Characters: Boromir, Aragorn, Pippin
Disclaimer: Tolkien wrote the tales Of Middle-earth, Kortirion scribbles in the margins
Boromir was woken by chattering hobbits, and the delicious smell of frying bacon. Pippin noticed him stir:
“Happy Yuletide, Boromir!
We’ve got bacon, fried bread… Gandalf says we can make a late start today, and we can make a fire tonight, as long as we’re some place sheltered…”
Pippin chattered happily, thrust bacon at him and retired to the fire where Sam was frying more dried mushrooms.
Nearby a soft voice chuckled. “They make much of Yule… is it a tradition you follow?”
Boromir smiled ruefully... when little, Faramir had always woken him early with happy prattle.
“Yes… we do.”
Aragorn watched Boromir wolf down his portion of bacon and bread, Sam had kept some in reserve for today’s breakfast. Such small things made the road travelled easier …this road would become hard for all of them soon enough… He mused.
Yule was noted in Imladris as the seasons’ turning, but it was with the North’s Rangers he’d truly begun to experience the warmth and comfort of a good fire and full belly, and the joy of comradeship during long winter nights.
Tonight they’d light fires, sing of times past and present… he hoped one voice there would remember him.
Yules To Come...
The bacon tasted very good, hot and savoury, the bread crisply luscious… Boromir licked the grease from his fingers, eager to enjoy every morsel. He turned to speak to the ranger and stopped… the man’s eyes were distant, a gentle smile curved his lips. It was the first time Boromir had seen him so unguarded; the smile transformed the usually grim face into… Boromir looked away; it seemed too intimate, seeing the man reveal himself so.
When he looked back the ranger was looking at him.
“Don’t be dismissive of your feelings. We all may sometimes seek comfort with strangers.”