People who have faced many trials and overcome many enemies tend to have their warrior minds stolen by the slightest sweetness in the swiftest second. They become the most doting parents, siblings, and spouses. And their warrior front, although taken off, is put right back on quicker than the quickest soldier putting on armor. This armor of theirs becomes thicker and yet more sensitive, the slightest prod setting it off.

In short, parents like the King and Queen of Gondor, the King and Queen of Rohan, and the Prince and Princess of Ithilien, most especially the latter. Having one parent who has seen battle is bad enough, but poor little Prince Elboron had two. His mother, Éowyn, had faced severe loss and underestimation and then proceeded to slay the Witch-King, a feat which no other man could do, and Faramir had been traumatized by several failed attacks and a pyromaniac father.

So we can guess how both parents would take the slightest offense towards their child, whether it be the ground giving him a scrape, or a tree giving him a tumble (the Lords Aulë and Oromë beware).

Of course, the young prince had many other playmates whom he could escape with from his smothering-with-love home. The elf-prince Legolas and the dwarf-lord Gimli were special favorites, being obliging and adventurous at the same time. His auntie Lothíriel was his soul-mate in all that is good and curious, and "Uncle-the-King" (the one with the pretty stone) played the best rough-and-tumble games.

But now the story deviates from where it should be going, and so I bring us back to the first sentence.

"People who have faced many trials and overcome many enemies tend to have their warrior minds stolen by the slightest sweetness in the swiftest second."

And indeed, Éowyn and Faramir spoiled the child rotten. Valar be blessed for his self-denying and noble nature, otherwise, he might have turned out to be a Denethor-with-a-palantír. (Obviously, he was not always like that; the poor man's wit was addled by Sauron).

But for all that he was good, he was also a child. And like any child, giving him increased attention did not go without consequences. The child was not selfish nor self-indulgent, no, but he was born with an unexplainably (not really) canny skill for giving orders.

So it was a common occurrence for the inhabitants of Emyn Arnen to find their venerable lord marching through the markets with a solemn-faced child on his shoulders, his arms full of seemingly random things.

If anyone were to lean in on their conversation, which people quickly learned not to do for the sake of their sanity, they would find it was rather one-sided and gave way to many questions in a stranger's mind.

"And now you must buy me three of those oysters; no, not bags, three shells."

"Very well."

"And over there, by the ribbons, buy a golden-rod one, a sage-green one, and a misty-mountain one."

"Of course."

"Go past the baker's to the little fruit stand. I want five figs."

"As you wish."

"And I want three yards of the rope that they use to bridle Rohan's horses."

"Al—alright, then."

"Now down the road, to the bookstore. Ask if he has any new poems from Arnor."

"Er—he said he does not."

"I see. That is disappointing but never mind. We must buy three cranberry pies and three apple pies now, for the old grandfather we met in Erelas."

"Back to the baker's then?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"And now what?"

"Five yards of calico for the new blankets."

"Blan—!? Of course."

Now you may be wondering, why the young prince needed all of these assorted items, in such specific amounts. It is indeed curious for a little boy who has not yet seen four winters, but I digress.

If you asked Faramir, his black head now sporting a few silver strands, he would answer that he did not know what his son was planning. He would excuse his ignorance with a simple, "I didn't ask."

Like all people of Emyn Arnen with self-preservation instincts, he knew not to dig his own grave, and this proved to be very wise, for often the little noble himself was not sure of the need. His only answer was that he had been told to obtain the items, and when asked by whom, he would turn his eyes upwards and soberly say, "I do not know."

Oh, but you insist on an answer? Then allow me to direct you to either of the following: Queen Lothíriel of Rohan (or really any of his relatives in Dol Amroth), Legolas Thranduilion, or the young prince's Silvan tutor, Calardhon. Basically, anyone with elvish blood, for it seems that whims and curiosities are inherited with any connection to the Eldar.

And then you ask: what of Queen Arwen? She is an elf as well! And you would be right, however, the Undómiel was brought up by Lord Elrond, who is the sternest of stern lords. And then you ask: what of the Lords Faramir and Aragorn? They are descendants of Númeanor and have elvish blood! That is also true, however, they are much too integrated into their duties and have outgrown childish whims (note that I do not claim they were always so). And then you ask: what of Éomer King and Lady Éowyn? Their grandmother was of Dol Amroth! That is correct, however, they have too much of the blood of Eorl to be "curious".

No, those of elvish blood are curious, and this leads them to trouble, but those of the Rohirrim are trouble-seekers, and this makes them curious.

This whimsicality is easily observable in the Princes of Dol Amroth: in Erchirion's love for lore, in Amrothos' love for fun, and in Lothíriel's love of music. Their escapades of children could fill more pages than the Silmarillion. (Of course, the Prince Elphir also had a hand in these, but he now denies any and all claims that anyone makes about him ever being unserious or childish.)

But once again, I deviate from the point of this story. Indeed it has already turned into more of an essay than what it was supposed to be: a funny story of the Prince Elboron. And now I digress even further!

Let us steer back in the correct direction, like a Swan Ship of Dol Amroth.

The little Prince was curious about everyone and everything, and his curiosity was not hindered by a single thing. Most of those he was around, including a multitude of elves, encouraged anything and everything the Prince wanted to do.

So many a barn exploded, many a bread burnt, and many a kitten were saved for the sake of pleasing the little Lord who ran the colony. (Yes, it was his, NOT his father's.)