Chapter Two: Boromir's Chicken Soup
It was that time of the year when people generally got colds, flues, etc. Yes, that's right, winter had befallen Minas Tirith. In fact, (even though it would be highly unlikely) a big blizzard had just hit the city in which we all love very much. Well, at least Boromir did.
You see, Boromir, being him and all, was immune to many of these yearly sicknesses, just like a boy of his standards should be. And yes, right now, little Boromir was all but a small nine-year-old child, or as small as a nine-year-old child was those days.
However, his younger brother, poor little five-year-old Faramir was down with a nasty cold. Boromir, pitying his little brother just because no one else would, decided to make him chicken noodle soup!!! Except the only problem was, his father had told him countless times that he was not allowed to play with knives of any sort.
Regardless of this, Boromir set to work. Unlike Arwen in the previous chapter, Boromir knew what was supposed to be in what he was making, namely: noodles and chicken, duh. Of course, he did add a little of everything else, like bits of carrots and corn and other things that may concern that. All in all, Boromir did fairly well for a nine-year-old boy that he was.
But now came the biggest challenge yet, seeing if little Faramir would enjoy what he made.
Slowly and carefully, Boromir opened Faramir's bedroom door and cautiously went inside.
"Oh, Faramir! Look what I made!" Boromir said cheerily, presenting him with his steaming soup.
"Oh, hello (achoo) Boromir." Faramir sniffed as he greeted his brother. His face was rather pale and his sheets were all messed up and several tissues were at the edge of his bed.
"Here! Try some of this soup I made!" Boromir smiled.
Faramir gratefully took the soup into his cold hands and took a sip before he could sneeze again. Little by little, Faramir drained the whole bowl, Boromir watching him do so.
"Th-th- (achoo) thanks…" Faramir thanked his brother as he handed him back the empty bowl.
"Is it really that good?!" Boromir questioned excitedly. And his father said boys shouldn't cook! Tch.
"Uh-huh, because you put sugar in it, not salt, and I've been dying for something sweet ever since I wasn't allowed to have it." Faramir told him with a happy grin. Boromir stopped celebrating inside and slapped his forehead.
"Gee, thanks for ruining my moment, Faramir…" Boromir sighed, but he was still happy nonetheless.
"Anytime, anytime."