Characters: Brothers Mir and ofc
Source: Pre-Ring War
Disclaimer: Middle-earth is solely Tolkien’s Imaginarium - Kortirion merely visits to admire the view.
Late Spring, the Pelennor grew green and fat after a sombre winter. Even the seasons seemed to mourn Lady Finduilas’ passing, but enough was enough… Amah took her two young charges riding outside for the first time, away from watchful eyes and shaking heads, and trotting endless circles on the sand-floored yard.
Boromir sat upright, back stiff not merely straight. Five year-old Faramir was huge-eyed at the vastness, jouncing along happily on his fat pony. They stopped for a break, and sprawling in the sunny grasses, she showed them how to slice a blade of grass and make it trumpet.
Faramir, after much spluttering, delighted in the naughty noises, giggling wildly at each increasingly loud raspberry. Eyes bright, cheeks rosy, curls tossing in the free winds… he looked another child to the sad-eyed waif who still could be discovered trailing the corridors after dark, sobbing quietly, searching for his mother, until he was carried back to his bed.
Boromir was half-minded to be above such trivialities… but finally couldn’t resist the challenge of mastering something his younger brother could do. His blade sounded clearly… but when a distant hunting-horn haroomed seemingly in reply... it sent a shiver down her spine.