Chapter Seventeen: Namarie

Frodo looked at Rose now with silent thanks, then helped her clean up the kitchen as the other three went off to get ready, then he walked slowly around his home one more time. More tears threatened as he looked around for the last time, fingering beloved objects - tables, chairs, his and Bilbo’s writing desk, books, blankets slung over the chair by the fire. He took a couple books and one of the blankets and put them in his pack with a few other possessions he had chosen to take along with notes he had written individually to his three brothers. His entire life, he mused, reduced to a simple pack. Not much, but all he needed. The rest he left to Sam - clothes, books, memories, Bag End itself. His will was waiting to be discovered on the writing desk, sitting on top of the book of the War of the Ring.

Here in the study he lingered the most where they were so many beloved memories. Here he watched his uncle write or practiced his own lessons on another stool. Here and in the parlor wrapped in a blanket with a fire before them, Bilbo had told him and Sam stories that he begged to hear over and over, never tiring of them. Here he watched Bilbo teach Sam to read. Here he taught Sam to write.

He remembered all the treats Bilbo always had ready when Merry and Pippin and Sam came and those that Frodo himself received. He breathed in deeply. Love lingered in the air more than anything. It always would as long as Sam or some member of his family occupied it. Frodo smiled. He couldn’t be leaving his home in better hands.

He turned and entered the main hall where he saw his cousins standing by the door. Pippin hummed a tune, trying to lighten the mood and shake off the grief that threatened to overwhelm him.

“That’s a lovely tune, Pip,” Frodo remarked. “I’ve never heard it before.”

"I don’t know where it came to me from, myself. It ought to have words.”

Frodo smiled. “Well, if you can think of any, you can sing it for us on the way to Buckland.”

They walked the front door. It was a bright, sunny day. Sam was outside already. It had been decided that good old Bill the pony would come along to carry the baggage so that the travellers might walk more lightly. Sam knew that they would have to carry nearly twice as many blankets as they would usually have taken for Frodo was always cold and he wasn’t about to let his brother tire himself carrying them.

Rose stood near the door and smiled bravely at her beloved friend. Frodo embraced her tightly. “Thank you for everything, Rose,” he said quietly, “but mostly for being my friend and for making Sam so happy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo,” she said softly. “Thank you for the same.”

Frodo let her go and then knelt down to Elanor and hugged her. “Namarie, my sweet flower,” he murmured. “Im mil le.”

Elanor cooed and touched his cheek, murmuring, “Fo,” which was as near as she could come to pronouncing his name.

For a long moment he gazed at her, memorizing every feature, from her rosy face and winsome smile to her soft golden curls. Then he let go and put his hand over his heart, then extended that hand to her. The child returned the gesture and Frodo kissed her forehead. He briefly touched Rose’s stomach, swelling with who could be his namesake, and repeated the gesture he had made to Elanor. Tears escaped Rose’s eyes at that. Frodo looked at her one more time and squeezed her hand, then moved away.

Sam looked up at his wife and wiped at her tears. “He’ll be all right,” he murmured. “We’ve got to believe that.” Rose embraced her husband as tightly as she could and let him cry into her shoulder, then she wiped at his tears and he kissed her head and let her go and started down the walk.

Pippin took Frodo’s hand tightly as they began to walk away. “You’ll be all right, won’t you, cousin?” he asked. His voice sounded like a small child’s instead of one who had already seen too much war and death.

“Yes, dearest, I hope so. I am going to miss you, though, miss you so very much.”

Pippin raised his head to look into his cousin’s beloved eyes. “Can’t we come with you?”

“No, I wish you could. I wish that more than anything.”

“Why can’t we?”

Frodo squeezed his cousin’s shoulders. He knew Merry was also avidly listening. “This is my path now, not yours. Your life is here. I stopped living here a long time ago. I tried to, I tried so hard, but I couldn’t.” He looked at three of them now. “I’m sorry that this is hurting you all so much.”

“We know it’s hurting you, too, Frodo,” Merry said softly. “If we can’t go with you, then our hearts and our hopes do. Don’t ever forget how much we love you. We will never forget you.”

Frodo smiled amid new tears. “I could never forget you either. I would never want to. Don’t you forget how much I love you, if you can even believe I still do, doing what I am.”

“We believe you, dear,” Sam said and his voice broke.

“Well, you said you wanted to do many of the things we used to do,” Pippin said, trying to sound cheerful. “I’d say the first thing we must do is stop for a bit of ale at the Green Dragon. I doubt they have Shire ale where you’re going and you must have some while you can. Then we’ll stop at the Ivy Bush and then...”

Frodo laughed. And the others were amazed and thrilled to hear it. “And what happens, dearest ’squeak, when I collapse insensible after too much? Would you carry me the rest of the way to Buckland?”

“Of course I would,” the tween said. “What should Sam have had all the fun?”

The eldest hobbit’s features twitched, but he was determined that his last days in the Shire, sad as they were going to be, weren’t going to be spent entirely in tears. He took his cousin’s hand and smiled bravely. “Why indeed?” he said softly.

The first stop was actually at the stables where Frodo’s pony, Strider, was housed. The hobbit gave him a sugar cube and a bit of feed, then stroked his shiny, smooth coat. “Namarie, mellon nin,” he murmured. Strider nickered mournfully as though he understood and rubbed his nose against his master. Frodo put his head against the animal and hugged him as best he could, breathing in deep that scent for the last time, smothering his tears against the warm hair. Then after a long while, he left the stable and met his brothers outside.

“I’ll take care of him good, dear,” Sam promised with a squeeze of his hand.

Frodo’s voice shook a little. “I know, Sam. Thank you.” When the gardener would have let go of his brother’s hand, Frodo’s fingers tightened around his and wouldn’t let him. Sam was just as happy that way, more so even.

The next stop was the Green Dragon. Frodo drank a half-pint of his favorite ale at his favorite inn, savoring it slowly and looking around him, absorbing all the sights and sounds and smells of the place. So much he was walking away from. So much. He remembered all the times he had come here and listened to Merry and Pippin sing with such joyous abandon, smiled at all the shy looks Sam had given to Rosie when she wasn’t looked and how furiously his brother would blush when that fair lass caught Sam’s eye and smiled at him. Frodo wished he could listen to his cousins sing now, but he had not the heart to ask them, knowing they would not have the heart to do so. And while he absorbed all he could to last him the long years he’d be away from his home, his three companions watched him, storing everything in their own memories for the time coming up far too quickly when they would have to say goodbye.

When they left the inn, Frodo did so with many backward glances, turning away only when he could no longer see it. He knew he’d be doing that a lot in the next days. He passed the Party Tree and paused, then stopped even longer at his favorite tree where he had spent many a summer’s afternoon, lost in a book. He sat down there, touched the bark, closed his eyes and just listened and felt the grass under his stroking hand. The others watched him, then after a while, he got up and with a final touch and sad smile, he walked away. Little by little he was saying goodbye and little by little so were his brothers.

When they stopped at the Ivy Bush, Frodo did not drink as much. “I’m saving myself for the Golden Perch,” he told Pippin. “Didn’t you tell me it had the best beer in all the Eastfarthing? I can’t miss that, can I? Maybe we can even take a short-cut.”

