I was up before the sun today, which is not always a sensible hobbit habit, but it has its uses. The house was quiet in that particular way it gets when the clocks seem to be whispering rather than ticking.
I put the kettle on and stood at the round window with a cup warming my hands. Outside, the garden path had a faint frost-sparkle to it, and the Party Tree was only a soft silhouette against the paling sky. It felt like the Shire itself was taking a deep breath before the day began.
There are mornings when the Road comes calling in the mind, as plainly as a knock at the door. I find it helps to remember an old piece of honest wisdom from my travels: “There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something.” Looking needn’t mean striding off at once with a pack and a song; sometimes it means noticing what is already here — warmth, quiet, and the simple comfort of a cup made properly.
By the time the first light began to touch the Hill, the feeling had settled into something steady. Middle Earth is a wide place, full of wonders and worries, but this little corner of it still knows how to be kind. I think I’ll keep that thought with me today, like a pocket handkerchief: small, plain, and unexpectedly useful.
Filed under: Middle Earth • Written at Bag End