Disclaimer: Not mine, merely borrowed for 100 words.
Author’s Note: For the ‘Air’ challenge. Many thanks to Marta for her wordsmithing!
A gasp, a choking cough, and then Faramir is gulping great lungsful of blessed, cool air.
At first, his nostrils are still full of the stench of burning, and he shudders, seeking escape. Strong arms are there to hold him, though, and gentle hands ease him down. A quiet voice speaks his name.
A scent rises from somewhere close by: a green scent, neither fir nor new willow nor fresh-cut hay; something with the sharpness of yarrow underlain with the faintest tinge of apple blossom. Something he has not ever smelled before, but recognizes at once: the scent of hope.