Little Fledgling chapter 4

Notes regarding this story:

This story was inspired by Larrkin's wonderful 'Attention Deserved' series, of which I am a devoted fan. As other fans will recall, those stories are an AU, based on the idea that Aragorn stayed in Minas Tirith somewhat longer than he did in Tolkien's canon, and that he, as 'Thorongil', developed a close relationship with a then four-year-old Boromir. When they met again in Rivendell, Boromir recognised and remembered Aragorn, and that closeness was rekindled.

After Larrk first started posting her stories, I asked if she had any plans to write the tale of Aragorn and little Boromir, as I was longing to read it. She replied that she didn't, and so it came about that I started writing it myself, with Larrk's very gracious permission. Needless to say, I've tried very hard in writing this to stay true to Larrk's vision of the characters, and the story itself. I hope I've done it justice. :)

And for anyone who needs to re-read Larrk's stories and refresh their memory, they are all up on her page, here:

http://www.larrkin.com/

Thanks to:

Hadra – thank you for all the help, for booting me along when I got stuck, and for letting me bounce so many ideas off you.

Shotboxer – thank you for your careful editing, for catching my many errors, and for insisting that I get rid of all those unnecessary dashes. <g>

Laura – thank you for being so kind as to offer this story a home!

And finally, an extra-special thank you to Larrk, for being so very generous as to let me play in her sandbox, and so very encouraging while I was writing this. I'm truly honoured that you'd accept my story as the 'official' prequel to your wonderful AU. Your stories have given me so much enjoyment and inspiration, and I only hope that I've managed to give some of that back with this tale.

So, without further ado, my take on the story of Aragorn and little Boromir. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright is intended. All recognisable characters are the property of Tolkien Enterprises and/or New Line, and no profit is gained by the writing or posting of this story.

Warning: This story contains spanking, both of Boromir as a child, and (through flashbacks) of Aragorn as a child. If this offends you, hit the back button now.

Little Fledgling

Chapter 4

By Kat

padawan_kat@yahoo.com

The next morning, Aragorn rose early once again, and went briefly to the stables to check on Tior before heading over to the practice grounds for Boromir's lesson. This time he was early, and he had a few minutes to speak to Boromir before the lesson began, which seemed to please the little boy to no end. He had clearly recovered his energy, and he spent most of their conversation bouncing on his toes, obviously eager for his lesson to get started.

Taracar finally called his pupils to attention, and Boromir waved happily to Aragorn as he bounded away to his place. Aragorn waved back, then leaned against the wall to watch as the lesson began, keeping a fond eye on Boromir's efforts.

He had been unable to resist looking in on the child last night, as he left the Steward's House after eating with Ecthelion. Boromir had been fast asleep, and Aragorn had simply stood by the bed for several minutes, smiling down at the peaceful little face, watching the slow rise and fall of the boy's breathing. He was growing more accustomed to these surges of protectiveness now, but the one he'd felt then had nearly brought tears to his eyes. Boromir had been beautiful in sleep, grave and innocent and utterly peaceful, and Aragorn had wanted nothing more than to keep his fledgling safe from harm, always. The thought of leaving Gondor – something he knew would eventually be inevitable – had never grieved him more.

Give to him all you may, while you may, he had repeated to himself again, like a mantra. And as he had slipped from the room, leaving Boromir still sleeping soundly, he had promised himself once again that he would do so.

And so I will, he thought again now, watching as Boromir brandished his little sword in front of him, trying out the new move Taracar was teaching them. The child stumbled a little, then quickly regained his balance and tried again, his brow creasing in concentration. After a few more attempts, he was definitely getting the idea, and by the time Taracar had worked his way around to him, only a few gentle corrections were required before the man nodded his approval and moved on. Boromir paused to glance hopefully over at Aragorn, and was met with a warm smile and another approving nod. Beaming, the little boy went back to his practice.

The rest of the lesson proceeded on a fairly even keel, although Aragorn noticed what seemed to be a small epidemic of distraction among some of the other children. Two of the older boys finally ended up being scolded by Taracar for larking about and not paying attention, and things quietened down after that. However, it seemed there had been too much rowdiness today for Taracar's liking, and the usual treat of free sparring at the end of the class was withheld, to the obvious dismay of his pupils. The two boys who had been reprimanded looked suitably ashamed of themselves, and Boromir looked positively mournful. Once the class had been dismissed – with some firm encouragement from Taracar to behave better tomorrow – he came trotting over to Aragorn with quite a bit less bounce than he'd had at the start of the lesson.

"No sparring," he said with a sigh, looking up at Aragorn with unhappy eyes.

"Not today," Aragorn said, patting his shoulder in sympathy. "But do not look so sad, little one. You paid attention well today, so it was no fault of yours. And I am sure you will be allowed to spar again tomorrow."

"I hope so," Boromir said dolefully. "But I wanted to spar today." He sighed, then brightened again, a hopeful light dawning in his eyes. "Thorongil, could we spar? Like we did before? And could you teach me some more?"

"I am sorry, little one, but I cannot today," Aragorn said gently, hating to disappoint the child further. "There is a meeting that I must attend this afternoon, and I am not sure how long it will run."

Boromir's face fell. "So . . . I won't see you at all today?" he asked plaintively, his distress at that thought obvious.

"Nay, you will see me," Aragorn quickly assured him. "I will come when the meeting is over, and we will have some time together before supper, although I am not sure how much. Would that I could spend all afternoon with you, but I have duties that I must do, my fledgling. You understand that, do you not?"

Boromir nodded, although his crestfallen expression did not change. "Yes, Thorongil," he said quietly.

"Good lad." Aragorn gave him a kind smile, nodding his approval. "We will still have time together, little one. And tomorrow, after your lessons, we will have another lesson of our own. All right?"

Boromir nodded again, looking a little happier, and Aragorn smiled and held out his hand. "Good. Now, come, we must get you to your tutor. I do not want you to be late for your lessons."

Boromir looked crestfallen all over again at the mention of lessons, but he did not protest, merely taking Aragorn's hand with a sigh and trotting quietly beside him as they made their way out of the practice grounds. Aragorn wondered at the child's moodiness, but he did not press him to talk, so the journey was a silent one as they walked along to the tunnel, then back up to the seventh level and across to the Steward's House.

