Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. The greatest author ever, Tolkien, does. =)
This is my first fanfiction attempt. I saw the movies first, and read the book later, so this story is a blend of the two (a bit more emphasis on the book). Please let me know what you think!
Chapter 1: The Mallorn Tree
The mallorn tree was blooming.
It was still fairly young, at least by the reckoning of the immortal people from which its seed had come. Its sprawling silver branches towered high above the green landscape, with delicate golden blossoms here and there. It had been planted nigh on sixty years before.
Not two yards away, the ground was scarred. Brown remnants of ancient and rotting roots spread from a hollow stump. The tree that had once been on the spot had been huge; it had been the pride of an entire countryside. Its majesty was forgotten, save in the memories of the generation that was dwindling away now. The party tree. It had been replaced by the elvish beauty that stood there now, its grey-silver bark glimmering in the moonlight.
A small, forlorn figure sat leaning against the trunk. It was enveloped in a cloak that was such a grey that it seemed to disappear against the great tree, and the fabric that trailed on the ground blended easily with the moon-kissed blades of grass. The hood was drawn up, the head it concealed was bowed, and the figure was caressing a golden blossom between calloused and browned fingers.
The figure drew a great shuddering gasp, as one who has been crying and out of breath for a long while. The blossom fell to the ground as the hand drew itself across the hidden face, brushing away tears that had fallen unheeded for many hours. Indeed, night was drawing to a close, and the faintest grey tint could be seen on the eastern horizon. There was a chill in the air, and the dew was forming.
Sighing, Samwise sat up straighter and pulled the hood back. His once reddish-gold, curly hair was now tinged with gray in far too many spots to go unnoticed. Indeed, he was nearly 100 years old now. He stood up with some difficulty, for his age and years of gardening had caught up with him and his back. He ran his hand over the smooth bark of the tree, looking up into the labyrinth of branches and remembering the Elves.
He had planted this tree after he had returned to the Shire sixty years before. He and his companions had returned to find their hometown ransacked and overrun by ruffians, and a fell wizard. It had taken more work than he could ever have imagined to restore order...
He had only then remembered the small grey box, adorned with one elvish rune.
Galadriel.
Sam frowned slightly, and closed his eyes, trying as hard as he could to remember that day, in Lothlorien...
They had stood on the borders of the great forest. He and Meriadoc and Peregrin and Strider and...he had stood beside...Mr. Frodo. And the elves had adorned them in the grey cloaks woven by the Galadhrim, and with brooches in the likeness of a leaf veined with silver. The Lady had sipped with them the cup of parting, and presented a gift to each of the Fellowship in turn. Sam had stood quietly rooted to the spot, exchanging a glance with Frodo as the Lady moved ever closer.
She had come before Sam, holding a small box. He had looked up at her gentle smile, as she placed something into his hands.
"For you, little gardener, and lover of trees, I have only a small gift. Here is set G for Galadriel, but also it may stand for 'garden' in your tongue. In this box there is earth from my orchard, and such blessing as Galadriel has still to bestow is upon it. It will not keep you on your road, nor defend you against any peril; but if you keep it and see your home again at last, then perhaps it may reward you. Though you should find all barren and laid waste, there will be few gardens in Middle-earth that will bloom like your garden, if you sprinkle this earth there..." (Tolkien, Book II, pg 366)
But she had not spoken the entire truth. Inside, nestled in the soil of Lorien, was also a silvery acorn.
And Sam had despaired, in Ithilien, that somehow in his dark dangerous quest that box had been lost...but Gandalf had returned it to him.
After the great Battle of Bywater, and after peace had been restored to the Shire, he had toiled around the country, using one grain of the fine dust in each planting he made. And the silver acorn, he had planted where the Party Tree used to be.
Wistfully he remembered those sweet days. He closed his eyes and could almost feel Frodo standing next to him, softly murmuring, "You're a marvel, Sam. To think all this came from that little box!" He remembered Rosie, sitting in the garden with him as he planted.
His face fell at the memory. Frodo had left for Valinor with Gandalf, Bilbo, and the Elves many years ago...and Rosie, his Rosie, had died just that morning, with him by her bedside, both their hands clasped together.
It was just then that Sam decided...
Maybe it was time to go.
What did you think? Please review! I promise updates will come soon, and things do look up from here. =)