~*~DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these ppl, just love 'em to death… If
you like this story, check out the other two in the 'series': snapdragons
and back. Enjoy!~*~
I wonder what the world looks like outside of the Shire. I'm not allowed any farther than the woods along the edge, and there I've only been to with my mum. But I still dream of it. Fields of rich green, and forests where the trees go up to the sky. Skies as blue as my pop's eyes, and lakes twice as such with green dappled in as well. Everything would be big, because hobbits are the small part of Middle Earth. Big trees, big fields, and most of all, big people. Sometimes a tall, fair wanderer will come through the Shire. Their hair is the colour of the silky strings surrounding a ripe ear of corn, and their eyes are bright. Pop calls them elves. Elves…
But Pop also says that I shouldn't wish so much about things that aren't here, I should play with the other little hobbits, but they don't want to play with me. Still though, I stop dreaming. Instead I watch people. It is incredible to watch old hobbit gentlemen or tweens, their movements, their faces…
We have a new gardener. His name is Mr. Hamfast Gamgee. He came and spoke to Pop…and behind him stood a boy. His father called him Samwise. Such a funny name…he was shy, very shy, bashful. He hid, clutching his father's pant leg, but I will never forget his face. It is a sweet face, sort of chubby, with pink cheeks and pretty eyes. His hair is a golden mop stuck surprisingly even on top of it all, with curls strewn about. He is shy…but still he smiled at me. And his smile is very nice as well.
I think about how strange it is how gold his hair is, for his father's is none so light. Maybe Mr. Gamgee rode with the elves, a long time ago, and was sprinkled with stardust, which all was poured onto Samwise. Maybe…
I go and play in our flower gardens a lot. The dark ivy hides my toes and the plump trees shade the sun. The apple trees are fruiting, plump red apples swaying gaily from the branches. I scramble up my favorite tree: a seed that had strayed to the edge until it was almost touching the empty flower gardens that Pop wants Mr. Gamgee to plant in. For some reason, it bears the juiciest fruits. Pop says it was the best seed in the core. 'The best seed grows the tallest when it's in its nature.'
The fruit I picked is delicious, the birds are humming in the grove, and the leaves let in just enough sun to make me drowsy. But I find no rest, for I realize that the humming does not come from a bird. Rather, I turn to see Samwise crouched in an empty garden. There is a basket of seeds beside him and his hands are brown with soil. He takes a seed, pokes a stout tan finger into the dirt, and plops in the seed, patting over it with his other hand. Repeating this, he moves down the garden, getting up to move when he can't reach farther. I wonder which is the best seed…
He works hard in this, his brow is creased. Yet his face seems peaceful, even pleased. He looks pleasant in the garden, happy with his work, which surprises me. Even still, I am bored with watching people all the time. Enthralled by his shyness and determined to make a friend, I slowly climb down the rough greyish bark. Not knowing how to approach him, I simply sneak in behind him. He steadily continues his work, not noticing me at all. So, still not saying anything, I kneel down beside him. He does not see me at first, but as he reaches over to plant another seed, his eyes see the folds of my dress. They follow up to my face, where they stay for awhile. Then he leaps back in surprise, "Bless me!"…I giggle and his face turns scarlet.
He drags a dirty hand over the droplets of sweat on his brow, but only succeeds in streaking the rich soil across his forehead. "Pardon, Miss Cotton," says he, standing up and holding out a hand to help me up. Despite the dirt, I take it and stand next to him. "You can call me Rosie." He smiles, seems happy with the name. "Pleasure, Rosie. I'm Sam." Sam….
We stand in an awkward silence, but I ask him what the seeds are. "I just finished the snapdragons.," says he, "and these over here are marigolds. These are the only things the Gaffer trusts me with." He blushes again, the red spreading from his cheeks, across his nose, to his forehead. I smile at this… "Carry on, then."
"Right, Miss—Rosie." He kneels again, and starts digging and planting, digging and planting…I crouch beside him and watch. The pink in his face has faded again, and his humming returns. He seems strong somehow, here in the garden. His hands streaked black, his upper lip moist in perspiration. In his nature…
Suddenly he reaches in and grabs a long seed, black at one end with feathery creaminess coming off. "This here, Rosie, is the best seed I've seen yet." I look…the black is blacker then on the others, the white is more feathery. He takes it gently, makes a careful hole in the center of the garden, and sticks it in. The best seed.
The day grows on, the sun rising and spreading its rays like leaves across the earth. I've settled against a tree, telling Sam stories of the folk around here. But the sun and warmth lull me into dreamer's sleep, and when I wake up, the sky is orange. The sun is dipping under the grove, and I look around for Sam. I giggle when I find him…the day has worn him out as well, and he lays, asleep, next to the newly planted garden, with the empty basket beside him. The setting sun illuminates his golden hair, and gilds his skin as well. His breath is heavy, but he is happy—a smile has spread over his face. I grin as well, and lean to move the basket. But I look and see…there is one last seed. Moving to put it in the dark ground, I change my mind. Instead, it goes in my belt bag at my hip. That's where I keep my special things. And Sam is special to me, my friend, the…
Best seed.
