Memories -- Movie drabble.

How long has it been since you held me in your arms and spoke to me of strawberries, and nesting birds and spring?

An hour? Less?

The memory of despair is fading already, and better, sweeter memories are mine again. The Shire blossoms behind my eyelids, I hear the Water flowing through the millrace once more.

And yet when I open my eyes I find that memory has turned bitter for you. The hope we've given back the world has no room for us, dear Sam. I have nothing left to give you but the comfort of my arms.

Memories -- Movie drabble.

How long has it been since you held me in your arms and spoke to me of strawberries, and nesting birds and spring?

An hour? Less?

The memory of despair is fading already, and better, sweeter memories are mine again. The Shire blossoms behind my eyelids, I hear the Water flowing through the millrace once more.

And yet when I open my eyes I find that memory has turned bitter for you. The hope we've given back the world has no room for us, dear Sam. I have nothing left to give you but the comfort of my arms.

Busy Season

Spring's the hardest time of year, the Gaffer says, and I know he means for his bones and his belly, with the ache of winter still bright and the pantry getting thin. He's in high fettle otherwise, starting the planting he's thought on for months, and fussing over us who're a-doing it.

Me, I love being up with the sun and seeing her home each night, and the good green smells in my nose. But sometimes when I fall bone-tired into bed I see that book Mr. Bilbo left me and wonder if somehow I'll forget how to read.

Busy Season

Spring's the hardest time of year, the Gaffer says, and I know he means for his bones and his belly, with the ache of winter still bright and the pantry getting thin. He's in high fettle otherwise, starting the planting he's thought on for months, and fussing over us who're a-doing it.

Me, I love being up with the sun and seeing her home each night, and the good green smells in my nose. But sometimes when I fall bone-tired into bed I see that book Mr. Bilbo left me and wonder if somehow I'll forget how to read.