Disclaimer:  The world belongs to Tolkien, the words alone are mine.

A/N: Thanks to Claudia for the beta!

It was a warm summer day in Ithilien.  Faramir had already dealt with all petitioners and complainants, there had been less paperwork than usual and his brother-in-law had left yesterday.  Things were looking up.

Which meant, of course, that some disaster was about to befall him.  Five years of marriage had taught him that the one thing being married to Éowyn was not, was boring.  Peaceful, that was another one.  Definitely not peaceful.

So when he settled down into his favourite chair with a good book and a glass of most excellent wine – being friends with the King of Gondor had its advantages – it was with a certain amount of trepidation that he eyed the door.  Not long now…

There was a most peculiar set of noises echoing up the stairwell.  A series of thumps, a child’s voice raised in protest, the piercing sound that was his dear wife in a temper, and what sounded like some kind of animal.

Which was ridiculous, because there wouldn’t be any animals in the house.  Except for that one time when Éowyn’s favourite mare caught ill in the middle of winter. His uncle still teased him about that farce.  The thumping and wailing grew nearer.  Faramir sighed, and laid his book down.

“Faramir!”

Dear Eru, but his wife was beautiful when she was angry.  “Yes, dear?”

“Faramir, leofost….” Oh, wonderful.  He knew he was in trouble when she started dipping into the Rohirric endearments.  “Talk some sense into your daughter, would you?”

“But Daddy, I want to keep her!  Uncle Legolas told me all about how to take care of her and I’ll feed her and take her hunting and keep her away from the livestock and I promise I wont let her eat my brothers… well, maybe Boromir, but not Éomund, and…”

“Finduilas, honey, we’ve talked about this before and….” Faramir started the Good Father Speech on automatic, and thus it took a few moments before he actually looked at the creature his daughter was hanging off.

He was going to kill that Elf.  Previous visits of ‘Eam Greneleaf’ had resulted in Finduilas falling out of a tree and breaking an arm, almost getting trampled by horses, nearly getting skewered when she decided to run across the archery range, and multiple attempts at running away to find adventure.  She was usually returned by helpful Elves within a few hours.  Éowyn never could stay mad at Legolas for long – Faramir wished the Elf could teach him that trick – and Legolas himself was always the picture of innocent apology after the event.

Faramir deeply suspected that he was being laughed at.

That half of Faramir that had been Gandalf’s pupil and who had an undying interest in the minutiae of biology and the animal kingdom pointed out that it was most certainly a mountain panther, the dark colouring particularly rare, most commonly found within the Ered Luin, and seldom seen outside that area.

That half of Faramir that was a parent panicked, until Legolas came traipsing in through the doorway, at which point it got very, very angry.

“Ah, there you are.  Is she not the loveliest creature you have ever seen?  Your daughter’s taken quite a shine to my Nimcarch.  I must admit I am tempted to let you keep her!”

Éowyn had gone an interesting shade of mulberry.  Before his wife could do any permanent damage to relations between the Men and Elves of Ithilien, Faramir hastily interrupted.

“I don’t know that – ah – Nimcarch, was it? – would be suited to life around here, Legolas.  What with the small children and all.  It was a kind thought, though.”

“Daddy!  No!  Eam Greneleaf, tell him she can stay!”

“Now, now, Finduilas.  You can always come and visit her.  Besides, she would miss her brother.”

“I guess.”

Éowyn looked towards Faramir, and mouthed the word ‘Brother?’  He shrugged.  It was a worrying thought.  “Legolas, please tell me there is not more than one of these overgrown cats hanging around my house.”

The Elf pouted.  “Nimcarch is no more an overgrown cat than I am an overgrown Dwarf!  Besides, like I said, she doesn’t go anywhere without her brother.  Do not worry, though.  I left Gimli to look after him.”

From somewhere downstairs there was the faint echo of what were probably some very creative uses of Khuzdul.

“Finduilas, shall we go see how your Uncle Gimli is doing?”  The young girl nodded, and he swung her up onto his shoulders, ducking slightly as they went through the door.  The cat, after eyeing Faramir as if deciding how he would taste, followed.

Éowyn took a deep breath.  “Faramir…”

“On my way, dear.”  Legolas was going to be the death of him, he knew it.

Elvish way with all good beasts, indeed.

A/N:  I was lazy with the children's names - just swiped a few relatives’ names.  Nimcarch is Sindarin, and means ‘White Fang’, if I got it right.  Leofost is Old English, meaning ‘Dearest’.  Eam Greneleaf is ‘Uncle Greenleaf’, also in Old English.