Fic: LOTR: Flutterby
Written for fanfic100.
Title: Flutterby
Fandom: LOTR
Characters: Samwise, Rosie, Elanor
Prompt: 028. Children
Word Count: 997
Rating: G
Rosie stood framed in the doorway and looked out upon the garden of Bag End with a worried expression. She called again and, when no answer came, began to wring the hem of her apron with her hand, twisting the cloth between nervous fingers.
Walking up the path toward their dooryard, Sam heard her call and quickened his step at its edge of urgency.
"Oh, Sam!" she exclaimed when she saw him at the gate and ran to meet him. "I can't find Elanor!"
"Can’t find her?"
"She was sitting on the doorstep playing with her doll. I only looked away for a moment and then -!"
"There, love. There," said Sam, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle pat of reassurance. "The gate was firmly latched when I came through so there isn't far she could have gone. Not much harm she can be coming to here in her own garden."
"But why doesn't she answer me?"
"I might not answer either if I was in the middle of an adventure of my own making," he said with a reassuring smile. "Many's the time I didn't answer to m'old Gaffer when he called and had my ears boxed for it!"
Rosie sighed then slowly nodded. It hadn't been so very long ago when she had enjoyed such adventures of her own. "On bright summer afternoons when the grass was so soft and green, and the river so inviting for swimming."
"Hard to be coming home when there was so much fun to be had." He gave her hand another pat then placed a kiss upon her palm. "No worries, dear heart. I'll find her."
"I know," replied Rosie and gently extracted her hand. "And when you do, mind you don't get too caught up in what she's playing at. Supper will be ready soon."
There was still a note of worry in her tone but Sam also heard her faith in his ability to set things right. He set down the leather pack in which he kept his tools then began the search for his adventuresome firstborn maidchild.
Bag End's garden was as fine, if not better, than any in the whole of Hobbiton and, to Sam's thinking, anywhere in the Four Farthings. He didn't believe so simply because he was now its Master. The gardens on the Hill had been planted and nurtured by the Da of his own Gaffer and Bag End's own nurtured for long years by the Gamgees themselves on behalf of old Bilbo. And, for a short time after, Mister Frodo.
At the thought of his beloved Master, Sam felt the old twinge of sadness within his breast. Two years had come and gone since the day Frodo passed into the West yet the pain of his leaving felt just as sharp now as it had then. But the memory also brought to mind happier times, when a younger, carefree Frodo ran through the meadows and hills of the Shire, playing at elves and dragons and challenging his cousins to grand imaginary adventures. Those adventures always began and concluded in a single day, with all foes and monsters vanquished in plenty of time for supper. It had seemed all so simple then, the task of heroes.
We know better now, don't we, Mister Frodo? thought Sam.
A tiny squeal of delight caught his hearing, the bright sound instantly breaking the melancholy that had threatened to engulf him and bringing him back to the task at hand.
"Elanor?" Sam cocked his head to listen more closely.
Another giggle and the happy sound of small hands clapping led him unerringly toward a hedgerow surrounded by a carpet of fragrant heather. Upon first glance, he might have missed her altogether had the sound of her laughter not guided him. Elanor lay flat on her back at the edge of the purple blooms with her head beneath the hedge so she might look up into its branches.
Sam stretched out beside her, not nearly small enough to fit quite so neatly beneath the hedge and had his nose scratched by a low branch for his efforts. Which naturally only made the golden-haired toddler at his side giggle harder.
"Your Ma's been calling for you, sweetling," he said. "Why haven't you answered?"
"Pretty!" replied Elanor, and pointed upward through the leafy green maze.
Scooting a bit closer to her (and away from the offending branch), Sam tried to see what had distracted his maidchild enough to keep her from answering Rosie's call.
At first he could see nothing. Just green and brown and sun dappled depths. But then a tiny movement caught his gaze. A dark brown cocoon hung by a slender thread from a branch and through a tear in the fibers could be seen a delicate glimmer of blue.
"Why, look what you've found!" said Sam with a bright smile. "One of the most beautiful things you could ever want to be seeing. Do you know what that is?"
"Flutterby," said Elanor with an enthusiastic nod.
"So it is!" He took her small hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Das its house," she said confidently.
"Yes it is," he agreed. "It's been inside all the winter long and now it's time to come out."
"And play!"
"And play," he laughed. "There! You can see all of it's wings now!"
"Boo wings."
"And yellow. As yellow as your curls." He leaned over to kiss her cheek. "But yours are prettier."
"I not a flutterby."
"You're even better. You're as beautiful a maidchild as any Da could want." He gently squeeze the tiny hand that fit so snuggly within his own. "I love you, sweetling."
"I loves you too, Dada."
They settled comfortably together, Da and Daughter, to watch the whole of the butterfly emerge. And if they were too absorbed in the simple marvel before them to hear when Rosie called them to Dinner, perhaps neither could be blamed.
