Disclaimer: I own the idea, and the time I spent writing it down and editing it for putting it up here.
This bit cleaned up the 4th of August, 2005. It was, naturally, written before that time. Just don't ask me when ;
Warning: Somewhat Mushy.
Author's Additional Note: The name of the story doesn't have to look like it makes sense. Neither does the beginning, after all. And again, the tenses change somewhere in the story. I tried streamlining it, but.. it just didn't look right after. So, well, the changes are in there now. Might as well enjoy it. ;)
Aragorn enters and pauses as.. something catches his eyes.
It can't be. It probably isn't. It's just a trick of the light.
But you could fool this old Man into thinking their fallen comrade was standing there, leaning over the crib and watching his brother's child lying in it.
No, he was imagining the way the man straightened, a proud grin on his face as he mouthed the words 'my nephew' to Aragorn. Because surely, that wasn't happening..
Arwen touches his arm, and he turns his head to look at her, startled. She eyes him curiously, and the two approach the cradle.
"What will be his name?" Aragorn asks of his Steward.
Éowyn, on the bed nearby, tosses a pillow at her husband.
It doesn't hit him, mind. She doesn't have enough strength for that yet. Won't take her much longer either, though...
"I thought I told you not to tell them whether it was a boy or a girl yet!"
"But dearest, I didn't, I swear." he shot a panicked look at Arwen, who was politely hiding a smile behind her hand. "Did I?"
She shook her head and reassured the young Man with a smile before turning to Éowyn. "Your husband did not betray your trust."
Éowyn, who was still somewhat miffed at having her surprise spoiled, turned to Aragorn. "So how come you knew?"
Aragorn shrugged, then smiled a little and shook his head. "It was.. a lucky guess?"
In the sunlight, Boromir laughed and called him a piss-poor liar.