Written for Day Two of the 2008 Advent Challenge.
“Was the wish what you wanted the most, Boromir?” Predictably, the word ‘sword’ had been printed on the parchment.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Then take the bottle and throw it out as far as you can.”
“What will happen to it?”
“Sailors say that sometimes the bottles travel all the way to the West and then the wishes get granted. But not all of them make it.”
She watched, feet dangling over edge of the wharf like a girl as her son threw the bottle into the water with a grunting effort.
“What about your wish, Mother?”
What would I wish for? ‘Peace’ perhaps? Finduilas smiled sadly at her son, her back to the East. “I threw my bottle into the Sea a long time ago, Boromir. But I don’t think it ever got there.”