With a stubbornness that Aragorn was beginning to learn was quite typical of his little charge, Boromir remained silent as they walked up the stairs to the study where he had his lessons, although his small face became even more downcast as Aragorn opened the door. He glanced inside at his tutor, then turned a gaze of pure misery on Aragorn, who knelt down in front of him.

"There now, little fledgling," he said, smoothing the child's hair. "It is not as bad as all that. I will see you for supper. And perhaps this afternoon, you could visit with your mother. I am sure she would like to see you."

Boromir bit his lip. "I wasn't allowed to see her this morning," he said softly. "Not even to say good morning. Ivoren said she was very, very tired and that she was sleeping."

Aragorn did not miss the slight emphasis Boromir put on 'Ivoren said'. From what he understood, the boy had generally been told that his mother was 'tired' rather than ill, no doubt in an attempt to stop him from fretting over her. It seemed, though, that his sharp little fledgling was not accepting that euphemism so readily anymore, if indeed he ever had.

"I am sorry to hear that, little one," he said gently. "But perhaps you will be able to visit her this afternoon. And if she is still too tired, then perhaps Ivoren will take you for a walk."

"I'd rather walk with you," Boromir said, his lower lip protruding into a sudden pout.

Aragorn sighed inwardly; it seemed there would be no placating Boromir today. Small children, he reminded himself, did not tend to take well to concepts such as 'later' or 'tomorrow'. He recalled throwing a fair few tantrums himself as a child over words like that. And given how disappointing Boromir's day had already been, he supposed he should not be surprised that the boy was becoming sulky.

"I would like to walk with you too, my fledgling," he said, making sure to keep his voice gentle and patient. "If we have time before supper, we can go for a walk then, if you would like – or perhaps after, if you are not too tired. But for now, you must attend your lessons, and I must attend my meeting. We both have our duties to do, and we must see them done before we can play." He reached out to tilt Boromir's chin up, looking the boy in the eyes. "Do you understand that, little one?"

Boromir eyed him unhappily for a long moment, but finally he nodded, although the pout did not fully leave his face. "Yes, Thorongil."

"Good." Aragorn tapped the boy's nose with a finger, offering a kind smile. "Now, little fledgling, off you go to your duty. Your tutor is waiting for you. Be good for him, and I will see you this afternoon."

He turned Boromir by the shoulders and gave him a little push, just as he had yesterday – although in deference to the boy's moodiness, he omitted the swat this time. Boromir went obediently, throwing a mournful look over his shoulder, and Aragorn gave him an encouraging smile before shutting the door.

He went back downstairs in search of the boy's nursemaid, and found her tidying Boromir's chamber. He stopped only briefly, to tell her that he would be back after the council meeting, but that she would have Boromir to entertain for most of the afternoon, and then continued on his way. He still had two hours before the meeting, and he wanted to visit the practice grounds again, this time for some practice of his own. With his injury, he had not had much chance to drill lately, and he knew he could not afford to get out of condition.

He found several of his men in the practice arena, including Beredil and a young lieutenant named Damrod – a clever, dependable man whom Aragorn had great regard for. They were sparring together when he arrived, and he stood on the sidelines to watch their bout, which ended with Beredil as the victor. Match over, they withdrew from the arena and came to stand with him, greeting him cheerfully.

"You have been to the healers, I see, Captain," Beredil remarked, gesturing towards Aragorn's shoulder, now free of its sling.

Aragorn nodded. "Aye, 'tis as good as new. And I am most grateful to be free of the sling; it was becoming very tiresome to only have the use of one arm."

"Better one arm than one leg, sir," Damrod said, his wry tone telling Aragorn that he had had experience with such a handicap.

"Aye, I remember that," Beredil said with a laugh, confirming Aragorn's suspicions. "One of his first skirmishes, and he broke his leg," he went on to explain, grinning at Damrod. "I would swear to this day he was more angry than hurt. The healers had to threaten him with dire consequences to get him to rest it. 'Tis a wonder that it healed at all, given how little regard he had for his injury."

"It healed," Damrod replied calmly, quite unfazed by Beredil's teasing. "And I obeyed the healers' instructions as much as was necessary."

"As much as it suited you, you mean," Beredil returned cheerfully. Damrod's only reply was a smirk, and Beredil grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, then turned back to Aragorn.

"Have you come to spar, Captain?" he asked. "I would be happy to match you, if you need a partner."

"I, too, Captain," Damrod put in. "We can turn about, if it suits you."

"Aye, I would appreciate it," Aragorn said. "I have not had much chance to drill or to spar lately, and I could use it. I will be sat in a council meeting all this afternoon, so I had best get my exercise now."

"Indeed so, sir," Beredil said. "And if you are to be in council all afternoon, we had best get to it! Damrod, will you go first?"

"Nay, you go," Damrod replied easily. "I will wait this one out, and take the match when you tire."

Beredil nodded agreeably, and waited politely for Aragorn to precede him out into the arena. They sparred in turnabout fashion, with Aragorn taking on first Beredil, then Damrod, until he finally had to take his leave. He thanked the two lieutenants for the matches, leaving them to take up their own match again, and left the practice grounds to return to his quarters, conveniently located among the guest rooms on the seventh level. He took time to quickly wash and change his clothes, then headed for the Court, the conference chambers therein, and the council meeting.

~*~*~*~

Valar help me, Aragorn thought several hours later, as he pushed his chair back from the conference table. I am more exhausted from these hours of sitting than I would be from any battle!

The various topics of discussion – or more correctly, argument – had finally been put to rest for the day, and the council meeting had drawn to a close, much to Aragorn's relief. He could see that relief echoed in the faces of the others who were present; they all looked tired, and Ecthelion himself looked grimly exhausted. Aragorn moved to his side as the others began to file towards the doors, regarding him with concern.

"Are you well, my lord?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"Aye, I am all right," Ecthelion replied, giving him a nod and a tired smile. "Old men should not be forced to sit so long around the conference table; it wearies them. But I will go and rest now, and perhaps drink a cup of wine. Or two."

