| What's in a Name? |
The morning mist caresses their faces with damp fingers, and the lacy
froth of the ship's wake stretches away from them, tinged with rose by the
rising sun.
"Do you mind, Bilbo, that I left it all to Sam? He isn't a Baggins after all..."
It pains the old hobbit to hear it; the soft voice, laden with weariness and
loss.
"What would you call him, then?" he asks.
Silent moments pass, heavy with secrets unshared and broken dreams,
rich with the scents of a world renewed, of honeysuckle and innocence.
Memories of a lonely hobbit-lad with a boundless capacity for love and a
gardener's boy with his heart in his eyes and the sun caught in his hair.
"Mellamin..." Beloved.
Echoes of forever in the ebb and flow of the unending tide. A hope
unvoiced.
Bilbo looks up at the still face of his heir, and smiles at the blush that
warms the pale cheek.
"Well, then," he nods. "That is all the name he needs."
From the bow, elvensong rises in unearthly harmony and the Lady's voice
soars achingly sweet above the rest. The world shatters into shards of
silver glass,
And they pass into the West.
~~~~~
froth of the ship's wake stretches away from them, tinged with rose by the
rising sun.
"Do you mind, Bilbo, that I left it all to Sam? He isn't a Baggins after all..."
It pains the old hobbit to hear it; the soft voice, laden with weariness and
loss.
"What would you call him, then?" he asks.
Silent moments pass, heavy with secrets unshared and broken dreams,
rich with the scents of a world renewed, of honeysuckle and innocence.
Memories of a lonely hobbit-lad with a boundless capacity for love and a
gardener's boy with his heart in his eyes and the sun caught in his hair.
"Mellamin..." Beloved.
Echoes of forever in the ebb and flow of the unending tide. A hope
unvoiced.
Bilbo looks up at the still face of his heir, and smiles at the blush that
warms the pale cheek.
"Well, then," he nods. "That is all the name he needs."
From the bow, elvensong rises in unearthly harmony and the Lady's voice
soars achingly sweet above the rest. The world shatters into shards of
silver glass,
And they pass into the West.
~~~~~
