First - thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far - especially shirebound for her enthusiastic three reviews for this story.

If you're reading but not reviewing then I hope you are also enjoying it. I'd appreciate it if you did drop me a note as I get despondent when I log in and find no reviews.

And yes, Theo is named after Theoden, but even his family don't use the full version.

Ok, it's the next day.

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Faramir gazed up at the familiar shape of his family's long and detailed family tree. The one framed on the wall of the Mathom House was identical in details to the one that hung in his father's office, only it was more ornately decorated and considerably larger. Alongside it were the smaller tables of many more families of the Shire.

While Mr Ramsden was chatting with Merry about the maps, the other hobbits were exploring the strange building that stored all the keepsakes and heirlooms of the Shire - or at least those that could no longer be spared house-room.

A massive stuffed fish with angry eyes and pointy teeth was mounted on top of one of the large cabinets running down the centre of the main hall. Faramir imagined the astonished hobbits out for a day fishing in the Brandywine and catching such a creature.

Inside the cabinets all kinds of objects were displayed. Interesting rocks lay side by side with ornate decorative embroidery. Fine pottery, musical instruments, paintings of long-forgotten faces - objects that had been useful and objects once well loved, and everything with its own secret history.

Faramir wandered slowly past the cabinets to a tall dusty case at the end of the hall. He stood staring at the collection of ancient weaponry, lost in dreams of flourishing the small sword as a knight of Gondor like his father. The sword was the perfect size for a hobbit, as was the bronze helmet. There was also a small highly ornamented shield that looked like a full-sized man's buckler - perhaps adapted for a hobbit's use as a full shield. It wasn't long before Pippin, Theo and Goldie gathered by his side to admire the arms.

"Look Theo," grinned Pippin. "It's that sword you were talking about."

The joke roused Faramir from his thoughts and he laughed. "I wonder what story lies behind these things," he mused aloud. But Pippin and Theo were already off again on some game of finding items beginning with various letters.

"The shield is beautiful," sighed Goldie. "It looks like elvish work, doesn't it?"

"No," said Faramir. His mind was racing, for surely this was not. "The writing is Elvish, but the name is, I think, Numenorean. But it cannot be."

"But Farry! What do you think it is?" demanded Goldie.

"Something I have read about. I'm not certain, I'll have to ask father, but it looks very much like an item that was lost more than a thousand years ago."

"But what would it be doing in the Shire?"

"I'm not sure. It was lost in the ice-lands in the north." Faramir turned to see where the museum's keeper was. "Excuse me Mr Ramsden," he called.

The elderly hobbit shuffled over to the corner.

"This shield, do you know aught of its history?" asked the youngster.

"Oh, now, let me see. It's been kept here for four hundred years, but before that it belonged to a Took. Hmm, now. It was Isumbras Took. That would be your great-great.." he broke of and looked up at the family tree. "Your ancestor. You'd probably find out more about it from the records at Great Smials. It's a beautiful thing, but it's clearly seen action." Mr Ramsden ran his finger over a long gash that cut through the decoration, showing the plainer metal beneath.

"Do you think it would be alright to borrow it? I'll look after it, but I want to ask father about it."

"Well, or course. It belongs to your family after all. And you're a responsible young fellow," said Mr Ramsden, lifting up the great hinged lid of the case.

Faramir lifted the shield out, handling it with all the delicate respect due to such an old object. It would be just the right size for a hobbit to use as a shield.

His pack was almost empty since its contents had all been eaten. With a little help from the museum-keeper he safely wrapped the shield in a picnic blanket and squeezed it into the bag.