The tween smiled. “Even though short-cut cause long delays and stopping at inns make for even longer ones?”

“I wouldn’t mind a delay this time,” Frodo said softly. “Would you?”

“No,” the other three said at the time.

All that morning the travellers went at a leisurely pace, sometimes talking of pleasant things, sometimes singing familiar walking songs. They were careful never to be silent, though, for they knew that if complete silence fell, they would be overcome.

“Do you remember,” Pippin asked to save the conversation from a well of silence, “when we tried to teach the rest of the fellowship some games of the Shire in Rivendell?”

“Oh, do I!” cried Merry. “Tag and ‘I’ll-hide-and-you-seek-me’ were the best of all. Boromir was so frustrated with us because we could fit into the small crannies and...” Here he paused to give a good impression of the Man’s voice. “‘I must say, these Halflings are impossible to find!’”

Frodo laughed. “And to see Gandalf running about and playing tag! I will never remember the shocked look on Elrond’s face. I think that’s the only time I’ve seen an Elf completely speechless.”

“All that was wonderful,” Sam put in, “but the very best of all was when we tried to teach them ‘blind hobbit.’”

Everyone laughed. “Oh yes!” chortled Merry. “First it was an argument over the name of the game. It couldn’t be called ‘blind hobbit’ since all the players were not hobbits. But neither could it be called ‘blind Dwarf,’ ‘blind Man, ‘blind Elf,’ or ‘blind wizard,’ because no name was fair to everyone.”

“Oh dear, yes! I thought they would never stop!” laughed Frodo. “Then it was the matter of trying to teach them all the rules and trying to keep Aragorn from opening his eyes every minute to make sure we were all safe and weren’t playing a trick on him.”

“And to see Legolas stagger around with that blindfold on him!” added Pippin. “And remember when Elladan and Elrohir were persuaded to join us? That sight will live in my memory until my dying day! Pity we could never get Lord Elrond to join us. But wasn’t Arwen’s laughter worth it as she watched us all, then cleaned up our scraped knees and bruised heads when we kept bumping into things?”

Frodo laughed merrily. “It was very much worth it. I don’t know which was best: trying to lead them while they staggered about, or seeing them laughing so hard they couldn’t speak.”

“You know,” said Pippin, “we haven’t played those games in a long while. We ought to play them all…one more time.”

Everyone sobered. “Yes, we ought,” said Frodo.

“And we will,” said Merry. “We’ll have a picnic while we’re in Buckland. I know a perfect spot down by the river. We’ll take the entire day and do nothing but enjoy ourselves. We’ll do all the things we talked about in Ithilien.”

He didn’t speak the words aloud, but they hung in the air: one last time. Frodo felt a lump rise in his throat, and he would have liked nothing more at that moment than to be able to cry, to let out all the grief that seemed more terrible even than the voice of the Ring. But he couldn’t do that, not now. He felt two arms about his shoulders and a hand in his maimed one and looked up to see that the others felt the same. Instinctively he turned and embraced them. “It’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “It’s going to be all right.”

* * *

“I don’t know whether I want to tell the story of Frodo and the Ring after all,” Sam said as they stopped later that afternoon for a small picnic in a sun-filled meadow.

Frodo looked up. “What? Why not?”

“It doesn’t sound like it had a happy ending.”

Frodo didn’t reply right away. “Yes, it did. It just hasn’t come yet. But I can give it to you right now, ‘And he lived happily to the end of his days’.”

Sam looked at his brother. “I hope you will, me Frodo dear. That’s all I’ve wanted for you.”

Frodo stared down at the grass, his barely touched mushroom salad on a plate next to him. Did they have mushrooms in the West? “I hope so, too, Sam.”

Sam’s heart winced to hear such pain in his brother’s voice, such longing for it to be relieved.

“But I wish I could have another ending,” the younger hobbit said. “How about ‘Frodo and Sam and Rosie lived together until they all over 100 and then died the same day and were buried next to each other.’”

“I thought it was Frodo that wrote the book,” Pippin said. “You are, too, Sam?”

Frodo almost smiled, but there was a brittle edge to it, memories that could still cut. “He was one of those that gave me the idea.”

“I thought I did that.”

Frodo’s smile some of its edge, become more genuine. “You did. But Bilbo was the first one, then Sam, then you.”

“I don’t suppose I could add to that different ending of Sam’s?”

Frodo’s smile widened. “And what would that be, dearest?”

Pippin puffed out his chest importantly. Merry grinned to himself, despite the pain his heart and Sam did also. “‘The Took and Meriadoc the Magnificent also died that same day and were buried next to their beloved cousin and friend.’”

“I wish it could be that way, Pip, but it can’t be.”

“But you think the Elves can help you?” Merry asked.

“I have to believe that,” Frodo said. “Nothing can help me here.”

Sam looked at his brother silently for a long time, then gathered his courage to speak. “I don’t want you to leave, me dearest, but if that will heal you, then I’m all for it.”

“So am I,” Merry said.

“So am I,” Pippin said.

Frodo looked at his friends for a long time before answering, more moved than he could say. He knew he didn’t have to say how much he was - they already knew, but still it was important to say. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, though, we couldn’t help you more,” Merry said. “I know Sam has gone above and beyond, but I wish Pip and I were around more to help, too.”

“None of this is your fault,” Frodo assured. He looked at each of them. “I appreciate all your efforts, more than I could ever tell you, but some things are past help. I’ve been wounded more than physically and it’s become infected. I still long for what I should have never longed for in the first place. I need to overcome that and I can’t here.”

“Eat something, please, dear,” Sam said into the silence that followed. “You need your strength. You’ve lost too much weight since we came back.”

“I’ve lost so much more than that, Sam,” Frodo said softly, staring off into the distance, but then he looked down at the plate and did eat something to please Sam.

* * *

“We’d better find a spot to camp soon,” Merry said that evening as they went along. They had gone at a leisurely pace all day, often stopping that Frodo might take a last look at this stream or that tree, but now the dusk was deepening and they all wondered how that would affect Frodo who hadn’t been able to bear being out at night since being chased by the Nazgul and stabbed by their leader.

“There’s a clearing up ahead,” Frodo said. “Maybe we can stop there.”

Pippin strained his eyes. “You can see that? I can’t.”

“My…my night vision is much improved,” the Ring-bearer said in a strained voice.

Pippin looked from Frodo to the ground, ashamed. Why hadn’t he remembered Weathertop? Of course Frodo would see it, after twice enduring Morgul wounds. Frodo stepped close and took Pippin’s hand, squeezing it in reassurance. He did not speak, but he smiled, and Pippin read the words in his face: It’s all right, dear ’squeak.

But he grew increasingly uneasy as darkness fell. Every now and again he slowed to look anxiously back over his shoulder, and once he stopped dead and turned pale.

Sam came to his side, handing Bill’s lead to Merry, and put an arm about him. “It’s all right, dear,” he murmured in Frodo’s ear. “There’s nothing out there. Not anymore.”

“They were here...we can’t stay here, Sam.”