"Aye, my lord," Aragorn agreed wryly. "I feel much the same myself."

"Ah, but you are not an old man, Thorongil," Ecthelion said with a chuckle. "You must surely have energy to spare, after sitting at your ease for these past hours."

Aragorn grinned, seeing the twinkle in the Steward's eye. "I had better hope so, my lord," he replied. "For I promised your grandson I would visit him after the meeting was over, and I am sure he will not have run out of energy yet."

"Indeed he will not," Ecthelion agreed. "You may have to wait for your wine until he has run himself ragged."

"Likely himself and me as well," Aragorn said with a laugh, and Ecthelion smiled in return, waving a hand at the door.

"Go, lest he becomes impatient and starts finding mischief," he said, getting carefully to his feet. "I will retire to my chair and my wine, and I wish you luck."

Aragorn chuckled. "I may well need it, my lord," he replied. Smiling, he bowed to Ecthelion and headed for the door, slipping out into the main hall and moving swiftly to the exit.

Outside, he made his way across to the Steward's House, walking with his usual long stride and enjoying the feel of the late afternoon sun on his face. He would take Boromir out for a walk, he decided, as he neared his destination. The sun was pleasant, and it was still over an hour from the time when Boromir usually had his evening meal. There was plenty of time for a stroll in the fresh air, and perhaps spending some time outside would improve the child's mood.

Of course, he may have cheered up on his own by now, Aragorn thought, hopefully. He had a disappointing morning; it was not surprising that he was out of temper, but with luck he has had a better time this afternoon. Surely such a little one cannot remain sullen for too long.

He felt a moment of misgiving with that thought, recalling that he, as a child, had been quite capable of sulking for days on end if he thought he had reason. He would have to hope, he thought wryly as he entered the Steward's House, that Boromir was not as stubborn as he had been.

Unfortunately, that hope was dashed as soon as he entered Boromir's chamber. Indeed, it was dashed in an even more spectacular way than he had feared, because not only was Boromir not in a good temper, he was not present at all. There was only Ivoren, sitting on the window seat, anxiously twisting a fold of her skirt between her hands. She sprang to her feet when Aragorn came in, and his heart sank when he saw the look on her face.

Surely not, he thought in disbelief. Surely Boromir would not have dared.

"Do not tell me he has run off again," he said grimly, and Ivoren blanched at his tone.

"I wish I did not have to, my lord," she said, her distress obvious. "I left him in his chamber for no longer than fifteen minutes, and when I came back he had gone. I sent one of the guards to look for him, but he could not find him, not with an hour and more of searching. I'm so sorry, my lord!"

Aragorn shook his head, holding up a hand. "Nay, mistress, do not apologise. He is of an age where you should not need to watch him at every moment. He knows he is not to wander away alone; the disobedience is his. Fear not; I will find him – and when I do, I will deal with his behaviour."

Ivoren nodded, although she still looked troubled. "Wherever he is, my lord, he is keeping himself out of sight. Andor, the guardsman, took another man with him and searched until they had to go on duty, and they found no trace of him. I would guess, my lord, that he is hiding somewhere. He has not been in a good temper today."

"So I witnessed," Aragorn said wryly. "And I, too, would guess that he is hiding. I will search anyway. If I have not found him ere it grows dark, then I may have to rethink matters."

"He has never once stayed out past dark, my lord," Ivoren said. "We have not often been able to find him when he does this, but he has always returned home before nightfall."

"Aye, when he grows hungry, no doubt," Aragorn remarked dryly. "That is a comfort, at least. Nevertheless, I will look for him. If he comes back while I am gone, I pray you, keep him with you. I will want to speak to him when I return."

"Yes, my lord," Ivoren agreed, giving him a quick curtsey. Aragorn nodded politely in return, then headed back out the door, striding grimly down the corridor. He was determined to find his wayward charge – and to put a stop, once and for all, to this unfortunate habit of truancy.

~*~*~*~

An hour of searching had turned up nothing.

Aragorn had enlisted help in the end; he had met Damrod as he emerged from the tunnel onto the sixth level, and after they had exchanged greetings and Aragorn wryly explained where he was going in such a hurry, the young lieutenant had offered to help him search for Boromir. Aragorn had gratefully agreed, and had left Damrod to search the sixth level while he himself went down to the fifth. Now, after an hour of fruitless searching, he could only hope that Damrod's luck might have been better than his.

They had agreed to meet up again where they had parted, just inside the sixth gate, and Aragorn headed that way now. He kept an eye out for Boromir as he walked, although he was not holding out much hope of finding the boy. Wherever Boromir was, he was staying out of sight – either that, or he had gone even further down into the City, in which case Aragorn was going to be even more displeased than he already was.

He walked back through the sixth gate and saw Damrod waiting for him; the younger man raised a hand in greeting and walked over, shaking his head in response to Aragorn's questioning look.

"Nothing, sir," he said, as he came to a stop in front of Aragorn. "I have not seen hide nor hair of him. If he is on this level, he is hiding himself well today."

"Aye, that he is," Aragorn agreed with a sigh. "And it is growing late, now." He glanced up at the sky, noting how low the sun was, and frowned. "His nurse said that he has never stayed out past dark, but sunset is not long away."

"I am sure that nothing has happened to him, sir," Damrod said, and Aragorn could tell that he was trying to be reassuring. "Most likely he has just got caught up in whatever he is doing – or he is worried about the consequences when he does come home. None in this City would dare harm the Steward's grandson."

Aragorn nodded, although the frown did not leave his face. Damrod had a point, but the fact remained that Boromir was only four years old – and only just four, at that. Small children could get into all sorts of trouble if left to their own devices for too long, as Aragorn remembered well from his own experiences. Boromir had already stayed away longer than usual, and while Aragorn knew that Damrod was probably right about the likely reasons for that, he still could not help being worried by the boy's continued absence. He too doubted that anyone in Minas Tirith would harm Boromir, but that did not rule out the possibility of accidents.

"I suppose we can be comforted that he cannot get lost, at least," he said after a moment, trying to reassure himself. "And even if he might slip through the internal gates unnoticed, he could not possibly make it out of the City."

