Disclaimer: All the settings and characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. This story is my way of working out or interpreting ideas and concepts already present in The Lord of the Rings. This is done for enjoyment, and for sharing, but not for profit.

Author's Note: This page of drabbles is centred around characters who are dear to Frodo, yet Frodo himself does not appear.

Katakanadian requested this subject for her birthday drabble: Sam's last day with Rosie. Fitting a whole day into a drabble was a little difficult, however, so I had a look at one moment of that day...

Roses

Her fingers touch the wool of the cushion under her, and her curls shining silver in the sun brush another at her back.

Sam kneels before her on the flagstones by the round green door and holds up a rose: a rich red bloom.

"Ah, but you should not have cut it, Sam," she says even as she fondly touches the dewy bright petals and the faithful wrinkled hand that holds it.

"More will bloom, Rosie-lass," he answers.

And when she has breathed in the fragrance and closed her eyes for the last time, Sam fills her lap with roses.

"But you were always the fairest of them all."

In a very belated attempt to celebrate Pippinswolf's birthday, I wrote a Pippin-centred drabble. I wrote it while camping, while removed from "civilization" and all other signs of human life scattered in cities far away. I wonder if that had some effect on what I wrote...  

The Palantir

The world turned beneath them. And Pippin knew not if wizard, hobbit and horse moved upon the earth.

Turning, turning... the Shire dropping around the edges of the world. Merry, Aragorn, Frodo -- they all stood on the great ball below him: scattered, lost.

Where was Mordor? Frodo? East no longer held meaning for him. Shadowfax was fixed; all else was fluid.

And there he could feel it as if the globe were beneath his hands: the baleful Eye. There was no need for East, West, North and South, for it filled all his vision.

And the Palantir glowed...

Turning, turning.

For her birthday drabble, Shireling simply requested Sam/Faramir.

The Quality

"And so, Samwise, I have taken the chance."

"You have indeed, sir," Sam said. His fingers touched the Evermind amongst spears of grass. He blushed. "A better chance than I took, at any rate, when I told you off and spoke poorly of Boromir! It is a wonder you didn't pitch me over that pretty waterfall."

Faramir smiled and looked up at the glinting gold of Meduseld.

"And what quality does she show?" he asked gravely.

"Now you are just teasing me! You know as well as I do, or better.

"The highest, sir, the very highest."