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Avon's Drabbles  by Avon

The sun caught in the water ripples and echoed back in dancing lines of light.  From the far side of the river, a hidden bird sent showers of gleaming notes across the slow flowing water.  With joyful abandon, Boromir peeled off his clothes and cast them on the grass.

“Théodred, come on!”

“Patience, princeling,” said Théodred with a smile, draping the last of his clothes on a sun-warmed rock – and then yelped as a two large handfuls of water hit him.

With a rush they were both in the water, washing away the stains of blood and battle and death.





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