Chapter Sixteen: The Announcement

The next morning none of them spoke of the night before. Sam was his normal cheerful self, though his eyes were a little more haunted and at the same time more tender as he watched his brother. Frodo watched him as well with a fond smile. To Rose, it seemed as though the master of Bag End was looking at his friend to store each beloved feature into his memory, but she tried to tell herself that was only her imagination. But Frodo looked at her once and nodded and she nodded back in silent understanding and then she knew with sickening certainty her worst fears were coming true. She could barely kept back the tears as she set the breakfast table with Frodo’s help. Neither of them spoke of the secret they now shared between them. Even as her heart broke for Mr. Frodo and more for her Sam, she knew some peace and happiness also that maybe her dear friend would be healed. That hope gave them both the strength to smile for Sam and enjoy the breakfast together, but she could but wonder how many more they would share.

Merry and Pippin came later that afternoon to celebrate Frodo’s 55th birthday. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, hugging them both long and tight. The two returned it in the full measure, then shooed their cousin out of his own kitchen, saying they had something special planned, and asked that Sam take their elder out for a walk.

“Just as long as there’s something left in the larder when we come back,” Frodo admonished with a pointed look at the youngest, and hungriest, hobbit.

Pippin looked mock-offended, then grinned. “Well, maybe just a little,” he said.

“All right then. Have fun.”

Rose watched her husband and friend leave. The secret she shared with Frodo was already nearly killing her to keep. She hoped she wouldn’t have to keep it much longer, though she grieved to think of what the news would do to her Sam.

Frodo took Sam’s hand as they walked through meadows and fields silently, not really having any destination in mind, just enjoying the sunlight. The elder hobbit raised his head several times to that light, closed his eyes and just soaked it in. His free hand brushed against tree branch and gatepost as they walked along. He breathed in deeply and stopped to smell flowers. His eyes seemed to want to gather everything in. Sometimes he’d stand unmoving for some minutes in the center of a glade and just let the peace and beauty of the place reach deep within him. Then he’d close his eyes and just listen to the sounds around him. His features twitched between sadness, joy, peace and love. Sam watched him concerned. His brother was acting like he had the summer before they left on the Quest, when the knowledge Frodo thought known only to him weighed him down and he wondered if he’d ever return. The gardener didn’t say anything, but a fear rose again in his heart that he couldn’t quiet.

They started back to return before dusk. Frodo’s hand hadn’t left his Sam’s, had only gently tightened. There was a soft, wistful smile on his face. They hadn’t spoke at all, but they had passed beyond the need to. There was a tension warring with a new, fragile peace and hope within the elder hobbit and he seemed to be glowing just a little brighter. Growing more beautiful and Elf-like all the time, the younger thought, torn by the fear of what that might mean and the joy of seeing it.

They entered to hear Pippin’s voice raised in joyful, robust song, reaching from further inside the smial.

“The evening is before us!

Draw your chairs near

And sing a merry chorus!

“Gather round the table!

We'll talk and laugh and eat and drink

As much as we are able.

“We'll sing old songs and tell old tales

Of things that we have done,

Right up ’til the rising of the Sun!

“Heed no care or sorrow!

Let the cares care for themselves,

Leave sadness till tomorrow!

“O fall ye, fall ye, bitter rain!

And cold ye winds may blow,

Safe inside we'll sit and let our troubles go!

Ho!”

Frodo stood listening to that beloved, sweet voice, so glad to hear it raised in such joyful abandon. It would probably be the last time he would and while the tears threatened at that, he decided to take the song to heart and to leave sadness for the morrow. He turned to Sam with a brave, genuine smile. “I believe, my Sam, that we are being called to dinner.”

The gardener laughed softly. He hadn’t missed the emotions crossing his brother’s face as they had listened to the song, but he took his cue from it as well. “I believe we are, dear,” he agreed.

Frodo squeezed his hand, then let go and applauded the performance. The tween appeared to take a bow and gave his cousin a wide grin.

The conversation at dinner was animated with the additional company, but Frodo did not participate in it much. He was too busy savoring all his favorite foods that Rose and his cousins had made for him. Soon, he’d had nothing but memories of what Shire food tasted like, though he hoped there would be Elvish equivalents that Bilbo and he could occasionally indulge themselves in once in a while. The lands of Rivendell and Lothlorien had eased all his pains before. He imagined it would be the same where he was going. Maybe he’d even take up the pipe again. He finished his second helping of everything, then sat back with a contented sigh.

