Boromir wasn’t having much success in asserting his authority.
‘Look. I said look! Oh, listen when I talk to you, for goodness sake! Sit down. Sit down. SIT! Now listen to me. And stop scratching yourself. Now look - look at him. Noble, intelligent, obedient… Why can’t you be like that?’
He stroked and patted what he could reach of the dignified statue of Ecthelion’s faithful companion, immortalised in stone beside his master.
‘See? A good dog, a good boy. You,’ he sighed as Cal once again yielded to the temptation of biting a specially annoying itch ‘are just bad.'
‘No worse than Scruff himself was, though.’
Boromir turned to find that his king and his brother had entered the Great Hall, both bearing large piles of documents and rather amused expressions. No doubt he was once again the source of their entertainment... But then Aragorn’s words sank in and he had to ask.
‘Scruff?! Grandfather never had a dog named Scruff, surely?’
The king put down his bundle, laid a gentle hand upon one of the carved dog’s mighty paws and smiled.
‘Oh yes, this is indeed Scruff. Scruff by name, scruff by nature. He was an unholy terror at times, but Ecthelion adored him. And with good reason, too.’
‘I don’t recall… Oof!’ Boromir gasped as he hoisted himself up onto the statue’s base, wrapping one arm around a stone leg to keep his balance, ‘…Grandfather having any dogs when I was little. Phew! Made it!’
‘And I don’t remember him at all’ Faramir added, somewhat more nimbly joining his brother on the stony seat. ‘But come on, Aragorn. Obviously you know more about this than we do. I’m in need of a good story after all that administrative stuff. Spill the beans!’
The king reached out a hand to each of his companions who proceeded to - most unregally - pull their lord and master and best friend up onto the plinth between them.
‘Very well. Shove up Brom, give a king some room.’
‘Blessed Valar, it wasn’t this hard up here when we were kids! Faramir, go get me a cushion!’
‘Get it yourself if you want one. Now I’m up I’m not getting down again until I’ve heard Aragorn’s story.’
‘Peace, peace, the pair of you, or you’ll both go to bed without any supper!’
Once Aragorn had picked himself up off the floor, climbed back onto the statue and found a comfortable spot wedged against Boromir’s fleshier bits, he began to weave his tale.
*´¨)
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‘He was a great man, your grandfather. A talented statesman, brilliant soldier, learned in lore and politics. But he was also very down-to-earth, in touch with the ordinary people and everyday life of the kingdom. And he had a wonderful sense of humour. I see much of him in both of you.
‘I think he took to Scruff simply because the dog was a rebel. Everyone else did what the Steward ordered them to do. The servants obeyed, the army obeyed, even Denethor obeyed on the whole. But Scruff never took any notice, simply went his own way. He was hopeless as a hunting dog, unless it was hunting down something tasty in the kitchens and being chased out by cook and a large knife. I suppose he got away with what Ecthelion wished he could too.
‘Scruff always did just what he wanted, and usually that seemed to get him into trouble. If you ever come across any old documents that look as if they’ve been chewed, Fara, that’ll be Scruff’s work. I remember he managed to get through most of a new land tax review in one afternoon. Must have been a tasty treat. Animal hide, after all.’
‘I’ll remember that when next I’m burning the midnight oil and feel in need of a snack. Revenue reports… Mmmmm! Delicious! But Aragorn, you mentioned that grandfather had good reason to love Scruff. From what you’ve said it sounds as if he was a typically likeable but disobedient hound, much the same as Cal. What did he do to get included on grandfather's monument?’
‘Well, I wasn’t around when Ecthelion died, but I suspect that your grandfather left specific instructions for Scruff to be part of his statue. No doubt there was much scratching of heads by those who remembered the disobedient dog as to the reason!’
‘But why? Are you going to tell us or not? My arse is going numb.’
‘Patience, dear Boromir. I’m getting there.
‘Turgon, your great-grandfather, was once given some pairs of Khandish pheasants as tribute. That was the first time the birds were seen in Gondor. By Echthelion’s time the pheasant covets on the Pelennor were well established and the birds plentiful. He was particularly fond of roast pheasant, liked it cooked with lots of butter and bacon, served with chestnuts, bread sauce, redcurrant jelly and those very thin, very crisp slices of potato that Sam’s so good at making.’
‘Stop it! Stop it! You’re making me hungry and we’re not even at the start of the story yet! Get on with it if you’re going to tell it!’
