Sam just wanted to be doing something, even when Master Elrond ordered him from Frodo’s chamber.
“To give him a taste of home,” Sam told the maiden he found in the pantry. “If you can spare the spices.”
The elf gathered them: mustard-seed, almonds, vinegar, cinnamon, ginger, raisins, honey. Sam found she could grind and taste - and laugh - as easy as any Hobbit lass. The covered crock was placed on a shelf.
“For when he wakes.” A tear trickled down Sam’s cheek. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.
“I am Arwen, Samwise. Aragorn told me all about you.”