"A negative is an image, usually on a strip or sheet of transparent plastic film, in which the lightest areas of the photographed subject appear darkest and the darkest areas appear lightest. "

In the morning of a quiet neighbourhood, a warm glow stretched along the brick walls, zigzagging along the mortar. The light chased the shadows, banishing them to corners and crooks of alleyways. The streets were empty and comfortably silent, only occasionally interrupted by sweet song birds. There was hardly anyone up at this time as it was just the beginning of a Saturday. Most were beneath warm covers, wrapped in sweet dreams and restfulness. Joggers made their early rounds around the neighbourhood, with their happy dogs in tow.

However, none of these cases applied to a petite woman, who was making her own noise as she moved panting and puffing in and out of her flower shop with boxes in her arms. Now, the exterior of the shop was not anything ostentatious. If you were late to work, speed walking down the street, the shop would be just another blur you pass by. There were no flashy lights glowing white or red, or big words that scream "SALE" at potential customers. The windows were not scrubbed sparkling clean so that they gleam and sparkle from the sun.

Instead, the shop was faded beige, accentuated by a green round wooden door which was a little worn and chipped in some places. Two warm oak windows surrounded the door, allowing sun and occasional curious glances into the building. A scuffed welcome mat at the doorstep indicated the shop was well visited and the smell of freshly brewed coffee enticed people to enter the homey shop.

Once inside, you can see that in a corner of the shop, there was a decent sitting area with multiple cushioned seats and a small coffee table. And if that didn't persuade those who were on the edge of entering the shop, a plate of homemade cookies and coffee laid right in the middle of the table would melt the last of their resistance.

If the exterior was labeled as a little plain, the interior was a whole other world. The most remarkable thing about this shop wasn't the cozy appearance or the tempting smell of caffeine and cookies; it was the brilliant flowers and plants that covered the majority of the space within. There were vines crawling up the wall, creating nature's unique art across the blank canvas. The flowers turned towards the windows, reaching for the skylight and basking in the warm rays.

Everything looked organized enough, and if there were any empty spots, they were about to be occupied soon enough, by the looks of what the woman carried in her arms.

She was accomplishing the impossible, juggling various pots of flowers and plants which teetered haphazardly as she moved outside her store. As unstable and wobbly her pile looked, nothing slipped from her firm grasp. One plant at a time, she carefully filled in the gaps, creating a sea of warm colours which outmatched any beautiful summer day.

Miss Billa Baggins of Bag End Flowers Shop straightened from her crouched position as she placed the last pot down, rubbing her dirt stained fingers on her apron while letting out a rather large sigh. She stared at the assortment of pinks, purples and reds, unconsciously scratching her nose while leaving a dirt smudge at the tip. After a long moment of concentrated staring, she furrowed her brows and huffed in exasperation.

"Now Billa, think..." She muttered, eyes glancing over her proud possessions. "You've taken over this shop for the last seven years; this should be as easy as breathing by now."

After her father passed on, the shop belonged to her lovely mother, Belladonna. It was in her mother's care for about four years prior, when Belladonna joined her husband in the afterlife. As the result of her death, the shop had been handed down to Billa as she was the only child of her family. If it were anyone else living in the fast-paced world, owning a flower shop wouldn't seem like glamorous work. She would never become a billionaire or gain international fame by selling flowers. But this shop was the product of the Baggins, made from her family's hard work and love. In fact, she was surprised her mother held on for those years, lasting long enough to teach everything she knew about this green world to Billa. Her mother and father were hardly ever apart. Her mother always said she would follow him no matter where he went and at the end, although a little delayed, she did.

Her father, Bungo Baggins, had renovated this little shop for Belladonna as part of his proposal. Billa remembered seeing pictures of how the shop looked like before, and it was really not a pretty sight. To put it nicely, it was a dingy and shady hole in the wall. But one compliment from Belladonna on the potential of the location and Bungo had his mind made up. He immediately bought the property and worked on the shop on his own time, outside of his construction company.

When Belladonna realized someone had started to work on the shabby shop, she relayed the information to Bungo with a longing sigh and with disappointment in her voice, never suspecting that Bungo was the mysterious culprit. There were many nights where he was late coming home from working on the shop and Belladonna would have to endure through his horrible fibs and excuses while avoiding her questions.

Billa could remember her mother scoffing every time she told this part of the tale. Her mother would roll her eyes and say, "your father was absolutely rubbish at lying; using the excuse of falling into a sawdust pile way too many times. Oh! One night, he even managed to say he was off swimming and when I pointed out that he hated swimming, he just grumbled and made some comment that I remembered wrong! That daft old man. I knew he was working on some sort of project, but never in my life could I have guessed it was the flower shop." She would end up saying fondly.

