Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear.

This time there is more Gaelic. Me and Celebrion have come to the conclusion that Mir is a sort of miniature copy of Boromir with a few of Faramir's treats, such as his love for languages. This means that when he is displeased with someone he will tell them so in the style of Boromir, not necessary in a language you would expect.

Thanks to Forever Faramir for betaing, (she betad The Oath That You Took, too, but I forgot to say so in that one,) and to Forever Faramir's cousin AnneMarie for the Gaelic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

The Lord Barladro is my own character, and guesses about the translation of his name is still welcome.

Mir Makes no Mistake

Mir was again playing in a corner of Faramir's study, Eowyn no longer needed to rest as she had recovered fully from the birth of their youngest child. It was the infant that needed to be allowed her naps in quiet, and try as he might Mir was just not good at being quiet for very long. Faramir had taken his family to spend a few weeks in Minas Tirith as the King needed him close for some time.

To keep Mir's louder games from disturbing the youngest Faramir gladly took him with him to play in his study. From what he could gather there was a Princes being held prisoner by something somewhere in his study, and now an army of lead soldiers was being lined up as they were getting ready to rescue her.

Elboron had been instruction him again it seemed, for Mir was trying to place the soldiers into perfectly straight lines. Elboron tended to insist that everything was to be done properly, and the soldiers should stand in straight lines. No matter that they were about to be spread all over the study.

Mir was assigned to keep his toys in one corner off by the hearth, to keep the room from being completely littered with toys, still the soldiers seemed to move around a bit more. Faramir had no notion how as Mir never seemed to leave his assigned corner, yet the lead soldiers did so frequently.

He looked up to see the army beginning to move and frowned. Maybe he should talk with Mir about what things were not toys, because now he could see the captured princess. One of Finduella's dolls was acting as the princess. That was nothing strange, Mir and even Theod had borrowed them before for such purposes, and she did not mind.

On a table in Mir's play corner stood a statue maybe a foot in height. It was a likeness of one of the Kings of old that had been placed there, and that was the evil fiend that had apparently captured the princess. Seeing as how the princess was caught between the statue and the wall. Mir would be careful with it, there was not fear of that, and the solid stone sculpture was most unlikely to break even should it fall. There was however some councillors that might find it offensive to see it used as such.

However the army now had the table surrounded and it was only a matter of time before the princess was again safe. He decided to leave it, Mir was not aware of the fact that it might be improper, and there was no reason why the statue should take offence. In fact Faramir found it interesting to see how one of the great Kings from the legends was defeated by a mere three year old.

There, the soldiers had moved up the table legs and the King was just about to surrender. Faramir watched intently and that was when the door opened. He looked up to see Barladro, one of the Lords, and one that Faramir rather disliked. He did not approve of Faramir, and he made sure that Faramir knew of it.

He was pompous to say the least, he had not even bothered to knock before entering. He was upset because one of the documents that had been worked put between the King and his Steward was not in his favour. In fact it meant that he would have to surrender a slight bit of the wealth he had worked so hard for. It was not easy to get away with using such means as he had to achieve the wealth, and so he rather thought he should be allowed to keep it.

The Steward was bothersome in his opinion. It was most annoying how the man did not approve of suppressing farmers and those of the lower class. Therefore the Lord Barladro did not like the Steward, and he did his best to make certain that said Steward was aware of the situation. He had pointed it out on several occasions, and he intended to do so again now.

He would not go to the King as he was most to powerful to annoy, the Steward however, he believed, did not have the guts to stand up for himself. He might run of to seek the protection of the King, but there would be little he could do, and so Barladro was confident that he could tell the Steward was a pitiful man he was without interruptions.

"My Lord, what may I do for you?" Faramir said coldly, all to aware of what the Lord Barladro would probably be after. He would have enjoyed telling the man a few choice words, yet the office he held craved that he would be courteous. Even to scum like the present Lord, neither did he feel at ease around the Lord. He was one of those who still made Faramir doubt himself, and that meant that the Lord Barladro sometimes did get away with his more improper behaviour.

"I would like to have an explanation on this." The Lord slammed a paper down on the Stewards desk. "What is the meaning of this?" He demanded angrily. Intending to rule out the possibility that the Steward could defend himself.

"Only an incompetent would ever suggest something like this." He went on before Faramir would even have the chance to say anything, to bring him back into line or anything else. "Then again it hardly comes as an surprise to see it bearing your seal. You never knew how to handle important matters, ever the fool."

Outside the study another man stood. Aragorn had been on his way to Faramir's study to bring him some documents. He had heard what the Lord said and angry would not be adequate to describe his feeling on the matter.

Why could not that swine of a man leave his Steward alone. He was about to enter and bring the man to heal when another intervened.

