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Past Shadows: Childish Fear



"Father wants you, runt..." An older bearded man leans on a tree in a large garden in Gondor. He doesn't even bother looking up at the youth in the tree above him.
Raemond swings down from the branch like an acrobat, hooking the branch with his legs and swings upside down in front of his older brother, arms folded over his chest. The child had a mop of messy blonde hair and stormy blue eyes, a rare thing for Gondorians. The boy lets his arms drop, dangling towards the ground, "I won't listen to papa! You can't make me!"
Ridderik, the older man, scoffs and shakes his head, "You know papa is swift to anger and grab his belt, now lets go before he gets even more angry, you're supposed to be at the armoury to learn to fight."
Raemond pulls a face, swinging up to grab the branch with his hands, letting go with his legs, dangling there before dropping to the ground gracefully. He picks himself up, Ridderik stepping over to dust the boy off of leaves and debris, "Father would have a fit if you come in wearing the garden..." Raemond rolls his eyes, not objecting to his brother's fussing. The two turn to step inside the large hall of their estate and home.
Raemond grins widely, starting to sprint down the hall, then locks up his legs, sliding across the polished marble with loud laughter. Ridderik frowns, then gasps, jogging after the boy, "Raemond! No! Stop! oh... Oh no..." Ridderik comes to a stop.
Raemond lets out a startled cry as he crashes into a larger, armoured man. The armoured man was not amused. He swept Raemond up crossly under his arm, the boy shrieking and flailing his arms in clear fear. The armoured man roughly smacks the back of Raemond's head, "Enough, child... That is quite enough..." Raemond yelps like a kicked puppy, falling silent and still as he is carried none too kindly by the large man.
Ridderik lingers back, making no move to assist his brother.
The armoured man carries the now still and quiet boy down the hall, "Stop your crying, tis not proper for a real man... Ridderik, cancel your brother's sword fighting lessons, I'll teach him proper manners becoming for a noble."
Ridderik hesitates and nods, turning to quickly walk the opposite way. He bites back a cry of surprise, a small, slender hand grabbing him by his collar, another clamping over his mouth as he is dragged into a side room. His mother's hushed voice whispers, "Tis only me, my dear son... Tis only me..."
Ridderik relaxes and straightens up, moving to gently kiss his mother's cheek, "Good day, mother... What-" She cuts him off, murmuring, "Your father is angry because I struggle to bear child... I worry what he will do to your brother..."