After some months, Bungo showed up at her door in his best suit and with a nervous smile, tentatively taking out a blindfold from his coat pocket with rough and calloused fingers. With some teasing from her part and stuttering on his, he took them out to the renovated shop. He sat her down in a chair inside and pulled off her blindfold to reveal the charming shop with candles and flowers in every corner. With sweaty palms and a dry throat, he proposed in the soft glow of the flickering lights and the sweet smell of blooms in the room.

Belladonna joyously agreed, later admitting that she would have agreed whole-heartedly even if he didn't make the grand gesture. They were so in love with each other that it was no wonder why Bag End continued to strive after all those years. Their understanding of each other and different personalities brought success to their shop. Belladonna with her love for plants and artistic mind brought many customers from all over the city. Bungo with his construction and finance knowledge kept the shop running in one piece. When Billa was born, they brought her to the shop every day and watched her grow just like the many plants and flowers within the shop. Every dent, scratch or broken piece of the shop had a memory attached to it, vast majority of them fond recollections of a sweeter time. Billa wouldn't have chosen any other job in the world.

"Perhaps a little yellow would complete the picture?" a grumbling voice appearing from behind, jarring Billa from her thoughts.

She flinched in surprise, and let out a very unfeminine holler as she whirled around to face the intruder. Fueled by the adrenaline from her surprise, her hand grabbed a tiny spade as a make-shift weapon. Unfortunately, with her luck, Billa tripped over her own feet and became terribly off balance. Arms flailing like a dysfunctional windmill, she fought hard to keep upright. Her only saving grace was when the man grabbed her by her arm and pulled her from the danger of falling into her carefully placed flowers. When it was clear that she had her balance back, he retracted his hand back into his suit pocket.

Taking rapid breaths, she held one hand over her thudding heart and the other lingered foolishly in the air still tightly clutching the spade as she stared incredulously at the man who she now noticed was quite old.

"B-Beg your pardon?" she stuttered, noting that the man had the audacity to smile even after the scare he gave her. It usually takes more than a little surprise make her lose her composure, but a sudden voice at seven in the morning in a place where the only sounds were birds and her own breaths would do the trick.

"Well you were thinking about what was missing from your display of art, were you not? Some yellow daffodils would fit the bill perfectly - allows some spark in your arrangement wouldn't you say?" The older man mused, tapping his black walking stick on the ground a couple of times as if to confirm his suggestion. She didn't miss the amused glance at the "weapon" she held in her hand.

Billa cleared her dry throat as she followed his gaze and lowered the spade, mentally recovering from her slip. She straightened her back in preparation to reprimand the stranger, but she was taken aback when she found herself being ambushed by a handkerchief, scrubbing at her nose. But as she moved to swat his hand away, he withdrew it as quickly as it appeared.

"There was a bit of dirt on your nose, dear." He replied to her unasked question, glee sparkling in his eyes.

"Oh bugger all" she thought, now scrubbing at her own nose with a little bit of embarrassment and a lot more annoyance. Her eyes narrowed and a snappy remark was on the tip of her tongue.

"Of course I must apologize for the suddenness of my appearance—in fact, let's start off right by me saying 'Good morning Miss Baggins'." The old man smiled warmly, offering his wrinkly hand to Billa.

Any notion of scolding slipped from her mind, taken aback by the unexpected politeness. Her father's insistence on good manners dispelled any lingering desire to retort maliciously. Taking a calming breath, she took up his offer and shook his outstretched hand firmly (although her grip might have been tighter side, but nobody's keeping track).

"Uh yes, good morning…. Mister?"

"Hm?" He hummed out quizzically, releasing her hand to push the blue fedora up on his head. "Mister? Oh! Ah yes, me. Mister Stormcrow if you must. But yes it is a very good morning; a good morning in all sense is it not?" He ended with a deep chuckle, laughing at a joke that was not at all obvious to Billa.

Billa observed the man with the grey suit and black walking stick. He was not a usual customer, and not at all dressed like the elderly men in her neighbourhood. Not like the old men she'd seen who didn't give a thought for their looks, with their barely combed hair. In fact, this man's long grey hair was neatly combed and tied back in a fashionable ponytail and his grey beard was skillfully trimmed. Judging from the quality of his expensive looking suit, he was clearly not from her neighbourhood and probably lived closer to the heart of the city.

A business-man, she decided firmly in her head.

However, the creases from his smile softened his features, making him appear as gentle and kind as others of his age. The easy manner with which he carried himself reduced her suspicions and annoyance, even going as far as to coax a smile from her.

There was a moment of silence as his chuckle tapered off, neither of them speaking a word. He continued to smile though, staring down at her like he was observing every detail and categorizing whether it was a fault or virtue. In fact, if Billa stared into his eyes longer (which she didn't because she was a little shoddy at keeping eye contact for long periods of time), she would have seen his eyes narrow as he noticed her timidity. Billa shuffled her feet, growing more uncomfortable once the silence lingered on a little too long. She began to say that she should continue on with her preparations, but the old man seemed to have a knack for interrupting anything she wanted to express.

