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June 21, Year 49 FoA
It was a pleasant first day of Summer. A week-long festival had just begun, and many people were outside enjoying the sunshine, eagerly awaiting the sun to set on this longest day to watch the fireworks display. The first day of festivities was more popular among the commonfolk, whereas the nobility would spend the afternoon leisurely relaxing in their gardens. Others had picnics near the Anduin and would dip their toes into the cool water after they had finished eating. This was the case for the Stewards and their families, who had found a spot along the bend of the river, about halfway between Osgiliath and Emyn Arnen.
Also there were Borlas, his wife Vehta, and their two children, Eilian and Berelach, and Haldir, Lanthiriel, and their daughter Aredhel had come with Legolas and some of the Elves who had joined their prince in Ithilien. Boromir’s daughter Aerdis and grandson had come from Annúminas for the festival, which was not something enjoyed in Arnor. Her husband was unable to join them, so he sent two of his best Rangers—and best friends—to accompany them. The Anduin had drawn quite a crowd, and everyone seemed happy. Well, almost everyone.
Boromir hobbled over in the tall grass to where Vorondil was sitting by himself. He had been with Berelach for a while, but now Berelach was being taught the “Northern way” (meaning the right way) to fish by Armegil and Boramath, the two Rangers who had come with them from Annúminas.
“You did not want to try your hand at fishing?” Boromir asked as he lowered himself down onto an enormous log, resting his cane across his lap. His grandson looked at him, the wind blowing his dark hair into his eyes. Vorondil shook his head.
“The current is too strong, so they probably won’t catch anything. And I can fish at home. I prefer to go ice fishing with Father.” Boromir hummed in thought.
“I have only gone ice fishing once, and it was during a visit to Rohan. Up there, the rivers freeze over in the winter, so they are able to do so. But here, one would fall through as soon as they set foot on the ice.”
“Did you catch anything?” Boromir let out a chuckle.
“I am afraid not. But the fish seemed to like Théodred’s line better.”
“You seem to really like Rohan. I have heard you talk about it and the people, and you’ve never had anything bad to say about them.”
“Of course not. I hold the Rohirrim in high regard, even before they came to our aid in the war. In fact, I believe that may be why your aunt named her son after Cirion, who gifted the Rohirrim the lands where they now reside.”
“Is Cousin Cirion like Steward Cirion?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure, since he lived so long ago. What I do know is that he was likely a soldier and not a sailor as your cousin is. He fought on land and, as far as I know, was never at sea, despite the meaning of his name suggesting it ought to be otherwise. And he was the son of my namesake.”
“Are you like him? The other Boromir, I mean.” Boromir hummed and rubbed at his chin.
“In some ways, yes. We were both soldiers and served as Captain-General. And we both defended Osgiliath from enemy attacks with… similar outcomes.” He, of course, was referring to the destruction of the bridges at Osgiliath to keep the enemy from conquering the city.
“I don’t think I’m anything like my namesake.” Boromir turned to him.
“Why do you say that? And how do you know what he was like?”
“Because I am still not very good at hunting, let alone so great at it that it is what I am known for. And I don’t know how to make a hunting horn, like the one you used to have.”
Boromir looked over to where Elboron and Lothraen were sitting with his oldest daughter Finduilas and her husband Bergil. The Horn of Gondor laid next to Elboron on the blanket. He found his wife Anael with Faramir and Barahir, who was showing her something he had written. Boromir shook his head.
“I hope you know that just because you are named after someone, that doesn’t mean you have to be like them. Elboron is somewhat named after me, and we couldn’t be any more different.” Boromir placed a hand on Vorondil’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Vorondil hung his head and started to pick at some grass. “Why do you ask? Did someone tell you otherwise?”
“No. I just assumed that… if you are named after someone then you should try to be like them. As a way to keep their legacy alive. Or something silly like that.”
A noise by the river drew their gazes, just as Eilian and Aredhel rushed into the water, with Boromir’s granddaughter Elenna trailing after them. She was nearly knocked over by the current, but Aerdis was there to take her hand. Berelach got bored of not catching any fish and joined his sister in the battle of splashes.
