Bibliophile
The experience of feeling the solid weight of a carefully bound manuscript in his hands, the brilliance of carefully laid pigments and gold leaf, the neat orderliness of rows of sentences written in the blackest of inks, the scent of leather, parchment and the particular odor of the dust that seemed to only accumulate in libraries, were only part of the allure that drew him here once the duties of the day were met. His eyes scanned the shelves, identifying and discarding codexes full of the wisdom and thoughts of his forebears until he found what he sought at last. The cream-coloured leather stretched over the oak cover boards was soft under his fingertips as he pulled down a slender volume. Tucking it under his arm, he left the library and made his way back to his chambers. Opening the door, he smiled to find his visitors already waiting for him.
"Elladan. Elrohir. What story do you want me to read to you tonight?"