"Nay, the guards would spot him at once," Damrod agreed. "My guess would be that he is hiding somewhere, sir, likely worried about the trouble he will be in when he goes home."

"Aye. Either that, or he has sneaked home while we have been occupied in looking for him," Aragorn said wryly, but Damrod shook his head.

"Andor is on the gate this evening, sir," he said. "Young Boromir would not get past him unseen, and he would have sent someone to find you."

Aragorn nodded, recalling Boromir's comment about how he did not risk trying to sneak past the guards when Andor was on duty. "Aye, Boromir mentioned Andor," he said. "It seems he is known for his powers of observation."

"Not much gets past him, sir," Damrod said, giving him a small smile. "And he is well aware of the young lord's penchant for wandering. Indeed, that could be why the lad has stayed out so long today," he added thoughtfully. "With Andor on duty, Boromir must know he will be caught if he attempts to sneak back through the gate."

"True enough," Aragorn agreed. "Although at this point, he must know he will be caught anyway. He has been missing all afternoon; he can hardly expect not to be questioned about it."

"With all due respect, Captain, he needs more than to be questioned about it," Damrod said, rather grimly. "If I may say it, young Boromir needs a firmer hand than he has been getting. And he is testing you, sir."

Aragorn did not bother to ask how Damrod had come by all the information he seemed to have. Beredil had made several comments before now about the younger lieutenant's budding spy network. "Damrod always has his ear to the ground," he had said, and Aragorn had found it to be true. Damrod always seemed to know what was going on, although he was usually unfailingly discreet about it.

"I had come to much the same conclusion," he said, nodding slowly. "He wants my attention, it seems, and he knows this is a good way to get it. I think perhaps he was feeling neglected today."

"It would not be the first time," Damrod said flatly, then shot Aragorn a quick, apologetic glance. "Pardon, sir; I speak out of turn."

"Nay, you speak the truth," Aragorn replied, waving away the apology. "He has not been getting enough attention of late; that much is obvious. He wanted mine today, and so he sought it in the most effective way he knows. Well, he will have it, and plenty of it. Believe me, Lieutenant, I will be having a very long talk with that little boy when I catch up with him."

Damrod nodded, the hint of a smirk flashing briefly across his face before he became serious again. "It would not go amiss, Captain."

"Indeed not, it seems," Aragorn said dryly. "He is testing me, you say, and I agree. It is a test I shall not fail."

He sighed then, glancing once more towards the sun, which was dipping ever lower in the sky. "But first I must find him, and that is proving more difficult than I had anticipated."

"It often does," Damrod said wryly, casting his own glance towards the horizon before turning back to Aragorn. "Captain, if I may – as long as he is hiding himself, I have my doubts that we will be able to find him. He has proven in the past to be quite adept at staying out of sight until he is ready to be seen. But I do not think he would dare stay out for long after sunset, and that is not far away. If I might suggest it, perhaps it would be best if you returned to the Citadel to wait for him. I cannot see him staying away much longer, and there is not much sense in you combing the City for him while he creeps home of his own accord."

Aragorn was silent for a moment, considering. He knew Damrod was right – if Boromir was hiding, as seemed to be the case, he could be in any one of a hundred places in the City, and it was unlikely that they would be able to find him unless he wanted to be found. But it was also unlikely that such a young child would stay out long after dark, no matter how frightened he might be of the consequences of his disobedience. Boromir would no doubt be tired and hungry by now, and starting to think longingly of home. Eventually, Aragorn was sure, that longing would outweigh any fear.

However, that did not stop him from being worried about the child now.

"I too doubt he will stay out long after dark," he said finally, glancing at Damrod. "At the very least, he will be getting hungry by now. But I will admit, the fact that he has already stayed away longer than usual concerns me. I would feel better, I think, if I were searching."

"With your leave, Captain, I can continue to search," Damrod suggested. "That will leave you free to wait for him – and to ensure he does not promptly hide himself again once he gets home," he added wryly. "If I find him before he goes home by himself, then I will bring him straight to you."

Aragorn hesitated a moment longer, then finally nodded. It would probably make more sense for him to go and wait for Boromir, rather than searching for him further. His talk with the child should not be put off, not after such behaviour, and at this point he would probably "find" Boromir more quickly if he simply waited for the boy to give up and come home.

And when he does, he thought grimly, we will have a discussion that will leave him sleeping on his stomach tonight!

"You speak wisely, Lieutenant," he said. "Very well. I shall go back up the hill, and wait for our young truant to return. Hopefully he will soon give up being stubborn."

"There is only so much stubbornness that can fit into such a small package, sir," Damrod said, and Aragorn smiled.

"Perhaps so, but Boromir has it in full measure," he said wryly. He reached out to briefly grasp the other man's arm. "My thanks for your help, Damrod."

"No thanks needed, Captain," Damrod replied. "With your leave, I will search for an hour after sunset, then I will come back up myself. If he has not returned by then, I will fetch others and we can all continue searching. But truly, sir, I do not think it will come to that. Young Boromir knows his way around, and he cannot get lost, nor can he make his way out of the City. When he is ready, he will come home."

Aragorn nodded, clapped Damrod on the shoulder in thanks, and then they parted, Damrod going through the gate and down to the fifth level to continue his search, while Aragorn headed for the tunnel that led to the Citadel. He strode quickly up the lamplit slope and through the seventh gate, stopping there briefly to speak to the guards on duty. As Damrod had said, one of them was indeed the infamous Andor, a tall, keen-eyed man whose face reminded Aragorn of a falcon's. It fit well, he thought, with the man's rumoured powers of observation.

Andor greeted him with a polite bow, and nodded gravely in response to Aragorn's request that he keep an eye out for Boromir, saying rather grimly that he would send the boy straight home when he finally appeared. Aragorn nodded his thanks, thought for a moment, then added another request – that Andor also send someone to notify Ivoren when Boromir returned. He knew she was concerned for her little charge, and he did not want her to worry needlessly, if it happened that she wasn't waiting there with him when Boromir came home.