‘I did warn you about no supper, Faramir. Anyway, at one stage the birds began to disappear. The gamekeeper swore that orcs were to blame, said they were creeping in over the Rammas Echor in the night and eating the pheasants. However, these orcs managed to do so without ever being spotted by the guards, and left only a few feathers behind them. No bones, no guts, no nothing. Your grandfather became suspicious and, to cut a long story short, the gamekeeper was caught in the act of stealing the pheasants and of course sacked. For a while, then, there was no gamekeeper at the covets and until a new one was appointed your grandfather took it upon himself to go over there to make sure all was well, that the birds were safe and fed.’
‘I wouldn’t mind being a gamekeeper. If I wasn’t a soldier, that is. I could live in a nice little hut in the woods, just me and nature. I'd wander around in the sunshine with no clothes on. Lovely!’
‘Well thank the Valar you became a soldier then, brother dearest! Seeing you naked would kill the birds stone dead, or make all their feathers fall out at the very least!’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my naked body, Faramir. It’s a very nice body. Lots of people like it.’
‘Do you two want to hear this story or not?’
‘Yes!’
‘Well then, to continue… One day Ecthelion went over to the covets and Scruff went with him. He no doubt wasn’t supposed to at all, but there was never any telling Scruff what to do. But it was lucky he did go. If he hadn’t the pair of you might not be here today.
‘The old gamekeeper had set various traps against poachers but your grandfather didn’t know where all of them were. On this particular day he got caught by one – hoisted up by his ankle into a tree. All alone, nobody knowing quite where he was, completely unable to get down.’
‘All alone except for Scruff!’
‘Exactly! At first Ecthelion tried to free himself but of course the point of a good trap is that you can’t escape. Your grandfather was getting on in years and carrying more than a few old war-wounds, which didn’t help. Scruff sat and watched him for a while, then a rabbit ran across the path. The hound went after it and didn’t come back.
‘Ecthelion was by now convinced that he was going to die there, hung up by his foot in a tree in a wood. Not exactly a noble and heroic end for a great soldier and a Ruling Steward. The only hope he had was that eventually someone would come looking for him and think to search the covets. Not that he relished the thought of being so discovered: the ensuing jokes would be awful and the story would no doubt become embellished beyond belief. He never thought Scruff would be of any help whatsoever. But that was where he was wrong. Scruff was actually far more intelligent than your grandfather at that stage gave him credit for.
'Working it out afterwards, it seemed that Scruff must have given up on the rabbit and headed back to the city pretty much straight away. You might have thought that he’d simply make for his bed or the kitchens or curl up in the first cosy spot he came across, but no. He didn’t even go back to the White Tower. Clever Scruff went straight to the barracks to get help.
‘Goodness only knows how he managed to sneak in unnoticed, a great hairy brute like that, but he did it. Not only that, he singled out a certain captain whom he must have known Ecthelion particularly trusted. The captain was not on duty and was sleeping, but Scruff pulled the blanket off him and then, when the captain didn’t wake up, dragged the man himself out of his cot and onto the floor!
‘At first, of course, the captain was cross to have been so rudely awoken by a slobbering hound, but he soon realised that Scruff was distressed and wanted something from him. The dog kept whining and pacing the floor, going to the door them back to the captain, biting at his clothes and trying to drag him outside. The captain pulled on his boots and followed. Scruff became very agitated when the captain insisted on getting a horse, but soon they were on their way, Scruff leading out of the city and across the Pelennor to the pheasant covets.
‘And so your grandfather was rescued by his friend the captain and the Steward’s shame at being caught by a poacher-trap and hung upside-down in a tree was kept secret. Ecthelion adored Scruff even more after that, because he possibly saved his life and certainly his dignity. Scruff went on to live a long, happy, totally disreputable life, and after he died your grandfather never took to another dog in the same way. But he made sure that Scruff was immortalised, carved in stone to stand in the Great Hall forever.’
‘Grandfather’s friend, the captain… He kept the secret safe for a very long time, didn’t he?’
‘He did that, Faramir, he did that. But I think it’s safe for you two to know now.’
‘I think Cal must be a descendant of Scruff. I can’t get him to behave at all. They sound far too alike not to be related.’
‘I’m sure they are, Brom. Cal comes from a long line of Citadel hounds and he’s sure to have Scruff’s blood in him somewhere.’
‘There’s another thing about Cal that’s the same as Scruff…’
‘What’s that?’
‘Well, you know you said about Scruff liking to chew on documents?’
‘Yes?’
‘And you remember all those bundles you and Faramir brought in here earlier…’
‘Oh no! Cal!’
Summary: slobbery dogs..
Rated: G
Categories: LOTR FPS Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1901 Read: 1417
Published: 02 Aug 2009 Updated: 02 Aug 2009