Memory
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.
~*~
For the "Dust" challenge at tolkien_weekly.