The door banged open, and in tore Boromir, covered with flour.
"Did you have fun with Mag?" I asked, smiling at him.
He rattled excitedly about scones while I washed his face. For once I was glad of the aridity of Minas Tirith - at home, the air was often so heavy that the flour would now be a paste in his hair.
I noticed that Boromir was clutching something in his hand. "What have you there?"
"A consumate work of art!" He displayed the smiling scone proudly, and I choked down a laugh, wondering where he'd heard that phrase.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.