Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only, and all rights remain with the estate of JRR Tolkien.
Days passed differently in Elven lands, Sam thought. Trees were never totally bare; grass kept growing, strewn with vetch, clover and crocuses all together; fruits, and even mushrooms, were always in season.
He had no idea of the date in good old Shire reckoning but he was pretty sure he had missed his birthday.
It seemed that the problem of dates without seasons had occurred to Master Bilbo though, for he had left behind a way to keep track.
“I have missed sharing our birthday celebration since he died,” said Frodo, “So this year I insist that you share mine!”