A Garden of Faramir Drabbles

“It does not seem dead in winter,” Faramir commented, gazing at the White Tree’s bare branches. “It might be only sleeping, gathering strength to flower again in spring.”

“Would you like to see that?” Mithrandir watched his young friend keenly.

“More than anything,” Faramir breathed. “It must have been beautiful.”

“It was.”

Faramir looked oddly at him, then turned back to the Tree. “But a King planted it, and only a King could restore it,” he added wistfully.

***

Months later and many leagues away, the wizard remembered this conversation.

“I think the younger son would welcome you,” he told Aragorn.