Naked, squealing with the type of delight that only a child possesses, the Steward’s son ran through the practice yard a frantic nurse close on his heels. He dodged her grasping hands, to the mirth of the assembled men, and crawled under a laden table.
Emerging from the far side, he scanned the crowd, seeking one among them. His quarry sighted he raced forward, and leaped into arms he knew would catch him.
“T’ongil! T’ongil!” he proclaimed for all to hear. “I went poop!”
To the roaring of laughter, the Captain smiled a gentle smile and whispered: “Well done Boromir.”