This is short, but so many people have asked for an update that I'm posting
it anyway.
------
Half afraid Salandra would change her mind, Boromir gathered his things from the shed and hurried around to the cottage door. Within was a long low room, filled with the smells of a wood fire and pleasant cooking. There were a few hangings of dark, rich colors in clever patterns and designs, and on a large table of dark polished wood stood a single candle of yellow beeswax.
His hostess stood waiting for him, her left thumb hooked into the thick leather belt at the waist of her gray wool tunic, he observed the dull gleam of a dagger hilt. He had not seen her so close since the first day they met and now he noted that her thick blonde curls were cut close to her head lending her a mannish look that was not softened by her sharp malachite eyes or the firm set of her mouth. "Put your things there," Salandra pointed, "and then take a place at the table."
Boromir did as he was told and was rewarded with a large plate brimming with bread, cheese, applesauce, and -- "My chicken -" he exclaimed.
"Yours indeed," she laughed and took a seat opposite him, but at the far end of the table. "For I have raised him from out of the shell and you think to claim him because you bound his feet! Who then did the cleaning and cooking of him?"
"All of that is true," Boromir laughed, "and more besides, but I cannot help but think of him as mine own for I have thought of little else all day." They both laughed at this and the silence that followed seemed uncomfortable to him, so he spoke, "All around you prove yourself a worthy hostess. You have brought many good things to your table. I've never had a cheese like this one."
"Nor shall you again I wager, for it was the last bit from my goat what got washed to sea," she said regretfully. "With winter storms arrived, I'll not see the Braggas for some months yet."
"The Braggas?"
"Aye, the supply ship."
"How often does it come?"
She blushed before she answered, "Four times a year and sometimes more when her captain is passing this way."
"Yet you remain here alone all other times?"
"Alone, but not lonely," she answered, but her eyes were fixed on her plate.
"I have done much of my traveling alone," he commented, "on my father's business or else to see something of the world. I loved the freedom of it and few nights seemed lonely to me until Faramir - my younger brother - began asking to come with me. Then afterwards the traveling alone didn't seem the same because he wasn't there to share the road."
Her face seemed set in a grim mask and she made no comment. He told a little of his travels. She asked some questions of who he was and where he'd been, but he did not speak of the Fellowship nor of Gondor, rather he tried to engage her trust by talking of cities he had visited and sights he had beheld. He dwelled a while on his description of Caras Galadon and also the time he had passed with the Elves of Rivendale for she seemed interested in the cities of the Elves.
"Are there many men to be found among the Elves?" she asked.
He hesitated, "It is a rare honor to be invited to live among them. I have only known two to be so fortunate, a scholarly little hobbit and the heir of Isildur -" Here he stopped, his throat tight. Lost as she was in her own thoughts, she took no note of it.
Boromir looked about the room the thick stone walls had been fitted so tightly that no mortar had been used and said jovially, "The builder of this place must have had a fortress in mind when he put it up."
Salandra answered him in a dark tone, "The walls needs be thick to withstand the sea and all its furies. Every night it rises up and attacks the tower- thinking to pull it down upon my head - for it is this light that warns the men away and keeps the boats from the rocks. It wails outside the door and scratches to come in, but need leave this rock unsatisfied."
Boromir felt a cold prickle run under his skin as the shrieking song of the wind rose higher outside.
"I must go up and check the light," Salandra said abruptly and taking up her plate stood to leave. "You can make a bed by the fire, but be sure to bank it up well." With that warning she departed through an interior door and he heard the thunk of a bar falling into place behind her.
Thoughtfully, he completed his meal in silence then cleaned up after himself. He sat watching the fire for an hour or so before following her instructions and turning a nearby bench into a makeshift bed for the night. The wind continued to howl outside, but within he was snug and warm. Sleep quickly overtook him. Tomorrow, he resolved as he drifted off, he would puzzle out his situation and think of some plan to leave the island and return to Gondor.
