This doesn't really want to be a drabble, but at the moment I am lucky to have 100 words.
For the Mourning challenge at tolkien_weekly
The closer they came to that farthest shore, the more their thoughts turned to unknown ends and how each had been faced.
If the elf could not quite accept the idea of transition, the dwarf had trouble coming to terms with the eternal. But aloud they agreed that every member of the fellowship, each ringbearer, had chosen and passed well.
As they disembarked in the blessed lands, they noticed a small grey elven boat. Perched on the sands, it was untouched by the ravages of time.
The craft was full of water and light. Except for that, it was empty.