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Faramir found the book in a dusty cupboard in the old nursery: leather binding still supple; jewel-like paintings as wondrous and terrifying as he remembered from his childhood.
Playing each part: hero, maiden, villain, beast, Boromir would read and reenact fabulous tales of mythical creatures and mighty warriors. Wide-eyed, awestruck, Faramir provided the perfect audience as the candlelight flickered and the pine logs crackled and hissed through those long winter evenings.
Brotherly love; hero worship; treasured memory. Faramir smiled as he tucked the tattered volume into his pocket. A family tradition would be renewed, throughout these wintry nights, in Ithilien.
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