"Ah young Miss Billa. I haven't seen you since you were a child; ducking in and out of plants, playing with the insects, making flower crowns and pretending you were the queen of the world." He waved his walking stick in the general direction towards the inside of the shop.

"I remember you making me a lovely daisy flower crown and knighting me with a long branch." He rumbled with amusement, his eyes twinkling as he relived his memories.

"What was it now? Sir Stormcrow of the Undying Lands?"

Billa narrowed her eyes in suspicion, taking a small step forward while peering at the man under the hat. Although she did not want to sound too impolite, she couldn't remember him or any of the childhood memories he mentioned. Well actually, Billa grudging admitted to herself, she remembered doing similar acts as a child, but she had no recollection of meeting him.

"I'm sorry Mister Stormcrow, but I honestly don't remember you." Billa stated with a slight frown on her face.

At that, his smile gradually dropped and she saw him annoyed for the first time since she met him.

"Don't remember me?" He grunted, almost sounding like a disgruntled dog for a split second. "To think Belladonna's child not remembering who I am and treating me like a random salesman hustling for attention. I am Gandalf, Gandalf Stormcrow!"

Billa stared uncertainly at the man, mulling over the name before a slow spark of recollection appeared in her mind. A faint memory of a man with fewer grey streaks in his hair and fewer wrinkles giving her the most delicious candy grew clearer as that spark ignited.

"Gandalf…. Oh Gandalf!" A slow smile graced her face and it gradually grew into a beaming one.

"Not the kind gentleman that always had sweets in his pockets! And the one who would tell me stories of the places he had seen and adventures he had taken! The one that would come every couple of weeks to buy great lilies, snapdragons and laburnums from my mother!" She exclaimed with joy, seeing the man in a different light.

Gandalf straightened his back and the frown was once more replaced with a warm grin, content that she finally had some recollection of him.

"Well I'm glad you remember something about me." He grumbled while looking away, though his tone was lighter than before. His attention got caught by a bright flower to his right and he took his time to lean forward to smell the blooming flower.

Billa watched him, not quite sure how to respond to his retort. Once again, the silence between them reappeared as neither party spoke. She realized now that he had a tendency of either rambling and interrupting her words or quietly standing like a statue He did look older now that she had the time to really observe him. He had deeper creases around his eyes and forehead, age spots here and there. He was still as tall as she remembered, although there was a slight bent in his back as he leaned on his walking stick. But his eyes were still as warm and inviting as before, the sparkling gleam never faded.

"Well Gandalf, how can I help you today? It's most random that you suddenly popped by when you stopped coming many years ago." Billa finally spoke when she had had enough of the silence. There was only so much she could take before she started being a bit impatient. She was already behind schedule and she could basically see the seconds flying by as the sun rose higher into the sky.

Gandalf seemed distracted and he clearly didn't give any thought towards her question as he picked up a pot from the ground and brought it up to his eye level.

"A sycamore sapling. Sturdy trees aren't they?" He mused. "Your mother always thought this plant represented her best. 'Sycamore! Strong and curious, a plant after my own heart' dear Belladonna would always say." He trailed off, watching the sapling as he slowly turned the pot. Billa found herself absently watching it as well, her mind drifting to her first image in her head- her mother's joyful face when she laughed.

"And which flowers or plants would you say represent you best?" Gandalf asked after a couple of minutes of reflection, his eyes sliding to the side as he glanced at her slyly.

"Which ones would embody your own heart?"

Still thinking that she should be doing something more productive than playing hypothetical games with Gandalf, Billa gave in. She completely missed the analytical glance he gave her as she looked back into her store of assorted flora.

She never really gave this question a thought before, which seemed odd as she knew almost all the different meanings each flower or plant in the store. What could she say? She spent that knowledge helping others express their needs, not on herself.

Naturally, a couple of plants did pop into her mind and she found herself walking back into her shop with Gandalf trailing after her. He watched her as she confidently walked among the plants. She was completely in her element, weaving around pots and vases, absently picking up certain plants and flowers. Gandalf followed her to a certain extent until they passed the sitting area, which was where he decided to stray off to.

Billa returned to the sitting area after a moment, her hands carrying a couple of plants. She found Gandalf settled on her favourite chair, happily munching on one of the cookies she laid out on the table. In his other hand was a freshly poured cup of coffee, black as it can be. Carefully she laid out her plants she had chosen, naming each as she placed them on the table.

"Milkworts, Colchicum for flowers..." She started off saying loudly, but with each plant, she noticed his expression becoming darker. "And a Birch sapling if you must demand of me to pick a tree like my mother" she finished off tentatively, her words trailing as she took in his expression.