Title: Flutterby
Fandom: LOTR
Characters: Samwise, Rosie, Elanor
Prompt: 028. Children
Word Count: 997
Rating: G
Rosie stood framed in the doorway and looked out upon the garden of Bag End with a worried expression. She called again and, when no answer came, began to wring the hem of her apron with her hand, twisting the cloth between nervous fingers.
Walking up the path toward their dooryard, Sam heard her call and quickened his step at its edge of urgency.
"Oh, Sam!" she exclaimed when she saw him at the gate and ran to meet him. "I can't find Elanor!"
"Can’t find her?"
"She was sitting on the doorstep playing with her doll. I only looked away for a moment and then -!"
"There, love. There," said Sam, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle pat of reassurance. "The gate was firmly latched when I came through so there isn't far she could have gone. Not much harm she can be coming to here in her own garden."
"But why doesn't she answer me?"
"I might not answer either if I was in the middle of an adventure of my own making," he said with a reassuring smile. "Many's the time I didn't answer to m'old Gaffer when he called and had my ears boxed for it!"
Rosie sighed then slowly nodded. It hadn't been so very long ago when she had enjoyed such adventures of her own. "On bright summer afternoons when the grass was so soft and green, and the river so inviting for swimming."
"Hard to be coming home when there was so much fun to be had." He gave her hand another pat then placed a kiss upon her palm. "No worries, dear heart. I'll find her."
"I know," replied Rosie and gently extracted her hand. "And when you do, mind you don't get too caught up in what she's playing at. Supper will be ready soon."
There was still a note of worry in her tone but Sam also heard her faith in his ability to set things right. He set down the leather pack in which he kept his tools then began the search for his adventuresome firstborn maidchild.
Bag End's garden was as fine, if not better, than any in the whole of Hobbiton and, to Sam's thinking, anywhere in the Four Farthings. He didn't believe so simply because he was now its Master. The gardens on the Hill had been planted and nurtured by the Da of his own Gaffer and Bag End's own nurtured for long years by the Gamgees themselves on behalf of old Bilbo. And, for a short time after, Mister Frodo.
At the thought of his beloved Master, Sam felt the old twinge of sadness within his breast. Two years had come and gone since the day Frodo passed into the West yet the pain of his leaving felt just as sharp now as it had then. But the memory also brought to mind happier times, when a younger, carefree Frodo ran through the meadows and hills of the Shire, playing at elves and dragons and challenging his cousins to grand imaginary adventures. Those adventures always began and concluded in a single day, with all foes and monsters vanquished in plenty of time for supper. It had seemed all so simple then, the task of heroes.
We know better now, don't we, Mister Frodo? thought Sam.
A tiny squeal of delight caught his hearing, the bright sound instantly breaking the melancholy that had threatened to engulf him and bringing him back to the task at hand.
"Elanor?" Sam cocked his head to listen more closely.
Another giggle and the happy sound of small hands clapping led him unerringly toward a hedgerow surrounded by a carpet of fragrant heather. Upon first glance, he might have missed her altogether had the sound of her laughter not guided him. Elanor lay flat on her back at the edge of the purple blooms with her head beneath the hedge so she might look up into its branches.
Sam stretched out beside her, not nearly small enough to fit quite so neatly beneath the hedge and had his nose scratched by a low branch for his efforts. Which naturally only made the golden-haired toddler at his side giggle harder.
"Your Ma's been calling for you, sweetling," he said. "Why haven't you answered?"
"Pretty!" replied Elanor, and pointed upward through the leafy green maze.
Scooting a bit closer to her (and away from the offending branch), Sam tried to see what had distracted his maidchild enough to keep her from answering Rosie's call.
At first he could see nothing. Just green and brown and sun dappled depths. But then a tiny movement caught his gaze. A dark brown cocoon hung by a slender thread from a branch and through a tear in the fibers could be seen a delicate glimmer of blue.
"Why, look what you've found!" said Sam with a bright smile. "One of the most beautiful things you could ever want to be seeing. Do you know what that is?"
"Flutterby," said Elanor with an enthusiastic nod.
"So it is!" He took her small hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Das its house," she said confidently.
"Yes it is," he agreed. "It's been inside all the winter long and now it's time to come out."
"And play!"
"And play," he laughed. "There! You can see all of it's wings now!"
"Boo wings."
"And yellow. As yellow as your curls." He leaned over to kiss her cheek. "But yours are prettier."
"I not a flutterby."
"You're even better. You're as beautiful a maidchild as any Da could want." He gently squeeze the tiny hand that fit so snuggly within his own. "I love you, sweetling."
"I loves you too, Dada."
They settled comfortably together, Da and Daughter, to watch the whole of the butterfly emerge. And if they were too absorbed in the simple marvel before them to hear when Rosie called them to Dinner, perhaps neither could be blamed.