Christmas Quickie
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“Wake up, you sleepyhead!”
Faramir had woken up to the sound of someone pounding in his door, and while his first reaction was to burrow further under his blankets, as soon as that voice had joined the pounding noise, he knew there was no escape.
His bedroom was still pitch-black save for what moonlight filtered through the heavy curtains. Still, that was normal this time of year: Yule was but a fortnight away and this close to the winter solstice both breakfast and dinner were served by candlelight.
“Get dressed and I’ll meet you outside!” the familiar voice called from outside the door, followed by rapidly fading heavy footsteps.
He sighed tiredly and pushing the blankets away rose. The floor was as ice to his bare feet but he ignored it and pushing the curtains away, looked out of the window, and gasped softly at the sight.
A carpet of white covered everything in sight. Moonlight played on the pristine surface and for a few seconds Faramir found himself caught up solely in the awe of the sight.
And then the knocking resumed.
"Hurry up! Or should I come help you dress?" came the teasing voice.
"No," said Faramir. "I'll be there in a minute. I just wasn't expecting snow, we're so far south!" He washed quickly in the stone cold water, then reached for his shirt and leggings, untangling them.
"Come on!" the voice was back. "We don't have all day! Who knows when this chance will come again!"
He pushed open his door and stepped into the hallway.
Aragorn smiled delightedly at him, and Faramir found himself smiling back with as much happiness.
"Come let me show you how we enjoy the snows in the North," Aragorn said, grinning.
"I suppose I should bring my cloak then, too," Faramir mumbled, though he was still smiling. Whatever Aragorn wished to show him, he was sure he'd enjoy it.
"If you wish, but you'll be amply warm without it," Aragorn answered, still grinning. "Just hurry up already!"
When they got outside, Faramir was surprised to find it was not quite as cold as it had looked from his window. And the light of the moonlight glinting of the unmarred snow gave the world a magical glow that had Faramir gazing around in child-like wonder. He wandered forward, the crunching of snow under his feet not distracting from the feeling that at this moment, time had completely stopped.
He was so lost in his own little world that he was unprepared for the thump of a snowball hitting him in the head. He let out a squack and spun around to see a grinning Aragon already molding his next weapon. Faramir gave Aragon a pointed look and hastily scooped up his own handful of snow. The cold bit into his skin but he barely noticed it as he hastily prepared his defense. But a second snowball was hurtling toward him before he was done and he had to hastily dodge it. But the time he had straightened, Aragon had disappeared into a small grove of trees.
Ah, so you want to play, do you? thought Faramir and soon the hunt was on, Northern Ranger versus Southern - armed with snowballs and sneakiness. Faramir couldn't remember the last time he had felt so carefree....
That carefree feeling dissipated as soon as he cleared the trees.
“Don’t move!” he yelled out with such obvious anxiety that Aragorn did not doubt for a moment this was no longer part of their games, and immediately followed the directive.
“You’re on the pond!” Faramir yelled after him, “and we’ve hardly had two days of frost – it won’t hold your weight”.
Aragorn shuffled one of his feet to clear a spot in the snow, revealing the black surface of the ice below, though quickly shifted his weight back on two feet when the ice gave a first creak. “How deep is it here?” he called back.
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