It was late summer when Mother Gamgee was laid to rest, and the flowers were bountiful still in the garden.

Frodo remembered little of his parents’ funeral, shocked by the suddenness. Sam didn’t have that shock to numb the blow. Sam had watched his mumma fade as spring turned to summer knowing he could do nothing to coax life back into the dying, as he was able to do in the gardens, young as he was.

Frodo picked up Mari, took Sam’s hand, and they placed the wreath of flowers they’d made together yestermorn on her grave, and said goodbye.