Tending

By: Elemmírë

Summary: Because some things should not be forgotten ...

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings does not belong to me, nor am I making any profit off either its story or characters.

As he had been doing for every year since … well, since he had to, the lone hobbit made his way from the numerous tunnels of Brandy Hall out beyond the barns to a quiet, secluded area beneath the shaded canopy of trees. In his hand he clutched a bouquet of flowers; it was made up entirely of her name-flower. He followed the stone pathway around the gardens until he came to a well-worn dirt path that led away into the woods. The tall trees shaded him from the warm sun of late spring until he emerged onto a meadow dotted with wildflowers. He walked up the small hill until he came to the lone oak tree standing at the top, reaching up with one hand to touch the now familiar low boughs.

He looked out over the land and reveled in the sheer beauty of Nature spread below his vantage point. To his right was Crickhollow and he could see the Hedge stretching far out into the distance, the tall trees of the Old Forest rising up ominously behind it. To his left was Brandy Hall, and in front of him stretched the winding blue ribbon of the Brandywine River. Beyond the river were the lowlands and farms of the Marish, then the gently rolling green hills of the Shire.

He rested the palm of his left hand against the trunk of the great oak, his fingers feeling the heart carved into the solid bole long ago. He lifted his hand to read the initials carved inside of the heart.

This had been their favorite spot. This had been where they often courted to. This was where they had shared their first kiss underneath the summer sun. This was where she had accepted his proposal. This was where their wedding had taken place. This was where she had first told him she was with child.

He looked out at the Brandywine River once more. The sun glinted over its tranquil waters. All his life he had been taught to respect the river and he always had, but looking out over its waters now, he thought of just how deceiving the calm flow really was. It had taken them long ago and now ... this spot under the tall oak was their final resting place.

Turning away from the spectacular view before him, the hobbit knelt down in the new spring grass. A soft breeze ruffled the curls on his head as he brushed the dead, fallen leaves of winter from the large cut of granite stone embedded into the ground. Bilbo had ordered the resilient stone from the Dwarves long ago, as they were the distinguished masters of masonry and stonework in all of Middle-earth. The hobbit read the names etched into the hard stone, whose edges rose slightly above the ground.

He traced his fingers along the words inscribed into the beautiful stone, following the smooth outline of the individual letters. 'Beloved daughter & son; sister & brother; aunt & uncle; cousins.' If one looked close enough, a hint of mithril could be seen inlaid into the carvings, making them stand out nicely against the black speckle of the granite. Uncle Bilbo had spared no expense for the marker. Only the best would do for them, after all.

His hand resting atop the engraved stone, the hobbit closed his eyes in remembrance of the pair whose lives had been tragically lost. "I wish I could have known you, ..." he whispered as he did every single year on this day.

The hobbit carefully placed the bouquet of flowers atop the grave, arranging them so they lay in between the final two words adorning the marker: 'Mama & Dad'

A tear trailed down his cheek and with one last look to make sure all was in order, Meriadoc Brandybuck, current Master of Buckland, rose from the ground. When Frodo had departed for the Undying Lands aboard the Elven ship decades earlier, Merry had promised himself that he would tend what his cousin and dearest friend no longer could. The final resting place of Drogo and Primula Baggins continued to be well-maintained in the absence of their beloved son.

At first, the grave had been tended by Frodo, Primula's brothers and sisters, and Merry's own parents. As each relation had grown either too elderly to make the journey up the hillside, or had departed from life themselves, Merry's parents had taken over the care entirely. Merry had often come with them, most especially after Frodo had left Middle-earth never to return. With Saradoc and Esmeralda Brandybuck laid to their own final rest, it was now up to him. Merry would make sure that Frodo's dear parents would always be looked after.

~The End~