“Then we won’t. Let’s go on ahead. There are other spots we can take a lay down. Or we passed a farm not far back. They may be able to put us up for the night.”

The Ring-bearer considered that for a moment and Sam silently begged for him to say ‘yes’. But the elder hobbit took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. “No,” Frodo said, “I want to remember what it used to feel like to enjoy the night.” He looked up and smiled bravely. “And I’m with you, my Sam. I know I’m perfectly safe.”

He took Sam’s hand and they continued on for another hour. Frodo was unaware that his grip on his brother’s hand grew tighter. Merry took his cousin’s other hand and by a full moon, they found a small clearing that didn’t contain any taint of the Nazgul.

After dinner, Merry and Pippin went out to search for more firewood to keep themselves warm during the night. Frodo laid his head in Sam’s lap and brushed the ground with his fingers. Sam put a blanket over his brother who even in the unseasonably warm weather, still shivered. They sat that way in companionable silence for some time. Sam looked down tenderly at his brother and stroked his curls as Frodo looked out into the night and stored every sound the night made into his mind, knowing he may never hear such like again, but even more he stored how it felt to be surrounded by such love as Sam’s. It was the only way he was able to stay out after the sun had set.

“Am I doing the right thing, Sam?” he asked into the quiet, looking into his friend’s eyes, seeing the same deep love he had seen every day since they had met over thirty years previously. How Frodo was going to be able to go on without seeing that love every day, he truly did not know. He would see much the same in his uncle’s eyes and that would help a lot, but how he was going to miss his Sam!

Sam did not hesitate to answer nor did his soothing stroking cease. “Yes, my Frodo, you are,” he said. “Much as my whole heart and strength wishes you would remain here so I could take care of you, it wishes even more for you to finally heal. And you can’t here. That breaks my heart something fierce, but there’s nothing for it. It’s right hard to let you go, but it’s also the right thing.”

“I’m going to miss you so much, Sam,” Frodo said.

“Nowhere near as much as I am going to miss you, dear, but I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“I’m already looking forward to it.”

Frodo looked away, biting his lip to keep from begging Sam to come with him right away. He hoped Sam wouldn’t see, though he knew nothing got past his vigilant guardian.

“Now, me dear, what are you trying to hide from your Sam?” he asked with a small smile.

Frodo turned his gaze back to his beloved brother. “How terribly selfish I want to be,” he said. He adjusted his position so he could hold Sam tight and his head was pillowed against Sam’s heart where he could listen to that beloved beat. “Sing to me, Sam, will you, please?”

The younger hobbit smiled faintly and put another blanket over his brother. He held him tighter for extra warmth until Merry and Pippin returned with more wood for the fire, then he began to sing.

“When you open up your eyes,

To find no sun to light your way,

Only dark and dismal skies,

Do not fear, I will be here,

As I've always been.

“When your heart has failed you, love,

And you've no strength to carry on,

Take my hand and hold it tight,

I am here, I hold you now,

And I always will.

“When we come to end of days,

And look back on all we've done,

Remember I have always been

And I am and always will

Be holding you..

“And when I see your face no more,

And cannot take your hand in mine,

Then remember this, my dear,

Soon I will be by your side,

Forever more.”

“Oh, Sam,” Frodo breathed. “My dearest Sam.”

He cried then, then Sam sang another song, watched his brother’s eyes close and his breathing even out, then wiped at his tears and kissed that beloved head. “Sleep well, dear,” he murmured. “I love you always.”

Frodo woke in the middle of the night from troubled sleep, afraid and disoriented at first when he found himself outdoors, but then he looked into Sam’s eyes, felt himself held a little closer, a word of comfort and reassurance murmured in his ear and a soft kiss brushed against his brow, and he was able to sleep again.

***

They arrived at Brandy Hall late the next afternoon. The visit to the Golden Perch had been almost disastrous as Frodo had been assaulted by the sight and smell of pipeweed that lingered thick in the air. He had turned around and left right away and waited outside for his cousins and Sam who he had insisted stay to sample the beer. They brought out a mug to him, which he had drunk and agreed it was very good and then they had set out again.

Frodo was very good to get under roof again. He hadn’t wanted to spend another night out in the open, even with Sam. He mourned for another part of his life lost that he hoped he would regain once he went West. What stars wheeled overhead there, he wondered. Would Bilbo tell him their stories just as his Papa and uncle had told him those that following their course over the Hobbiton and Buckland sky? Would he be able to sleep under them as he had once loved to do?

Saradoc and Esmeralda Brandbuck welcomed their nephew and foster son with open arms. Frodo hadn’t intended to cry, but their embrace opened the floodgates and he poured his grief and tears into their arms. His aunt stroked his curls and murmured comforts while Saradoc looked up at his son in question as to why Frodo was suddenly sobbing so hard. They had had little contact with him since they had returned and Merry had been less than forthcoming about the travails they had all endured. But they all know some terrible things had happened during that year, especially to Frodo and they ached for that.

When Esme dried the last of her nephew’s tears, she continued to hold him against her and he her. “I’m going away, Auntie,” he said softly. “I’ve come to say goodbye. But it’s hard, it’s so hard.”

Sudden tears pricked at the elder hobbit’s eyes. She continued to stroke Frodo’s curls and kept a steady, calm voice as she spoke. “Why are you leaving, dearest?”

“Because I have to. Because it hasn’t left.”

Esme raised her head to her husband and son. They didn’t speak, neither did Sam or Pippin, though the three younger hobbits plainly did know. Their tears were mute testimony to that.

“But you are staying the night at least?” she asked.

“Yes and tomorrow.” He raised his eyes to her and her heart broke to see the torment there. “Oh, Auntie, it’s so hard, how can I do it?”

Esme kissed the top of her nephew’s head. “The most important things are always the hardest to do, dear. And this is very important, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose so. It’s not something I want to do, but it’s become something I need to do.”

“Then you must do it, my sweet.”

“I love you, Auntie. Thank you.”

“I love you, too, Frodo. Always.”

* * *

Frodo woke with a start in the middle of the night and sat up quickly. He was not even sure what had wakened him from barely remembered dreams. Then it came: a loud clap of thunder that made him start. The wind howled, driving the rain against the windows in its fury. Frodo groaned inwardly. Ever since the Quest storms had made him uneasy. Why did it have to storm tonight of all nights, when he most wanted to rest? Sam stirred beside him, moaning softly in his sleep.“Light and water, that’s all we need. Light and water.”

Frodo got up and lit a lamp, then got a mug of water. He returned to his brother’s side and shook him gently. “Wake up, my Sam. I’ve got you both. Wake up now, dearest.”

The younger hobbit woke suddenly, disoriented at first to be in a strange bed. “We’re at Brandy Hall,” Frodo reminded him with a small smile and handed him the mug of water.

Sam gulped it down. “I was dreaming about walking, forever walking. And how terribly thirsty we were. I don’t know how we ever did it.”

Frodo smiled. “Because we had to, my Sam, but we weren’t doing it all on our own. We couldn’t have. We were being watched over and helped every step of the way. I am understanding that more and more. I was dreaming about much the same thing. I wonder why storms bring those on?”

