It was such a gentle cry, before it escalated into an indignant wail, followed by the sobs of another person. The sounds were nearly muted by the rolling thunder that followed. Gildor halted his horse immediately, his ears keen to find the location of the two persons in distress. The day had started out with a clear blue sky, but as the noontide approached, it had turned into a violent April storm. Today his route lay close to the Shire and he spotted none of the Hobbits on the fields – quite logically so given the deluge of the past hours. However, worry settled in his heart given the muddy state of the roads. It might be that the cries he had heard belonged to someone who had slipped of the road and into the ditch. As he dismounted quickly, the cry seemed to grow softer. For a moment, he stood there silently, drinking in the sights and surroundings, allowing his senses to reach out for the creatures in need of help.

It was then when he noticed a suckling sound, followed by crooning belonging to a woman. Carefully he walked into the direction from whence it came, placing his feet with care so that he would not slip. Once he brushed aside bramble branches, he found them: a hobbit lass with a bloodied baby in her arms, the umbilical cord still connected them both. At first, she seemed not to notice him, but when he slipped forwards by accident, a startled cry tumbled from her lips.

“Have no fear lass, I am here to help you and your little babe,” Gildor gently said as he kneeled down.

“It has come out,” the lass immediately answered, “He just had to come too soon and I’m not sure how I can return home with him…”

“With the cord uncut.” Gildor answered to her, “Let me first wrap your child into my cloak, and then we will see to you.”

“I should have stayed at home. I had light cramps in the morning, but both my Daisy and May took such a long time getting there. And now here I lie, with my boy and...” It was as if realisation fully struck her at that moment.

Gildor observed her with a kind gaze before he accepted the young hobbit and wrapped his cloak gently around the newborn babe. Before he could attend to the mother, a shiver coursed through him – the telltale sign a vision was just lingering beneath the surface. This little child would be special, but for now in this drizzling rain, he had to act swiftly. He swiftly removed two leather straps that had kept his braids in place, then he placed the straps on the cord and cut off all blood flow. “Have you named your son, my lady?”

The hobbit lass looked up at him, distraction apparent in her eyes at his question. Since no answer came, Gildor spoke softly to himself as he studied the infant’s face, “May you live a prosperous life, Samwise the Brave.”

“Samwise, I like the sound of that. Since you suggested such a fine name for this lad, my name is Bell, Bell Gamgee sir.” Bell tried to answer as properly as she knew.

“I will carry you both back to my horse and get you home safe and sound,” the elf answered smoothly and as he gathered both mother and child in his arms, he started to hum a song. Bell nodded off into a slumber easily; however, her babe suddenly gazed up at him. Gildor made sure that Bell’s breathing remained even while he tried to place her securely in the saddle, keeping the baby in his arms.

“This might seem like an eventful start to your life, young Sam. May your courage make you stand tall in what is to come, may your shyness and plain life be preparation and shield to carry of which you are yet unaware. I foresee that one day your loyalty will as sharp as a sword to defend those so dear to you. And so much shall depend on you, when the weight you have to carry might become too much.” Gildor sighed softly when the little boy tried to grasp his thumb and he tried balance the little boy carefully once he mounted his horse. For a few seconds he made sure Bell sat safe once he wrapped his arm around her, balancing her babe in another. “And yes, we shall light your way when you give in to your curiosity to seek us out, but for now we need to protect your mum and future. The road to follow is uncertain for us all. I do think that you shall enjoy it nonetheless.” With a gentle nudge, he urged his horse forwards to seek out the one house he knew that would not panic at the sight of an elf: the one at Bag End, Hobbiton.

Glorfindel was not certain what was sharper, his tongue, or his glare, yet there was not much time left with a life at stake. Frodo had been much safer on Asfaloth's back. Even though he would have ridden his steed himself, Glorfindel remembered the anguished look on Sam’s face when he simply ordered his horse to run, as hard as Asfaloth probably could bear. The sudden change in plans left an upsetSam in Aragorn’s care since the stout hobbit had refused to talk with ever since. Now that all was said and done, he felt sorry for the young lad as he paced up and down the walkway in front of the healing chambers. The other two hobbits had tried to lift Sam's spirits and after one attempt after another, he had overheard them that a meal – elevenses if he recalled it correctly - would be the perfect medicine. Glorfindel doubted that since he recognised the pain and sorrow engraved on the young master’s face. Oh how remembered such anguish. Even though there was naught he could have done back then, the elf tried to find a way to console this exceptional hobbit.

