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Early Cermië, Fourth Age 15
Éowyn dug her toes into the sand as she sat on a piece of driftwood and watched the proceedings several paces ahead of her on the beach. Her children were perched towers of sand that they had built with help from their older cousins and their father, who seemed to have returned to his own boyhood this midsummer afternoon on the shores of Dol Amroth.
Elboron had insisted that he could build his tower by himself, but when his strength of six years failed to lift an overloaded bucket of wet sand above his first successful level, he quickly accepted Alphros' assistance. Meriadoc and Peregrin had no such qualms as they mostly let Calaerithel and Barawen construct the higher parts of their pillars while they scooped and shoved handfuls of sand to fatten up the bases. From time to time one of the golden-haired four-year-olds would squeal as the thin edge of a wave lapped as his heels. Faramir was the architect of Elerrína's seat, and he worked mostly alone, as his small daughter was interested more in grabbing a fistful of wet sand and watching the clumps fall through her tiny fingers than in preparing for the game.
The incoming tide continued its steady march up the beach until suddenly Barawen declared now was the time for the game to begin. She scooped up Meriadoc and set him atop his tower while Alphros did the same for Elboron. Faramir added Peregrin to his seat and carefully set Elerrína on her own, steadying her with a hand on her back while he crouched beside her.
Now Éowyn's smile grew as she watched Peregrin fidget. He had trouble sitting still in the best of times, and she suspected that his boundless energy would be his undoing. Sure enough, within a few moments his squirming shifted the sand right out from under him, and he went tumbling as much of his pillar collapsed. Calaerithel and Barawen laughed and rushed over to help him rebuild.
Elboron shouted as a wave crashed into the base of his pillar and claimed some of the sand but not enough to topple it. Fingers of water curled around Meriadoc's tower, but he sat like a statue and did make any sound that drifted up on the breeze to his mother's ears. Elerrína squirmed on her seat and reached for her father's arm as the tide advanced.
The sisters helped Peregrin return to the top of his hastily reconstructed tower just in time for another wave to hit it, pulling away enough of the repaired foundation that he went tumbling again with a yelp. Éowyn could see the scowl form on his face when, she guessed, Calaerithel told him that he was out and would not get a third chance to play.
Elboron was the next to fall, squealing and laughing as a wave soaked him before he could stand up again. Then came Elerrína's turn, and although Faramir caught her before she fell into the shallow water, Éowyn could hear the high wail begin over the cousins' cheers for Meriadoc. His tower withstood three more attacks from the waves before it too came crashing down.
In the meantime Éowyn stood, putting a hand on her wide-brimmed straw hat to prevent the breeze from loosening it, as Faramir brought their upset daughter over to her. “For one born at sea she was not eager to revisit it,” he said, brushing some of the sand off the child's dress.
“Perhaps she thought she would be swept away,” Éowyn replied, running her free hand over Elerrína's raven curls and smiling at her. “She is tired from playing and,” she studied the small face now resting against Faramir's shoulder, “a little sunburned. All of that together is too much.”
Over her husband's shoulder she could see Meriadoc running toward them, his fair hair shining in the sunlight and his own cheeks reddening as well. He slid to a stop in front of her, panting from the short run through loose sand. “Did you see? Did you see my tower? It was the strongest!” he declared when he had some breath.
“I did,” she assured him. “You are a very good builder.” He beamed, then turned and ran back to his playmates, who were making their way up the beach. Elboron carried two of the small buckets they had brought, Peregrin had the third and Alphros claimed the spade.
“Well now, my Grey Lady,” Faramir began, grinning as her eyes narrowed, “I think there is time for baths for all and rest before supper.”
“I could do with some washing-up myself,” she said, slipping an arm around his waist as they began the walk back to the house.
Faramir ducked his head under her hat brim. “I did say baths for all,” he murmured, kissing her ear lightly.
“Dearest, I think you are plotting mischief on this anniversary holiday.”
“Perhaps I am,” he answered.
Éowyn laughed.