47. News
Caliniel answered the knock at the door.
She returned to the sitting room, expression a combination of curiosity and unease. Following behind her was a man, dressed in the livery of the White Tower; the chamberlain of the Steward's residence in Dol Amroth. I had not seen him in years.
I could not even stand to greet him. "Which one?" I managed, reaching for Caliniel's hand.
He looked almost relieved, even as his legendary composure cracked. "Boromir."
I do not remember him leaving. I do not remember my daughter worriedly pressing my hand and speaking to me. I do not remember walking into the bedroom and lying down on the bed.
I was remembering a small, cheerful boy with boundless energy and loud, free laughter; the heavy weight of him when he fell asleep against my shoulder; his fierce protection of an adoring little brother. I was remembering the first time I saw him, and the last.
"Mother?" Caliniel's frantic voice snapped me back to the present. "Mother -- drink this…" a cup was put into my hand, and I obediently swallowed its contents.
She was kneeling next to me, anxiety written all over her young face. "Mother, please –"
I took a deep breath that was more like a sob, and laid my hand on her face. "Call me when it is time for dinner," I said in a voice that was not mine.
Caliniel did not look happy, but she obeyed, and left me alone.
I closed my eyes, as if this would help keep back the grief or keep me from picturing my little duckling lying broken on some far-away battlefield.
I wondered who would comfort Faramir.
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.
