Sam opened a small compartment in the workbench that sat in the tool shed. Within the drawer lay a neatly folded piece of the softest cotton Sam had ever felt.

This small remnant of fabric had been rescued by Sam from a pile of clothes that had been brought to the shed to be used as rags.  It was a piece a nightshirt that had grown too thin to continue to wear.  The garment had been thrown out without being laundered and still held a lingering scent of Sam's secret love.  Sam held the fragment to his cheek and sighed.

~~~~

Frodo sat at his writing desk in his study.A book lay open in front of him and upon the blank page rested a pressed rose.The rose was blood red and devoid of thorns. Frodo smiled at the memories this flower conjured.

A tanned hobbit lad with sun kissed hair, lovingly tending the flower gardens outside Bag End, singing softly as he worked, smiling to himself.

Frodo's fingertips glided lightly over the preserved keepsake before he closed the book and placed it back in the bottom drawer of the desk, to leave it there until the next time …