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My Lady Chose Me by Pearl Took

<b>Author: Pearl Took</b><br>
<b>Title: My Lady Chose Me</b><br>
<b>Rating: G</b> <br>
<b>Theme:</b> <br>
<b>Elements: Fourth Age: The POV of the mallorn Sam plants, as it grows and finds itself in the Shire with hobbits, instead of in Lothlorien with the Lady. (Shirebound)</b> <br>
<b>Author's Notes: A thank you to Shirebound for setting me on the writer's path. </b> <br>
<b>Summary: I hope I covered what Shirebound wanted.</b><br>
<b>Word Count: 1,127</b><br>

My Lady Chose Me

With her own hand she had plucked the ripe fruit that cosseted me, setting it aside until the meat decayed, allowing the fullness of time for me to develop to my greatest potential, then, she tucked me away with others of my kind.

And again, she chose me from out of the box that held us, the children of her mellyrn, and placed me in a box of soft, grey wood that suited well my silver sheen, along with fragrant soil from her private orchard.

I heard her praying to Yavanna. Calling for blessings upon the soil . . .

. . . and me.

I heard her praying to Eru, to He that is Alone, that He would watch over us, the soil and me and a being named ‘Sam’, and great warmth and depth of feeling accompanied her petitions.

And then, softly as though it came from a great distance, although it was only due to my being encased in wood and soil, I heard her melodious voice.

“For you little gardener and lover of trees . . .” and more about where the soil came from and that it had her blessing and that no other garden would bloom like his should he sprinkle the soil there and that he may then remember her.

But she did not mention me, and her talk of his garden and sprinkling the orchard’s soil bewildered me as I fell asleep in the manner of all seeds.

And time must have passed, as time must do.

I heard a voice and I stirred within my silvery shell.

Not my Lady’s, yet a pleasant voice nonetheless.

“I wondered when you would think of it. Open it!”

The clear warm sun of the day shown in and stirred me further.

“What can I do with this?” asked a different voice. A warm voice that brought to me memories of when I was yet upon the tree which gave me life. And the sound of it flowed into me and I was filled with a new yearning. The yearning to sink roots into the good earth and fling a strong green shoot into the good air.

To grow.

But I didn’t get the chance.
The box was opened and the box was closed many times over. Open. Delicate tiny pincers would reach in, would pick up a mere grain of the soil of my Lady’s orchards. Close. So often that I lost count.

So often that I lost patience.

Was I to be ignored?

The Golden Lady had blessed me as well as the soil. She had sung over me as she plucked my life-fruit. She had sung over me as she placed me with the other seeds to mature. She had sung over the soil as she scooped it up in her hand then let it sift into the little grey box. She sang over box, soil and me as she brought us all together.

Was I of lesser value than the soil so painstakingly pinched out?

Grain by grain the soil disappeared until a day came when the box was opened and upended over a small work-worn hand. I was pinched between two brown, callused fingers and firmly held as the small one’s hand cast the last few grains of the soil to the winds as he murmured a blessing.

Then . . .

. . . I was returned to the box.

And I mourned.

But the box opened one more time.

“Well, you’re a right lovely nut with your silvery coat.” The voice of The Gardener said, for after all, it must be the one called ‘Sam’, he whom my lady called ‘little gardener’ since he had so respected the soil she had bestowed. Could it be he was finally respecting me to whom she had also given her blessing?

“I’ve a feeling you’re a nut from one of those Mallorn trees that The Lady loved so well.” He sighed and his ache touched me. “I wonder if I’ll ever see her again?”

I felt his inquisitive gaze upon me and he turned me about.

“You’re near to the same color as the bark on those trees. You just have to be one of them. Which means there’s only one place that’s right to plant you.”

He carried me in his hand, not back in the little grey wooden box, and after a short time he set me upon soft grass as he dug a hole in the earth.

“I’ve no idea if you’ll grow here in the Shire or not, little seed. There’s naught here as magical - no I mean wondrous - no blessed, well . . . there’s naught as Elven here as it was there in her land. But, I won’t know if I don’t plant you.”