“That was most delicious, Rose and my dear cousins. You have really outdone yourselves.”

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo,” Rose said softly. She sounded sad and Sam wondered why. He was most glad, as was everyone, that his brother had eaten so well. That was so rare anymore.

“Well, it’s not everyday that you turn 55,” the tween remarked.

Frodo smiled fondly and saluted him with his glass of Old Winyards and savored the company and the taste of the wine, the last he’d enjoy of it.

Sam watched him, still torn by the soft, sad smile on his brother’s face as Frodo watched his cousins and Elanor, and when he thought Sam wasn’t looking, looked at him. At the time, the eldest hobbit’s wistful, fond gaze was settled on Elanor in her high chair as she played with little morsels of food that Rose tried to feed her without much success. He seemed oblivious to all else, a state made obvious to everyone else when Pippin asked him to pass the salt. When that was not heeded, nor a second request, the tween reached in front of cousin which startled Frodo out of his daydream.

“Pippin, you know better than that!” he scolded. “Ask next time.”

All conversation ceased as everyone looked at Frodo. “He did ask, dear,” Sam said quietly.

“Twice,” the tween added.

Frodo colored slightly. “I’m sorry, Pip. I’m rather distracted tonight, I guess.”

“Not to worry, cousin,” Pippin assured, but he shared a concerned look with Merry and Sam.

Frodo made a visible effort to be more present at the table and after he had finished his meal, he offered to feed Elanor.

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo,” Rose said. “Maybe you can get her to eat.”

Frodo smiled at her as she handed him the spoon of pureed carrots and peas that the child had so far shown little interest in and was turning rather fussy. He sat down by her chair, took her into his arms and began to sing to her in Sindarin. It was not a lullaby, but something he had heard in the Halls of Fire that he thought would relax the babe enough for her to eat. He brought the spoon to her mouth and fed her slowly until the small jar was nearly empty.

Sam and Rose watched him tenderly as he spoke and sang and gently cajoled his ‘niece’ to eat. He laughed when she made a face at the last spoonful.

“Come on, love,” he encouraged, “just one more bite and then we’ll be all done. I know it’s doesn’t look very good. I hated peas too, when I was your age, but they are good for you. Truly. Can you do just a bite more for your Uncle Frodo?”

Elanor grimaced again as he put the spoon up to her lips, but she finished, though most of it went down her chin and bib. The Ring-bearer laughed again as he wiped at her mouth. “Well, I guess that’s enough for tonight. That was a lot of icky stuff to get down, wasn’t it,” he sympathized, “but you did so well.”

The child smiled and giggled. Frodo smiled at her and kissed her head. “That’s my lass,” he said softly and held her to him for a long moment.

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo,” Rose said. “She always responds so well to you.”

Frodo looked down at her with fond love and stroked the fine, golden curls on her head. “I respond so well to her,” he said. He caressed a smooth, chubby cheek. “She’s going to be so very beautiful.”

The four other hobbits looked at their friend and cousin at the wistfulness in his tone and voice and shared another concerned glance at each other.

“Well,” Pippin said a little louder than necessary, “there’s still the cake.” He looked at Frodo. “Best keep your fork, cousin dear, for the best is yet to come.”

“And did you lick the spoon this time, ’squeak dear?” the elder hobbit asked with a fond smile.

“Of course.”

“You may find some sticky fingerprints around the pantry too,” Merry said.

“It’s not my fault that I couldn’t find everything I was looking for right away,” the tween said with an injured look and tone.

“I barely kept him from sampling a piece himself,” Merry continued.

“Well, it should have been tested first, you know. I want nothing but the best for my favorite cousin.”

Frodo smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s wonderful, dearest.”

It was. And so were the thoughtfully considered presents the Ring-bearer gave out to his beloved family. No one but Rose knew it would be the last they would receive and she could barely keep from crying. Merry and Pippin both got new pipes and a pouch of Longbottom Leaf. Sam received a new cloak of Elven design with Sindarin words stitched on it.

“Thank you, dear,” the gardener said, a little awed. “What does it say?”

