Frodo Baggins (
bronwe) wrote in
paradisalogs2013-04-04 09:39 am
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Entry tags:
bloom
Who: Frodo and YOU!
What: fail gardening
When: morning of April 4
Where: by the orchard
Rating: PG
It is warm enough now that Frodo can walk about barefooted without worrying that he might lose both legs to the frost. He remembers how Sam would start his planting at around this time of the year, just when the seasons turn and the sweet smell of spring is almost here. But not quite.
There is a tin bucket of flower bulbs some ways from the apple tree, set beside the small crouched figure digging little holes into the ground with his hands. He has a pile of pulled weeds and rocks on his other side, having cleared a small patch there for his makeshift garden. Planting the bulbs confuses him though. Which way is up and how deep should it go?
Times like these, more than ever, makes him wish Sam were here to give him all sorts of wise advice, and not only for gardening. He can already imagine one hundred and one quips from the hobbit. But his friend isn't here, yet, so Frodo just keeps squinting at the bulb, hoping some revelation will miraculously come to him eventually.
What: fail gardening
When: morning of April 4
Where: by the orchard
Rating: PG
It is warm enough now that Frodo can walk about barefooted without worrying that he might lose both legs to the frost. He remembers how Sam would start his planting at around this time of the year, just when the seasons turn and the sweet smell of spring is almost here. But not quite.
There is a tin bucket of flower bulbs some ways from the apple tree, set beside the small crouched figure digging little holes into the ground with his hands. He has a pile of pulled weeds and rocks on his other side, having cleared a small patch there for his makeshift garden. Planting the bulbs confuses him though. Which way is up and how deep should it go?
Times like these, more than ever, makes him wish Sam were here to give him all sorts of wise advice, and not only for gardening. He can already imagine one hundred and one quips from the hobbit. But his friend isn't here, yet, so Frodo just keeps squinting at the bulb, hoping some revelation will miraculously come to him eventually.
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Will had always liked plants. Although he liked knowing about them even more.
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"The best, I assure you. I can't imagine where I would be without him."
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But even as he does so, he can't help but remember his own closest friend. Bran. Oh, Bran. For a long time Will hadn't been able to imagine his life without having the the boy as his friend. As the Arthur to his Merlin.
But Bran had given up his heritage and his memories. He would never remember their adventures again. And even if they met again, Bran would never know Will as anything more than the English boy he had once met on vacation. That greater depth to their friendship was gone forever.
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Frodo places the bulb in the hole he dug before gently sweeping some loose soil over it. He rests his arms on his knees and watches Will help him dig for a moment, hoping maybe to learn the better technique. "Isn't it a good feeling to be so close to the earth?"
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"That sounds like a wonderful life, not too different from mine too," he goes to fetch another bulb to put in the ground. "I liked going on long walks through the forest, just me and the sound of my footsteps, the rustling branches above me. Sometimes, on good days when the stars shine so bright they seem almost like little lights just above one's head, I would hear the elves singing, in tune with the trees, the wind, the very earth..."
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Old One or now, Will was still only thirteen and the baby of the family. Everyone had always worried if he stayed out too late.
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"Did you like them?"
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But in Will, such moments of disquieting knowledge still happened only rarely. Most of the time, he just came across as someone utterly ordinary and unremarkable.
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"What did you do for your master?"
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Of course, their relationship had long since changed from that of an apprentice and master to that of colleagues and close friends. But for respect and love for his friend, Will still named him with the title of master.
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It seems strange that there would be no one younger than the boy beside him, no babies?
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"We were a great circle, born into every time and place. I was the first to be born in 500 years, and the last. After me there will never be another. The Youngest of the Old, they called me."
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"But why has your line stopped?"
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"There was no need for any more, I suppose. The Old Ones always knew that one day the need for us for come to an end. The world belongs to humans, now. As it should."
His gaze turns distant again.
"And all the Old Ones have sailed away. To rest in the land behind the North Wind. Only I remain. And that, too, is as it should be."
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"The Lady Galadriel's people are also sailing away. They walk past our forests sometimes, that is when I would hear them sing as they go to the harbors."
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"Is that also true of your people?"
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Oh, we could have stayed, like you said. We could have reveled ourselves to the world, and offered our advice and guidance.
But that is not our nature. The world belongs to humans, and it is their choice what its future must be. And whether it is for good or for ill, it must be their own choice, and they must take the consequences that come with it. It would be wrong for my kind to interfere with this.
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