This was concocted from a shirebound plotbunny: Once Sam has dispersed Galadriel's magical dust and the Mallorn seed, what does he do with the box they came in? Used to be its own story, but I decided to move it to this as I didn't think it was long enough to stand alone.
Daddy has a secret box.
I saw him one day in the study. I was in the corner looking at the way the Elvish writing flowed over the pages of a thick old tome when he came in. He didn't notice me, and at first I didn't really notice him until I heard a scraping sound. I looked up, and there he was standing on a chair, taking something off the top of the tallest bookshelf. He sat down in the chair and looked at the object fondly. It was a little box. He opened it reverently, like it was something special, and looked at whatever it was for some time. I went back to my book, tracing my fingers over the letters dreamily. It wasn't until I could hear little Pippin crying from the other room that Daddy replaced the box and left.
I had forgotten all about it until years later, when I was a tween, and I encountered the box once more. I thought I would be nice to Mum and dust the tops of the bookcases in the study- she was pregnant again, and beginning to have a hard time doing all of the chores. At the time, I suppose I also wanted to show off my superior height- I was growing again, towering over even Frodo by an entire half-inch. I swept the dusting rag over the surfaces absentmindedly while standing tip-toes on a chair when I bumped something with my hand. It fell off the bookcase, opening a tiny fraction and letting something tip out on its journey to the floor. I caught the box, which is what the thing I had knocked over was. It was unharmed, but somehow I knew that Daddy would know if that little chip of something was missing.
Hastily, I leapt off the chair and began scouring the floor for some hint of that mysterious almost insubstantial chip. I crawled on my hands and knees, my fingers flying into all of the cracks. Had it not been for the fact that the edge of the chip was keenly sharp, I wouldn't have ever found it. Sucking a small cut on my finger, I drew the chip out of the crack and examined it with interest.
It was a black, black stone, blacker than the night sky. And smooth on the top and bottom, but jagged and sharp on the edges, like it had been broken off of a larger stone. How curious…
Now I was presented with a dilemma: I didn't want to look in Daddy's box, violating his privacy, but I had to put the stone chip back in. Taking up the box, I studied it. There was a 'G' carved on the top, and was obviously of the Elven make, what with the lovely vines and leaves carved along the sides and the lid.
Curiosity overcame me and I opened the box up, and marveled at what was inside.
There were more of those stone chips, and some dried flowers, lovely and delicate. I couldn't tell what they were, but the most amazing thing was underneath a layer of the flowers.
Wrapped in velvet was a glass phial, filled with water and glimmering with an unseen light. I knew what it must have been- the gift given to Mr. Frodo by the Elf lady. I carefully lifted the precious gift out, holding it gently. It was beautiful, beautiful beyond description. It felt just as Daddy had described it in Mr. Frodo's book- like it was out of a song. I cradled the story of Daddy and Mr. Frodo, Galadriel and the Noldor, Earendil and the Silmarils, and the Trees of Valinor, all condensed into this little silver-glass container. It was a story waiting to be told, brimming with adventure, nearly humming in anticipation of the words that could flow out of a tale-spinner's mouth. It was the perfect gift for the lady Galadriel to give to Mr. Frodo.
I remembered him a little, but not very much. Daddy's told me that there was always a tale on the tip of his tongue, just waiting for the right opportunity to spill out. Like the phial.
I could remember him holding me- I have the vaguest picture of his face. Most of his features are blurry to me, but I remember his gentle smile, and his blue, blue eyes framed by dark curls. And his hand- I would hold my hand up to his, my third finger always going in between the gap where his used to be. And now I held something that used to be his.
What should I do? I didn't want anyone to know I had found his box- Daddy obviously kept it away from the little ones so they wouldn't be tempted to take the top off and empty out the water. That would destroy it forever. No, if Daddy hadn't wanted me to know, then I certainly wasn't going to let on that I knew.
I gently re-wrapped the phial and laid it back in the box amongst the dried flowers- buds from the mallorn tree in the field, I had deduced, and perhaps some other Elvish flower of Lorien, elanor or niphredil- and the chips of stone. I wasn't entirely sure what kind of stone it was- I later learned that Daddy had collected the chips off the ground in Isengard, some of the few bits of Orthanc that the Ents had managed to knock off the impenetrable fortress.
As I pushed the box back up to its high perch, a phrase Daddy had read to me from Mr. Frodo's book came to me. Keep it secret. Keep it safe. I smiled to myself. I might not have quite so big a secret to keep as Mr. Frodo did, but it was still a secret to be kept safe.