Author's Note: Inspired by The Tales of Beedle the Bard, for the livejournal community hh_sugarquill. Won second place.
Only when she was well into the task did Hermione realize how difficult it would be.
Translation wasn't the problem. She loved puzzling out the subtleties of language - the peculiarities of rune choice, the significance of juxtaposition and placement. Each story had its own cadence and rhythm. And like a stuck melody, it would run through her head for days, until it resonated and flowed from her at last, running from her quill to parchment.
No, translation came easy; the commentary was agony. The handwritten scrawl conjured him in the space between words. She felt his smile in the touch of firelight, heard his voice in the sigh of the settling house. The script blurred on the page, and she blinked back everything but the work. He'd entrusted her with the book, and she would not let him down.
