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Boromir tugged on the sleeve of his very tight-fitting jacket. He had never worn a waistcoat before, but he had a feeling that they weren’t supposed to be this snug—otherwise, no one would be able to breathe while wearing them. But he kept any complaints to himself and instead expressed only gratitude to the seamstress who was able to make a jacket and waistcoat (mostly) in his size—and for Faramir and King Elessar, as well!
“Come on, Mister Boromir, it’s time for tea! Everyone is already there!” He ceased fidgeting with his clothing and nodded to the hobbit lass. She held out her hand to him, and he carefully wrapped his fingers around it, bending forward so that he could fit through the doorframe.
“I must admit, Elanor, that I am surprised you are still having tea when the wedding is about to begin in a couple of hours.”
“We always have tea at four o’clock, no matter what,” Elanor said matter-of-factly. “Afternoon tea is very, very important, you know.”
“Is that right?”
As he was led down the hallway, Boromir couldn’t help but take everything in, from the paint to the portraits to the knickknacks placed throughout the home. This was where Frodo had grown up and his uncle Bilbo before him—the two Ring-bearers who crossed the sea over five years earlier. Now, Sam lived here with his wife and ever-growing family. Boromir remembered how Merry and Pippin had spoken about this green land to the North and a place called Bag End. Their words painted a picture of warmth and comfort in his mind, and back then—not quite familiar enough to be considered a friend yet not really a stranger anymore—he never imagined that he would not only see this homeland of the peaceful Shire folk but be invited to the wedding of one of the hobbits who would become a dear friend to him. He still had to pinch himself at times; it was hard to believe that Pippin, the youngest member of the Fellowship, was getting married.
Elanor brought him to the dining room, where Sam and Rosie were already seated with Faramir and Elessar. At some point, Legolas and Gimli had also arrived, making the table quite crowded.
“Sorry, lad, but you’ll need to find a seat elsewhere,” Gimli said.
“There is no need. I don’t need any—”
“You can sit with us, Mister Boromir.”
Elanor was waving him over to what looked like a foot stool that was being used as a child’s table. Elanor’s younger siblings Frodo and Rose were already sitting on the floor. From what Boromir could tell, the tiny cups and plates were empty and were more for show than for having an actual tea party. Boromir did not have any sisters and he hadn’t spent much time around girls when he was young, but he had heard of girls having imaginary tea parties with their dolls before they were old enough to attend real parties.
He nodded and lumbered over, pointedly ignoring the looks from his fellow “Big Folk.” As he sat down, he noticed that there were in fact a couple of dolls in between Elanor’s brother and sister.
“And who do I have the pleasure of having afternoon tea with today?” he asked as he gestured to the two dolls.
“This is Queen Lady Arwen and this is Queen Lady Ga… Galadrio,” Elanor said as she touched the head of each doll, the first one with dark hair and the other with yellow. Boromir assumed that she had meant to say “Galadriel,” and he found himself a bit surprised that she would name a doll after the Lady of the Golden Wood, until he remembered that she was named after the flowers that grew there and that Sam had loved so dearly.
“Well, I hope that Queen Lady Arwen and Queen Lady Galadriel won’t find fault in my lack of tea knowledge.”
“You don’t have tea where you’re from?” Elanor asked, sounding thoroughly scandalized. Boromir laughed.
“We do, but only ladies drink it.”
“See, Elanor? Boys don’t dwink tea,” Frodo grumbled and crossed his arms as he pouted.
“Oh, please don’t leave me alone,” Boromir said pleadingly. He ignored the snort that he heard from the other table—either Gimli or Faramir, if he had to guess. “We men should stay together. Strength in numbers, you know.”
“I don’t know what that means. But I’ll protec you if you’re ascared, Mister Boromir.”
“Thank you, Frodo. Your words comfort me,” Boromir said before he picked up the tiny empty tea cup and bringing it to his lips, earning a wagging finger from Elanor for sipping too loudly.
~*~
The wedding was lovely. Pippin was glowing just as much as his bride. As the newly elected Mayor, Sam officiated the ceremony. Elanor was the flower girl. Pippin’s sisters were the bridesmaids. Merry was the Best Man, standing beside the other two groomsmen, Fatty Bolger and Folco Boffin; and more than once he wiped at his eyes.
Rosie sat in the front with some of Pippin’s family, with her infant son Merry on her lap. Elanor sat next to her and fussed at her brother and sister to be quiet while they crawled under the chairs and threw grass at each other. Despite Rosie’s and Pippin’s sisters’ efforts, they couldn’t get the two to stop being disruptive. At some point, Frodo and Rose crawled through the legs of attendees towards the back row where Boromir sat with Faramir, Elessar, Legolas, and Gimli. Sam had a softer speaking voice, so they only heard part of his speech. However, they were too tall to sit closer to the front.
