Afterlithe 1432 SR

The morning was already too warm to wear a waistcoat, and Sam wandered out into the garden in his shirtsleeves, to water the more delicate plants before the sun could dry them out. The perfume of nicotiana, dianthus and night-scented stocks filled the air, combining with the delightful smell of damp earth, and Sam whistled cheerfully as he pottered about, dead-heading petunias and soaking the hanging-baskets and tubs. The water splashing on his feet was very pleasant.

       Frodo wandered out to join him, carrying a tray of tea and some buttered teacakes, to stave off the hunger pangs while Rose dressed and fed the younger children. Rufus sprawled on the path and Sooty frolicked in a pile of grass cuttings, both enjoying the comparative cool before the sun rose too high.

       Sam reached for another teacake and surveyed the fields below. The view never failed to please him, the sight of wheat and barley turning golden, hay almost ready for harvest, fruit growing on the trees, bright flowers filling the meadows and animals grazing contentedly.

       "More tea, Sam?" Frodo poured another cup and passed it to his friend, and they stood side by side in companionable silence.

       Frodo was gradually aware that another had entered the garden, although there was no sound to be heard. It was more a sensation, a presence. He turned and looked at the lawn, gripping Sam's wrist to alert him to whatever was there. At first he could see nothing, but light seemed to be filling the garden, full of beauty. Sam gave a little gasp as the light began to coalesce.

      She was tall, taller than any Elf, and beautiful beyond the dream of any Mortal or Immortal in Middle-earth. Her hair was the colour of polished chestnuts, tumbling over her shoulders. Her eyes were compelling, bright and full of tenderness. Frodo thought they were a strange mixture of grey, green and gold, but he had the impression that they might change and be any colour the lady desired. Her gown furled like petals about her slender form, green and yellow, with a belt of golden flowers encircling her waist. Upon her head she wore a crown of flowers, berries and ears of wheat, and as she danced lightly across the grass small white flowers sprang up behind her. She raised her arms to greet the light of Laurelin the Golden as the sun's rays reached the garden.

       "My Lady!" Both hobbits bowed low. Both cats also bowed their heads in respect and awe.

       My children, best beloved echoed in their minds, and both felt a wave of love and joy, filling them and overflowing until it seemed to fill the Shire. When they looked up again she was gone, leaving only an exquisite fragrance and the white blooms of niphredil nodding gently in the grass.

       Thus it was that the Ringbearers were granted a vision of the Lady Yavanna Kementari, Queen of the Earth.

       "I am never cutting that grass," Sam breathed. "It can grow ten feet high, I don't care." He touched one of the tiny flowers with one finger, expecting it to wilt and die; it did not. If anything it seemed to grow a little and put forth another flower nearby.

       Sam never did have to cut that patch of grass, which remained as neat as though it were trimmed with scissors twice a week, and the niphredil flourished, a reminder of the day a Valar Queen danced to greet the light of Anar in the gardens of Bag End.