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AEARDIS had a woven basket in her hands that was half-filled with letters and payments that she had been over in her father's absence. Boromir and Faramir both were stripping off the training plate armor and setting blunted swords aside in the armory when she appeared. "Would you two like to accompany me to the market?"

Faramir wore a wistful smile as he shook his head, "My duty calls me away to Ithilien at sundown." Boromir looked surprised by his brother's sudden statement and Aeardis's smile fell, it was becoming a rare thing for the three of them to have time together.

"Then I bid you safety and quick return." Faramir nodded at her words and took her into his arms before retreating toward the Citadel.

Boromir offered her the crook of his arm and took the basket from her hands. They left the armory and passed the Houses of Healing before entering the level of the city that was home to esteemed merchants and established nobles of Denethor's court. Her rounds on this level of the city passed by quickly, many of the recipients were out for the day and the notes and scrolls were left with wives or handmaidens.

"How is it you know them all so well?" He questioned, awe in his voice, she seemed to know every person that owned a shop and roamed the street.

Aeardis looked up at him with her wide and murky eyes. "This is my home now, it would be a disgrace if I did not interact with them," her words left Boromir in a daze while she wandered over to a potter and peddler, speaking to them as if they were her closest friends. She asked about their wives and recalled the names of their children too. Seeing her among his people made Boromir's heart feel odd, but it was not the first time that such a feeling had swelled in his chest at her doing.

She had learned to love the city and its people and spent many hours among the commons. Aeardis knew many of their names, who their siblings and children were as well. It had long been rumored in the markets that it was actually her father and the steward's sons who kept the realm from falling apart at the seams. Those rumors held more truth to them than she cared to admit.

"Dis!" A young girl of six ran up to Aeardis with a bouquet of wildflowers that she had picked in the small patches of grass and weeds that sometimes grew between the white bricks within the city. Upon catching sight of Boromir though she backed away with wide eyes, some of the flowers slipped from her grasp. "Prince Boromir?"

The Steward-Prince looked to Aeardis in question and shock. She laid her hand on his shoulder, speaking softly so the girl would not overhear, "Her name is Miriel. She fancies you."

He knelt and took the girl's left hand into his own, "Not a prince, Lady Miriel, just Boromir." The girl blushed and nodded, unable to speak. Boromir plucked a purple vetch from the arrangement of flowers and tucked it behind her ear, pushing back her coppery curls as well. Lastly, he brought her small hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles as a prince would his lady.

The bouquet fell to the ground and if was even possible her cheeks grew all the redder. Miriel's bright smile could have rivaled Boromir's as she took a step back before turning away. The girl ran down the street, laughing and singing of her sweet prince.

Aeardis shook her head, smiling and went to continue on to the market, though Boromir had scooped the flowers up off the cobbled street and held them out for her to take. "I think these were meant for you, my lady." She took the bouquet of winter flowers and tried to recall what each of them was named.

"She's a very sweet girl," Aeardis commented as they walked into the next level of the city, "Her father is a tailor. On one of my errands, I went to his shop, she was struggling to tie off a needle properly. I showed her the trick that our seamstress had taught me on Tol Eressëa."

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