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fantasticmuseHrm. Well, I guess it took me long enough to get this posted here. Oh well, such is life- in my case: boring, but somehow busy.
Title: Pivot
Rating: G
Characters: Boromir, Finduilas
Summary: Finduilas and her eldest son, in full circle.
Notes: For the latest challenge: soldier, thought, history, return; accepting.
I’m not sure I got the mood as well as I wanted to. Feedback is really, really nice. =D
“Tell me, how are you so small?” Finduilas crouched over her newborn’s cradle, cooing softly to her firstborn son. “You are so perfectly tiny. I love you so, my son.”
She reached out to stroke his cheek and smiled as he waved a strong little fist and wrapped his fingers around one of hers. “I see you will be strong, my little boy.” Reaching down to pick him up she rocked him, singing softly a song from the sea, one that spoke of history.
“Tell me, how was your day?” She asked as the boy came tumbling into the room, aglow with a five-year-old’s energy. “Did you enjoy spending time with your father?”
She reached out to stroke his cheek and laughed as he wrapped his arms around her growing belly to hold her in a tight hug. “I see. It must have been wonderful to keep you so quiet.” Reaching down she took his hand and they walked together through the halls, each deep in their own thoughts.
“Tell me, what will you be?” She asks quietly and with a tired smile, as her son proudly displays his fast growing skills with a sword. “A captain? You will do your country proud, my son. You will do me proud as well.”
She reached out to stroke his cheek, her hand tremulous and fragile; a sign he did not recognize when he blushed and grinned. “No matter what, I will love you, Boromir. You and your brother both.” Reaching down, she kissed her younger son’s head, then the cheek of her eleven-year-old soldier.
“Tell me, what will I do?” Boromir whispered to his mother’s silent body, hoping for a response, not believing she would not, could not return to them. “I am afraid, mother. What if I am not strong enough without you?”
He reached out to stroke her cheek, cold and still in his hand, and more so in his heart. “I know you’re not here, mother. But… can you still hear me? It would be better if I knew you could hear, I think.” The wind blew beyond the window, and Boromir thought he could hear a song of the sea, and of history.
Title: Pivot
Rating: G
Characters: Boromir, Finduilas
Summary: Finduilas and her eldest son, in full circle.
Notes: For the latest challenge: soldier, thought, history, return; accepting.
I’m not sure I got the mood as well as I wanted to. Feedback is really, really nice. =D
“Tell me, how are you so small?” Finduilas crouched over her newborn’s cradle, cooing softly to her firstborn son. “You are so perfectly tiny. I love you so, my son.”
She reached out to stroke his cheek and smiled as he waved a strong little fist and wrapped his fingers around one of hers. “I see you will be strong, my little boy.” Reaching down to pick him up she rocked him, singing softly a song from the sea, one that spoke of history.
“Tell me, how was your day?” She asked as the boy came tumbling into the room, aglow with a five-year-old’s energy. “Did you enjoy spending time with your father?”
She reached out to stroke his cheek and laughed as he wrapped his arms around her growing belly to hold her in a tight hug. “I see. It must have been wonderful to keep you so quiet.” Reaching down she took his hand and they walked together through the halls, each deep in their own thoughts.
“Tell me, what will you be?” She asks quietly and with a tired smile, as her son proudly displays his fast growing skills with a sword. “A captain? You will do your country proud, my son. You will do me proud as well.”
She reached out to stroke his cheek, her hand tremulous and fragile; a sign he did not recognize when he blushed and grinned. “No matter what, I will love you, Boromir. You and your brother both.” Reaching down, she kissed her younger son’s head, then the cheek of her eleven-year-old soldier.
“Tell me, what will I do?” Boromir whispered to his mother’s silent body, hoping for a response, not believing she would not, could not return to them. “I am afraid, mother. What if I am not strong enough without you?”
He reached out to stroke her cheek, cold and still in his hand, and more so in his heart. “I know you’re not here, mother. But… can you still hear me? It would be better if I knew you could hear, I think.” The wind blew beyond the window, and Boromir thought he could hear a song of the sea, and of history.
