Frodo pushed the windows of the Mayor's Office a little further open. He then had to lunge for his desk, racing the spring breeze, placing ink-pots and mugs and stones on as many documents as he could catch, but in truth, he didn't mind. Not with this sweet breeze curling around him, laden with floral perfumes and birdsong. Not when today he was well enough to enjoy it.

So he smiled, even when three written recommendations for Fastolph Chubb escaped the desk, flitting up with the breeze then skittering to three different corners of the room.