A/N: Not my characters or landscape. (Well, okay, I'll claim responsibility for the girls, but you know... Lauen showed up in one of my earlier fics, "Fate of Finduilas." Hey, why should Eldarion get stuck with all the baby sisters?) Hocking Hills, Ohio isn't the first thing that comes to mind when people think "Inspirations for Middle-earth," but it'll do. ;)
The rush of falling water muted whatever birdsong there might have been to be heard, but it was hardly the only noise that reached the ranger's sharp ears. Slap. Slap, slap. Squish. Crinkle, snap, squelch, splish, splash, sploosh. Drip, drip, drip…
A softer, steadier step followed, skittering to a somewhat quieter halt just beyond the pile of dead leaves and branches. "Lauen!" A boy's voice, annoyed and bossy. "Mind your shoes!"
"As I recall, there was another little one who did not watch his step so well four years ago." That voice Faramir knew very well. It sounded a bit tired, but the tone of exasperation was contrived so as to carefully hide amusement.
"Yes, but I was only six then. I was not ready to be a good ranger yet."
"And how old is your sister?"
"Six and a half. She's old enough to know that wet shoes mean smelly feet and I don't want to sit next to her when she stinks."
"I don't recall you or Eldarion smelling particularly pleasant when you've been exploring, either."
"That's different. We take our shoes off when we're crossing streams so that our feet don't rot. Papa told me about what happens if you ride or run in wet shoes."
"So why don't you show Lauen?"
"All right, Mama. Lauen, come here a minute!" More dripping, and then the sounds of two pairs of bare feet headed carefully back down through the loose sand and mossy rocks. Laughter arrived from three sources: two at the pool and a third approaching Faramir's position deep under the eaves of the cool grotto.
"I'm beginning to believe that there is something irresistible about mud to children. Neither of them will even come to a swimming hole if they think that there may be bathing involved, but let them loose at any creek or pond and they'll come home dripping."
"The only counter I would have to your theory is still catching up with us," Faramir offered. He could hear the hesitating steps as their youngest skirted another mud puddle, holding her skirt bunched almost entirely at the waist.
"Mama!" The four-year-old wailed hopelessly, evidently feeling lost and outwitted by Mother Nature.
"It's all right, Finny." Stepping out of his nook, Faramir approached his daughter from a direction she obviously had not expected. "Come here."
For as much of her bloomers as she was showing, the little girl managed a very ladylike sniff. "Don't wanna. It's wet."
Picking his blonde little daughter up over the offending puddle, Faramir shook his head, taking in a deep draught of the crisp, chill air. "A little water never hurt anyone, Finduilwen." With Eowyn following behind, he turned back towards the sounds of splashing in the no longer forbidden pool.