Andor readily agreed, his solemn expression softening a little at the mention of Ivoren's name. Seeing it, Aragorn felt a moment of curiosity, and found himself wondering if perhaps there was something between them. A moment later he thought wryly that if he really wanted to know, he probably ought to ask Damrod.

Pulling his thoughts back to the matter at hand, he thanked Andor again for his help and continued on to the Steward's House, striding in through the main door and down the hall to Boromir's chamber. He found Ivoren inside, lighting the lamps, and explained to her that he had come back to wait for Boromir to return, while Damrod was still searching. Although she looked rather anxious, she too assured Aragorn that Boromir had always returned safely from his unauthorised excursions, and that they had often been unable to find him until he wanted to be found.

"We gave up asking him where he hides, my lord," she told Aragorn with a sigh. "He would tell us and then immediately find a new place to go where he could not be found. There are so many places a little one can hide in the City, and he is very clever at staying out of sight when he wants to."

"He is a sight too clever for his own good," Aragorn replied dryly, and she gave him a small smile and nodded.

"I will leave you to wait then, my lord, and to speak with him when he comes home," she said. "I will be nearby; you only need call for me if you need me."

Aragorn thanked her, and she gave him a quick curtsey before hurrying out of the room, leaving him to settle himself on the window seat and wait for Boromir.

The minutes passed, and he tried to reassure himself, to quell the nagging concern he could not help but feel for the boy. He knew, logically, that Damrod and Ivoren were probably entirely correct in their reassurances – after all, Boromir had done this disappearing act many times before, and he had always come home safely. Nevertheless, Aragorn found that the worry did not leave him, and he knew that it would not until Boromir was safely home.

Once he was, then Aragorn would see about making very sure that this behaviour was not repeated.

He supposed he should not really be surprised, all things considered. Boromir had wanted his attention, that much was clear, and he had set about trying to get it in the best way he knew how – a way that would also, conveniently, test whether Aragorn intended to follow through with his promised discipline. That was also not surprising; Boromir had been lacking discipline for quite some time, and now that Aragorn had imposed some, the child would feel the need to push at those new boundaries. He would want to test the water, to make sure that Aragorn meant what he said, to see if there might be some way around these new restrictions. All children did it; Aragorn himself had been no different, even with long-established rules. But Elrond had pulled him up sharply every time, and now Aragorn intended to do the same for Boromir. His little fledgling needed love and discipline in equal measure, and for as long as it was in his power to do so, Aragorn intended to see that he had them.

He wanted my attention, and he will have it, he thought determinedly. And he may test the water all he likes, but he will find it uncomfortably hot.

Newly resolved, he continued to wait, although as the minutes passed, he could not keep from shooting glances at the window and the darkening sky beyond. The sun had fully set now, and yet there was still no sign of his wayward charge. Surely Boromir would not dare stay out much longer? The boy was barely four years old. No matter how frightened he might be of punishment, he must know he could not hide forever. At the very least, he had to be hungry by now!

Unless something has happened to him, Aragorn thought anxiously, before he could stop himself. He is so young – even if none would harm him, he could still have had an accident. What if he is hurt? He may not be able to come home!

The thought was not a pleasant one, and Aragorn frowned darkly, his worry suddenly increasing tenfold. He found himself longing to get up and pace, or even better, to go and join Damrod once again in searching for the boy. It had not yet been an hour since sunset – in truth, it had probably only been about twenty minutes – but he was finding it increasingly difficult to wait.

Twenty minutes after that, he was finding it even more difficult – and indeed, he might well have simply given up waiting at that point and gone out to join Damrod in his search, if there had not suddenly come the sound of soft, hesitant footsteps outside the door.

He knew at once that it was Boromir, but he was unprepared for the sheer depth of relief he felt, knowing that the child was safe. It still seemed incredible to him, how quickly Boromir had found a place in his heart, but he could not argue with his feelings. He loved the boy, just as much as if Boromir had been his own child, and he could only be deeply grateful that his little fledgling was safely home.

Now, he thought wryly, he just had to make sure his relief did not interfere with his intention to impart some very well-deserved discipline.

With that in mind, he schooled his features to sternness, just as the door was slowly pushed open and Boromir slipped inside. The little boy looked so miserable that Aragorn felt an immediate stab of sympathy for him, but he forced himself to maintain his severe expression, and spoke before Boromir had even seen him.

"Where have you been, Boromir?"

Boromir started, turning to stare at Aragorn with wide, frightened eyes, suddenly looking like nothing so much as a startled faun. Those eyes widened even more when he saw Aragorn's stern expression, and he took an involuntary step backwards, appearing so terrified that for a moment, Aragorn thought he might bolt. Not wanting to frighten the boy any more, he hurriedly held out a hand, letting his voice gentle as he spoke again.

"Nay, little one, do not be afraid. No matter what you have done, you have nothing to fear from me."

Boromir remained frozen, still staring at him uncertainly. He was clearly far too distressed right now for any scolding, and so Aragorn held out his arms, abandoning all trace of sternness for the moment, wanting first and foremost to take away the fear he saw in the child's face. "Come here, little fledgling," he said, his voice as gentle as he could make it.

Perhaps it was the use of the affectionate pet name, or perhaps the offer of a hug was simply too tempting to resist, but Boromir hesitated only a moment longer before barrelling across the room and flinging himself into Aragorn's arms. Aragorn lifted the child onto his lap and held him close, and Boromir wrapped both arms tightly around him, hiding his face against Aragorn's chest. He was not crying, but Aragorn could feel him trembling, and he rubbed a hand gently over the boy's quivering shoulders, trying to reassure him.

"Shhh, little fledgling," he murmured. "There now, it is all right. There is no need to be so frightened. No matter what you have done, you need never be afraid of me."

He stroked a hand over Boromir's hair, comforting, and after several long moments the boy spoke, although he didn't lift his head.

"But I d-disobeyed you," he said in a small voice. "I thought – I th-thought you'd be angry with me."

Aragorn shook his head, still smoothing the child's hair. He had been angry – but most of that had been worry, and beyond that he had been angry with the disobedience, not with Boromir himself. Given how distressed the child was, it seemed important that he make the distinction clear.