As they all had marched to their end destination, the homely house of Elrond, he had taken the opportunity to observe the three hobbits. Of course, he had dealt with Hobbits in the past and their braveness in joining the battle of Fornost, but this one carried his courage in a different way. Behind the shyness in his looks and his plain clothing, Glorfindel saw a young man who dared to go very far for his master as he called Frodo. However, it seemed wrong to him that young Sam should blame himself for the wounds the Wraiths had inflicted upon Frodo. The elf remembered his own battles, and more profoundly the losses he had suffered during the Nirnaeth Arnoediad: a battle where he had often blamed himself for not giving enough. He had tried to do better during the siege of Gondolin, but had to witness how his best friend, Ecthelion, plunged into the fountain, taking a balrog – if not the Balrog – with him. That he met a same fate once he had guided his people outside the hidden city seemed to matter less, given the bravery of his friends and his king during the fight.

Somehow, telling tales of this epic proportion would not help Sam, and Glorfindel pondered on what he could say to encourage him. The answer came to him quite simply once Sam stopped dead in his tracks and presented the tall elf a with glare. Glorfindel suspected that for some reason all the anger pent up inside Sam was about to come to the surface. As he braced himself for the avalanche of words to come, the Halfling stopped short a few steps away. Only then, Glorfindel noticed the tears that threatened to spill and wordlessly he opened his arms to embrace the emotional hobbit.

“I’m gonna loose him, ” he sniffed, “all because I ain’t doin my job properly, I promised Gandalf I would and…”

All Glorfindel could do was to let him cry, vent his frustrations and voice his fears for now. It took the young hobbit to calm down and once his sobs subsided, the elf gently pushed him a bit backwards and knelt down to face Sam. “The hour I met you Samwise, one thing that stood out for me was your loyalty. Never did your eyes leave your master and deep down I think that you would willingly sacrifice all for him. This is not what fate decided, and you have to hold on to faith, tap deeply in the courage inside you.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Sam answered sadly as he briefly met the elf’s eyes, “Look what mess I’ve gotten him into.”

“You should not take blame for this, Samwise for I do not see any evil in your eyes. It was that dark and foul creature that wounded him, not you!” Glorfindel answered firmly, but he had also seen the pain in the hobbit’s eyes and relented quickly. “I suspect the coming days will be hard on you because of the waiting. Hold onto the faith that he is still with us and that Master Elrond will do anything in his power to heal him. From a trustworthy source I have heard no words that he is slipping away. You do not doubt us or me, do you?”

“Well, I didn’t like how you sent Mr Frodo off on that horse like that,” Sam sputtered.

“You then feared losing him the most, did you not? Even here he is safe, secure in the healer’s care, and it was hard missing that you have been angry with me.” Glorfindel rose to his feet.

“You know that you’ve been very straightforward with me; after meeting Gildor I was not sure what to think of you Elves,” Sam confessed and finally relaxed as his shoulders, his gaze meeting Glorfindel’s with more confidence.

“Ah Gildor, so you did finally meet him did you?” Glorfindel laughed heartily. Sam just stared at him like a bunny paralysed in the open field. “I assume your mother never told you the complete story of your birth, did she? Ah, poor Bell, what a magnificent lass!”

Now it was the time to distract him, Glorfindel thought and gently guided the stout-hearted hobbit away from the Healing Halls, feeling hopeful that this lad would find some peace at last.

Something needed to happen, that much he knew as Celeborn descended the stairs to seek out the weaving masters. The usual murmur of birds, the sounds and songs of the Galadhrim at work, and the rustling of the trees, had seeped away from these woods the moment the eight walkers had entered this realm. The closer the company journeyed to the heart of his country, the more it seemed as if a dark presence tried to spread through the trees. He had perceived it instantly; the grief they carried within their hearts drowned out everything else, and he knew it was the mighty jewel that tried to overpower the one Galadriel carried. Elrond had warned them about what would come their way. Celeborn felt relieved that it had not diminished the power source of this realm once the Ringbearer crossed the boundaries. He knew that both the bearer and Nenya would do everything to keep the evil from spreading. Yet Celeborn could imagine how his people would sense this strife. Forewarned and standing strong, his spouse remained unperturbed by these sudden changes. Galadriel had gazed down upon the visitors with her usual demeanour; a gentle smile on her lips, her hands clasped in front of her, and her eyes betraying no emotion.

As he paused a moment before his feet met the forest floor, he sensed the sudden shift of energy that washed over him; the sombre undertone that had reverberated through the trees shortly before, was now replaced by silver sounds and songs of mourning. Celeborn imagined that many had retreated to their living quarters, turning inward in reflection, once the news the travellers brought quickly spread.

