Through a green plain and by a small waterfall, they past, they all walked through a farm and by a small scarecrow. Frodo walked ahead and Sam followed, both closely watched by Morantwen, who was but a couple feet behind. Suddenly, she saw Sam stop. Frodo must have heard Sam because he turned around slowly. Sam spoke quietly.
"This is it." Frodo cocked his head to the side.
"This is what?"
"If I take one more step, it'll be the farthest away from home I've ever been." Frodo smiled and walked to Sam's side. He placed a hand on his back.
"Come on, Sam," Sam hesitantly walked forward. Morantwen looked with a smile on her face.
"Remember what Bilbo used to say," he continued, imagining his uncle talking to him amidst the endless times of afternoon tea, "'It's a dangerous business, Frodo, Going out your door, you step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet...there's no knowing where you might be swept of to.' " Morantwen followed them, thinking of the bond between Frodo and Sam for a while. Frodo looked forward, as he walked, to stare at the rolling plains. And Sam looked down at the ground, following his caring and best friend, a smile of pride and of joy upon his face. After an hour of nonstop walking, Sam started to get tired of the silence.
"Maybe we should have supper now."
Frodo turned around, "Yeah, all right." They walked to a little area by a tree and Sam sat down to prepare the meal. Morantwen tied Astalder to a nearby tree and started to pick up small branches and twigs for firewood. She brought them over and set them under the small cauldron that Sam had set up. Frodo took two sticks and started to light the fire. Morantwen sat down with her back against the tree. She took out a small knife and grabbed a small, thick branch. She put the knife against the wood and started shaping it. Suddenly, she heard a spark. She looked at Frodo. He had started the fire. Sam started to throw carrots and herbs into the water. Frodo walked over to Astalder gingerly. He reached up to his pack and pulled out a few items. One was a pipe. Neatly carved and curved downward. The other objects were a pouch, made of the finest leather cowhide, and a book. It had a red, cloth-bound cover. He then walked over to the tree that Morantwen was lying against and climbed up to the top. Morantwen paid this no special attention, but turned her head toward him to see what was in the pouch. She focused her eyes as Frodo pulled on the thin, velvet string. He pulled out some brown leaves. Morantwen went back to her carving with a smile. Pipe weed, she thought, of all things to bring, pipe weed.
A light scent of the smoke hung over the area. It blended in with the smell of Sam's wonderful chicken soup. He was stirring the food and staring up into the trees. He stopped stirring after a while and reached down to pull out a single flower. It was a beautiful five-petal daisy. Blue, it was, and nicely scented.
Morantwen looked at Sam's eyes and found an intense feeling. They were glazed with amazement and caring. She could certainly tell he had an extreme love for plants. He placed the flower against his pack carefully. He looked at Morantwen.
"So...you're an elf, right?"
"Yes."
"Wow. I've always wanted to meet an elf. Are they all like you? I mean, like looks-wise? 'Cause 'cording to my old Gaffer's description, I wouldn't drawn 'a picture like you. No offense, 'o 'course. I think you're really pretty and all. Really."
Morantwen laughed, "Actually, I am a rare kind of elf. They are different than Middle-Earth elves. Middle-Earth elves are fair-skinned and have light brown or blonde hair color and are somewhat taller."
"Do you mean you're not from Middle-Earth?"
"No, I am not."
Frodo looked down, "Really? Where are you from?"
"Far up north, about a couple thousand miles from Arnor and east from Forodwaith. I live in a realm
named the Darken Realm in the region of Aridan."
"Wow," whispered Sam, "So how do you know Mr. Frodo?"
"I do not really know him, actually. I met him about a month and a half ago. We talked for about a couple of hours then I went to find Gandalf."
"Where did you go, Morantwen?" asked Frodo.
"Oh, I went to Minas Tirith. That is where they hold Isildur's history and the finding of the One Ring that is now in your pocket. I thought that is where he would be. I was right but late. He had left a couple of days before me, according to the gate guards. It took me a fortnight and then some to get there and the same to get back."
Sam nodded to show he was paying attention. Frodo had gone back to his reading and pipe smoking. Morantwen looked at the piece of wood she was carving. It was extremely sharp. It could've gone clean through Sam's steel cauldron. She decided to see just how scared Sam could get. This is really cruel, she thought, oh well. She aimed right past Sam's head. Morantwen threw it.