"Nay, little one, I am not angry. I am not pleased with what you did, but I am not angry with you. There is a difference." A thought occurred to him, and he added gently, "Is that why you stayed away for so long today? Because you thought I would be angry with you?"

Boromir nodded against his chest, still not lifting his head. "I w-wanted to come home – I really did – but I was afraid," he confessed, mumbling the words into Aragorn's shirt.

"Afraid of me?" Aragorn asked softly, but this time Boromir shook his head.

"Not of you – but I th-thought you'd be angry with me. Father always g-gets angry when I'm bad, and he s-says that he's ash-ashamed of me – and d-disappointed. And then he w-won't talk to me." Boromir sniffled, and Aragorn could hear the hint of tears in his voice as he finished miserably, "I th-thought you wouldn't want to come and see me anymore if you were d-disappointed."

The distress in the child's voice was painful to hear, and Aragorn had to close his eyes for a moment, fighting back a sudden surge of fury at Denethor. How could the man be so insensitive to his little son's feelings? That was no way to discipline a child, nor anyone for that matter. Discipline should be done with love, with warmth and kindness, not with such cold indifference. Denethor's method might teach Boromir to obey, but the lessons the boy learned would not be the right ones.

They will be based in shame and fear, not in love, Aragorn thought grimly. After all, where was the absolution in such treatment? Where was the forgiveness, the peace that should come when the discipline was over? There was none, and his poor little fledgling simply had to suffer the shame Denethor imposed on him.

He opened his eyes and took a breath, forcibly pushing away the fury he felt as reason reasserted itself. His anger could not help Boromir, no matter how righteous he might feel it to be. He could not change Denethor's behaviour. All he could do was try to counteract it with his own.

That will have to be enough, he thought. I must try to show Boromir that discipline can be done with love – and that my affection for him will not wane because he misbehaves.

He glanced down at the small fair head nestled against his chest, fighting down another surge of anger at the boy's father. I will show him that my affection, at least, does not come at a price.

He pulled away a little then, reaching down to take Boromir's chin in his hand, tilting the child's face up so that he could meet his eyes. Boromir gazed back at him miserably, and Aragorn stroked a finger down his cheek, looking gravely into the sad grey eyes.

"Boromir, hear me," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I am not ashamed of you, nor am I disappointed. You could not disappoint me, little one. Aye, today you did something naughty, and we will speak of that in a little while. But you are still my little fledgling, dear one. That will not change. And my little fledgling could never disappoint me, no matter how naughty he might be. Even if I must scold him, even if I must discipline him, it makes no difference."

He cupped Boromir's cheek in his hand, almost overcome by the look of desperate hope the child wore, and spoke softly but emphatically. "No matter what you do, you still hold the same place in my heart, my little fledgling. Do you understand?"

There was a long pause as Boromir gazed up at him, his expressive little face showing mingled hope and disbelief. Aragorn did not look away, simply giving Boromir time to absorb what he had said, and was rewarded when the child finally nodded, slowly, his eyes suddenly bright with tears. A moment later he threw himself back into Aragorn's arms, burrowing against his chest and fisting both hands into the material of his coat. Aragorn could still feel him trembling, but he thought that this time it was as much from relief as from residual fright.

"Shhh, little one," he murmured, holding Boromir tightly against him. "It is all right now. We will talk soon, but for now just sit with me, and be comforted. I am here with you, and you are safe."

He stroked Boromir's hair again, then went back to rubbing the small shoulders, and to his relief he soon felt the tension begin to leave the child's body. The trembling finally stopped, but Boromir just cuddled more closely against him, still keeping his face hidden against Aragorn's chest. Aragorn did not rush him, waiting until he was sure that Boromir had recovered from his fright before he finally spoke.

"Are you feeling better, my fledgling?" he asked, his voice still very gentle.

There was a pause, and then Boromir nodded against his chest. "Yes, Thorongil," he said quietly.

"Then, do you think you are ready to talk now?"

Another pause, longer this time, then another nod. "Yes."

"Good boy," Aragorn said approvingly, and after a moment Boromir slowly lifted his head, looking up at him with earnest grey eyes.

"I'm sorry, Thorongil," he said softly.

Aragorn nodded, stroking a hand over the boy's hair again. "What are you sorry for, little one?"

Boromir bit his lip. "I disobeyed you."

"Aye, you did," Aragorn agreed, his tone becoming more serious. "Are you ready to talk about that now? And can you remember that even if you are due a scolding, you are still my little fledgling, and you have nothing to fear from me?"

Boromir hesitated for a moment, then nodded, lifting his chin in an obvious attempt to be brave. He seemed to be over the worst of his fright now, and Aragorn thought that it was safe to proceed. He would have to scold the child – aye, and deliver the promised spanking, too. He would not be doing Boromir any favours by going back on his word. The little boy had disobeyed, deliberately, and he had known full well what the penalty would be. Aragorn had been quite clear in his warning, and Boromir had chosen to ignore it.

He will have to learn that there are consequences to his actions, he thought, steeling himself to do what he must. He wanted my attention, and now he will have it. And I will teach him, here and now, that discipline can be done with love.

"Good boy," he said again now, and gave Boromir a last reassuring pat before lifting him gently off his lap, placing him onto his feet on the floor. Boromir gazed up at him sorrowfully, his grey eyes wide with appeal, and Aragorn willed himself to remain firm. The little boy looked nervous, but he was no longer unreasonably fearful, and now it was time for a lesson to be learned.

"All right, my little fledgling," he said, allowing his voice to become sterner again. "First, I would have you tell me where you went today."

Boromir's chin quivered, but he answered bravely, if sheepishly. "I went into the City."

Aragorn nodded in approval of the child's honesty, although his tone remained firm. "That was disobedient, was it not?"

Boromir nodded, looking miserably down at the floor, and Aragorn reached out to put a finger under the boy's chin, gently tilting his face up. "Answer me, little one."

Boromir looked up at him pitifully, finally saying in a very small voice, "Yes, Thorongil."

Aragorn nodded gravely. "Aye, indeed it was. You know you are not allowed to go into the City by yourself. We have already had this discussion. So why, my little fledgling, did you do it?"