Frodo smiled mysteriously. “That’s for you to figure out, my dearest Sam.”

Rose received a blanket in her favorite color and Elanor tossed about in her little hands several baubles that came from the dwarves. Then they retired to the parlor and talked some more. Merry and Pippin were anxious to try their new pipes, but deferred because they knew that their cousin could not abide the smell or look of smoke anymore.

The Ring-bearer listened to the conversation, let the beloved voices wash over him and through him. He held a soft smile on his face the entire time as he watched each of them. He was distracted enough to have to be addressed more than once if someone directed a comment or question to him, and then he’d answer in one or two words, then return to his dreamworld where he set to memorizing everything about his beloved family so he could recall it at will for all the years he would be without them. He watched Sam try to decipher the words written on his cloak, saw the moment he did and hold the cloak tight against him and the tears that suddenly sprang to his eyes.

Merry and Pippin had left by that time to help Rose with cleaning the dishes so he was alone with his brother for a moment. Sam looked up to him with tear-bright eyes.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you? With the Elves, never to return.”

Frodo had wanted to find a way to soften the blow and thought having the words hannon le and im mil le gwador nin stitched into the cloak might give his beloved brother some comfort in the coming months and years, though he doubted anything would be able to soothe him in the beginning, just as doubted anything would help him until the pain abated enough for both of them.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said softly, unable to meet his dearest one’s eyes. “I want to go back to Buckland one last time, visit my parents graves and say goodbye to those at the Hall.” He paused to take a breath and gather the strength to continue on. “I need to be at the Havens by the 5^th. Gandalf is meeting us back here in five days to take me there and I hope you all will be coming with me. I’m...I’m going to need you all.”

“Of course we’ll come. It’s the Ring, isn’t it? It still has never left you go.”

“Or I never let it go,” Frodo said softly, his voiced full of self-loathing and shame. “I still want it, Sam After all I’ve done to fight it and all you’ve done to help me, I still want it. I have never stopped wanting it. I can still hear its voice. It is never silent, never. It is the last thing I think of at night and the first thing in the morning. There are days I can think of nothing else. Gandalf told me I would have to wrestle with that desire as long as I was in Middle-earth. I can’t do that anymore, Sam. I just can’t. It’s worn me out. I fear I may go mad if I’m never free of it. I needed to make this decision now, while I still could, while I still had some hope.”

He paused to gather his courage to go on. He still wasn’t strong enough to meet his brother’s eyes, but he felt the love so strong there, like the living thing it had always been, reaching out to embrace him. “I need to leave before even that is taken from me,” he finished softly.

Frodo looked up now at his brother, fearful for any condemnation, but hopeful for understanding and support. He was not disappointed. Tears streamed down Sam’s cheeks and the elder hobbit grieved that he had yet again hurt his brother, but then he realized they were for him, not his own pain. Sam gathered him into his arms and gently laid his head against his shoulder. “Oh, my poor Frodo,” he murmured. “My poor, poor dear.”

Frodo held on tightly as Sam stroked his curls and rocked him gently. “I hate it, Sam. I hate it so much, more than ever, more than I have ever hated anything, more than I even hate myself for still wanting it. I hate what it did to me, what it’s still doing to me, and I hate most of all, what’s it’s done to you, that you’ve had to watch me suffer.” Buried sobs issued from deep against the gardener’s chest. “I’ve tried to make it stop. I’ve tried so hard.”

“I know you have, dear,” Sam soothed. “I know you have.”

They stood there tightly clutched together, oblivious to Merry and Pippin’s return. The two stopped at the threshold, seeing how upset their cousin was and left the room quietly. They would provide their own comforts later.

When Frodo was temporarily cried out, Sam spoke again, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more, dear.”

Frodo raised his head and looked into his beloved guardian’s eyes. “No, my Sam, none of this is your fault. Do not blame yourself. Please. I beg you. You have done so much. I can never repay you. No hobbit has ever been better taken care of or loved than I have been. But I’ve come to the painful truth that this hurt is beyond anything or anyone here. I’m so sorry, Sam, that I’ve hurt you again.”

Sam clutched at his brother. “No, dear. You never have. It’s always been that despicable Ring. How I wish it had never been created! Or that Mr. Bilbo had never found it.”

