Character: Young Boromir
Disclaimer: Not mine, merely borrowed.
For the "Change of Heart" challenge. There's a slightly longer version here.
What made Boromir open his eyes was the scent of cinnamon.
He remembered running, stumbling, the sickening thud. Howling as they reset his shoulder, bound his collarbone, arm, and wrist.
He didn’t want to remember – he’d rather be dead from the humiliation. How could he be Captain-General if he could not stand pain without wailing like a baby?
For two days he slept, or pretended to, ignoring every visitor.
The third day, what made him open his eyes was the scent of cinnamon: creamy porridge, a baked apple, sweet milky tea.
“Breakfast, my lamb!”
Perhaps he would live, after all.