Boromir quailed a little under the stern tone, looking up at Aragorn with sorrowful eyes. "I wasn't going to," he pleaded. "Really I wasn't. But – you didn't have time to talk to me – and I wasn't allowed to see Mother – and Ivoren was busy – and I was lonely," he burst out, his eyes suddenly filling with tears again. "I just wanted to go out and play, and Ivoren said she would take me to the gardens but she didn't, and I waited for ages and ages, and I was bored! I'm sorry, Thorongil! I didn't mean to, I really didn't!"

"I'm sorry, Ada! I didn't mean to! I was just bored!"

The words echoed out of the past and into Aragorn's mind; his own words, so similar to Boromir's, and spoken by his five year old self in a very similar situation. Just yesterday he had been thinking about the time he had wandered off into the woods and got lost, and Boromir's plaintive explanation brought it to mind once again. It had indeed been boredom that had driven him to disobey and go into the woods by himself, as he had sheepishly confessed to Elrond when the elf lord had asked him to explain himself. Unfortunately, the cry of 'I was bored' was not, in Elrond's opinion, a good reason to disobey instructions, and he had informed Estel of that in no uncertain terms.

"That you were bored is no excuse, Estel," Elrond had said. "You know the rules. They have been explained to you many times before." He leaned forward in his chair, regarding his disobedient son sternly. "What is the rule about going into the woods?"

Estel bit his lip, looking down at the floor. He could not truthfully say that he did not know the rule about not going into the woods by himself. He did know it, and Ada knew he knew it, and he could not lie to Ada. But he also knew that answering that question would seal his fate, and he simply could not bring himself to do it. He hung his head, wishing with all his heart that he had not gone into the woods yesterday.

There was a pause, and then Elrond reached out, tilting his face up with gentle fingers. "Estel," he said, his voice softly warning. "Answer me, my son."

Ada didn't sound angry, but Estel recognised the warning in his tone, and he knew that he would only be in more trouble if he didn't obey. He met his ada's stern gaze miserably, mumbling, "I'm not allowed to go in the woods unless someone is with me."

"That is correct. And was someone with you today?"

Estel shook his head, biting his lip.

"Estel. An answer, please."

"No, Ada."

"Then you broke the rules, did you not?"

"Yes, Ada."

"And what happens when you break the rules, Estel?"

"I g-get spanked. Ada, please don't," Estel begged, both hands going automatically to cover his bottom. "Please don't spank me! I'm sorry!"

"Sorry is not enough, my son. Not this time," Elrond replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You disobeyed, and now you must face the consequences. Now, come, let us have this over with."

And so, Estel had found himself upended over his ada's knee, and he had been soundly spanked . . . just as Boromir was about to be. No matter how sympathetic Aragorn was to the child's plight, he could not allow himself to be swayed by pleading, just as Elrond had not. Boromir needed this. Indeed, he had all but asked for it. It had not been only boredom and loneliness that had driven the child to disobey. No, Boromir had wanted attention, and he had wanted, whether consciously or not, to test the new boundaries that had been set for him.

Now I need to show him that I intend to enforce those boundaries, Aragorn thought firmly. After all, he had been entirely clear in his warning, and that warning had been ignored. That the child's discipline had been inconsistent up until now was no excuse – indeed, that only made it all the more important that Aragorn not be inconsistent. Boromir had disobeyed, and now it was up to Aragorn to introduce him to the promised consequences. His little fledgling would simply have to realise that the rules were here to stay.

"I am sorry that you were bored, my fledgling," he said now, keeping his voice quiet but firm. "However, that is no excuse for disobedience. You know that you are not allowed to go into the City by yourself, and I warned you of what would happen if you did it again. Do you remember what I said I would do, little one?"

Boromir obviously did remember, because his eyes went very wide, and he shot Aragorn a panicked look. "No! Thorongil, please – please don't! I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"

"That is what you said last time, my fledgling," Aragorn said, managing – with an effort – to harden his heart to the child's pleading. "And yet you ignored my warning, and you disobeyed again. I told you what the consequences would be, and I do not go back on my word. I am going to spank you, little one."

"But I'm sorry!" Boromir wailed pitifully, sounding as if he would burst into tears at any moment. "Please, Th'rongil, please! I won't do it again, I promise! Please don't!"

Forcing himself not to be swayed, Aragorn leaned forward and cupped Boromir's cheek in his hand, looking into the child's frightened eyes. He kept his voice low, wanting to be firm but still reassuring. "Boromir. What did I say about going into the City by yourself?"

Boromir stared at him pleadingly, and Aragorn tapped the boy's cheek with a finger, raising an eyebrow. "An answer, little one. What did I say?"

A pause, and then Boromir said miserably, "You said I sh-shouldn't."

"That is correct. And you disobeyed me today, did you not?"

Boromir's lower lip trembled, and the tears standing in his eyes began to spill down his cheeks. "Y-yes."

Aragorn nodded gravely. "Yes. And what did I say I would do if you disobeyed like that again?"

"You said you'd – spank me," Boromir said tearfully, his grey eyes fixed miserably on Aragorn's face. It took almost everything Aragorn had to remain stern under that pitiful gaze, and he spared a moment to wonder if it had been this hard for Elrond to spank him when he was a child. It had certainly never seemed hard for him – but then, Elrond had had three children of his own, plus several thousand years of experience before Aragorn had come along. Surely this sort of thing got easier with time?

He looked down then, into Boromir's tear-filled eyes, and wondered who he thought he was fooling. Knowing his foster father for the kind and compassionate elf he was, Aragorn realised that Elrond had probably found it just this difficult, every single time.

But Ada did what he had to, because he knew it was necessary, he thought, knowing it was the truth. He had needed discipline, just like any child, and Elrond had given it to him, while still letting him know that he was loved. Now, he had to do the same for Boromir.

"Aye, that is what I said," he agreed now, quietly. "And you knew that when you chose to disobey. You are going to be spanked, little fledgling. But," he added more gently, seeing Boromir's face crumple anew, "there is no need to be so frightened."

