Note: This double drabble was written while on a whale watch off of Cape Anne in Gloucester. Something about the sea-spray inspired it. :)

“Think of me when you use this, Elanor,” dad said to me as he pressed the strange shell, a conch, into my hand. It looked like an enormous snail shell crowned with rounded bumps, open on one end and spiraling in on itself. I ran my finger along the soft pink interior and the creamy outside, the shell smooth beneath my fingertips. I forgot to tell him I didn’t know how to use it, so sad I was at our parting. I set that shell on a shelf and looked at it every day, wondering what dad had meant.

Some weeks later, I found Ruby’s little son sitting on the floor, the delicate shell pressed to his ear. I nearly scolded him for taking it without permission, but what he said stopped me.

“Auntie Ellie! Grandpa Sam is talking to me!”

Once everyone was gone, I took the conch and held it to my ear. I could hear the sea roaring, telling tales of white shores and foaming waves. For a moment, as if it was granted by some higher power, I glimpsed two hobbits embracing by the shore. I wept with joy, knowing that my dad was whole again.