Sam shrugged. “I suppose because it was cloudy and dark in Mordor.”

Frodo smiled ruefully. “It seems we all have some reason to dread storms. Pippin’s ribs begin to ache and Merry’s arm goes cold. I give them another minute before they’re in here, too.”

At that moment the door opened, and two curly heads peeped round it. “So you’re both awake, too,” whispered Pippin.

“All right, less than a minute,” said Frodo, smiling.

“Wh-what?” Merry stammered through chattering teeth.

“Nothing. Come here, Merry dear, and let me see your arm.” Frodo patted the bed as he spoke.

Merry came and lay down beside his cousin, allowing Frodo to pull the covers up to both their chins. Merry had to curl up in order to fit in the bed, but he was more than glad of Frodo’s arms about him and wished he could stay there forever, cramped or no. Frodo gently rubbed Merry’s right arm, trying to bring back the warmth. “Thank-thank you,” stammered Merry.

Pippin flopped down on the other side of the bed, hands on his rib cage. “Oh, what a miserable lot we are!” he said with a half-groan. “Up comes a little rainstorm and we’re rendered helpless.”

Sam smiled. “I think I’ll just go and get that ointment out of my pack. That should help your ribs, Mr. Pippin.” And Sam went back into his room to rummage for the small bottle of ointment which Aragorn had brought on his last visit.

“Are you all right, Frodo?” Pippin asked, suddenly aware that Frodo was shivering. He put his arms about him, briskly rubbing his back and shoulders.

“I’ll be fine,” said Frodo.

Sam returned at that moment, carrying the balm. “How’s your hand, dear?” he asked for well he knew that bad weather often brought on cramping or phantom pain.

“Pip first, Sam,” Frodo answered evasively.

But Sam saw how his brother held his hand against his chest and needed no more answer. He went first to Pippin, then to Merry, and finally he lifted the blankets and took Frodo’s right hand. Slowly, methodically he rubbed the cream into it in soothing circles, starting in the center of the palm and working outward onto the wrist and fingers. It helped as it always did as did the kiss to his hand when Sam was done. Would that be the last time Sam would do that, he wondered? As he looked into his brother’s eyes, he knew Sam was wondering the same thing.

When this was done he took another quilt from the back of a nearby chair, spread it over the bed, and perched at the foot. They were silent for a while, and then Pippin sat up, no longer troubled by sore ribs, and took up one of the many pillows that adorned the bed.

“You know,” he said with a mischievous glitter in his eyes, “we haven’t had a pillow fight in a long time…not since Rivendell, in fact.”

“Oh no!” said Merry. “We can’t be as rough tonight as we were then. Ma would kill us if we ruined her pillows.”

Frodo chuckled. “True, but then she’d get over it. I will never forget the look on Lord Elrond’s face when he found us trying to stuff the feathers back into his ruined pillows!”

That memory was all Pippin needed to get going. He expertly tossed his pillow onto Frodo and Merry, who promptly sat up and returned fire. Soon pillows and a few stray feathers were flying through the air, and the three cousins were shrieking with laughter. Sam was alarmed when Frodo let out a tremendous roar as his cousins knelt, one before and one behind him, and pummeled him with their pillows. “Sam! Help me! It’s not…not fair! I’m outnumbered! Not fair!”

Sam chuckled and joined the battle, fending off Merry’s and Pippin’s pillows with his own and trying to protect Frodo and himself. “Better now, dear?” he asked Frodo with a smile.

“Much,” gasped Frodo, trying to catch his breath and help Sam at the same time.

“Not for long, cousin!” squealed Pippin, dropping the now almost-flat pillow and throwing himself at Frodo, his groping fingers seeking out the most ticklish spots.

Frodo howled and writhed. “Aaaaah! Pip, no! Nooooooo-oooo-oooo! Nothing…was said…about a tick-tickling match! Ooooooo, st-stop..stop!”

“Never! Not until you surrender!” cried Pippin, increasing his assault.

Frodo tried to counter the attack, but was too helpless with hysterical laughter. “Help me, Sam!” he cried.

But at the same moment Pippin yelled, “Merry! Get Sam!”

Before Sam could react Merry was on top of him, tickling him unmercifully. “Oy! Oi! Stop…stop that!” roared the young gardener.

“Never!” shrieked Merry.

In the master’s spacious bedroom, Esmeralda stirred beside Saradoc in the great bed. “What is all that noise, Sara?” she whispered.

Saradoc rolled over and sat up. “Don’t know. Sounds like a couple of rowdy tweenagers. Are they daft, carrying on at this hour?”

Esmeralda got out of bed with a sigh and put on her dressing gown. “I’ll go see to them.”

She followed the sounds of laughter and screams to the door of Frodo’s room and knocked softly. The room fell silent at once. Chuckling softly, she peeped her head in. “Well, well, what have we here?” she said, pretending to be angry. “I thought I’d find four naughty lads being very noisy and rough in the middle of the night…but all I see is four very strange looking birds.”

Frodo got up hastily from under the pile of two cousins. His face was glowing. Feathers were stuck in his curls and against his cheek and hands and nightshirt. They all looked that way. “I’m sorry, Auntie,” he said, looking at the feathers scattered about the room. “It’s my fault. We got a little carried away, I guess.”

Esmeralda smiled and hugged her foster-son. “It’s all right, dearest. I’m not angry. To tell you the truth, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a sound more lovely than your row. But you look exhausted, love. They haven’t worn you out, have they?” she asked, with a meaningful glance at Merry and Pippin, who were still catching their breath.

“Oh no--we were just having fun,” Frodo reassured her. “We plan to have a picnic tomorrow, if the weather clears and have even more.”

“But you’ll need to rest up first. I’ll go and find you some more pillows.”

“I’ll do that, Ma,” Merry said and followed his mother out the room.

Esmeralda turned to her son once they were out of earshot and Merry expected to get a earful. He began to apologize, but Esme cut him off.

“Thank you for making him happy again,” she said. “I don’t understand any of this, but anything that makes him shine like that is worth it. You have nothing to be sorry for but for a few pillows that now need mending. But his heart needs mending even more and if a few split pillows help in that, then I would be more than happy to have the Hall full of feathers.”

“Thank you, Ma,” Merry said softly.

In short order the room was nearly tidy and the four hobbits were snugly tucked in. The bed was too small for them all, so they had pulled the mattresses to the floor and put the two of them hard up against each other, doubling the space and piled on the blankets. Frodo slept curled up next to Merry on one side and Pippin on another and Sam near the tween. Esmeralda had laughed softly at their sleeping arrangement, but the shine on Frodo’s face hadn’t faded so she bade them all good-night and returned to her own bed.

When she looked in an hour later, she found them asleep. She stepped nearer and gazed at Frodo for a long time. He lay at peace, his long lashes resting on his pale cheeks, a small smile gracing his serene face, his arms wrapped around Merry as she had often seen them while Frodo had lived at the Hall. You don’t know, darling, just how many love you, she thought. Then she softly kissed his forehead and crept from the room. In later years, long after his departure, when she thought of him, the clearest image she had of him was as he lay on that last night, smiling sweetly in his sleep. It must have been the moonlight, but she even thought she saw a warm glow around him.

