The One Hour Fellowship Writing Challenge

Boromir's Cloak by Frodo Baggins

It would definitely be better if I had had more time to work on it, but this is a time limit challenge on this one, so I bow to that. ;)
Here is what I did with what time was given to me....

The cold wind whipped at Boromir’s cloak; he shivered and pulled it closer about him. He gazed up at the dull sky; there was not much comfort to be found there. Wearily he sighed.

The world is all dull and cold today, he thought. Like my thoughts.

He had been thinking of his home, his father, his brother, his
city....and his heart longed to be there. Too long have I been gone. He thought of the last moments he had had with Faramir before he left, and his heart grew heavy. My brother! When shall I see you again? Shall I ever return? I must....I will not fail you. He and Faramir had been so close, and that closeness had made the parting quiet and meaningful. Neither said much; neither needed to say much.

His thoughts turned to his father. Dear sent me on this mission, and it turned out to be more demanding than I thought it would. How I wish to return to you right now! But I have given my word to protect Frodo, and a man of Gondor does not break his promise. But when I return, I hope to bring you a gift....

He cut off his thoughts as Frodo trotted past him, cloak clasped tightly around him. Boromir noticed that the hobbit was shivering. “Frodo!” he exclaimed.

Frodo stopped and looked up. “What?”

“Are you cold?”

Frodo nodded. “This beastly wind is biting through my cloak - it cannot keep it out.”

“Would you like to walk under my cloak for a little while? It’s very warm,” offered Boromir.

Frodo hesitated for a moment. “Why - thank you...that sounds nice.”

Boromir held out his cloak and Frodo ducked under it. As Boromir closed it tighter around the two of them, he laid his hand on Frodo’s shoulder, and he found that it was shivering. It’s much thinner than Merry and Pippin’s shoulders, too, he found himself thinking. He looked down at Frodo and smiled. “Is that better?”

“Yes, thank you. It’s a lovely cloak.”

“Thank you,” grinned Boromir. “It ought to be - we Men of Gondor need warm cloaks often, since winters in Gondor are none to easy sometimes.”

“They aren’t very hard in the Shire - not usually.” After a few moments of silent walking, Frodo put out his hand and ran the edge of the cloak through his fingers. A ruffled edging of fur ran around the whole cloak, but when Frodo looked closer he could see that it was sewed on with some very small, strong, and beautiful stitches. “Boromir,” he said.

Boromir had been lost in thought, and he started when Frodo spoke. “Yes?”

“Who made this cloak for you?”

Boromir fell silent for a moment. Before his eyes he saw a vision of a beloved person...a young, fair maiden. Her hair was a deep, dark, gold, often hanging down her back in two long, burnished braids, and her merry eyes were brown. Sometimes they filled with laughter, other times, they were quiet and thoughtful. Sometimes sad, and then they were unbearably beautiful and deep. So they had been when he last saw her, and had clasped her in his arms for a last farewell. Few words had been spoken, but he had bid her be brave, and not to lose faith. Holding back the tears bravely, she had nodded, and he had kissed her goodbye. She had returned the kiss lovingly, and Boromir had left comforted by her love. And as he rode out of the gates of Minas Tirith and looked back for a last glimpse of his home, a small figure clad in dark red stood upon the parapet, waving farewell. He had raised his horn to his lips, and she had known it was meant for her, though everyone else thought it was the normal blast he gave before setting out on a journey. No one knew of her but him - even his father knew nothing of her. But Boromir thought of her every day....

“Boromir?” Frodo’s puzzled voice brought Boromir back to the present. He looked down at the hobbit and smiled sadly. “My dearest made this...” he began, and faltered. Frodo was silent, waiting for him to go on. So hesitantly at first, but gaining courage, Boromir told him softly of his dearest waiting for him in Minas Tirith. His voice, usually strong, was quiet and gentle as he spoke of her, and once a single tear formed in the corner of his eye.

When he finished, Frodo had bowed his head. Boromir looked down at him. Frodo gazed up, and Boromir saw a tiny tear in the corner of his eye.

“I am sorry, Boromir...I never knew...I have made you sad...”

“Don’t worry - I have been glad to tell you. No one else knew of her, but now you do.”

“Thank you for telling me,” said Frodo softly.

“Please do not speak of it to anyone - I would rather that it is a secret between us two.”

“I won’t,” Frodo promised. “It shall only be known to you and I.....”