#this was supposed to be an uwu baby boromir squimsh his cheeks but then it turned into lowkey really sad borodred oops

[lesbiulmo]

Be Fruitful And Multiply

The sweet sound of a child struggling through the first sentence of Rochon Methestel greet the captain of the guard as he turns the corner. Strange, that this family chose to do a chalakah around the white tree- that practice was all but abandoned in 2872 with its death. Most of the residents of Minas Tirith began to do it around regular fruit trees like everyone else. A very few abandoned the ceremony altogether, saying anyone who still celebrates this tradition in the face of the death of the tree of Gondor is a fool. Only the stewards still do the ceremony around the white tree.

The somewhat somber air lent by the dead tree was dispelled in a sudden burst of laughter as the boy licked the honey off of the entire first sentence. "Damrod, sweetie, you need to say each word before you lick it," his mother reminds him. He nods, bashful, and more honey is spread on the wooden board inscribed with the song that tells of the ride of Borondir.

Boromir had made no such mistakes at his own chalakah. He read each word loud and clear, then carefully licked the honey, making sure not to get any from the words he wasn't up to. That morning he had walked around with his chest puffed out, so proud. He wasn't a baby anymore! He was a budding hero! Five years old, like all the fingers on his hand, and one day they would sing of him like they do of Borondir. Already his worries from the night before had dissipated. He had been a bit nervous, despite his parents promise that it doesn't hurt to have your hair cut, that it's just like nails. He didn't want to say goodbye to his long gorgeous curls, even if there was no pain.

No, he was over that already. Boromir learned young that the sacrifice of beauty was a small price to pay for the safety of his home. But back then he still thought being a hero would be sweet as the honey the story was coated in.

The boy finishes reading. All the schoolchildren clap for him. His father gives him a bag of sweets to hand out to the students, and laughter fills the yard again as he tries to discreetly stuff some in his pocket.

Boromir closes his eyes and allows himself half a minute to imagine Theodred's laugh amongst the rest.

Theodred. Ah, Theodred. The sweetest reminder of the failure of all that his chalakah stood for. Once, soon after they had discovered all the ways that they are the same, Theodred had joked that Boromir was this way because his chalakah had been under a dead and fruitless tree. Theodred always managed to make him laugh at the things that plagued his sleepless nights. Sometimes Boromir wondered if Tarannon Falastur was like this, too, and Narmacil. 

It was Narmacil's brother who instituted the tradition. Until five years of age (to represent the five generations between the two childless kings), sons in the king's line should have no haircuts, as a symbol for his line not to be cut off early. It was meant only for the royal family, but everyone liked the idea and it became a nationwide tradition. Those who lived near the tree did it there, as another symbol for a fruitful life, and those who lived farther away did it by their own fruit trees. After Borondir's time, the honey-licking was added to the ceremony. At five years old, a child is no longer a baby, and he starts his journey to serve his country with the taste of honey on his tongue.

Sometimes Boromir wondered, if Gondor survived past his time, would his own brother be left to take over his destiny? Would he be the next Narmacil? Boromir II, first childless steward of Gondor. No, he didn't wonder. Somehow he always knew that if anyone was left to write, it would be his brother's name written after his father's.

Boromir sighs and leaves the boy to his celebration. In his room, he takes out a drawing Theodred made for him that same night he jokes about Boromir's chalakah. It's a drawing of young Boromir, huge round cheeks smeared with honey. His curls have the sharp look of freshly cut hair, and he grins, eyes sparkling. He looks so alive. Theodred had made two copies, one for each of them, and it was a comfort to know that his beloved might right now be holding the copy of what he has in his hands. Almost as if they're holding hands from far away, looking at the same sky when they can't look at each other.

Boromir could not forget those fruits; destiny, ancient childless kings, what they lived for and he will die for- but he is alive now, and he has Theodred now. 

Background

A chalakah (also called upsherin) is the Jewish tradition for boys to get their first haircut at age three. It's when little boys take on a lot of other traditions:

Peyot- sidelocks. This is the primary purpose of the chalakah. Jewish men are not allowed to cut certain areas of hair around the temples, and the first haircut is when that becomes visible.

Boys get their first kipah and tzitzit at the chalakah.

Some have the tradition to bring boys to a school after the chalakah. There, they lick honey off a board printed with the aleph-bet (Hebrew alphabet) so that learning Torah should be sweet for them. I substituted the aleph-bet for Rochon Methestel, Ride of the Last Hope, which is an epic poem/song that tells of Borondir's ride. When Balchoth threatened Gondor, six riders were sent to seek help from Eorl, but only Borondir returned. Heroic deeds to save the country is similar enough to being central to Gondorian life in the way Torah is to Jewish life.

There are a couple reasons cited as the source of the tradition. Some sources say to do the first haircut as early as thirteen weeks while other say as late as five years. I chose five years to fit with the five generations between Falastur and Narmacil.

There was a feast when Isaac was weaned on his third birthday.

Three years old marks the transition from babyhood to childhood, when the child is no longer completely dependent on the mother.

For three years after a fruit tree is planted, the fruit cannot be eaten. This is where I got the theme of fruitfulness.

:)