"Father?" Elanor rushed from the door of the little hobbit hole to assist Samwise Gamgee as he climbed from his horse. She had been waiting for nearly an hour for his arrival, ever since she had seen his distant figure slowly coming over the Westmarch fields. She had a good view of the land from her home, and took advantage of it often. Especially during recent weeks. She had expected her father for some time now. She had been waiting.

"Thank-you, Elanor," Sam replied as his daughter pushed him aside to take the reins of the pony. "But I don't mean to stay long. Just stopping by."

She tilted her head and studied her father's face. His eyes were on her, the same eyes she had inherited. He couldn't take them off of her. She was no longer a girl-hobbit but a wife and mother, but she could still selfishly enjoy the attentions of her father.

"You're as pretty as ever," he said softly, taking her hand. He vainly attempted to smile.

"Something's wrong," Elanor said. "You wouldn't stop by. You'd always come here to visit for a long while. You and Mother..." She realized it, now, and the urgency of talking failed her. "Mother. She... oh, Father!" She fell into his arms, her tears burning down her cheeks.

Sam nodded and stroked his daughter's hair. Golden, a rare color among the hobbit children when she was born. A sign of the elfish flower for which she was named. "Last week, it was. It was peaceful. She deserves her rest."

"I feel like a child," she muttered. "I have my own children to worry about now. I can't cry about my mother." She needed to, at least while the heartbreak was fresh. "So... so you'll be leaving the Shire, won't you, Father? That's why you're only passing through?"

Sam gave a small shrug. "Yes. It's time, I suppose. I've been in this land too long. For the past few years, it's only been your mother keeping me here. Mind, I love you and your brothers and sisters more than anything, but..."

"I know," Elanor said. "I completely understand. Things like the Ring..."

"They affect you," he said. His eyes changed for the tiniest moment, becoming distant and strange. Then they were on Elanor again. "I brought you something, if I can find where I put it." He rustled through his bag before heaving out a thick book and a bundle of manuscripts. "You'll be taking care of these from now on."

Trying not to cry again, Elanor took them. "Thank-you, Father."

"I suppose I'll be off now," he said.

"I'm going to miss you," she said, embracing him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"I just want you to stay as beautiful as you are now."

And then he and the pony were gone, riding again across Westmarch. Elanor watched them until they were out of sight, having faded into the setting sun. Then, with a sigh, she flipped through the book and manuscripts.

There, pressed between two pages, was a dried sprig of the golden elanor.

The End.