"Do not speak like that to the Steward!" Mir no longer sounded happy, he sounded very angry and he had rounded up on the Lord Barladro. "Did not your mama teach to treat your betters with respect."

Faramir would have told Mir that he spoke out of turn, and would have apologized, but Aragorn entered in time to stop him. By all means, let Barladro hear the words he badly needed to be told, and not why from a three year old who just now proved what blood he came from. He obviously had inherited Denethor's and Boromir's ability for dressing down those who forgot their place.

Mir stood with his feet's planted firmly and chin sticking out, his small fists were clenched and held at his hips.

Barladro was more confused now than he could ever remember being before. Not only was there a small child half yelling angrily at him, but he did not understand a word of it.

"Ba chóir go mbeidh náire ort bheith chomh dabla sin. Ní bheidh aon suipéar agat le haghaidh bliain. Is duine fásta thú in ainm agus tá sé sin níos measa nuair a bhfuil tú chomh dána sin. Measaim, ní bheidh aon milseog agat riamh arís."

That was what the child was saying, however he was saying it in what could be recognized as Gaelic by anyone who knew the familiarity of the words, Faramir had been teaching him that, and for some reason Mir had decided that it was more fitting to tell the Lord of in that tongue. Then followed a stream of Rohiric insults that he would have had to have picked up from his mother.

To think that Faramir had taken the trouble to discourage him from using the word 'bollocks,' when he apparently knew so much worse things. That was when Faramir had first begun teaching him Gaelic, when he had overheard the child using the word bollocks, now he thought that it had been rather pointless.

The Lord Barladro collected himself and made to turn away from the child, having decided that there was no reason for him to listen to an angry child.

"You stand still until I say you can go or you shall not have any supper." Mir growled.

Oh, he would be the perfect commander Aragorn though, no soldier would ever disobey a command given in that voice. In fact the Lord was clearly debating whatever he dared turn away or not.

"I believe that the young Lord does have a point." Aragorn interrupted to make certain that the Lord did not leave. "It seems he have decided that due to your behaviour you should not be allowed any supper for a year, and no dessert ever again since it seems you behave yourself worse than a disobedient child. I am not far from agreeing with him, so unless you want me to rule according to his judgment you stay and listen to what he has to say." He turned to the young child. "Please continue now my Lord, you are handling this very well."

The Lord Barladro had flushed a bright scarlet, partly from anger over his treatment, and partly because the King was witnessing it. Was there anything more humiliating.

Faramir was embarrassed, but he hid it, blushing would do no good now, and since the King had silenced him there was really very little that he could do about it.

Since he now had the Kings permission to move on Mir were at it again, and some of the things he used in referring to the Lord Barladro made it very hard for him not to blush.

Mir made it painstakingly clear that Barladro had not behaved as he should have.

The eventually he was finished. He fixed the Lord with a glare. "Now you apologize." He commanded, and it was a command. A command as determined as any one Boromir had ever given his troops, and the Lord Barladro had not other option than to obey. He choked out an apology to Faramir.

Aragorn cleared his throat as the man was about to make his escape. "Oh, before you leave my Lord, because of your errant behaviour there should be some punishment. I would not see you at the evening meal milord, instead you shall have to seek your bed early, without having your supper." It was a pleasure to do that ruling. Besides, no man could say that he did not deserve it.

As soon as the man had left Faramir sank tiredly into his chair. "Mir, I beg you, do not do that ever again." He sighed.

"But he was naughty Papa." Mir defended himself. "He should not say so bad things."

"Your father was merely surprised." Aragorn told the child. "He needed to hear everything you said to him, but I think that your father would like to know about it before you dress some naughty Lord down. There are times when it would not be the best thing for you to do so."

"He was naughty." Mir stated.

"Mir, it is simply not proper to threaten councillors with no supper." Faramir sighed. "And when did you learn those insults you used?"

"Mama says those things all the time." Mir said cheerfully. "And he behaved like a baby."

"He did." Aragorn grinned. "And he shall be punished as one. Next time though you can tell me and I shall take care about it, then your father will not have to be so scared." He grinned at the child. Then he turned to Faramir laying the documents down on his desk. "I came to give you these. And I heard him, had not Mir been faster I would have had some choice words for him. He does not have any right to speak to you like that."

Faramir nodded tiredly, it had been a shock to see Mir in action and he felt weary now that it was over.

"I shall take care of the documents, milord." He said. He would most rather forget about the rest of it. He would most rather forget about what Mir had said.

"Then I shall see you at the evening meal." The King smiled. "For now I would suggest something. Take a break Faramir, go to the library and find yourself some nice book, you look like you could use something to distract you, I am more than ready to admit that our young Lord here startled me as well. It appears he have much of his uncle in him." He picked Mir up and held him in his arms. "What say you my little Lord, shall you come with me to my study so that your father can get something nice to read for some time. You can bring your toys and play there."

