The sun slowly set over Bag End and shards of light stretched across the sky.  An old hobbit sat in a rocking chair just outside his door on New Row, watching the wide blue expanse change its shades through oranges and pinks to reds that coated the bases of the clouds.  A rug was draped over his knees and his hands were clasped in his lap.  His tired eyes strained to stay open as he looked up the hill to where his grandchildren played; his ears pricked to hear the gleeful shrieks of the small hobbits having fun. 

A hand clasped his shoulder lovingly before its owner leaned in to kiss his cheek.

"It's getting cold, m'dear.  Best come in to the warmth of the smial"

"Just let me sit a bit longer.  The fire will still be there when I'm ready to go in.  I've spent too many years taking the simple things for granted.  Let me soak up as much of this as I can"

Widow Rumble took a seat next to the Gaffer and turned her eyes up the hill as well. 

"Take all the time you need, you've earned the luxury of a few moments fancy."