He knew there was much to consider, even though Galadriel had her own thoughts regarding this quest. He felt troubled by what he had seen, and gleaned more insight from the reactions of the eight remaining travellers while he spoke to them. Some responded in an unsettled manner, as Galadriel seemed to look into their hearts, leaving him to study their outward appearances.

Yes, there had been grief in their eyes, but in several, something else lingered beneath the surface of conscious thought. Aragorn appeared to be deeply troubled, whereas the younger man next to him, Boromir, did not dare a look at either Celeborn or Galadriel as he shifted uneasily in place. Legolas, as always, appeared quite at ease; his arms crossed in front of his chest while he tilted his head attentively, listening to one of his companions answering our curtsies at that moment. Thranduil’s son had nothing to hide from Galadriel that much was written in his eyes.

And that grumbling dwarf next to him. After so many years living with painful memories, she offered the first kind words to him - and indirectly, his kindred. Even though Gimli’s people had been responsible for his beloved liege lord’s death in Doriath, Celeborn also knew that she was right; it was time to forgive.

As for the four hobbits, the differences among them amused him; the fidgety Pippin, the curious Merry and ah, the haunted Frodo who already felt quite burdened by his quest. Then there was Samwise, plain looking and unsettled, clearly showing that he was not quite certain what to think of it all.

There was no doubt; the situation was as dire as his wife had predicted. Every action committed by one of the eight travellers would be of great influence upon the others. He was left with the responsibility of equipping them properly with well-chosen gifts. All would be items that would aid or guide them through the difficulties ahead. How much more could Frodo take, after all that happened in Moria? Would all of his friends stay beside him? Such loyalty and courage to face such dire times was not a given for everyone. Especially in this company. No matter how loyal Merry and Pippin might be, either their curiosity or bravery could get in their way. Celeborn perceived that Samwise could make a difference. Where Boromir did all but not look at them, the young hobbit met his gaze unwaveringly. To him, it appeared that Samwise was not easy to disturb, as he just stood there modestly behind his master, with a grateful look in his eyes, yet steadfast as a rock in a stormy sea. Of course, the lad blushed when his wife gazed down on him; Celeborn suspected that Samwise was braver than the young hobbit ever would let on.

Celeborn continued to walk across the lawn that stretched out in front of him. Once he reached the other side, where the forest path would bring him to the weaving masters, he halted in his steps for a moment to rest his hands on one of his beloved mallorn-trees. Over the ages, the two different breeds came together here in Lothlorien. The younger saplings came from Tol Eressea, and the elder mellyrn came from Gondolin which had barely survived the fall of ancient city. It was Gil-galad who had brought the saplings of the younger breed here. But it had been Idril who had entrusted the young Gondolindrim saplings to his wife, who had then nurtured them into their fullness. This sorrowful parting between his wife and her cousin had happened before Idril and her spouse sailed west. To him and his beloved, the trees would always remind him what had passed, either happy or sad. He had agreed with Galadriel’s plan to gift Samwise some soil and seeds, even though he was not sure if it was a wise plan overall. So much was at stake, now that Mithrandir had perished, and even the slightest action of the eight that were left could disturb the balance in a devastating manner. However, if the Ringbearer were to be successful in the future, the trees needed a caretaker after his kind left for the undying lands.

With a deep sigh, the elf withdrew his hand from the tree and stepped onto the forest path. Then he halted, a faint mumble reaching him. It sounded like someone was talking to the mellyrn in quite an affectionate manner. For a moment, he stood there poised, not certain if he could discern whom he heard talking to the trees, because it did happen occasionally in this realm. Then he realised why this particular person caught his attention; it was the way in which the voice spoke to the trees, in a tone so beguiling, and how they responded to it in wonder.

As he came closer, Celeborn paused and smiled when he saw Samwise Gamgee touching a tree, while he looked up in wonder towards the golden-leaved canopy.

“It must appear like a crown of leaves,” the elf lord said kindly. “I heard from many of first visitors who have stood there before you, having looked in wonder and expressed it to me in these words.”

The young man looked as if he was caught stealing cookies, and stepped away from the tree, while a fierce blush graced his cheeks. He nearly stumbled over the roots.

“I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds here, Lord.” Samwise said after he found his balance again, 'Tis just that I have never seen such trees before and Frodo said he sensed something. I was just curious what they felt like!”

“I surely can understand that wonder, Samwise, for these trees have become a rarity amongst their kind, having seen and survived so much. Did you sense anything?” Celeborn asked, and observed in amusement how the Halfling looked up at the trees again with respect.