“Do you want to join them—?” Boromir followed Vorondil’s gaze to the young Elf-maid with silvery-blonde hair. When Vorondil realized he had been caught, he quickly looked away and cleared his throat. “I see. You may not share much in common with your namesake, but it would still appear that the apple does not fall far from the tree.”
“I don’t know what you mean. There aren’t any apples around here.” Boromir laughed.
“Then I will put it this way. You and I are more alike than you realize. We can’t help but be rendered tongue-tied by pretty Elf-maids.” Vorondil groaned and hid his face in his hands, though the faint pink tinge on the tips of his ears gave him away.
“Am I being that obvious?”
“If Merry and Pippin were here, they would have already set to work on bringing you and her together. Just as they did with your parents, and with your grandmother and me.” Vorondil stayed quiet. “Why don’t you go over there and talk to her?”
“And say what? It doesn’t matter, anyway. I live in Arnor and she lives here. She will probably be married the next time I see her.”
“Not if Haldir has anything to say about it.” Boromir smiled when he noticed Vorondil sneaking another look towards the river. “Would it comfort you to know that Haldir holds the Northern Dúnedain in high esteem?”
“It does not matter if her father likes me, only if she does.”
“Well, being in her father’s good graces certainly helps. Trust me, I know what it’s like to have one of his arrows pointed at your heart.”
“All the more reason to stay here.”
As if they had heard him, Berelach and Eilian called his name and waved him over. Boramath and Armegil had also given up on fishing, since their audience had left, and were standing in the water, too.
“Come on, Vorondil, we’re going to have a water fight, and we need one more person to have even teams!” shouted Berelach.
Vorondil sighed and hung his head before removing his boots and getting to his feet, walking gingerly over the sharp rocks near the riverbank. Boromir smiled as he watched him go. As much as Boromir enjoyed spending time with his grandchildren, he knew that being around an old man like him was not their first choice. And speaking of grandchildren, Elenna was racing towards him, with Aerdis a few paces behind.
“Look! I found a crystal!” Elenna showed him a jagged quartz. Boromir grinned and patted her cheek.
“What a good find! It is beautiful.”
“Go and show your naneth,” Aerdis said. Elenna lifted her skirt and ran to the blanket where her parents were sitting. Aerdis looked down at her father and tilted her head at him.
“I have sat for too long. Help me up?”
Aerdis had to do very little beyond grasping under his arm. When he was standing, she continued to hold onto his arm as they walked.
“What were you and Vorondil speaking about?”
“Our names, and others’, and our namesakes. He was under the impression that because he is named after Vorondil the Hunter that he has to be just like him.” Aerdis frowned.
“I only named him that because the Horn was so important to you. And still is, I imagine, even though you are no longer its owner. I do not recall ever insinuating such a thing.”
“He said he made the assumption on his own.”
“I see.”
“I also tried to encourage him to speak to Aredhel.” Aerdis raised her eyebrows.
“Indeed? He has not been able to stop talking about her ever since he first met her when Cirion joined the King’s Ships, two years ago.” They both looked over to where Vorondil was about to join the others… only to slip on a rock and tumble into the water. Father and daughter wore matching grimaces. Armegil trudged through the water to catch up with Vorondil before he resurfaced and grabbed onto him. Vorondil sat up and spluttered, his dark hair now plastered to his face. The others said something to him and he nodded. Aerdis breathed out a sigh. “He seems to be alright.”
Vorondil still hadn’t gotten to his feet, because at that moment, Aredhel approached him cautiously. He stared up at her dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open. She reached a hand towards his face, and he flinched back before going still again. After a pause, she pulled weed from his hair and dropped it in the water, allowing the current to take it away. Armegil hoisted him to his feet and brushed away some imaginary dirt. Something Vorondil said made Aredhel laugh. This time, Boromir breathed out a sigh of relief.
“Well, that wasn’t exactly how I would have gone about it. But it doesn’t always have to be a romantic gesture,” he said as he rubbed the top of his head, remembering another incident involving apples.