33. Snowy Day
The Weather Outside is Frightful
"You should have said the wind was hurting your ears," Boromir frowned. "Nanny says you have to go inside when your ears hurt."
"B-b-but I w-w-want to finish the s-s-snowman," Faramir protested through chattering teeth.
"We'll finish him later," Boromir said. "You are too cold and we have to go in. Nanny will give us hot lemonade and we'll sit by the fire and your ears will feel better."
Faramir threw a longing glance at the still-headless snowman, and sneezed. "All right," he agreed reluctantly. "But don't tell Nanny –"
"I won't," Boromir promised. "We don't want her to worry."
The Fire Is So Delightful
When they arrived, red-cheeked and dusted with snow, all was waiting.
Blankets and fleece-lined slippers were heated by the fire, steaming mugs of hot lemonade waited on the table, as did thick slices of bread and cheese, ready for toasting.
Boromir carried Faramir on his back, because, Boromir explained, Faramir's feet were cold. I could tell by the careful way Faramir held his head that his ears were cold, too. He never remembered to come inside until his ears were fairly ringing with pain.
Sighing inwardly, I helped them out of wet snowy clothing and wrapped them in snug, warm blankets.
No Place to Go
"Do your ears still ache?" I asked.
"Not as much now," Faramir replied, looking up from his blocks. "Can I go back outside?"
"Certainly not," I said. "You are not going outside until tomorrow, if then. Are you sure they feel better?" I knew how he tried to avoid the olive oil remedy for earache.
"I'm sure," he nodded, then frowned. "My throat hurts a little, though."
"I thought it might," I smiled, "so I made this for you." I handed him a freshly-brewed cup of anise-mint tea, which he loved.
Fortunately, anise-mint tea was also good for sore throats.