Disclaimer: These characters belong to Tolkien. I make no money from this.
Faramir brings a full wine-glass outside in the autumn dusk...meal finished.
I have tasted loss and feed on remembrances...
He caresses the glass and lets memories stored in his fingertips ignite...and unfold.
A spillage of dark wine trickles down his hand. He stops it with his mouth.
I gorged on life...after I nearly lost it. I lapped up moments of sunshine on my skin...devoured the smell of leaves from her hair in the rain.
As he drains the wine an October moth flutters against the window-pane behind him.
He cups it gently in his hands...for a moment...and lets it go.