Characters: Young Boromir, Young Faramir, Denethor
Disclaimer: Not mine, merely borrowed. A slightly longer version was originally written as a birthday gift for mooncross.
It had been an impulsive purchase from a street vendor; now, Boromir was trapped. He had little knowledge (and, actually, no interest) but Faramir was waiting, eyes aglow, for the one who excelled at all things to share this skill as well.
"I'll show you.” Denethor lifted his son onto his lap. “Set your fingers, so, and blow here – aha!” A short sweet trill, like birdsong; Faramir’s gasp; then delighted laughter.
“Show me again, Ada,” again and again, patiently, until Faramir could play the tune himself.
Just a snippet of memory, but one that Boromir kept tucked away, treasured.