Serenade to Spring

Frodo placed his feet carefully one after another. He did not want to disturb those flower petals, still having yet to blossom, from their deep slumber. He even regretted having mashed the velvety needles of the grass with his callused soles. Several times had the Halfling turned his body around and stooped to stroke those he had stepped on as if to apologize to them. He ignored, or pretended to not notice a suppressed smile on the face of the new King of the Mark standing not far from him.

“Nothing could hamper them to grow at this time of the year, Frodo. Not even your heavy feet.”