First Fruits
"As you see, uncle, this was a great vineyard once..."
The vines had run wild in the decades of Ithilien's abandonment, but they were thriving. Faramir sprang down from his horse and dashed forward, while Imrahil chuckled at his boyish enthusiasm. Pushing aside the tangled leaves, Faramir uncovered clusters of tiny, green grapes.
"Parties of harvesters in the autumn ... back across the river ... time for aging," he murmured, ticking off the steps on his fingers. Then, turning with a radiant smile: "Uncle! In two years' time, I invite you to my home in Ithilien to taste the wine of peace!"