“It all happened for a reason, Sam,” Frodo said softly, laying his head back on his brother’s shoulder. “Once that evil was created, it had to be destroyed and I’m glad I helped in that for what little I did. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone to bear the burden I did. But perhaps soon I will finally be able to put it down.”

“Let me go with you,” Sam begged.

Frodo winced at the pleading in that beloved voice. He felt he would be leaving part of his own soul behind when he left Sam, but he had also left part of it behind in the fire. He could no longer go on like that. He needed to be whole again, though he knew that would not happen until not only the hole that been left by the Ring’s destruction was filled, but he was reunited with his brother. They had long shared the same heart and soul, but Sam’s had remained pure while Frodo’s had been blackened. It would be long, the Ring-bearer feared, before they would be together again.

“Only to the Havens for now, dearheart,” he said. “You can’t go any further yet.”

Sam’s heart jolted at that last word. It was like the star he had seen in Mordor. When things had seemed bleakest and even he had been tempted to despair, hope had shone again then as it did now.

“Gandalf has told me,” his beloved brother continued, “that since you were a Ring-bearer also, you have the same choice I do, to come West if you want. But you have so much else to do, my Sam, so much living to do here still - to be a husband, to be a father, to embrace everything that means and more. But I hope, more than anything I’ve ever hoped for in my life, that once you have lived your own life here, that you will come.”

Sam held his brother tighter. “I will come, dear, of course I will come, even if I have to swim there myself.”

Frodo gave a soft laugh and the gardener’s heart nearly danced in its joy, even as it grieved. “My dear Sam,” the elder hobbit sighed, “my dear, dear Sam. Thank you. That will make it more bearable, I hope, for both of us. Until then I will wait and pray and live for that day.”

Sam kissed his head. “So will I. But who’s going to take care of you until I do though, dear, or protect you from your nightmares?”

Frodo held him tighter. “Bilbo will be there and Gandalf. I hope that I won’t be plagued by the dark dreams there, but if I am, I will hold out my hand and I will pretend that you are holding it or holding me. And somehow, I know you will be, dearheart. And then I’ll be able to sleep again.”

They held each other for a long time more. Grief for Sam’s pain and his own and hope for recovery warring in Frodo’s heart for domination. Sam clutched at him as though he would never let go until they were both temporarily cried out, then led Frodo to his bed and laid him down for the night with a kiss to the brow. ““I love you, dear,” he said.

“I love you, too, Sam.”

The Ring-bearer closed his eyes and Sam listened as he said his nightly prayer, then watched him for a long time afterwards. The light continue to grow in him. I always knew you were going to be here just a little bit, the younger hobbit thought. You were too beautiful not to belong someplace else, but I’m glad you came, my lovely Elven hobbit. I’m so glad you came.

He closed his eyes against fresh tears as he closed the door partway and then added his own fervent prayer. Help him, oh, please help him. And help us all. What are we going to do without him?

* * *

Frodo awoke in Merry’s arms at dawn. He must have had another nightmare or perhaps Merry somehow knew that this was his cousin’s last day at Bag End or maybe he just wanted to be near. Frodo smiled and ran his hand gently through his cousin’s curls, wondering how Sam had been convinced to give up his spot. He saw his brother and Pippin were asleep on mattresses and bedding they had pulled from the spare bedroom and had arranged on the floor of Frodo’s bedroom. Sam was softly snoring next to Frodo’s bed and Pippin, by chance or design, was blocking the exit.

Frodo looked at three of his closest family fondly, his smile widening as he fought to retain the strength to follow through on his decision. He had long feared the day as much as the night, but this day was not filled with dread of wondering how he was going to get through it with all the pain that consumed him. It had a dread all its own, but there was a soft joy to it too. So even as the Ring’s voice sounded in his ears, he heard Pippin’s voice from his memory of last night. And even as the wheel of fire filled his mind and tried to reach his heart, it could not while he stared at his beloved cousins and dearer brother. He thought if he could do just that he could survive and not have to leave, but he was all to aware that he couldn’t do that. He had to leave. Not because he wanted to. Because he needed to. There was nothing for it.