He moved his hand up from Boromir's cheek, to stroke the tousled hair. "You need never fear me, Boromir," he said, looking deeply into the child's eyes. "I will never harm you. What I do now, I do for your own good, because you must learn that actions have consequences. I do not do it to hurt you, but to teach you, because I want to see you grow up as a man of honour. It was done for me, and I would do the same for you. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Boromir was still tearful, but he was listening closely, and his panic had subsided again. "Yes," he said in a small voice, only to add pleadingly, "But Thorongil, I don't want to be spanked."

"I know, little one," Aragorn said gently. "It will not be fun. But it will be over soon, and you will have learned a lesson, and your disobedience will be forgiven and forgotten. You know that you were naughty. Now it is time for you to own up to that naughtiness, to take your spanking, and to learn how to do better next time. Do you think you can do that, my brave little fledgling?"

Boromir bit his lip, still looking very apprehensive, but after a moment he gave Aragorn a hesitant nod. "Yes, Thorongil," he said softly. "I can be brave."

Aragorn nodded his approval, feeling a surge of pride at the little boy's courage. "I know you can, dear one," he said. "Now, come, let us have this over with."

He kept his eyes locked with Boromir's for a long moment, making sure that the child was not going to panic again, before he reached out and gently lifted him up, settling him easily into place over his lap. Boromir did not resist, but he squirmed a little as Aragorn manoeuvred him into a more secure position, and Aragorn put a hand on his back in reassurance.

"There, little one," he murmured. "Be brave now. I am here with you."

Boromir stilled again, and Aragorn decided to get the next part over with quickly. He flipped up the back of the child's shirt and gently but efficiently tugged the little breeches down, leaving them bunched around Boromir's knees. This time Boromir let out a soft whimper and wriggled more energetically, and Aragorn pulled him closer, tucking an arm securely around the child's small waist.

He could feel Boromir trembling against him, and he rested his free hand on the small of the boy's back, rubbing gently. He knew Boromir was frightened, and he did not want to drag this out, but he did intend to give a last explanation of what the discipline was for, just as Elrond had always done for him. It was important that Boromir understand exactly why he was being spanked – and hopefully, the sound of Aragorn's voice would help to ease his fear a little.

"All right, my little fledgling," he said, keeping his voice gentle, but allowing a hint of sternness to return to it. "You are going to be spanked now, because you disobeyed the rules. You know that you are not allowed to go into the City by yourself. It was very naughty of you to disobey like that. Do you understand, little one?"

There was a pause, and then a very small, trembling voice answered, "Yes, Thorongil."

"Good," Aragorn said quietly. "The rules are there to keep you safe, little one, and you must learn to obey them. I am going to spank you to help you remember to obey from now on."

With that, he turned his attention to the small bare bottom in his lap – but despite his firm words, he suddenly felt a moment of real uncertainty over whether he would be able to go through with it. Those trembling little cheeks looked so helpless, so vulnerable . . . ai, he had never had to spank a child before!

On those occasions when he'd had to mete out discipline, the recipient had always been an adult; young, perhaps, but still considerably older than the little one in his lap. Until this moment, he had not fully realised what a difference it would make, how hard it would be. Could he really bring himself to spank his little fledgling? Could he bear to make the child cry, as that soft little bottom reddened under his hand? Could he bring himself to actually hurt Boromir?

I do not do it to hurt him, he reminded himself firmly. I do it because he needs it.

It was the truth, he knew. Boromir did need this. Aragorn knew from his own childhood – and after – how important the ritual of discipline and forgiveness was, how healing it was. His fledgling had been deprived of that comfort up until now; Denethor's punishments offered nothing of forgiveness, nor of healing. But Aragorn would not see that lack continue, not while he could do something to prevent it. No matter how hard this was for him to do, it nevertheless had to be done.

Steeling himself, he gently rested his hand on Boromir's bottom, covering it easily. He felt the little cheeks tense under his hand, and his resolve wavered again, but only for a moment. A firm reminder to himself that he was doing the right thing was all it took, and then he lifted his hand, bringing it down firmly across Boromir's bottom.

The swat was not hard, but it was certainly sharp enough to sting, and Boromir jumped as it landed, his head jerking up in shock. Given that the boy had never been spanked before, Aragorn was expecting a noisy reaction, and was rather surprised when all he got was a gasp. Either Boromir was trying very hard to be brave, or he was simply too shocked by the sting to react right away. Whichever it might be, though, Aragorn highly doubted that he would be silent for long.

He raised his hand again, seeing the pink flush he had left behind on the small bare cheeks, and feeling a moment of grief that he would have to add to it. But he was resolved, and he did not let himself pause longer than a moment before administering the second sharp swat. He had already decided on ten in total, which was about what Elrond would have given him at that age. Ten swats might not sound like much, but with such a little one, he knew it would be enough to make his point.

Easily enough, he thought wryly. He could still remember his reaction to ten swats, when he had been Boromir's age. No matter how hard he had tried to be stoic – and he had tried, every time – he had invariably been wailing pitifully by the time the spanking was over. Oh yes, ten swats from Elrond had certainly been enough to make a point!

That said, however, it seemed that Boromir was trying just as hard to be stoic as he himself always had. The boy gasped again at the second swat, wriggling a little under Aragorn's arm, but he still did not cry out. The third swat elicited much the same reaction; the gasp was louder and the squirming a little more energetic, but apart from that, Boromir was showing a level of stoicism that Aragorn found quite surprising.

He was not spanking overly hard – he had, of course, been carefully moderating the force of his swats – but he knew that the child's bottom had to be stinging. The little cheeks were already a rosy pink, and the way Boromir was wriggling told him that it was certainly uncomfortable. And yet, his stubborn little fledgling had not even let out a whimper.

He brought his hand down again, slightly harder this time – and this time Boromir did whimper, a tiny, choked off sound of distress that made Aragorn's heart contract painfully. Ai, but that sound had been so small and desperate, so . . . stifled. Yes, that was it – stifled. As if it was taking everything Boromir had not to cry out, as he desperately tried to endure his discipline bravely.

Aye, that is it, Aragorn realised suddenly. He is trying to be brave for me, trying to impress me with his fortitude. He so craves my approval . . . likely he thinks I will disapprove if he makes a fuss. And I said myself he should be brave; he had no way of knowing what was meant by that.