* * *

Frodo approached his parents’ grave. They were buried in one single one as their bodies had been pulled together from the water, still intertwined. “You don’t need to stay,” Frodo said to his three companions, “if you don’t want to. I’ll meet you back at the Hall.”

It was the later afternoon. They had spent the entire day out, having their picnic and as much fun and memories as they could pack into it. Frodo shone nearly as brightly as the sun those hours and it was a joy for the other three to see it. They were all quite happily exhausted as they began to walk back to the Hall.

The three other hobbits remained outside the gates of the cemetery as Frodo walked among the closely set headstones, finding the one he sought near the center. He knelt down at it, surrounded by the dead. His three brothers watched, struck by the setting to new tears. Pippin grasped Merry’s hand. Sam’s gripped the gate until his knuckles were white. Merry seeing his distress took one of his hands with his free one. The gardener looked at him, surprised but grateful for the gesture. They all looked back at their dear one. Frodo had so long been like one whose soul had endured too much to truly be able to live again, but whose body refused to give in. Now it seemed at last that his spirit, so long hobbled by grief and pain, was slowly regaining its strength.

Frodo traced the letters on the headstone. He had so little memory of his parents anymore and he was filled with new sadness that he would now be leaving even with little he had left. He pulled up a few weeds that were growing near the grave. Who would take care of them when he was gone? He had done such a poor job of it himself. His Uncle Sara must be the one doing a much better job of it then he. He lay down on top of the grave and pressed his cheek against the cold stone, stretching out his arms as though to embrace his parents once last time.

“Please watch over me,” he murmured and then closed his eyes and just lay there for a long while, wanting to be near one last time. Tears fell down his cheeks onto the stone. Peace came to him after a while and he knew his prayer had been answered. It gave him the strength to get up.

The goodbye the next morning at the Hall to his Uncle and Aunt and myriad cousins was full of tears and well wishes. They never understood all that had changed their Frodo so much, but it had not changed their love for him or his love for them. It was late morning before they were all done and Frodo turned away from another part of his life forever.

 * * *

The trip back through Hobbiton Frodo wished alternately to hurry through so he wouldn’t give into the urge to rush back to Bag End and never leave and to take as slow as possible to memorize everything anew for he’d never see it again. He bit his lip against saying either, but his wishes seemed to be known already and the pace suited him.

They met Gandalf at the Ivy Bush with horse and cart that would take them to the Havens. All of Frodo’s doubts and fears about leaving rushed back at him as he realized the wizard’s appearance was another step along his path that he had so longed hoped he would never have to take. Gandalf smiled encouragingly at the grieving Ring-bearer and Frodo smiled faintly, but bravely back as he looked into those wonderfully deep eyes. There was sadness there, but it was overwhelmed by love and compassion. As the peace and support that radiated from the Light-filled being enveloped him, Frodo felt calmed and all his uncertainties were banished once more.

Gandalf held out his hand to his dear friend and helped him into the cart. Frodo’s hand lingered in his for a long moment for strength and comfort, then he let go. The seat in the back was truly only big enough for two, but Merry and Pippin both sat down with Frodo and none of them complained about the tight fit. Frodo took both his cousins by the hand and they held on tightly. Sam sat at his brother’s feet, one arm wrapped around his legs.

The Maia smiled, though no one could see it. Hobbits were truly amazing creatures. It was his honor to know them. He may be leaving with his two favorites, but he was going to miss the others very much, even that fool of a Took. Maybe especially him, he surprised himself by thinking. He knew that Sam would not be truly separated from his beloved master, though the physical loss of each other’s presence would be a sore trail for them both for some time. The four hobbits were thinking much the same. Listening to the horse as the miles went by, they all wanted to shout for it to slow down, but none of them did.

After a while, Pippin’s head nodded against Frodo’s and he jerked back up again, trying to stay awake. He didn’t want to waste anytime sleeping when he could be awake and his cousin would still be with him.

“Sleep now, my dearest ’squeak,” Frodo said softly. He slipped his arm around the tween’s waist. “It’s all right,” he said. “I’m tired, too. I’ll still be here when you wake.”

Thus reassured, Pippin wrapped his arm around his cousin, then rested his head against Frodo’s shoulder and closed his eyes. That didn’t stop the tears from escaping though. Frodo wiped at them, then placed his head against Pippin’s and they both slept.

* * *

They camped that night in a glade not far from the road. After a hot supper prepared by Sam, they told a few stories and sang a few songs, and then they retired to their bedrolls.

Frodo woke in the middle of the night with a start. He did not know what had wakened him, but for once it was not a nightmare. He lay in the silence for a moment, listening to the sweet sounds of the Shire night. A nightingale sang in the distance, blending its sweet voice with the crickets’ never-ceasing lullaby. This would be one of the last nights he would ever spend here, sleeping under the stars, surrounded by his dearest friends. The realization and grief washed over him like an icy flood, and he turned his face into the blankets and wept silently, hoping he wouldn’t disturb his cousins and Sam, who lay all around him, just as they had on the quest.

Seconds later, he felt three pairs of arms embracing him and two gentle kisses pressed to either cheek to stop his tears and one to his brow. The four did not try to comfort one another with words at first. They only held one another and wept into one another’s shoulders for a long time.

Pippin was the first to recover. He raised his head from Merry’s shoulder and began to sing an old Shire lullaby. His soft voice trembled a little.

“When o’er all the night is creeping,

When round us the dark is deep’ning,

When the time has come for sleeping,

I’ll be with you.”

Encouraged and touched by his younger cousin’s example, Merry took up the song:

“When down fall the shades of evening,

When the light of day is leaving,

When your heart is sad and grieving,

I’ll be with you.”

Sam joined in on the third verse:

“When down fall the shades of evening,

When the light of day is leaving,

When your heart is sad and grieving,

I’ll be with you.”

None of them wanted to sing the last verse, for it was all too true, but Frodo lifted his head, wiped his eyes, and blended his voice with the rest.

“Though by time’s swift-flowing river

We in this life may be severed,

In the spirit now and ever

I’ll be with you.”

They sang it again, their voices growing stronger at first and then breaking at the last verse. “It’s true, you know,” Frodo whispered as they again clung to one another in a four-way embrace. “No matter how far apart we are, I’ll always love you. And in that way…in that way I’ll be with you.”

They slept the rest of the night, pressed up close to each other. Pippin had his arm around Frodo’s chest and Merry slept on his other side, an arm protectively around as well. Gandalf watched them long into the night.

* * *

As the trip continued, Sam become increasingly aware of things being done for the last time. Their last night before reaching the Havens, as he watched Frodo sleep, he thought that night was very likely the last time he would ever sing to his brother, at least for a long time, and when earlier he had kissed his brow and murmured, “Sleep well, my dear, I love you,” he knew that was for the last time as well. But it would not be the last time he would cry for his friend and himself, for all they should have gained through the destruction of the Ring, for all they had lost instead. No, it wouldn’t be the last time at all.

