Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 6 |
| Foul and Fair |
For the "Running" prompt. |
| The screams bring Faramir running; but as he crosses the threshold, the foul stench pulls him up short. For a moment he looks frantically round – should he summon help? Then his jaw sets. Damn it, Steward, you were last off the bridge at Osgiliath – you’ve faced down Nazgul. Deal with it! His practised military eye rapidly scans the gear laid neatly ready – linen, fresh water, rags for cleansing. He takes a deep breath. “Come on, then, young man,” he murmurs soothingly, cautiously lifting his son from crib to changing table. “Let’s get you out of that filthy clout, shall we?” |