(no subject)

[bronwe]

It is custom for the Dúnedain to turn their faces westward before meals, to Westernesse that once was. They bid us to do the same, and it reminded me of my home beyond the mountains; hobbits taking their elevenses in comfortable holes under hills.

I hope -- never to call it a once was but an always is.

[ Silence and a sigh as he recalls a funny thought. ]

My dear Sam said something about lettuce then, and something about rain. But sometimes these things slip my mind. Like rain on a wilted lettuce I think he said, like hope.

Comments

[bronwe]

Lady Galadriel.

[ He is hushed, still unused to her speaking to him as an equal. She is humoring him, kind as she is. ]

He is, wiser than he would admit to himself.

[inafadingcrown]

Master Baggins.

[Humoring him? Hardly. He is entitled to a great amount of respect in her eyes, whether he realizes it or not.]

I find that the wisest are oft the more softly spoken among us.

[bronwe]

[ He contemplates asking her to call him by name, just Frodo, but that seems too familiar. Then he remembers to stand and give a little bow, as needless as that may be considering his stature. ]

That's a pity. When their words must be of greater worth.

[inafadingcrown]

[She gives a little nod in acknowledgement of the bow.]

It is why I learned long ago to listen with care.

[bronwe]

[ He tweaks a small smile at that. A little bit of pride at being acknowledged such, still. ]

And disregard the noise of the unwise?