Merry, Pippin and Gandalf returned to find that last night to find Sam and Frodo asleep, safe in each other’s arms and made no move to disturb them. After setting the fire going, Pippin lay down near his cousin, close enough to touch, and Merry next to him. Merry heard Pippin’s soft, nearly inaudible sobs, and pulled him close. But instead of embracing the comfort Merry offered, Pippin siddled closer to Frodo and fell asleep there. Merry brushed at Pippn’s curls, completely understanding and wishing his older cousin had more than two sides to him, then he lay down himself at Frodo’s head, his own cheeks streaked with silent tears.

Gandalf smiled sadly at the four whose hearts were so great and so torn. touched by their devotion and sorrowing that the next evening would bring separation that none of them wanted.

* * *

Sam looked up fearfully at the ship waiting at the dock. It was elegantly, beautifully made, as all Elven things were and in any other circumstance, would have taken his breath away in awe. But he hated it now. It was going to take his beloved brother away. He saw Merry and Pippin looking at it much the same way, maybe even more intensely. Pippin’s hand was tightly curled around Frodo’s and Frodo’s around his, but Pippin could barely feel that hand in his. Then he saw how Frodo was looking at that ship and he choked back new tears. Where were they all coming from? He had cried enough in the last week to water the garden at Bag End for a month it seemed. They all had. Sam and Merry followed the youngster’s gaze and felt like crying again as well. Frodo stared longingly at the ship, his face full of hope and anticipation, glowing almost as strongly as it ever had before the Ring had claimed him. It was a very bittersweet joy for Sam, Merry and Pippin to see it. Gandalf stood near them, a tower of strength, but allowing the four hobbits to have their last moments together.

Sam turned his gaze back to his dearest friend. “Can’t I go with you?” he pleaded again.

Frodo forced his gaze off the ship and to his friend. He bit his lip so hard it nearly bled. “No, my Sam, not yet,” he said softly, sadly.

Merry and Pippin’s ears perked up at the last words. Not yet? Was there a chance then they could join their cousin at some point? Gandalf noticed this as did Frodo and Frodo looked up entreatingly at the wizard as he had not the heart or strength to tell Merry and Pippin that they would not be ever coming. Gandalf nodded almost imperceptibly and spoke softly to the distressed, but hopeful, hobbits.

“Sam was a Ringbearer briefly and it is that that will allow him passage if he chooses. I’m sorry, but you cannot go with your cousin.” He said it as gently as he could and his heart broke to see their faces fall, the sudden hope die in their eyes.

“I wish I had held the Ring then,” Pippin said very quietly.

Frodo looked horrified. He would have spoken, had not Gandalf spoke first. “No, Peregrin Took,” he corrected gently. “Don’t ever wish that. It would have broken you as it has broken Frodo and then you would not be the sweet, honest fool I have grown to love. I will watch over him in your stead, perhaps not as well, but he will not be alone. Bilbo is coming also.”

Pippin looked at Gandalf who smiled, then buried himself in the wizard’s arms and cried anew. He was going to lose the White Wizard as well? And Cousin Bilbo? Gandalf held him gently, then let him go. “You will be all right, my dear Took,” he said softly as Pippin sniffled and looked up at him. The wizard took Sam and Merry into his gaze. “You will be all all right.” Sam and Merry embraced him as well and then Gandalf gave them one last smile and stepped back.

Bilbo came up to them now, an ancient hobbit at over 130 with a unsteady walk even with his cane. “I can see that we are getting a grand send-off,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, but his voice shook some. “Even the king and queen have come. How very kind.”

Unnoticed until then, the four hobbits turned to see Aragorn and Arwen smile fondly at their dear friend, though both had eyes bright with tears.

Sam stuck out his hand to Bilbo. “It was a pleasure and honor working for you, sir,” he said.

Bilbo looked at him. “My dear boy, my garden thrived under you and your father. The pleasure is all mine. Now put your hand down and give me a hug.”

Sam blushed slightly and held his first master tightly, crying. Bilbo patted him on the back. “Thank you for taking care of the garden, but more for taking care of Frodo when I couldn’t. It’s my turn now.”

Sam blinked at his tears. “It was my pleasure to do both, Mr. Bilbo. I know I leave my Frodo in more than capable hands.”

Bilbo smiled. “I don’t know if I can do as well as you, but I am certainly going to try.”

Frodo smiled at his uncle and beloved brother. He had certainly been blessed by those who had taken such good care of him.

Bilbo looked now up at Merry and Pippin. “Goodbye, cousins. It was ever a pleasure having you at Bag End. One day I hope we can enjoy a smoke again, where ever it is that we go when we pass this life.”

The younger hobbits embraced their ancient cousin, carefully at first, then when Bilbo held them tightly, they tightened their own embrace. “Goodbye,” they said.

“Do they have Longbottom Leaf there?” Pippin wondered, smiling hopefully through his tears. Bilbo laughed. “Well, if they don’t, we’ll have to go out and get some for you, won’t we?” He wiped at Pippin’s tears and Merry’s and kissed them both.

They watched Bilbo toddle on. Elrond met him at the base of the stairs stepping up to the boat and offered his arm. The Elf nodded in farewell and the hobbits bowed. Elrond smiled faintly then with a final, long gaze at his daughter, boarded the ship with Bilbo. Frodo and the others watched until Bilbo was safely aboard then Frodo turned back to gaze at his king.

Aragorn knelt and the Ring-bearer buried himself in those beloved arms one last time. “How will I stand missing you?” Frodo murmured as he held on tight.

“I wonder how I will bear missing you, gwador nin, but I know you go where you are meant to be. I tell myself not to grieve for that, but to rejoice.”

“I tell myself the same thing, but I haven’t yet convinced myself.”

“Nor have I.”

Frodo almost laughed, but it came out more of a sob and once it started, he couldn’t stop it. Aragorn held him tight until the storm passed, then raised his head to him, to look into that beloved face once more. He wiped at his brother’s tears and kissed his head. “You will be well, tithen min. May Iluvatar continue to bless you and He and the Valar watch over you all the days of your life.”

“And you, gwador nin, my king.”

They finally let go and then Arwen knelt and Frodo embraced her as well. “Hannon le,” he whispered.

Arwen held him tightly. “It is my wish, mell min, but it was Eru who granted it. Thank Him.”

“I have, many times.”

“I know. Go with Him now and with the wishes and prayers of all those you love you. You will not stand on the Lonely Isle alone.”

“I know I won’t.”

She kissed him on the cheek, then let go. King and queen stood back then, hands tightly clasped together, tears barely noticed rolling down their cheeks, but they smiled in their love for their beloved friend, so little in stature, such a giant in heart, as he turned to his other brothers.

“Are you sure you want to leave today, dear?” Sam asked. “Tomorrow’s the 6^th. It’s...”

Frodo looked at his beloved guardian tenderly. “I know, my Sam,” he said gently.

Tears welled again in Sam’s eyes. “What if something happens again? You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I won’t be,” Frodo assured. “Gandalf and Bilbo will be with me. And maybe nothing will even happen this time. Maybe last year was the last time.”

