When I returned from my half-day and heard of Boromir's fall, I ran straight to the Houses, heart pounding with fear. I found him asleep, looking very small in that man-sized bed. With the healer's approval, I approached him and gently brushed the hair away from his pinched, grey face. He did not stir.
"Oh, my poor little duckling," I murmured, overwhelmed with guilt that I had not been there to comfort him. "However did this happen?"
Somewhat hesitantly, the healer told me.
I was going to shake the little imp til his teeth rattled out of his head. A dare.
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.