He placed me, most gently, into the hole.

“May all that is good in Middle Earth, all the wonderful things of all the different folk that my Frodo and Mister Merry and Pippin, and I have come to know, may all that goodness and blessing help you grow, little seed from the Lady’s beautiful and beloved trees.”

He covered me over.

And the soil whispered its tales to me, its stories of the passing through this land of Elven kind long ages of this world’s time past. It accounted the comings and goings of Dwarves and Men and, more recent as the epochs of these beings are marked, the coming and settling of the little ones who dwelt here now. It wept as it told of cruelty so recently brought to the little ones by outsiders - orc-men with no love for growing things that hurt and killed the little ones, the Hobbits, and gouged and burned the land they had loved as much as my Lady loved her land.

At last I felt the change.

Roots sank deep.

A shoot sprang upwards!

I grew.

I couldn’t wait to grow. I bloomed that very spring and was a full fifteen feet tall by the chill of autumn.

I blessed the land of the Hobbits. I filled hearts with joy as I proudly bore the lights they hung from my boughs and they laughed and sang and danced beneath me. And though he who had born a ring of power had need to leave the shores of his home, before he left, he sat below me and enjoyed leaning his back against my silky bark – and I brought him some comfort.

I gave the blessings of my Lady. I brought forth the blessings of Yavanna.

I generously gave the blessings of my kind.

I am the Mallorn of the Party Field, in Hobbiton, in the Shire.

I am the Mallorn of the Hobbits.



( 16 comments — Leave a comment )
Jun. 20th, 2014 04:51 pm (UTC)
Ah, lovely from start to finish.
Jun. 20th, 2014 06:12 pm (UTC)
Many thanks, harrowcatliz! :-)
Jun. 20th, 2014 10:47 pm (UTC)
And the soil whispered its tales to me

Ohhhhh, this is so beautiful, Pearl! I never imagined writing from the POV of the seed itself. Thank you so much for adopting this bunny and tending it and encouraging it to grow. Just lovely.
Jun. 21st, 2014 02:33 am (UTC)
*Happy Dance*
So glad you enjoyed it, m'dear Shirebound. :-)

Jun. 20th, 2014 11:33 pm (UTC)
This is absolutely lovely. Every word sings.

thank you!
Jun. 21st, 2014 02:34 am (UTC)
Thank you so much, rakshi. :-)
Jun. 21st, 2014 02:37 am (UTC)
That's so lovely.
Jun. 21st, 2014 04:26 pm (UTC)
Thank you, addie71 :-) Glad you liked it.
Jun. 21st, 2014 02:43 am (UTC)
This is so lovely it brought tears to my eyes.
Jun. 21st, 2014 04:27 pm (UTC)
Oh my! what a compliment :-)

I'm glad it touched you, baranduin.
Jun. 21st, 2014 05:58 pm (UTC)
And congratulations to you on your upcoming publication ... took a peek at your journal :-) that's fantastic news!
Jun. 21st, 2014 11:37 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much, baranduin :-) It's exciting and scary all rolled into one. LOL If you like mysteries, try to keep an eye out for it.
Jun. 21st, 2014 04:53 pm (UTC)
I like how impatient the nut is to be planted and in what a hurry it is to grow and bring its blessings!
Jun. 21st, 2014 11:41 pm (UTC)
I guess I just figured I'd be anxious to get out of that box if I was a seed. ;-)

Glad you enjoyed it, hhimring. :-)
Jun. 21st, 2014 06:25 pm (UTC)
How proudly it tells its tale! Beautiful, and I rejoice that Frodo sat beneath it before he left, and that it did offer him some peace to help him hang on. Lovely.
Jun. 21st, 2014 11:44 pm (UTC)
Thank you, m'dear Larner! I thought of you when Frodo came to mind. :-) So glad you enjoyed it.

( 16 comments — Leave a comment )


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