Sam wanted so badly to believe the quiet, desperate hope in his brother’s voice, as much as Frodo himself did, but he wasn’t sure either of them truly did. He thought of other arguments he could bring to bear, but he warred within himself whether he should voice any of them. He wanted Frodo to stay, wanted that so bad his bones hurt, but even more than that he wanted his brother to be healed and it was hard, bitterly hard, to accept that meant Frodo had to leave him, perhaps forever. But he had done many things hard in his life - watching the Ring take more and more hold of his beloved brother and even after it was destroyed, not letting go. Looking into Frodo’s eyes, he knew he could do this hard thing also. The light was growing in those bright, dearly loved orbs. They were regaining their beauty and luminosity and Sam could only hope that would continue to grow. They looked at him now with such deep love that he could only return the same. All the arguments died unpoken. Sam’s heart broke, but he knew Frodo’s would be made whole again and while Sam wished with all his strength his brother could be healed here, it was with all his love, he was going to let him go where he would be healed.

Frodo gazed at his beloved brother and smiled as he saw Sam’s acceptance. He stared long into that dear face, memorizing every feature anew, as Sam was doing as well, then Frodo held him tightly, hoping to always remember how wonderful, how comforting it felt to have Sam’s arms around him. Sam smelled like the Shire they both loved, the fresh earth, the clean air after a good rain. Frodo breathed that in deeply, imprinting it as well in his memory. He closed his eyes against fresh tears. Was he doing the right thing? he wondered again, assailed by a new wave of doubts. Was he giving up everything he knew and loved, save his uncle, to go after what was only a hope for healing? But he knew he had to go. If he could have healed here, he would have been long ago. He held his guardian tighter. Sam held on as though he would never let go. But he had meant it when he had said he was for whatever would make his brother whole again. He could not ask for anything else.

Frodo squeezed him once, then loosened his embrace. He looked once more into his Sam’s eyes, and smiled, wiped at his friend’s tears and kissed his head. “The book of sorrows and victories awaits your finishing, my Sam. Write what is in your heart as I wrote what was in mine. Let no one ever forget what we fought for. Read it to your children and to anyone that will listen so they know of the terrible darkness that was so narrowly averted and let you and them be glad to live in a land and time of peace. It was dearly bought, but the price was gladly paid. Tell them, though, to be ever vigilant so that darkness can not rise again. Your life and theirs will go on here, and happily, long after I am gone.”

Sam traced his brother’s cheek and jaw line then smiled bravely. “Your life will go on happily also, dear,” he said with so much hope and confidence that Frodo had to believe it was true. The Light spoke within his heart and he knew that Iluvatar inspired Sam to have said those words.

“So much will be different,” his guardian continued, “but I packed a few things for you to remember us and the Shire by.”

Frodo opened the bag that Sam pressed into his hand and looked inside. There, carefully wrapped, was his favorite tea and mug, his inkwell and quill, a small but thick blank journal, even some pipeweed and his second best pipe (the first being lost long before) and last a familiar looking box. He smiled with fresh tears in his eyes as he saw what was inside, especially the last, and looked up at Sam who also smiled through his tears.

“Best seasoning in all the Shire, huh, Sam?” Frodo said. “Thank you.”

“I hope you can find me use for it this time than we did last time,” Sam said. “And I hope you can enjoy a pipe once in a while and remember nights spent in front of another fire.”

Frodo looked at the other gifts again, especially his writing instruments.

“Your story isn’t over yet, my dear,” Sam said quietly. “Use that ink and paper well. I want to know everything that has happened to you when we meet next.”

Frodo closed the bag and embraced his brother again. He didn’t want to let go, just wanted to stand in those arms until he was healed, but he knew he couldn’t. Healing wasn’t going to come that way, no matter how much both wanted it to. Instead he stored how it felt into his memory with every other beloved thing, to be able to draw on it at need.

“I wish you could come with me, Sam,” he murmured. He hadn’t wanted to say it; he had held it in this whole time, but it could no longer be denied.

Sam hugged him tighter. “I wish I could too, dearest,” he said softly. “Just say the word and before it’s half out your mouth, I will be there.”

“I can’t,” Frodo said. “Not now. Your place is here. But you will know when the time is right. I can’t wait.”

“Nor can I. I will come as soon as I possibly can. Just take care of yourself until I can come to do it for you.”

“I will, Sam. I will. I promise.”

Frodo smiled at his beloved guardian. The younger hobbit stared at that smile and reached out to touch the edges of it and smiled himself through his tears. “It’s so good to see you smile.”

Frodo’s smile broadened then, then he laid his head back on Sam’s shoulder and they held each other for a long time more, neither wanting to be the one to break the embrace. “This is not goodbye, Sam,” Frodo murmured. “This is just a last, long walk home.”

Sam’s arms nearly crushed his dearest friend. “And I’ll be just a few steps behind you, my dear,” he promised.

“I know, Sam. I’m counting on it.”

Frodo reluctantly broke the embrace, kissed Sam’s head once more and then looked at him for a long time more, then grasped his arm and squeezed gently. “Namarie, melannen gwador, ” he said quietly and Sam smiled through his tears to hear something from the language of his beloved Elves from his beloved Elven hobbit.

Frodo then turned to Merry. The younger hobbit had watched Sam’s struggle as the gardner had wondered whether he should continue to beg Frodo to stay. Merry now bit his lip to keep from arguing as well. He wanted his cousin to stay so bad his body ached, but more than that, he wanted Frodo to heal.  If it couldn’t be done here, it would have to be enough for him know, to hope that Frodo would be happy and learn to savor life again elsewhere.  Holding onto that hope with all his strength, Merry now poured all that same strength into embracing his cousin. They held each other for a long while, freezing that moment in time in their hearts so they would always have it, then they let go, wiped at each other’s tears and looked long into one another’s eyes, memorizing that as well. Frodo smiled, the same beautiful smile Merry had loved all his life, that was so freely given and remembered the wonderful laugh that had once bubbled up so often from his cousin’s throat and smiled back at the love in that smile and those eyes. Frodo kissed Merry’s head and handed him a folded note. Merry grasped the note tightly, then dug out something from his vest pocket.

Frodo stared down in surprise at the fork his cousin handed him. “Keep it, my Frodo,” Merry said quietly. “The best is yet to come.”

The elder hobbit looked into the younger’s tear-bright eyes and felt his own eyes sting once more. He embraced him again tightly. “Oh, Merry, my Merry, how I wish you were coming with me.”

Merry held his beloved cousin and brother nearly too tight to breathe. “I will always be with you,” he promised. He let go and placed his hand over Frodo’s heart. “I will always be there. Look for me as I will look for you.”

Frodo held Merry’s hand for a long time against his heart, then pressed his hand against his cousin’s chest. “And there you will always find me.”

