Wild Harebells, by Lbilover

Originally written for the Tolkien Weekly challenge 'Blue'.

Blue was Sam’s favourite colour. He loved the varying hues of sky and water, and especially the myriad blues of the flowers in Bag End’s garden. He never knew how vivid blue could be, however, until Mr. Bilbo brought his nephew and heir home to live with him.

But sadness dwelt in Frodo Baggins’s blue eyes, and it nigh broke Sam’s heart to see it. Blue should be a happy colour.

So he gathered wild harebells and shyly offered them to Frodo.

“You’re my very first friend here, Sam,” Mr. Frodo said, and the sadness fled before a blossoming smile.


Sam was walking home one evening when a splash of blue, vivid in the twilight, brought him stock-still, memory strong upon him of Mr. Frodo’s eyes in Mordor; the only bright colour in a land leached dust grey.

Wild harebells. Another memory stirred, from another time.

He brought the flowers to Frodo in his study, where he sat writing in the Red Book, hour upon endless hour.

“I reckoned these might cheer you,” he said.

Frodo held them like one in a dark dream. In his eyes, Sam could see only the memory of fire and loss.

His heart wept.


The light in Valinor was almost more than Sam could bear, clear and sharp as a note struck upon a crystal bell. He blinked against it; slowly his eyes adjusted, and there was Frodo, poised like a diver at the Water’s edge.

“Frodo,” he breathed. All else was a blur as they came together in joyful reunion.

*The bedside table held a vase of blue flowers: wild harebells. Sam looked at Frodo, hope a bird’s wings madly fluttering inside him.

“I remember, dear Sam,” Frodo said.

The bluest blue Sam had ever seen, sorrowless once more, set his heart singing.


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