Thorongil watches a very young Boromir at play.
Thorongil leaned back against the marble wall, his grim lips turning upward as the future steward played before him.
"Who are you fighting?" he asked, trying to hide his amusement.
The child looked over his shoulder, teetering to one side. Thorongil reached out his hand, steadying him.
"Orcs," Boromir answered matter-of-factly. "Father says we must always be ready." The wooden sword jabbed the air, and soon he was off again.
That babes should know that truth... He sighed. 'Twas necessary, he knew, and yet... The captain smiled wryly at the child's play. Come what may, here was valour worthy of Gondor.