelardai, that she would take it as an invitation. Boromir considered himself a grown and very capable Man, but the princess was almost two years his junior - and a *girl!* This he attempted to explain to her, with such diplomacy as he possessed.
"I think it very hard that you should have so little faith in me." She replied, much hurt. "I may not be as strong as you but I am cleverer, you said that yourself. And I am able to defend myself if necessary. Besides, you speak of taking Halflings, and they are surely equally at risk! They are such small, helpless creatures."
"Do not believe it. Hobbits are a most resilient species and amazingly adaptable. But that is not the point. You are the King's daughter. He would never allow you to go on such a dangerous journey."
"It would not be dangerous."
"But…"
"You will tell him," Istelardai interrupted, in tones that reminded him of her royal blood, "that it will not be dangerous, and that you know the way, and will take care of us."
"But…"
"I stand firm on this, Boromir! If you go on this Quest I shall come with you. And if my father refuses…well, you will have to wait for me at the gates of the city, and there I shall meet you, and we will go ahead without his permission and hope for the best. I won't allow you to neglect me. I yearn for adventure as much as you do. "
"Let us hope then," muttered Boromir, fretfully, "that the King does not refuse."
* Wolf's doom
**A/N Puppy-dog
*** A/N 'And yet I fear you will not understand it, dear Boromir"
A/N Third person narration. And dialogue as promised :-)
-The Shire-
"Well now, young master! And here I was thinking you'd forgotten us!"
"As if I could forget you, Sam!" The young Man stepped gladly over the threshold of Bag End, glad to be back once again in the restful atmosphere of the Shire, and in the company of the Hobbits who interested him so much.
"Well, I'm glad to see you at any rate." Samwise Gamgee declared, embracing his guest briefly before shooing him into the kitchen. "You're always welcome here, my lad, no matter how long you leave it between visits. Well! Haven't you grown? You're almost as tall as old Strider!" Boromir chuckled. It always amused him to hear the King referred to thus.
"Not quite yet, Sam, but soon I shall be. In a year or so I'll have to bend down to get through your door!"
"Sit down, then, before you bang your head on the ceiling. I'll get you some tea and we've got new made biscuits somewhere. Rosie! Rosie, dear, come along, we've got a visitor." Sam bustled off as his wife, a comfortable Hobbit wearing a simple but pretty blue dress, came in to greet the new arrival.
"Here you are again, turning up like a bad penny, I see! Anyone would think you hadn't parents of your own! Do you want us to adopt you?" Smiling she stepped forward and kissed the young Man on the cheek.
"I wouldn't mind." He grinned. "But my father would wonder what had happened to me. Where's Elanor, and Frodo and the rest of the brood?"
"Oh, here and there, who can keep track of them all? I dare say they'll be here shortly. Not those biscuits, dear, they're old. The ones on top of the oven." Sam, who had arrived with a loaded tray, scurried off again, shaking his head, only to return a moment later with a pot of tea and the correct biscuits this time. He set them on the table, then dropped into a chair beside his wife.
"Nothing seems to have changed here." Remarked the guest, taking a biscuit.
"No, no, nothing much does, thank heaven, nothing much does, not in the last twenty years or so anyway. We're all getting a little older but apart from that life goes on the same as ever, eh, my dear?"
"As you say, dear." Replied Rose. "It's as well we have visitors to bring us tidings of far-off lands."
"Right indeed! So what's the news from Gondor? Is the King in good health, and how's your father?"
Boromir was glad to talk at length about these subjects, and kept the Hobbits amused with the tale of how he had slain a vicious wolf stalking the forest near his home, which had preyed upon the animals of the farmers and caused great commotion in the city. Boromir, who had inherited his father's shrewdness, recognised that one Man silently hunting would have more chance with a cunning wolf than a noisy group of angry attackers. Over several days he had tracked the animal, waited for it to emerge from its lair, and killed it via the element of surprised, returning with the tail as a gift for the King. Sam laughed when the young Man explained in unhappy bewilderment how the Princess, far from swooning in admiration at his valour, had lamented the fate of the wolf! King Elessar however had been impressed, though slightly alarmed at the boy's recklessness, and had nicknamed him Rácaumbar*, to the young Man's pride.
Late in the afternoon Sam and Rosie's brood of children arrived, all exclaiming over their long-missed guest. Following afternoon tea, Boromir departed with the eldest of them, Elanor and Frodo, for a ramble through the Shire, and to discuss such things as amuse the young, but serve to exasperate or concern their elders.
"Did you realise," asked the young Man, as they walked, "that soon it will be the twenty-first anniversary of the day - the very day - on which the Fellowship of the Ring was created?"
"The Gaffer made some passing mention of it." Frodo replied. 'The Gaffer' was the name by which he referred to Sam.
"What are we going to do?"
