Rambling at Dol Amroth

“Uncle Imrahil is the best,” said Faramir, unperturbed by any sense of disloyalty. “Ada would never allow us to roam about like this at home.”

“It’s different at home,” replied Boromir, “with us being so close to Mordor; it would be too dangerous for a child like you.”

“You’re a child yourself!”

“I am nearly fourteen,” said Boromir with dignity.

“You still have five months to go to your birthday, so that doesn’t count as nearly.”

“Yes, it does. But I don’t expect little boys to understand that.”

Faramir shrugged. The day was too lovely for quarrels. They had walked away from the castle, far beyond the lawns and kitchen gardens, past fields and paddocks and finally up a steep slope on a path lined with sloe and hedge roses. It was the first truly summery day; they wore sandals instead of boots, and no cloaks. Faramir stopped to pick up a stick and swung it around. It made an immensely satisfying SWOOSH noise, so he swung it again, and again. The third time, the stick unfortunately connected with a fraternal elbow.

“Watch what you’re doing!” Boromir rubbed his arm.

“Why don’t you watch what you’re doing!”

“Oh, I’ll get you!”

They chased each other up to the crest of the hill and then tumbled into the grass, panting and laughing.

“It’s nice here, look!” said Faramir, once he had caught his breath. He pointed at the view that had been hidden from their view before. A lush wildflower meadow stretched out ahead. Buttercups peeked at the sun, ox-eyed daisies nodded on their slender stalks and here and there a clump of cornflowers shone but, immersing all these in a lake of lilac, Ragged Robins ruled the scene. Tall grasses rippled serenely in the breeze.

Boromir snorted. “Flowers!” The word expressed more derision than should have fitted into two syllables. “Do you want to make a daisy chain like a girl?”

“No, I just want to…” Faramir stepped forward and stroked the meadow with his flat palms. “It tickles!”

Boromir came up beside him and did the same, patting the grass as if it were a pony or a dog. The tallest grasses came up to his hip, to Faramir’s chest. They both giggled.

“I like it here.”

On the far side of the meadow, woodlands closed in. To the right, they formed a dense thicket into which a gap opened like a tunnel under the entwined branches. Nothing could be seen bar darkness under the shadowy boughs. To the left, though, the trees were spaced out more sparsely and the afternoon sunlight splayed fingers through the canopy. Faramir pointed.

“There, Boromir. That reminds me of the story Naneth used to tell us, about the Lady of the Golden Wood. Can you just imagine her coming out from those trees?”

“Oh, yes, dancing and singing. You really are a girl, Faramir. Flowers and fairies! Let’s go over there into the woods and find some adventure, like men!”

Faramir shook his head. “Don’t want to.”

“Are you scared of a bit of darkness?”

“I just don’t want to.”

“Well, be a girl then, but I’m going to explore.”

Boromir strode off towards the dark tunnel into the forest. The grasses and wildflowers rustled in his wake.

Faramir remained for a moment, looking at his brother’s back. Then he, too, began to wade through the meadow, but into the direction of the sunlit gap. He felt moist leaves getting stuck between his sandals and his naked toes.  A delicious smell of living green rose about him.

Boromir had nearly reached the edge of the forest. He looked back and found that his little brother had not followed him.  He saw the dark head bobbing among the grasses to his left.

“Faramir! For goodness sake, wait for me” Arms swinging to push the flowers aside, he marched across the meadow to catch up with Faramir. The little boy, however much he seemed oblivious to his brother’s approach, stopped and stood still.

“What is it?” asked Boromir as he drew up alongside him.

“Shhh! Look!”

Faramir grabbed Boromir’s hand. Where the trees gave way, silky green grass led to the edge of a pond. The sun glittered on the waters and there, gliding along like a song, were a swan and five cygnets.

Faramir glanced up and saw the smile spreading on Boromir’s face.

“Aren’t you glad now that you followed my way?”

Boromir gave him a playful punch in the arm.

“I’m glad Uncle Imrahil lets us roam about, that’s for sure. He is, as you say, the best.”

The cygnets followed their mother and disappeared among a cluster of bulrushes.

“Do you think they find that ticklish?”

“Who knows?”

They sat down, took off their sandals and dipped their feet in the cool waters, like girls, like boys, like children.

Under the forest boughs, the shadows gathered.