Frodo smiled even more as he unconsciously echoed one of Sam’s favorite sayings, then frowned. Oh, how I am going to miss you, my Merry, my Pipsqueak, my Sam! How will I live without you? But he retained his joy at being with them now. Having Sam close had from his tweens become as natural as breathing and after the Quest, as necessary, but Frodo knew he couldn’t waver. He would find some way to go on. He knew this was the only path he could take, the one hope for healing that not even Sam or Merry or Pippin, bless their great and beloved hearts, could provide. He already knew his brother forgave him. He hoped his cousins could as well.

He gave one fond stroke to Merry’s cheek in gratitude for all he had done, then gently disengaged himself from that loved embrace and stood up. He clutched Arwen’s gem under his nightshirt for a moment, then got dressed as the others still slumbered.

Very carefully, he stepped over Pippin and gently edged him out of the way so he could open the door. “You can’t leave, cousin,” the tween murmured.

Frodo knelt down to brush at his curls. “I’m going to make some breakfast, dearest, is that all right?”

“Well, in that case...”

The elder hobbit smiled, kissed his head and then slipped out. He padded to the kitchen and started making an elaborate breakfast, the last he would make or have here. He’d be staying at an inn on his way back through Hobbiton from Buckland. He wouldn’t be able to bear leaving a third time. Two times was already two times too many. Why had he ever longed for adventures and leaving home? he wondered. He smiled faintly as he realized the answer. Because he would have been with his Uncle Bilbo that’s why or with Sam and Merry and Pippin. And they would have had so much fun and then they would have returned home, exhausted and happy and anxious to do it all over again. It had sounded so romantic and glorious the way Bilbo told his own adventures or those of the Elves from the First Age. He had been too young then, they all had been, to recognize all the tragedy in those tales or how truly dangerous they had been. ‘My own adventure turned out to be quite different’, he had told Bilbo at Rivendell the first time they had met there, but had it really? All his childhood longings had turned to nightmares and there had been many, many, days and nights he had wished only to be back in his own bed, surrounded by the sights and smells and sounds of home, not by rock and ash and fire and having memory after memory of home be stripped from him as the Ring filled him more and more. But even then he had had one part of home always with him, his cousins as long as they could and his Sam who gone all the way to the Fire with him and had very nearly died there with him. Now another adventure loomed and none of them would be going with him, and he would have quailed at it, had he not known that Bilbo would be with him to help him down the path he had chosen. ‘I spent all my childhood pretending I was off with you on one of your adventures!’ he heard himself say. Well, Uncle, I’m finally going to get my wish. And he’d carry the thousands, millions of memories of his cousins and Sam within him. As dawn come fully, he felt the peace of Another fill him as well. No, he wouldn’t be alone.

Still everything he did reminded him of the finality of his decision and if his hands began to shake slightly as he cracked the eggs, flipped the sweetcakes and poured the milk, he still did not alter his decision. He had known for a long time that he had to go. It had just taken a while for him to accept it, a long while. He had so longed to stay, but it had been nothing but a dream. A dream that had turned to ashes. He wasn’t going to get better, not here. He was only getting worse. But to never see his beloved cousins again? Could he truly pay that high a price? He forced his trembling limbs to still when he nearly dropped one of Bilbo’s favorite plates. Yes, he would have to pay that price, though he held onto hope of seeing Sam again as a drowning man would hold onto a thrown rope. He had barely stopped himself the night before from begging Sam to come with him, right then. And he would have given anything to have Merry and Pippin come too. But he knew he could not ask them. They would indeed want to follow, but they had their own lives to live here in the Shire, their own happiness to pursue. Their lives were not over yet. His was.

He set the table for five - again for the last time - and then waited for the aromas to drift into the bedroom and rouse Rose and his companions. It did not take long. Sam was rubbing sleep from his eyes and Merry and Pippin came in yawning, but the latter two greeted their cousin cheerfully enough with thanks for such a banquet. Sam gave Frodo a sad, brave smile and Frodo smiled in return. He watched his cousins dig into the breakfast with their usual zeal, just watched them, letting their chatter wash over and through him, wanting to imprint everything in his mind so he would never forget. Sam watched Frodo and did the same thing. Rose watched her husband.

Frodo barely had any taste for food himself, but he made himself concentrate on the omelette he had cooked. Would there would be mushrooms where he was going or that was going to be another sacrifice he’d have to make? How many more? he wondered, but then the Light covered him a little more and he felt more peaceful.

