"Boromir! Boromir, you bad boy, come back here! Somebody stop him!"
Aragorn turned from the parapet to see a small, golden haired bundle of energy hurtling along the Citadel wall towards him, bent and scooped it up as it tried to dart past.
Bright blue eyes glared at him for a moment from beneath thunderous brows, then the small face relaxed into a puckish grin, accepting defeat, but only for the moment.
Aragorn grinned back. Suddenly the child's face changed into a Man's, strong and handsome but deathly pale, fair hair dark with sweat and plastered to his head, blue eyes full of pain both physical and spiritual. Aragorn felt a desperate, powerful grip on his shoulder and the chill of future grief and guilt upon his soul. He blinked and was back in the present, the child's face laughing into his. But the memory remained. Something terrible was going to happen to Boromir when he came to manhood and he, Aragorn, was going to be there to see it.
The Lady Finduilas arrived, breathless, dropped her skirts and reached for her son. "Bad boy! Mustn't run away from Mama like that."
Boromir just went on grinning, cheerfully unrepentant as Aragorn handed the boy over, carefully burying the foreseeing in the deep places of his mind. The Lady Finduilas had no little insight and he would not poison her joy in her small son with grim previsions. "You have quite a handful there, m'Lady."
"Don't I know it! Thank you, Thorongil." she slanted a sidelong look at him. "You know something of children I see. Are you perhaps a father yourself?"
He shook his head. "Not yet, m'Lady." 'Nor ever I fear.' "But I am a most experienced uncle. My elder sister's boys were about your Boromir's age the last time I saw them." he blinked, suddenly reminded of the passage of the years. "They must be Men grown by now!"
Her blue gaze sharpened. "You have served Gondor for some twenty years, Thorongil, and not visited your home once in all that time."
"The distance is very great." he answered carefully.
"Yet you have travelled far into both Rhun and Harad in Gondor's service." she observed. "And I am sure the Lord Steward would willingly grant you leave for a journey home, however long it might take."
"The Lord Ecthelion has ever been a kind and considerate master to me." Aragorn replied.
Of course she ignored the evasion. "But to ask such leave you must also say where you would go and you will never give us such a clue to your origins." she said, eyes narrowing.
He made the only answer possible: "Lady, from the very beginning I have made it plain there are questions I cannot answer."
"Cannot or will not?" Boromir wriggled restlessly in her arms, bored by all this talk over his head. Aragorn unpinned the adamant star he wore on his shoulder and offered it to the child as a diversion. But his mother would not be so lightly distracted. "Will not, I think." she said softly, blue eyes boring into his. "There is no Man living who has the right to command you."
She blinked, frowned. "I don't know why I said that." then looked at him challengingly. "Yet it is true isn't it?"
Reluctantly he nodded. "I am my own Master, Lady, yet I am also a servant and not free to follow my will."
"You do not speak of Ecthelion." she said flatly.
"I do not." he admitted and continued carefully. "Lady, please believe that whatever I am, I am not your enemy or your Lord's."
"You will be his death." she said flatly, then took pity on the stricken look in his eyes. "Not by your own hand, or even by your will. But you will bring him to death, my Lord Thorongil. You know I speak true."
"No!" he took a deep breath. "Men are the masters of their fates, Lady. It is true certain actions of mine, should I undertake them, could well lead to Denethor's death. But I am resolved against that course." He met her eyes straight, the strange light that ever lurked in his gleaming brightly. "You, and your Lord, and Gondor are safe from me, my Lady. You have my word on it."
She sighed. "I know you mean well, Thorongil, and that Denethor had treated you badly. But it is hard for him to see what should be his given to a stranger." The Captain made a gesture of protest but she swept on, passionately, not giving him a chance to speak. "My husband is a great Man but no one appreciates him as they should, not even his own father! I am the only one who really understands him."
"The Lord Denethor is fortunate to have such a devoted advocate in his wife." Aragorn said gently.
"He needs me." she agreed softly. "I saw as much when I still a little girl in short skirts and braids. I knew I was the wife for him, if only he'd wait for me." she smiled. "And he did!"
"As I recall it took some little prodding before he saw the girl had become a Woman." Aragorn answered with a glint of remembered amusement.
Finduilas laughed out loud. "More than a little! Men can be such fools, even the wisest of them."
"All too true." Aragorn agreed ruefully.
"Finduilas?"
They turned and looked up to see Denethor frowning down at them from the battlements of a nearby tower. "What are you doing here?" there was surprise, even disapproval in his voice and eyes but no suspicion. Denethor's follies did not include doubting his wife, even when he found her in conversation with a Man he regarded as his rival and enemy.
"Papa!" Boromir crowed delightedly stretching out his arms towards his father. "Papa, papa, papa!"
"Yes, dear, it's Papa, now be quiet a minute and let Mama talk." Finduilas continued to her husband: "The next Captain-General of Gondor took a fancy to inspect his future command over his mother's objections. Captain Thorongil was good enough to catch him for me.
"The little devil." his father said, proud and delighted.
"As strong willed as his father." Finduilas agreed.
"And persistent," Aragorn put in, "mark my word, m'Lady, he'll try again the very next chance he gets. And again, and again until he gets what he wants."
"That is like his mother." Denethor smiled, the presence of his adored wife and son mellowing him enough to be pleasant even to Thorongil.
"I know." Aragorn agreed ruefully.