Boromir jumped when he felt something press on the top of his boot. He looked down and saw Frodo’s dark curls. Under the chair in front of him, he spotted a hint of Rose’s sandy blonde hair and her pale pink dress. They both climbed up onto his lap, and while Frodo stayed where he was, Rose continued to climb up his arm. Boromir let out a few grunts as she stepped on him, but he was able to keep her steady until she was seated on his shoulders. Faramir and Elessar were staring at him with veiled amusement. He kept his expression neutral, hoping to appear unbothered. He did, however, refuse to look down at the state of his shirt and waistcoat, which was sure to be littered with smudged foot prints.
~*~
The ceremony ended just in time for dinner. Boromir was glad that there was real food on his plate, because he found that looking after Frodo and Rose increased his appetite. He observed that the hobbits ate much faster than he did, because he was still working on the first course when Merry got up and made a speech—a heartfelt and humorous trip down memory lane that left not a single dry eye, whether from emotional tears or tears of laughter.
The children were starting to get restless again, and their parents struggled to get them to calm down and be quieter while their friends were giving their speeches. Baby Merry was whimpering from the noise and looked like he could use a nap. Boromir ate a little quicker and downed the rest of his drink. He was starting to feel that he needed a nap, as well.
“I can take them off of your hands,” he whispered to the frazzled parents.
“Oh, but what about supper?” Sam asked. Boromir blinked at him. They were going to eat again?
“I may not be an expert at cooking, but I could make something out of whatever you have at home. By your leave.” Sam still looked uncertain. Boromir shrugged. “You two deserve to enjoy yourselves, too.”
Sam and Rosie looked to each other, seemingly having a conversation that only they understood. She nodded and Sam shrugged a shoulder.
“Alright, Mister Boromir, sir. If you’re sure.” Sam waved his children over and whispered in their ears while Rosie held Merry towards Boromir. Boromir stammered intelligibly as he took the baby from her. “All of you be on your best behavior for Mister Boromir.”
Boromir felt eyes on him and saw Faramir looking at him with an arched brow. He shrugged and waited for the three older Gardner children to follow him, though he quickly found that they all wanted to hold his free hand.
By the time they got to Bag End, Boromir wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest, not caring if it was on a soft bed or on the hard floor. He just had to make sure that the children were all asleep first before he did. Unfortunately, sleep was the farthest thing from their minds.
“Can we play a game?”
“Can we ride on your back like a horsey?”
“Can you tell us a story?”
“Can we have a pillow fight?”
“Can we have supper?”
“Can you whistle?”
“One at a time. Please,” he said in a raised voice. “I will bring out a plate of bread and cheese and fruit. And I will tell a story. Then you need to go to sleep.”
“But we’re not tired!”
“You will be once the story is over. Now, who wants to help me with the food?”
~*~
Boromir placed Merry in his cradle and removed his jacket and waistcoat, feeling as though he could finally breathe again. He then went to the kitchen and sliced some bread and cheese, which he gave to Elanor and Frodo to put on a plate, though they ended up eating about half of them. Rose was given the job of pulling the grapes off the stems, and more than a few of them fell on the floor.
After they got comfortable in the sitting room, with what appeared to be every blanket and pillow in the house, Boromir got a fire started in the fireplace. He checked on Merry, who had fallen asleep, before getting comfortable on the rug.
“Can you tell us the story about the Old Took?”
“Can you tell us about dragons?”
“I want to hear about Elves.” Boromir let out a sigh and bit back a yawn.
“I think you will all like the story I have in mind.” He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “There were once two brothers—”
“You have to start with ‘once upon a time.’ It’s the law,” said Elanor.
“Alright. Once upon a time, there were two brothers—”
“Do they have sisters? I want to hear about sisters,” said Rose. Boromir cleared his throat again.
“Once upon a time, there were two brothers and two sisters who lived in a city that was made of pearl and silver.”
~*~
The round door swung open silently, and Sam and Rosie’s feet padded softly as they headed toward the sitting room, where a faint red glow could be seen. They peeked over the couch and found Boromir fast asleep under a blanket, with Elanor and Frodo curled up against his side while Rose was laying sideways across his stomach, her small body rising and falling in time with his breathing. Merry let out a little sound in his cradle.
“They sure look cozy. We probably should wake ‘em so they can get into their beds, but I almost don’t want to disturb ‘em,” Sam whispered. Rosie silently moved to where Merry was and carefully lifted him out of the cradle, shushing him and rocking him gently when he began to stir.
“We can add some more pillows for them to rest their heads upon,” she said softly. “We may not get to have this peace and quiet to ourselves again for a long time.”
“Oh, you’re right.” Sam leaned over and pressed a kiss to the back of Merry’s head. “I’ll grab the pillows.”