Gandalf looked up from the plants with some disappointment that made her feel like she was a child again, hiding from her parents' knowing gaze. "Infuriating man..." She thought, lowering her eyes to an interesting stain on her couch that seemed to be new. Part of her couldn't help herself as she started thinking of what cleaning products to use to remove it.

Gandalf calmly took a sip of his drink, brushed off the crumbs collected in his beard and shirt before standing up. With large strides, he walked past her, causing Billa to hastily take a step back to avoid being bumped into. He headed straight into the maze of plants, his grey figure disappearing into a sea of green.

Billa stood in her spot, a little miffed at his abrupt departure. But she couldn't help feeling a little confused at why he was behaving like this. She literally just brought him some plants that wouldn't mean anything to him. Her gaze lingered on the three plants and she suddenly had a feeling that Gandalf was more knowledgeable than she had taken him for. A rustling sound came from her side as she snapped her attention back to the man coming out of the leaves with his own pots of plants. Curious at what he decided to bring, she stepped aside well ahead of time to give him the space to place the pots down.

"Black Poplar, Pink Dianthus and an Oak sapling." He stated loudly as he laid them down alongside the others. He really didn't have to announce their names as she knew them from the first glance. It was an odd combination for sure, not the best looking arrangement. However judging by the way he was staring at her expectedly, an appealing arrangement wasn't on his mind.

"I believe these plants suit you better dear Billa Baggins." She took another glance at the plants, running their names through her head while connecting meanings to each of them. Catching the meaning, she glanced up shyly, a light sprinkle of pink of her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she gave him proper smile.

"Noted. Perhaps with some disagreement, but appreciated."

He returned the smile readily with affection.

"Yes, yes. You will do well with my plans indeed." He said softly, but it seemed to be more to himself than Billa. She raised her eyebrows questionably.

"Erm, do well in what plans?"

Gandalf leaned over to the couch and grabbed his jacket from the arm and draped it over his own.

"Billa, do you know of the Lemon-scented Geraniums?" He said suddenly, ignoring her previous comment. She found herself looking around the shop until her gaze focused onto a spot.

"Uh yes, I do. You're lucky, I just got a batch of these yesterday."

He nodded happily before he started putting on his jacket.

"Very lovely. I shall order one please, the biggest one if possible. Place it outside of your shop for the best amount of sun, I won't accept any less. I will pick it up in three days."

Billa nodded, reaching into her pocket and brought out a hand sized notebook. She flipped it open with practice and appeared to snatch a pencil from behind her ear. Jotting down some quick notes, she found herself almost missing her chance to express her thanks as Gandalf was already halfway out of her store door. Fumbling, she quickly shoved everything in her pocket and sprinted after him.

"Thank you Gandalf, it's nice doing business with you." She called after him. The grey figure stopped to turn around, smiling again. His hand tucked into his inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small card. Walking back a couple of steps, he gave it to her with a wink. He turned on his heels and started walking away.

"Do place that with the plant, preferably where people can see it. I don't want anyone claiming it to be their own." He shouted as he walked and started whistling his own tune moments after.

Billa looked down at his card while she walked slowly back into her store, turning it around. It was quite nice, very minimalistic but professional. On one side was the letter 'G' written in fancy calligraphy, on the other side had his business number as well has his full name. However, it did not mention his position or what sort of business he conducted. Billa found that strange as it defeats the whole purpose of a 'business card'. She hummed nonchalantly as she decided to get his order ready. Business was still business no matter how odd the customer is.

She went to the spot where her geraniums were and confidently picked the biggest one she found. Plucking it from the bunch, she carried it out to a nice spot right outside her store door and settled it nicely. The flowers were not in bloom yet, as they did just arrive the day before. But if the weather was nice, and the plant was well watered, she didn't see why it wouldn't bloom in a week. Billa took Gandalf's card and positioned it on the plant with the G facing outward. Satisfied it wouldn't be knocked away easily, she found herself in the same position as she was before her guest interrupted her. She brushed a stray curl that escaped her messy bun as she mentally browsed through her catalog of plant meanings until she remembered what Gandalf's chosen plant was.

"Unexpected meeting." She thought out loud. A rueful smile passed her lips as she shook her head a little, almost not able to believe this was a coincidence. Her gaze swept out over the display of flowers out front if her store.

"Yellow daffodils would be perfect, wouldn't they? Damn that meddling man." With a determined huff and a plan in mind, Billa Baggins of Bag End Flower Shop went back into her cosy shop without another thought of his plant. Her mind was focused and she was determined to finish her work of art. Little did she know, there would be many more unexpected meetings in the near future.

Flower meanings:

Birch - meekness

Milkworts - hermitage

Colchicum - my best days have passed

Black Poplar- Courage

Pink Dianthus - Boldness

Oak- Bravery