Boromir Week Day 2–Son of Finduilas
tagging @boromir-week
No warnings, no pairings 🩷
The wind blew cool off the sea in Finduilas’ face, bringing with it the scent of salt that was dearer to her than any other smell in the world. Boromir’s fat hand gripped hers in childish concentration, for he had never seen the sea and certainly had never walked on sand before. Her own bare feet allowed the damp grains to shift under her feet, but her precious jewel was apt to fall suddenly and with little dignity at the odd sensation.
“Want run!” shouted the two year-old angrily as he fell on his bottom for the sixth time.
Finduilas’ laugh ran merrily about the bay, bouncing off the low cliffs that separated sand from bracken. Boromir scowled.
“Oh, Mîr, I am sorry, but have you not heard from your Ada that you must walk before you can run?”
Boromir’s scowl blackened considerably, and Finduilas could almost have cursed her husband for bequeathing his stubbornness to her son. But instead she plopped down next to Boromir and whispered in his ear, “Darling, I cannot make you ready to run in the sand, but I am well versed in the art. Do you ask your Nana nicely if she will run with you.”
Slowly, the clouds lifted from Boromir’s face, and he inserted his thumb into his mouth in order to think better. At last, he lifted up his arms to Finduilas and asked sweetly, “Would you run me, please and thank you, Nana?”
“I would be very pleased to run with such a polite young man,” Finduilas said as she lifted him up under his arms. Over the golden sands they sped, a blue and silver dot flying like a swan over the ground.