26 Winterfilth, 1265 S.R.

Isengar trotted along between Ducky and Gosling, a hand clasped in Ducky's. The day was unusually clear for late Winterfilth; but a nippy breeze had sprung up, and so all three lads were wrapped up against the cold. They walked toward the duck pond; there were a few ducks floating on the chilled surface, some diving for fish and shaking off fallen leaves. Isengar let go of Isembold's hand and ran forward a few steps, picking up a fallen feather and running back to his big brother. "For Ducky!" he crowed, and Isembold took it with a solemn nod.

"Thank you, chicklet," he replied, the nursery nickname that had been bestowed on the lad. Isengar giggled. "Welcome! Oh! Goosey!" He found a goose feather, and presented it to Hildifons, who laughed.

"You are a silly lad," Hildifons said affectionately. "Much more of a silly goose than me!"

"I no goosey," Isengar defended. "That you. But I want be like you."

"Hmm," Isembold said thoughtfully, studying his younger brothers. "How about 'Cygnet' for you, little one? A cygnet is rather like a gosling, you know. Just a swan, instead of a goose." There was a swansdown lining to the faunt's cloak, after all.

"Mm...kay," Isengar accepted the name. "Now I be like you an' Ducky!" he told Hildifons proudly.

"Yes, you are," Hildifons replied. "A big lad, our Cygnet." He ruffled Isengar's curls, and watched fondly as the little faunt darted here and there, picking out gifts. The leaves must not be too wet, he cautioned Isengar, and helped him find suitable foliage to gift the others. Isengrim, as it turned out, rated an apple, one of the last of the harvest.

When Gerontius and Adamanta had been given their gifts of flowers, Isembold and Hildifons turned over faunt-minding duty to Isengrim entirely, and the eldest and youngest of the Thain's heirs went out for a walk into Tuckborough. "Isen?"

"Yes, my lad," Isengrim said, holding Isengar by the hand.

"I Cygnet now," Isengar told his eldest brother, who chuckled.

"Are you, then? Well, that's fine, our Cygnet. A good nickname for you, our big lad." He laughed and listened to Isengar chatter on about his new name, all the while wondering what it might portend. Swans were the most faithful of birds, it was said, for they only ever took one mate. But they also ranged far and wide, and who was to say where Isengar's journey would take him?