1. On the Beach
Imrahil watched the back of his sister's dress. It fluttered like bird-wings around her legs. He turned his head gazed back the way they'd come - at their fading footsteps along the torn lace of the water-line.
Finduilas walked on in gentle rocking motion with her hip pressed against the wind. Imrahil fought a sudden, wistful feeling she was just a guest, a gift, an exquisite sliver of condensed air.
He let his eyes rest on the strip of pale skin below her dress-hem. She had very narrow ankles. He had never thought about that before.
A gust of wind burrowed into his shirt and breathed shivers down his back like a playful sibling.
By the Sea
Imrahil half closed his eyes; tried to imagine the sun as a night-fire at the end of a dark, star-studded road.
Through his eye-lashes he saw Finduilas get up and walk down to the water. Watched her lift her dress and tie it at the hip, wade in up to her knees. Angle her head back into her folded hands and look up into the night...her elbows protruding from the sides of her head like sharp-angled wings.
Half girl, half bird.
The sea fell empty off the horizon's edge. A few slivers of reflection still hovered there...as a memory of daylight.
When Finduilas was young she heard the whales sing in Belfalas Bay a warm moonlit night in early autimn. The song washed gently ashore, mixed with moon-crystals and sea-foam. She gathered cold foam in her hands and lifted it to her face; imagined she heard a tiny speck of song each time a bubble burst.
The boy tugs at her hand and Finduilas returns to her dusky room with a start. The thin hum in her head is still there.
Boromir looks at her - worried.
She pulls him close and whispers into his hair:
Do you know...once I heard the whales sing, in Belfalas Bay...