------
Half afraid Salandra would change her mind, Boromir gathered his things from the shed and hurried around to the cottage door. Within was a long low room, filled with the smells of a wood fire and pleasant cooking. There were a few hangings of dark, rich colors in clever patterns and designs, and on a large table of dark polished wood stood a single candle of yellow beeswax.
His hostess stood waiting for him, her left thumb hooked into the thick leather belt at the waist of her gray wool tunic, he observed the dull gleam of a dagger hilt. He had not seen her so close since the first day they met and now he noted that her thick blonde curls were cut close to her head lending her a mannish look that was not softened by her sharp malachite eyes or the firm set of her mouth. "Put your things there," Salandra pointed, "and then take a place at the table."
Boromir did as he was told and was rewarded with a large plate brimming with bread, cheese, applesauce, and -- "My chicken -" he exclaimed.
"Yours indeed," she laughed and took a seat opposite him, but at the far end of the table. "For I have raised him from out of the shell and you think to claim him because you bound his feet! Who then did the cleaning and cooking of him?"
"All of that is true," Boromir laughed, "and more besides, but I cannot help but think of him as mine own for I have thought of little else all day." They both laughed at this and the silence that followed seemed uncomfortable to him, so he spoke, "All around you prove yourself a worthy hostess. You have brought many good things to your table. I've never had a cheese like this one."
"Nor shall you again I wager, for it was the last bit from my goat what got washed to sea," she said regretfully. "With winter storms arrived, I'll not see the Braggas for some months yet."
"The Braggas?"
"Aye, the supply ship."
"How often does it come?"
She blushed before she answered, "Four times a year and sometimes more when her captain is passing this way."
"Yet you remain here alone all other times?"
"Alone, but not lonely," she answered, but her eyes were fixed on her plate.
"I have done much of my traveling alone," he commented, "on my father's business or else to see something of the world. I loved the freedom of it and few nights seemed lonely to me until Faramir - my younger brother - began asking to come with me. Then afterwards the traveling alone didn't seem the same because he wasn't there to share the road."
Her face seemed set in a grim mask and she made no comment. He told a little of his travels. She asked some questions of who he was and where he'd been, but he did not speak of the Fellowship nor of Gondor, rather he tried to engage her trust by talking of cities he had visited and sights he had beheld. He dwelled a while on his description of Caras Galadon and also the time he had passed with the Elves of Rivendale for she seemed interested in the cities of the Elves.
"Are there many men to be found among the Elves?" she asked.
He hesitated, "It is a rare honor to be invited to live among them. I have only known two to be so fortunate, a scholarly little hobbit and the heir of Isildur -" Here he stopped, his throat tight. Lost as she was in her own thoughts, she took no note of it.
Boromir looked about the room the thick stone walls had been fitted so tightly that no mortar had been used and said jovially, "The builder of this place must have had a fortress in mind when he put it up."
Salandra answered him in a dark tone, "The walls needs be thick to withstand the sea and all its furies. Every night it rises up and attacks the tower- thinking to pull it down upon my head - for it is this light that warns the men away and keeps the boats from the rocks. It wails outside the door and scratches to come in, but need leave this rock unsatisfied."
Boromir felt a cold prickle run under his skin as the shrieking song of the wind rose higher outside.
"I must go up and check the light," Salandra said abruptly and taking up her plate stood to leave. "You can make a bed by the fire, but be sure to bank it up well." With that warning she departed through an interior door and he heard the thunk of a bar falling into place behind her.
Thoughtfully, he completed his meal in silence then cleaned up after himself. He sat watching the fire for an hour or so before following her instructions and turning a nearby bench into a makeshift bed for the night. The wind continued to howl outside, but within he was snug and warm. Sleep quickly overtook him. Tomorrow, he resolved as he drifted off, he would puzzle out his situation and think of some plan to leave the island and return to Gondor.