He kissed his cousin’s head once more, then turned to Pippin. The tween was already crying as he clutched Frodo hard enough to hurt, but Frodo held him just as tightly and pressed his head into the sweet, beloved curls of his cousin’s and murmured what comforts he could in a voice choked with his own tears. Pippin wanted his Frodo to be healed as much as Sam and Merry did, but more than anything, he wanted him to be healed here, in Middle-earth, not somewhere he could never see him again. It was too soon for him to leave! If Pippin lived to be 100 and Frodo over 120, it would still be too soon. Don’t let him leave, he begged whatever powers were listening. Oh, please don’t let him leave. He wanted the same impossible thing Sam and Merry wanted, but he hadn’t accepted yet that it wasn’t going to happen. He railed against it, screaming in his mind at the injustice that his cousin, most gentle and loving of creatures, who had given the most had to suffer the most. Why couldn’t that beautiful soul who had always loved him so much and given him such joy return without having to go away? Why couldn’t they always be together as Pippin always imagined them to be? He could barely imagine a day without Frodo and now he had to face a life without him. His sobs increased in intensity and his small hands curled into fists that dug into Frodo’s back. It wasn’t fair!

Frodo held his youngest cousin and grieved anew that Pippin had to shoulder so much pain so early in life. He knew how anxiously his dear one had long forward for years to his coming of age party. He had made all sorts of elaborate plans and all of them had involved Frodo. Now none of them would. Why couldn’t he stay at least until that, Frodo wondered, but he knew he couldn’t.

“Can’t you stay?” Pippin begged. “Or can’t I come with you? I know you can’t and I can’t, but...”

Frodo held him tighter, trying to pour all the love and support of a lifetime into the one embrace. “I wish I could stay, dearest, or take you with me. Neither wish has been granted, but don’t think I am leaving you, never to return. I will always be with you, where I’ve always been, in your heart, where I will always keep you as well. Hold me there as I will hold you.”

Frodo waited until Pippin’s tears slowed, then slowly let go, smiled and wiped at those tears still on his cousin’s cheeks, as the tween smiled tremulously back and wiped at Frodo’s. They looked at each other for a long time, each committing to memory every feature of the other’s face. Pippin tried to absorb every bit of the love that shined from his beloved Frodo’s eyes, eyes that had begun to shine again with the light that Pippin had loved all his life and had missed so much. It was then he knew he had to let his cousin go. How could he not when he loved him with his whole heart and soul and wanted nothing for him but happiness, happiness he could not get except by going away? How could he hold Frodo back? He smiled more bravely then and Frodo seeing his acceptance, squeezed his shoulder. Frodo then kissed Pippin’s head and handed him a note like he had Merry. The youngster clutched it convulsively.

Then Frodo left to walk up the plank, his first steps to his new home, to new hope. Sam watched for a moment before turning to Gandalf who had begun to turn to board as well. “Can’t we go with him?” he pleaded and the wizard stopped and winced at all he heard in Sam’s voice. “Or can’t you at least delay leaving for a couple days. Tomorrow’s the anniversary of Weathertop and...”

Gandalf smiled gently at Sam. “I know, Sam,” he said. “Frodo chose this date to leave precisely because of that. He didn’t want any of you to worry about him or see him so ill.”

Sam deflated, his last hopes dashed, but then he rallied as he always did. “But you’ll be with him if he gets into that state again?” he asked earnestly. “I know he said you would and I believe him, he would never lie about anything, but it makes me so worried, that he’s going to suffer and I can’t, we can’t, be there to help him through it. No one knows him or loves him like we do. It would make me feel better if I knew he wasn’t going to be alone.”

“Us, too,” Merry and Pippin said.

Gandalf looked at the three anxious hobbits and smiled again. “He will not be alone,” the wizard assured. “Bilbo and I will be with him. We love him too, you know.”

Sam blushed. “Of course you do, Mr. Gandalf,” he nearly stammered. “I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t, but...”

Gandalf smiled and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “He’s going to be all right, Sam.”

The wizard turned to leave, but the gardener’s voice called him back. “But there’s a few more things you need to know.”

Gandalf turned back, his smile still there. “Yes?”

“Make sure he gets enough to eat,” Sam said. “He’s had hardly any appetite since he came back the first time and he’s gotten so awfully thin.”

“Just look at him,” Pippin added. “He’s nothing but skin and bones. It isn’t healthy. One would think he wasn’t even a hobbit anymore.”

“I will make sure he becomes one again,” Gandalf assured and Pippin smiled. The wizard started to turn again.

“And make sure he gets plenty of sunshine,” Merry said, drawing the wizard’s gaze again. “He’s awfully pale.”

“I will do that. Anything else?”

“Make sure he’s warm enough,” Sam said. “He’s always so cold even in the summer and he needs extra blankets and lots of hot tea. Chamomile is his favorite, but then there’s peppermint for his stomach and raspberry leaf for his throat.”

Gandalf looked up at Frodo who was now standing at the railing looking down at the four of them. His expression was a mixture of fear of leaving his friends behind, the pain he was still so much in and immense love. A soft smile graced his lips as he knew that Sam and his cousins were still begging to be brought along. And how much Frodo wished that could be true!

Gandalf looked back down at Sam and the other two hobbits. “I will be see to it that he is well taken care of,” he assured. “Goodbye, my dear friends.”

The three hobbits slumped their shoulders in defeat. “Goodbye,” they said in unison.

Their eyes turned to Frodo as did Aragorn’s and Arwen’s. Frodo’s smile widened a little as they looked up at him. The love in his eyes shone brighter as well as the sorrow at leaving them. He stared at them and they at him as though transfixed, even as the ship began to pulled away and a light rain began to fall. Frodo lifted his hand to his heart, then extended it to his family. I give my heart to you. He smiled when in unison they returned the gesture. Merry, Pippin, Aragorn and Arwen all knew it was the last thing they would ever share with their dear one, but it was the best thing. Sam hoped it would not be the last thing he would ever give to his brother, but he was satisfied also that it was the best thing, something all three hobbits had given Frodo long ago, and he them, and something that king and queen had also freely extended. The Ring-bearer shared one last, long look with each of them, then raised the phial of Galadriel so his friends would be able to see him and he them as the natural light began to fade and the rain come down harder.

Tears began to form anew as they drew further and further away from each other and Sam had to restrain himself from running after his brother even then. Pippin clutched his Merry’s hand in a crushing grip, but the elder hobbit didn’t even notice as he held Pippin’s nearly as tightly. The rain began to fall ever harder but none of them moved.

Bilbo called up to him from the shelter of the lower area of the ship. “Come in, my boy, you will catch cold.”

Frodo glanced at his uncle. “I will come shortly,” he said. He looked long enough to make sure Bilbo was safely back inside, then turned back to his friends. As the shore grew farther and farther away and he lost all sight of them, he still held the phial up. The three watched in amazement as the light did not grow smaller but burned just as bright. They watched that even as Frodo himself was lost to sight. Still they wouldn’t leave as long as they could see that light for it meant he was still somehow still with them.

“Follow the light,” Sam murmured to Frodo and to himself. Aragorn and Arwen smiled at that even as light faded away at last and the three hobbits, heads bowed, returned to their carriage. The king and his queen returned to theirs as well. They left at the same time, their hearts almost too heavy to bear within them.

A/N: The lullaby Sam sang was from my dear reviewer, Frodo Baggins. The song they all sang is from Galadriel who also was the one who made sure that Frodo had some fun these last days, including that pillow fight. Bless her and that dear Took for thinking of it!  Melannen means 'beloved'.  I hope I have it all right since I'm still very new to speaking  and writing Elvish!