Meadow Flowers & Butterflies by StarSpray

Restoration & Rebuilding

Written for the Saturday instadrabbling session for the Restoration & Rebuilding challenge

Prompt: video on restoration of Whychus Creek

Much of Ithilien was still green and healthy, and what damage there was would be restored quickly. But there were parts in North Ithilien, closer to Minas Morgul or the road to the Morannon, that were dry and desolate and and yet poisoned. Little water flowed there, for many streams had been stopped up, and what water there was had been fouled so that it did little good to the trees trying to grow back, or to the grass and flowers trying desperately to take root again.

Legolas and his people sang many songs of health and growth and life, and they called upon the Men of Ithilien and upon Gimli's folk to help them clear the blocked stream beds. When in a rush clear clean water spilled down one dry rocky bed a cheer went up, and Legolas thought that he could hear the very earth sigh in relief.

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Prompt: When the storm has passed, put your energy into rebuilding your life. Don't waste time looking back. - Leon Brown

It was a surprise for Sam to look up one afternoon and find that he had planted his last tree. He had been all over the Shire—it felt as though he had walked as many steps between the Farthings as he had walked from Bag End to Mordor—and now he was done, at least for now. There would always be a need for planting, but let these first saplings grow a bit first. He gave the earth around this last tree—an elm—one last pat, and stood, grunting as his back twinged.

Back home, he showed Frodo his box. "I didn't expect to have any left," he said. "What do I do with the rest?"

"You could put it in your own garden, you know," Frodo said.

"Oh, but that don't seem right. Anyway it doesn't need the help." The gardens of Bag End were thriving, in fact, even with Sam's frequent absences.

"Toss it in the air and let the wind take it, then," Rosie said. "Magic elf dust will go where it's most needed, I suspect."

Sam brightened. "So it will!"

He went the next windy day to the Four Farthing Stone, and poured the last of Lady Galadriel's gift into his palm. He held it for a moment, thinking of the Lady and of the mallorn trees of Lórien, and then he flung it in the air. It hung for a second, a tiny brown cloud, before the wind picked up and it vanished.