As Fastred left to make tea, Sam leant forwards, wincing at the creak of his old bones. “I brought something for you, Elanor.”
He smiled, and from his pack he pulled a musty volume bound in faded scarlet.
“The Red Book of Westmarch!” Awed, Elanor ran her fingers over the cracks in the leather, breathing in its delicate papery scent – then she realised. “You’re leaving.”
She had half expected this since her mother’s death, but even so her throat tightened. She moved to his side and embraced him gently. “Tell Frodo hello from me, won’t you?” she whispered.
I wrote this mainly as an exercise in self-discipline; until today I had yet to successfully keep a drabble down to 100 words. Thanks to Dreamflower for the encouragement!
Chapter End Notes:
Thank you for reading; thoughts, comments and criticism are welcome, as ever!