The child sat shivering, huddled in the corner made by brick and rough wood. A drift of dirty, mud-coloured snow lay around her, covering the refuse that littered the narrow alley. The blanket wrapped around her and held with trembling arms was too threadbare to provide more than the illusion of comfort. She looked up, eyes wide and unseeing, as he came, slowly, to stand above her. He was tall, noble and stern.

"Is it wrong?" she asked, her voice little more than a cracked whisper. She coughed; blood flecked the blanket and spattered against the dirty snow. "Is it wrong to be glad of death?"

The sun has gone down, has gone down, my love
Na'boro, Na'boro child

Something twisted in him then, painful and unexpected. He knelt, gently placing one large gloved hand on her thin shoulder. "No. Not in circumstances such as these." He looked at her. She was filthy, a common child, one of the many faceless refugees that had come streaming out of eastern Gondor. "Where is your mother, little one?"

"She wouldn't wake up." She said it simply, quietly, with absolute faith that her mother was only sleeping, somewhere, and would come and get her when she woke. "I'm cold."

Let me take down my helm and my shield bright
Let me forsake the world of guile

He picked up her unresisting form, brushing off the snow and ice; she was too thin, too light. He felt that she might shatter if he held too tightly. "I will take you somewhere warm," he said. With one hand he drew his thick cloak over the child, tucking it around her thin frame so that she was shielded from the icy wind that gusted through the streets, and letting his body heat warm her. He was gratified when her shivering stopped and her head fell against his shoulder in sleep.

For the Lady is watching, is watching, my love
Na'boro, Na'boro dear

Turning, he left the alley and strode past his men with only a muttered order to return. They exchanged glances of astonishment and wonder, for they had not before seen that expression on their lord's face. He looked, in that moment, very like and unlike his father. The guards fell into position around him, forming a shield against the streets.

And she knows that the heart which is guarded and scarred
Is still pierced by the darkest of fear

He felt her last breath, felt the stillness that crept slowly over her. She was so light, so delicate, that he felt she might fade away into nothing if he let her go, and he cradled her gently in his arms. His dark hair brushed her forehead. He ignored the curiosity of the guards and the looks cast upon his cloak-wrapped burden by courtiers and servants, walking steadily between the statues that gazed down on him with the regal might of old.

A fair face, familiar and well loved, greeted him. He almost walked past without hearing, so lost to the world was he, but the other was in his way, and he stopped. He spoke then, for what seemed like the first time in an age.

"I will seek Imladris."

The time it will come, it will come, my love
Na'boro, Na'boro my own

The younger man's brow creased, expression changing as he readied himself for the argument that had lasted several days now. "We have been over this already. I-" He frowned, seeing the distance behind the grey eyes that looked through him as if he were a mere ghost. "What is it?"

"I will seek Imladris," he repeated, breathing the words as if they were a prayer, and were all that he could hold on to.

When the veil will fall and separate us
May you bury me when you are grown

The younger man's gaze drifted down, and up. "What is that you carry, brother?" he asked softly, argument forgotten.

He looked down, slowly, released one hand to gently brush aside the fold of cloak that had fallen over her still face. His grey eyes stared down at her, as if she was all he could see: dirt-smudged and too thin, hair tangled and greasy, beautiful in the way of all children. He could not speak.

"Who is she?"

For the heart, oh the heart, is a dangerous place
It is breaking with joy and with fear

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and struggled to find the words to voice the single thought running through his head. "A child," he said at last. "A child of Gondor." He looked up, into the searching, sympathetic gaze that he knew so well, and his voice held a vulnerability that was rarely revealed. "I promised her a warm place to rest."

The other nodded. "Then we will find her one, brother." Taking the arm that still cradled its precious burden, he led him gently away.

Worse, though, if you'd never been born to me
Na'boro, Na'boro my dear.

"Alas that ever he went on that errand! I should have been chosen by my father and the elders, but he put himself forward, as being the older and the hardier (both true), and he would not be stayed."

-The Two Towers, p348

The lullaby can be found in the Sun Sword series by Michelle Sagara West. That, combined with Boromir's line in the movie: "I ask only for the strength to defend my people!" was responsible for this.

Edit June 2008: Re-inserted quote marks.