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lindahoylandBottle
Written for the there ‘n Back Advent Challenge
With thanks to Raksha
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.
“Look what I found in a dusty corner of father’s wine cellar!” Faramir said triumphantly, brandishing a bottle.
“Vintage Dorwinion!” The King licked his lips. ”I suppose it should be saved for a special occasion, though,” he added sadly.
“There is no reason we should not sample it,” said Faramir. He uncorked the bottle and poured a few drops in a glass. “Mmm, 'tis very smooth. Try it, mellon, nín!”
“I will just have one glass.”
Three hours later an irate Queen found her husband and Faramir slumped on the couch, the half empty bottle beside them.
"Estel," she gasped. "There you are! The dinner hour approaches, you will be late! I cannot believe you would let me face Lord Fingil alone! His endless tales of his prowess in slaying deer would exhaust even Glorfindel, and his breath smells bad."
“Dorwinion, my lady,” murmured Faramir dreamily.
“A rare vintage,” Aragorn added.
“Hmm, I will just have a taste," said the Queen, filling a glass and taking a few sips. ”A good wine, but I recall a finer vintage; when we celebrated the rout of the Witch-King after the Battle of Fornost. This wine is just a little raw and young."
Written for the there ‘n Back Advent Challenge
With thanks to Raksha
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.
“Look what I found in a dusty corner of father’s wine cellar!” Faramir said triumphantly, brandishing a bottle.
“Vintage Dorwinion!” The King licked his lips. ”I suppose it should be saved for a special occasion, though,” he added sadly.
“There is no reason we should not sample it,” said Faramir. He uncorked the bottle and poured a few drops in a glass. “Mmm, 'tis very smooth. Try it, mellon, nín!”
“I will just have one glass.”
Three hours later an irate Queen found her husband and Faramir slumped on the couch, the half empty bottle beside them.
"Estel," she gasped. "There you are! The dinner hour approaches, you will be late! I cannot believe you would let me face Lord Fingil alone! His endless tales of his prowess in slaying deer would exhaust even Glorfindel, and his breath smells bad."
“Dorwinion, my lady,” murmured Faramir dreamily.
“A rare vintage,” Aragorn added.
“Hmm, I will just have a taste," said the Queen, filling a glass and taking a few sips. ”A good wine, but I recall a finer vintage; when we celebrated the rout of the Witch-King after the Battle of Fornost. This wine is just a little raw and young."