Work Text:
May 20, Year 39 FoA
Osgiliath
Boromir opened his arms and watched Bergil cross the sitting room. His son-in-law carefully placed the small bundle in his arms before claiming the armchair across from him. He slouched in the chair and tilted his head back, allowing his eyes to fall closed.
“Did you have a late night?” Boromir asked in a hushed voice. Bergil nodded and hummed.
“She may be even more of a night owl than Cirion was. At least he slept a little that first night.”
“Then she takes after her mother in that regard.” Bergil snorted, and a smile appeared on his lips. “But she seems to take after you in looks.”
As he said that, Boromir stroked a fingertip over the tuft of dark hair that peeked out from the swaddle. He then turned slightly and showed his wife, who leaned in closer and rested her chin on his shoulder. The newborn’s forehead wrinkled and her tiny mouth puckered before opening in a yawn. He smiled and gazed down at her through misty eyes.
Despite how he had behaved in the past, he believed that he could never love another after meeting Anael. But each time he held one of their children or grandchildren in his arms, his heart felt full, as if he was falling in love all over again.
He lightly touched a fingertip to her little nose, her little cheeks. She was just a little thing.
“What name has she been given?” Anael asked. Bergil’s eyes opened and he sat up straighter.
“I will let Finduilas tell you, since it was her idea. She was changing her dress before you arrived, so she ought to be down here soon.” Anael and Boromir shared a look, both wondering what Bergil meant by that; as far as they knew, Cirion’s name had also been her idea.
By the time Finduilas joined them, Boromir had managed to free one of the newborn’s hands and now had a finger trapped in her tiny grip. Finduilas dropped a kiss on Boromir’s temple, then her mother’s. She gave her daughter’s hand a little squeeze before easing herself onto her husband’s lap. Bergil’s arm circled her waist. Finduilas leaned on him and entwined their fingers.
“This is the first time she has been this quiet since she was born,” Finduilas said and watched her daughter through half-lidded eyes. “I am sure this is because I was so terrible when I was a child.”
“You were not terrible. You kept us on our toes, that is certain. But most children act similarly,” Boromir said.
“Aerdis didn’t. And I’m sure Mother didn’t either.” She then poked Bergil’s cheek with her finger. “And I doubt you were a terror.”
“That is why I said ‘most’ children.”
“Noted.”
“What is the child’s name?” Anael asked. “Bergil said you would tell us, and that you thought of it.”
Finduilas looked more tired then, if it was even possible. She did not answer right away, instead gazing at her daughter for nearly a full minute.
“Her name is Elenna.” Boromir’s head snapped up when he detected the slight quiver in her voice. Bergil seemed to notice it, too, because he started to rub her arm. Finduilas sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I must still be a bit emotional.”
“You don’t need to apologize to us. The two of you were close when you were children,” Boromir said as he handed Elenna over to Anael. Anael hummed softly and smiled at her granddaughter, immediately spellbound by her.
Bergil nodded silently in agreement, for he had been present for some of those years when he still lived in Ithilien with his parents and younger brother. Finduilas gave the hand she was holding a squeeze.
“I don’t even remember whose fault it was that we stopped talking.”
“Perhaps that is not what matters. Instead of trying to place blame, you could try to reconcile. Are you going to tell her about your daughter?”
“I want to, but I don’t know if telling her would make a difference. She probably won’t leave home to come here because she’s sick or with child, again. And if I went to see her, I don’t know if I will be turned away or welcomed.”
“Why not write her a letter?” Anael asked.
Finduilas pouted and squirmed with discomfort. Bergil let out a choked sound and held onto her hips to keep her still.
“I’ve never liked writing letters,” Finduilas grumbled. Boromir chuckled; she was a chip off the old block, indeed. “But I suppose I can endure it.”
The door to the sitting room opened, and in walked Cirion, having finished with his lessons for the day. He plopped himself down on Anael’s other side and immediately held his arms out towards his sister. Anael handed her over without hesitation. The little amount that she was jostled in the hand-over woke Elenna up and she began to whine.
“There, there, you’re alright,” Cirion cooed. Elenna squeezed her hands into tiny fists and wiggled some more, her mouth curving into an indignant pout.
Boromir watched the scene, and despite the larger age gap between Cirion and Elenna, it reminded him of when he used to hold Faramir. And the way Finduilas was watching her two children with a tired smile was similar to how his mother would watch them together.
“Do you love your little sister?” Boromir asked. Cirion turned and looked at him with a crooked grin.
“You mean you couldn’t tell, Grandfather?” Boromir laughed. “She’s so small. It’s nearly impossible not to love her, even when she’s being loud.”
“I know you will be a good older brother to her. She will learn a lot from you and look to you for answers to the thousands of questions she is likely to ask.”
“Well, she’s going to have to ask someone else about dresses and tea parties.”
“She can come to me for those kinds of questions,” Finduilas said. She lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Or her grandmother, or her Aunt Aerdis whenever she comes here for a visit.”
“Would you like to get some more sleep?” Boromir asked. “We can watch her for you, if you would like.”
“That sounds… like a wonderful idea. One that I will take you up on.” Finduilas got to her feet and kissed both of her parents again and gently patting Cirion’s hair. She then took Bergil’s hand and began to lead him from the room. “Come wake us if she starts fussing too much.”
There was an unintelligible mutter from the direction of the others. They were too enraptured with the baby to pay the tired parents any mind.
“We may never get her back,” Bergil whispered. Finduilas laughed and leaned against his arm.
“We all live under the same roof, so they won’t have much of a choice.” Just as the door was about to shut behind them, a shrill wail slipped through the small gap. They both came to a stop. Finduilas’ eyes fell shut and she heaved a sigh. Then she squeezed Bergil’s hand harder and continued leading him towards the stairs. “They offered to watch her, so I am going to let them. Besides, if I don’t get a little more sleep, then I’ll start crying like that, too. And nobody wants that.”
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