With a delightful squeal Mir leapt down and gathered up the soldiers so that he could follow the King. He thrust them down into their leather bag. The Princess still waiting for rescue was forgotten and thus still in the clutches of the King. Then Mir coaxed Aragorn to carry him as they left together.

Faramir slumped in his chair. That was a scare to find his son dressing down a Lord for errant behaviour. He would have to assure that Mir did not do that again. The Lord Barladro was not one to take kindly to it, and Faramir did not want that man to be fuming against his son. He did not trust him.

Mir was delighted, he had never played in the Kings study before, so the first few moments were set aside for exploring, once he had obtained the King's permission that was. He was not about to behave himself so badly himself. He was peeking into a cabinet when he heard the King mutter something.

Aragorn looked up at the child. "Mir, there should be a bottle of ink in there, could you please bring it here. I was certain I had ink left and yet the ink well is dry again. I swear that there is something going on here, for it is ever dry when I need to write something."

Mir brought out the ink carefully, holding the bottle with both hands and walking slowly.

"Where does it go then?" He asked while peering at the inkwell. His father never seemed to have that problem.

"I can not even begin to guess that." Aragorn filled the inkwell up again. "There, I would appreciate it if you could put it back again." He was amused to watch how gentle the lad handled the bottle. He had not doubt learned from his father to be careful with the ink.

"Can ink disappear?" Mir was now standing beside the desk and looking up at Aragorn.

"It would seem that it can." Aragorn chuckled as the child climbed up to get a closer look at the ink well, peering at it from every angle. Then suddenly he burst out into a fit of giggling.

"Now it can't disappear." He beamed at Aragorn.

Aragorn looked, there in a perfect square around the ink well stood four lead soldiers keeping vigil. A sentry for the ink well. They had been placed with perfect precision and facing different directions. They would spot whoever tried to get close. The child truly had a head for military matters.

"I thank you Mir, if you can spare the men for sentry I would be most grateful to have them there as guards."

"I can spare them." Mir declared happily. "I have plenty more, and I do not have anyone to fight with right now, so it really does not matter." He slid down to the floor and headed of to the corner. "Papa would not want me to disturb you so I shall play now." He declared.

Aragorn chuckled quietly to himself. That child was one of a kind, just as his uncle Boromir had been. Mayhap they had not broken the mould after Boromir, mayhap they had just not used it again until it was time for little Mir. They certainly shared similarities. Mir and Boromir was like daisy's in a field. They were as much like one another that they seemed to be identical at first look, then yet if one looked closer every petal was unique.

Since Mir is now playing and the Lord Barladro is using no nice language over having been sent off to bed without supper it is well about time to leave this now.

Barladro shall be kept in line temporary, as Mir have made sure of that.

Thanks to his sentries Aragorn is also allowed a temporary respite from his inkwell, and hence there is nothing more for me write, and therefore we have reached another temporary ending. We shall however have come up with at least something by next week.

Lindahoyland: I think that both Aragorn and Eomer would at times take on a big brother role with Faramir. I also like to think of Eomer as rather alike to Boromir, bluff and rough, but very gentle deep in. Somehow I think that he is most often portrayed as the hard and violent man, and I just think that there have to be much more to him.

I will be writing more angst every now and then, in this story and in others as well. It is just that they take more time to write then my humour stories.

Hm, What did the goat have against the macintosh, and who could not love your stories?

Legolas's Girl 9: I am glad that you found that line amusing, I rather thought that it turned out well myself. Hopefully you shall find more that you like just as much.

Silver Sniper: Ehh, what did you do to your hand? Those protein bars sounded really nasty as well, I sure hope everything is better now. I am also very glad that you like this enough to think it work sticking to. The reason that the spelling and the grammar is better is because Celebrion corrects my mistakes. Thought this time ForeverFaramir helped.

Heh, no one knows what we will stir up next, not even we. We just work it out five chapter ideas at a time or so.

Steelelf: I am ever so glad that you liked it. The reason for the Sheisse on the end was that we hoped that it would be an amusing thing, and also because we wanted it to end with some of the German language. Thank you again, your kind words and encouragement is what makes it so fun and worthwhile to write this.

frodo16424: If you had a sister that had slain the witch king, and liked to punch on you when she was angry at you, would not you fear her? I know that I would, besides, Eomer is a big and brave man, it is fun to poke holes in the big brave warrior attitude that he has, though I try not to be to mean to him.

As for Aragorn fearing Eowyn, we saw in the movies that he really does fear her, how long do you think that he would run to avoid her stew?

Actually it is more something like this, Eowyn is a women who might punch you if angry enough, and considering the shape her husband came home in, she might get rather angry. Eowyn likes her husband and is rather protective of him.

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.