~*~FIN~*~
please r/r
I wonder what the world looks like outside of the Shire. I'm not allowed any farther than the woods along the edge, and there I've only been to with my mum. But I still dream of it. Fields of rich green, and forests where the trees go up to the sky. Skies as blue as my pop's eyes, and lakes twice as such with green dappled in as well. Everything would be big, because hobbits are the small part of Middle Earth. Big trees, big fields, and most of all, big people. Sometimes a tall, fair wanderer will come through the Shire. Their hair is the colour of the silky strings surrounding a ripe ear of corn, and their eyes are bright. Pop calls them elves. Elves…
But Pop also says that I shouldn't wish so much about things that aren't here, I should play with the other little hobbits, but they don't want to play with me. Still though, I stop dreaming. Instead I watch people. It is incredible to watch old hobbit gentlemen or tweens, their movements, their faces…
We have a new gardener. His name is Mr. Hamfast Gamgee. He came and spoke to Pop…and behind him stood a boy. His father called him Samwise. Such a funny name…he was shy, very shy, bashful. He hid, clutching his father's pant leg, but I will never forget his face. It is a sweet face, sort of chubby, with pink cheeks and pretty eyes. His hair is a golden mop stuck surprisingly even on top of it all, with curls strewn about. He is shy…but still he smiled at me. And his smile is very nice as well.
I think about how strange it is how gold his hair is, for his father's is none so light. Maybe Mr. Gamgee rode with the elves, a long time ago, and was sprinkled with stardust, which all was poured onto Samwise. Maybe…
I go and play in our flower gardens a lot. The dark ivy hides my toes and the plump trees shade the sun. The apple trees are fruiting, plump red apples swaying gaily from the branches. I scramble up my favorite tree: a seed that had strayed to the edge until it was almost touching the empty flower gardens that Pop wants Mr. Gamgee to plant in. For some reason, it bears the juiciest fruits. Pop says it was the best seed in the core. 'The best seed grows the tallest when it's in its nature.'
The fruit I picked is delicious, the birds are humming in the grove, and the leaves let in just enough sun to make me drowsy. But I find no rest, for I realize that the humming does not come from a bird. Rather, I turn to see Samwise crouched in an empty garden. There is a basket of seeds beside him and his hands are brown with soil. He takes a seed, pokes a stout tan finger into the dirt, and plops in the seed, patting over it with his other hand. Repeating this, he moves down the garden, getting up to move when he can't reach farther. I wonder which is the best seed…
He works hard in this, his brow is creased. Yet his face seems peaceful, even pleased. He looks pleasant in the garden, happy with his work, which surprises me. Even still, I am bored with watching people all the time. Enthralled by his shyness and determined to make a friend, I slowly climb down the rough greyish bark. Not knowing how to approach him, I simply sneak in behind him. He steadily continues his work, not noticing me at all. So, still not saying anything, I kneel down beside him. He does not see me at first, but as he reaches over to plant another seed, his eyes see the folds of my dress. They follow up to my face, where they stay for awhile. Then he leaps back in surprise, "Bless me!"…I giggle and his face turns scarlet.
He drags a dirty hand over the droplets of sweat on his brow, but only succeeds in streaking the rich soil across his forehead. "Pardon, Miss Cotton," says he, standing up and holding out a hand to help me up. Despite the dirt, I take it and stand next to him. "You can call me Rosie." He smiles, seems happy with the name. "Pleasure, Rosie. I'm Sam." Sam….
We stand in an awkward silence, but I ask him what the seeds are. "I just finished the snapdragons.," says he, "and these over here are marigolds. These are the only things the Gaffer trusts me with." He blushes again, the red spreading from his cheeks, across his nose, to his forehead. I smile at this… "Carry on, then."
"Right, Miss—Rosie." He kneels again, and starts digging and planting, digging and planting…I crouch beside him and watch. The pink in his face has faded again, and his humming returns. He seems strong somehow, here in the garden. His hands streaked black, his upper lip moist in perspiration. In his nature…
Suddenly he reaches in and grabs a long seed, black at one end with feathery creaminess coming off. "This here, Rosie, is the best seed I've seen yet." I look…the black is blacker then on the others, the white is more feathery. He takes it gently, makes a careful hole in the center of the garden, and sticks it in. The best seed.
The day grows on, the sun rising and spreading its rays like leaves across the earth. I've settled against a tree, telling Sam stories of the folk around here. But the sun and warmth lull me into dreamer's sleep, and when I wake up, the sky is orange. The sun is dipping under the grove, and I look around for Sam. I giggle when I find him…the day has worn him out as well, and he lays, asleep, next to the newly planted garden, with the empty basket beside him. The setting sun illuminates his golden hair, and gilds his skin as well. His breath is heavy, but he is happy—a smile has spread over his face. I grin as well, and lean to move the basket. But I look and see…there is one last seed. Moving to put it in the dark ground, I change my mind. Instead, it goes in my belt bag at my hip. That's where I keep my special things. And Sam is special to me, my friend, the…
Best seed.
~*~FIN~*~
please r/r
