(Written in 2005 for Marigold a drabble about her namesake, wee!Marigold.)


The summer sun was quick to burn the dew from the ground, and felt warm and welcome on Marigold's face as she smiled up at her father and handed him one of the little plants. The Gaffer returned the look, as he placed her namesake flower into the ground, and Sam followed with a sprinkle of water. Ever since she was a fauntling she helped to plant the marigolds when the time came.

"Oh and aye, lass, they'll grow all the better for your little hands helping," her father would say.

And for one day she did not envy Sam.