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Drabbles on Hobbits; a Generous Bakers' Dozen
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The Lady's gift in a gardener's hand.


It was surely just idle fancy, Samwise said to himself, and if the past year's journeys hadn't cured him of fancies naught ever would. And still, it seemed that the Lady's gift of earth from her garden had a soft shine to it, even in sunlight; a faint glimmer surrounded every precious grain of dust he dropped at the roots of his new young trees.

It was just an idle fancy, or so Sam believed, till he saw that daytime starshine gleam off the mallorn's silver bole and golden leaves, till he saw it shimmering in his baby daughter's hair.


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