Meadow Flowers & Butterflies by StarSpray

Jubilee 2025

Written for the Jubilee 2025 instadrabble sessions

Rock paper scissors

After a quick match of rock paper scissors, it was decided that Pippin would stay behind to walk with Sam and Frodo, and Merry and Fatty would go on ahead. Pippin was very smug. “You just keep your eyes open,” said Merry. “We don’t want him sneaking off before you even get to Buckland!”

“I don’t think we need to worry about that, Mr Merry,” Sam protested. 

“We didn’t think we needed to worry about Rings and Dark Lords, either,” Merry said. 

“Oh, we’re not even out of the Shire!” Pippin cried. “Don’t worry so much—what could possibly happen?”

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This is a torch song. Touch me and you’ll burn

Mirkwood burns, and at last Galadriel puts forth her power, all of it that she has been mustering with in herself. She calls upon fire and water, earth and sky, and Sings. Far away in Mordor the Enemy is distracted, he has other things on his mind, but she can feel a part of his attention on her and she laughs, for his doom has come while he was not looking, and she will remain when he is naught but ash. 

For Finrod, for Celebrimbor, for Celebrían and all others who she holds dear, Galadriel sings apart the foundations of Dol Guldur, and sends sunlight down to flood the dark pits.
In the east, the Ring is cast into the flames, and Barad-Dûr topples. 

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Beauties, terrors, sun, power

“What was it like? Well, let me see. There were beauties, sure enough—Lórien, now, that’s a tale unto itself! But right beside them were terrors I don’t think I can tell you of. Makes me shudder to remember the Stairs of Cirith Ungol, not to mention what lay beyond. Hard to breathe, it was, in Mordor, and in the end I didn’t think we’d make it off the mountain.

“But there’s other, brighter powers in the world besides the Dark Lord, and we woke up after to sunshine and Gandalf laughing! That was a merry meeting there in Cormallen.”

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too much to drink, friendship

“Are you drunk?” Frodo took the cup from Merry. “How much have you had?”

“Only one glass!” Merry swayed as he sat, cheeks flushed, looking very merry indeed. “Strong stuff, that elven wine.”

“You should’ve expected it,” said Frodo, amused. “You’ve heard old Bilbo’s stories.”

“Oh, but that was Mirkwood! That—that Dor-something. Stuff.”

Strider laughed from where he sat nearby. “Do you think Thranduil does not send the occasional barrel of Dorwinion to Elrond?” He raised his own glass in a toast, and took a very small sip, as Sam brought a bigger cup of water to Merry.

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Spark, night, rooftop, woodsmoke

The stars shone bright in the sky overhead. The air was cool but the rooftop was warm near the chimney; Estel leaned against the warm bricks and smelled the woodsmoke and listened to the strains of music in the Hall of Fire below. In his fingers he turned over and over the Ring of Barahir. The gemstones of the snakes’ eyes caught the starlight and glinted like sparks. 

He had learned unexpectedly a great deal about himself that day. His name, his history. His future. He sighed and tilted his head back, and caught sight of Gil-Estel far overhead.