“I might have, I did feel something pulsing beneath the bark, yet from what I gather, I should not even feel such a thing because the sapwood shouldn’t be that close to the surface. Not with this massive trunk size. Back in the Shire, we have foresters and they have told me that there are species that grow tall and old, yet they do not look this ancient! They must have been well cared for here,” Samwise answered as he touched the tree once more in reverence, and Celeborn managed to suppress a chuckle. It pleased him to see Samwise in his element now.

“As much as we can. However, as you know, the trees can do for themselves. They do not need much aid from us to thrive here.” It was then that it dawned on Celeborn as to the why Galadriel had chosen Samwise to gift the seeds and soil of this realm; it was not only the obvious love for nature, and the loyalty to his master that spoke to Samwise's good character. It was also a different sense of purpose. A few might discern, but from what others told him, and from what had seen himself, Samwise had another destiny, one that would surpass this quest should the hobbit survive the ordeal to come. Yes, he now fully agreed with Galadriel that Samwise would be the perfect Guardian for the mellyrn. Even though Samwise might not realise fully, Galadriel’s intended gift would be of great importance, for he would become the guardian of their beloved trees. But how could he assure that Samwise could survive the quest and hopefully, beyond?

As both stood beneath the mellyrn, Celeborn realized that Samwise had continued to talk about all he knew, regarding gardening and forest lore. He reprimanded himself that he was an inattentive host to this guest.

“Would you care to accompany me for a little while longer, Samwise?” Celeborn offered and, as he expected, Samwise accepted gladly. He listened while Samwise continued to talk about his knowledge of roses and petunias. Patiently, he shook his head and hummed in accordance, enjoying the earthiness of this curious hobbit. Giving gifts was an important task, and he did not take it lightly. He had seen, all too often, how such well-intended gestures could lead to someone’s doom. A helm or a sword would not suit him. Nay, for a plain hobbit as Samwise was, it needed to be more practical. Something to hold on to if they ended up in dire straits.

As they walked through a small field of elanor, Celeborn decided that his first stop would be at the rope maker’s quarters. It was a simple gift. Perhaps he could arrange it thusly that Samwise would get it in a way that he wouldn’t think of it as a mighty gift. For Celeborn suspected that Samwise would not use it all too often if that were the case. A plan formed in his mind and with the fluid grace he still possessed, he knelt down to say goodbye for the moment. “Enjoy your stay, Samwise Gamgee, and may your time here bring the reprieve you will need for now. But do satisfy your curiosity, for the knowledge gained shall be of great importance one day.”

“I shall Lord Celeborn and thank you for your company,” Samwise answered politely, and after the young hobbit bowed to him, Celeborn could see to his task with surety purpose.

~*~

Author notes:
My special thanks to Pandemonium and Moreth at the Lizard Council for nitpicking and helping me with this piece. Wenont, thanks so much for keeping me company while I was editing, offering suggestions or alternatives in punctuations, flow and words.

As some might have noticed, in this vignette I described that the mellyrn of Lothlórien have two different origins: from Gondolin and Tol Eressëa. Such notion is not strange in canon, since in Tolkien’s world, mellyrn also grew in Gondolin. For this I happily refer to Unfinished Tales:

It may be noted that later mentions of mallorns in Númenor, Lindon, and Lothlórien do not suggest, though they do not deny, that those trees flourished in Gondolin in the Elder Days (see pp. 175-6)
From Unfinished Tales, Part one, the First Age, 1. Of Tuor and his coming to Gondolin, Note 31.

As to who gave the fruit of Tol Eressëa to Galadriel:

Its fruit was a nut with a silver shale; and some were given as gift by Tar-Aldarion, the sixth King of Númenor, to King Gil-galad of Lindon. They did not take root in that land; but Gil-galad gave some to his kinswoman Galadriel, and under her power they grew and flourished in the guarded land of Lothlórien beside the River Anduin, until the High Elves at last left Middle-earth; but they did not reach the height or girth of the great groves of Númenor.
From Unfinished Tales, From part two: the second age, I description of the island of Númenor.

Words used:
Mellyrn and mallorn-trees:

mallorn, plural mellyrn, the trees of Lothlórien.
From: The Silmarillion, Index, entry -orn.

and
Alas! for Lothlorien. It would be a life far from the mellyrn. But if there are mallorn-trees beyond the Sea none have reported it.'
From: History of Middle-earth, IX, Sauron Defeated, chapter XII. LOTHLORIEN.