"Do?" Elanor dropped onto the soft springy grass beside the path, pulling Boromir down with her. "What d'you mean? I don't suppose we can do anything. Unless you were thinking of a party or something."
"No, no! Nothing like that. We should do something to mark the occasion: something noble, something exciting, something worthy of our parents! I've had an idea."
"I don't much like your ideas as a rule, Boromir." Muttered Frodo suspiciously, settling down beside them. "They always seem very wild and out-of-the-way to me. You have too many thoughts and passions, that's your problem. It'll get you into trouble some day, you mark my words." Boromir laughed.
"Well I will, Frodo son of Samwise, just so I can prove you wrong! *You* want to hear my plan, don't you, Elanor?"
"O! Yes, very much." Replied the Hobbit-maid, blushing a little.
"Well then, it's this - and when you hear it, you'll change your mind, Frodo…"
-The Citadel-
"What *sort* of Quest?" The girl's voice was high and fluting, managing in some way to combine a woman's musical tone with the tempestuous, slightly brattish key of a child. "What do you *mean* by a Quest?"
"Well, you know what a Quest is." The boy's voice was deeper and rougher, but with a lyrical quality of its own. "It's to find something, or travel somewhere, or achieve something. In this case it's a special journey."
"Then why not call it a Journey?"
"Because it's a Quest!" Exclaimed the Steward's son in frustration. The King's daughter regarded her friend with sly amusement.
"I love it when you get angry with me."
"I'm not angry with you. So. Do you think it a good idea or not? You are cleverer than me, Istelardai. Tell me what you think! Would it please the King?"
"Is your only motivation to curry favour with my father?"
"I seek no one's favour!" Growled Boromir furiously. Istelardai laughed, and clapped her hands in delight.
"I say it only to make you scowl at me, my love! You look so dangerous when you scowl. But I am not afraid of you, Boromir. You are my own dear lapsëhuo**."
"You should not call me that when I don't know what it means. It is most impolite."
"Well, if you spoke the language of my mother's people you would know what it meant!"
"You could teach me. I don't like lessons but I would take them from you."
"Perhaps." Murmured Istelardia. A wicked gleam came into her eye. "Ananta, caurënyë vánlyë hanyas, Boromirya.***"
"I do wish you wouldn't do that." He grumbled. She leaned across and pressed his hand.
"I mustn't tease you so cruelly! Your idea is very good. I am sure my father has been considering ways to mark the occasion - after all, the twenty-first anniversary of the Quest of the Ring is an important date."
"Very important!" Replied the young Man, his annoyance forgotten in enthusiasm. "It has always been my dream, Istel, to honour the Fellowship in some way. My uncle would have wanted it, don't you think?"
"I am sure he would." Murmured the princess. "You are very proud of him, I know. And he would have been proud of you. My father says you are much like him in appearance and manner." That pleased the youth immensely.
"My father says the same." Istelardai smiled a little absently. She was deep in thought.
"The best thing to do," she said after a while, "would be to propose the Quest officially to father. Ask his royal favour and that sort of thing. It would mean much to him to have your respect. I'm sure he will say yes, for you are very tall and strong now, and almost of age. And then…we can depart!"
"We?" Boromir had been listening with pleasure to his friend's description of his virtues, but was confused by this last statement.
"I am coming too, of course." The princess replied, as though this was quite inevitable. "If you wish to represent in the company each of those who walked with the Fellowship you must surely have me, to honour my father. Why do you look at me like that? Do you think me too young? I am not a child!" The young Man was doubtful. It had simply not occurred to him, as he had explained his plans excitedly to Istelardai, that she would take it as an invitation. Boromir considered himself a grown and very capable Man, but the princess was almost two years his junior - and a *girl!* This he attempted to explain to her, with such diplomacy as he possessed.
"I think it very hard that you should have so little faith in me." She replied, much hurt. "I may not be as strong as you but I am cleverer, you said that yourself. And I am able to defend myself if necessary. Besides, you speak of taking Halflings, and they are surely equally at risk! They are such small, helpless creatures."
"Do not believe it. Hobbits are a most resilient species and amazingly adaptable. But that is not the point. You are the King's daughter. He would never allow you to go on such a dangerous journey."
"It would not be dangerous."
"But…"
"You will tell him," Istelardai interrupted, in tones that reminded him of her royal blood, "that it will not be dangerous, and that you know the way, and will take care of us."
"But…"
"I stand firm on this, Boromir! If you go on this Quest I shall come with you. And if my father refuses…well, you will have to wait for me at the gates of the city, and there I shall meet you, and we will go ahead without his permission and hope for the best. I won't allow you to neglect me. I yearn for adventure as much as you do. "
"Let us hope then," muttered Boromir, fretfully, "that the King does not refuse."
* Wolf's doom
**A/N Puppy-dog
*** A/N 'And yet I fear you will not understand it, dear Boromir"