Sam continued to watch his brother, his own plate barely touched. When Merry and Pippin were nearly done, Frodo looked at his three friends, hoping they wouldn’t notice how tightly he clenched the table cloth.

“I have something to tell you,” he started out and Merry and Pippin abruptly cut off their chatter. Pippin’s mouth was open to take another bite of sweetcake, but his fork froze suddenly half-raised to his lips, hearing the seriousness of his cousin’s tone. Something cold curled itself around the inside of his stomach and wormed itself into Merry’s as well. Sam’s eyes, which had not left his brother’s, filled with tears. Rose looked away to hide her own tears.

“You’re leaving,” Pippin blurted out into the silence that had followed Frodo’s words.

Merry looked irritated at his younger cousin as though speaking it aloud had confirmed their fears and made them real. Frodo looked at Pippin, somewhat surprised, but he remembered the last time he had agonized over how to tell them that he had to leave them, that they had already known then as well.

He smiled faintly. “I forgot how impossible it was to keep any secrets around you three. Sam figured it out last night.”

“You must admit you were acting a little odd,” Merry said around a very dry throat.

“You mean stranger than normal?”

“A bit,” Pippin said very softly, his eyes bright with tears. He finally remembered to put his fork down. He couldn’t decide whose arms to throw himself into for comfort and reassurance that his world was not ending - Frodo’s or Merry’s. But he merely tightened his grip on his fork until his knuckles were white.

Looking at those three stricken, beloved faces, Frodo’s heart broke. He almost faltered again, but he clenched the table edge around his fingers tighter. He couldn’t weaken. His heart, his soul had been broken long before. He couldn’t live in that state anymore, even if it meant leaving nearly everyone and everything he loved behind. “An Elven ship is docked at the Grey Havens and will take me and Bilbo and Gandalf to the Undying Lands,” he said, amazed at how calm he sounded and he sent a silent thanks to Iluvatar for that. “But before then, I remember all those things you said to me when the eagles brought Sam and I back the second time.” He looked beseechingly at his beloved brothers. “Do you think we could do as many of those things as we can in the next few days? I want to spend my last days in the Shire as I have always loved to, with those I love the most.”

Pippin and Merry nodded numbly. Frodo clenched the table edge even harder. “I want to go back to the Hall and then...then...it’s is an eight day ride to the Havens. I hope you can come with me.”

Pippin sniffled and began to sob openly. Merry reached out to him and the tweenager buried himself in his cousin’s arms. Merry buried his own tears in Pippin’s bright curls and murmured what comforts his grief-blurred brain could think of. Sam’s cheeks were bright with his own freely-falling tears. He didn’t even seem to be aware of them, but he was aware of Rose’s and gathered her to him as she wept into his shoulder. Frodo was aware of them all as his own eyes burned and they all looked up to him.

“I’m so sorry I am doing this to you,” he said. “I don’t want to leave, but I’m not getting any better and I want to so badly.”

His eyes pleaded for understanding and forgiveness. Merry and Pippin reached out to him and Frodo embraced them both. He kissed their heads and murmured what comforts he could. He was moved to tears when they tried to comfort him as well. When their tears were momentarily spent, they let go, but Pippin took Frodo’s hand and wouldn’t let go.

“We were so afraid you would leave without us,” he said softly. “Just like we were when we first went on the Quest.”

Frodo squeezed his youngest cousin’s hand. His heart ached that Pippin had to grow up in a hurry, still a few months out from his coming of age, but already having endured far too much. Frodo had so looked forward to that party, and now he wouldn’t be there. “I could not bear to do that,” he said in a pained voice. “It’s horrible enough doing it this way.”

The four of them looked down their plates containing the remains of their long-forgotten breakfast. They didn’t have any appetite anymore and the three younger hobbits thought if they forced another bite down, it would come right back up, their stomach were churning so much. Frodo felt the same, but he finished what was there. He needed to. Rose did as well, more for her own Frodo’s sake, or so she hoped she carried within her, than anyone else. Sam had told her last night and she had held him as he had cried himself asleep, then she had cried, both from grief and relief she no longer had to keep that secret within her.

A/N:  Pippin's song is from Galadriel with some modification of my own. Im mil le, I have on good authority, means I love you.