Chapter Eighteen: Separated but Not Apart

The hobbits’ horse knew the way back to the Shire without needing guidance from them. Pippin cried and buried himself in his cousin’s arms. Merry murmured what comforts he could, struggling not to cry himself because he wanted to be strong for his cousin. The only tears he had allowed himself after Frodo left was when the rain had masked them. Sam opened the note Frodo had given him.

My dearest Sam, there are no words that can express my gratitude for all you’ve done for me, always being at my side when I have most needed you, even up to this very day. I accepted an enormous task that would have been beyond all capacity of bearing had you not been there to strengthen me. Because of you, I did not have to carry alone what I could have never carried alone. You were there to protect me, to sustain me, to carry me. Your love, your faith and your hope accompanied me then and I know they will accompany me on this journey I must now take without you. But though it will start without you, dearest heart, it will not end without you. I have the greatest hope that we will see each other again. It will sustain me until we do as I hope it will help you.

I am sorry that I never could make up to you all you so selflessly gave to me. I think I knew it was impossible. You’ve done so very, very much. How could I ever hope to do anywhere as much? From the first hour we met, you wrapped your heart around me and soon found a permanent home in mine, moving very quickly from stranger, to friend, to brother. Thirty-three years, my Sam, you have been that. Thirty-three years I have been held in your heart’s embrace and you in mine. You have never ceased to care for me, to watch over me and I have no doubt, that even though we are parted now, you will not cease to do so.

The tears fell so heavily from Sam’s cheeks he could barely see. ‘No, dear, I will not stop. How can I?’

I have not told you often enough, my Sam, but it has been and is the greatest honor to be your friend and to count you as my friend. You have always been my light, shining so brightly on the clearest days and the darkest nights. I hope to be a beacon like that for you to follow when it is your turn to come over the Sea. I will be waiting for you, brother of my heart, closer and dearer to me than any blood brother could be. I love you so much.

I leave you this prayer that Gandalf taught me when I told him that I had lost any hope of recovering in the Shire, that the voice of the Ring was still so strong and my efforts against it were weakening me to the point of despair and self-destruction and that I wished to accept the gift that Arwen had longed to give me, but I had hoped I would not need to accept. It is my dearest wish that it gives you as much hope as it has given me. We are loved so greatly, Sam. You may be remember from the Elven tales about Iluvatar and the Elves being His children. We are His children too. It is this prayer that is giving me the hope that I can find healing with Him, even though I cannot find it here in the Shire or in your arms that I have so longed for. It is that hope that is giving me the strength to leave and it is from this that I have my hope that we will see each other again and when we do, it will be with joy surrounding us, not tears and grief.

‘Oh Iluvatar, I am so convinced that You keep watch over those who trust in You and that we can want for nothing when we look for all from You, that I am resolved in the future to live free from every care and to turn all my anxieties over to You. I may be deprived of possessions and of honor. Sickness may strip me of strength and the means of serving You. I may even lose Your grace by sin. But I shall never lose my hope. I shall keep it till the last moment of my life and at that moment all the powers of darkness shall strive to tear it from me in vain. I know only too well that I am weak and unstable. I know what temptation can do against the strongest virtue. But so long as I continue to hope, I shall be sheltered from misfortune and I am sure of hoping always, since I hope also for that. I am sure I cannot receive less than I hope for. So I hope You will hold me safe on the steepest slopes, that You will sustain me against the most furious assaults and that You will make my weakness triumph over my most fearful enemies. I hope that You will love me always and that I shall love You without ceasing.’

The tears continued to blur Sam’s vision, but he kept reading. He had to. He heard his brother’s voice behind the words.

Please do not grieve for me, my Sam. I will be all right. And so will you, melannen gwador, best part of my heart and soul.

‘Not without you’, Sam thought, ‘not for a long time.’ But he tried to stop crying because he did believe that Frodo would be happy and would want him to be as well.

Bag End is yours to do with as you wish. Perhaps Frodo would like to live there if you do not. Kiss his and Elanor’s head for me and all your children.

Namarie, my Sam, but only for now. I remain forever,

Your brother, Frodo

Sam read the note over and over again, then put in a pocket close to his heart and cried.

Merry and Pippin read their notes as well.

My dearest Pippinsqueak, you cannot choose your family, but you can choose your friends and I have always treasured the fact that you chose me. You have given me joy and comfort and laughter all your life. Some of those times have been when I’ve needed it the most and am already crying inside, if not outside - when Bilbo left or after Mordor, times when I would have thought it impossible to laugh, but you have always been able to make me and I thank you for all your irrepressible cheer. I am so sorry I will not be there physically for your coming of age party, but I hope you will allow me to remain in your heart.

‘Of course, cousin,’ Pippin thought as he cried.

I am going to miss you terribly, so much I wonder how I am going to bear it, but you will not be truly gone from me for I will treasure the millions of memories I have of you and our time together. I will hear your voice raised in joyous song echoing in my mind and heart. I will remember the jam-filled and syrup-slick kisses you gave me as a child, leaving not only a mark on my brow or cheek, but on my heart and all the others you have given me the last thirty two years that have touched me no less. I will remember your hugs, your bright eyes, your smiles and your jokes. I will remember holding you during a bad storm or after a bad dream, singing you back to sleep and loving you so much that I was sure my heart would burst from the joy of having you near. I will remember when you held me. I will remember everything.

I am so proud of you and all that you have accomplished. Guard of the Citadel! Who would have thought! And Faramir’s savior. We have led such sheltered lives, but all the world knows of hobbits now and I am so glad they know the best. Don’t ever change your optimistic outlook on life, dearest. It has gotten me through some of the darkest days of my life and while I would have never made it to Mordor without Sam, I was also going there so you would be safe and happy. You and Merry were as much an inspiration to me to keep going as Sam was.

Namarie, my sunshine. I love you so very much.

Your proud cousin and brother,

Frodo

Pippin’s small frame shook with his tears. I love you, too, cousin, so very much.

Merry found it difficult to read Frodo’s letter, but he read it over and over again, his lower lip trembling badly with the effort to try to keep his tears in.

My dearest Merry-lad, yes, I know you are too old - and too tall! - to be called that anymore, but I beg you to forgive me and indulge me this last time.

‘You could me anything you wanted, as long as I could hear your voice again.’

It has been my greatest joy to be not just your cousin, but your friend as well. My brother-cousin I called you when you were born and you have been that all these many years. I have watched you and Pip grow up and I am so very proud of you both. I know I’ve missed some of the most important parts and I am sorry for that, but look at you, a Knight of Rohan! You have discovered you are braver and stronger than you would have thought you could ever be, but you were always that way, my Merry, so very brave. Until we meet again, beyond the Circles of this World, I will remember you and all the times we have had together. Forty-one years you have blessed my life with, dearest Merry. Forty-one! I can scarce believe it’s been that long.

I have so many, many joy-filled memories of that time. For some reason as I am writing this, I particularly remember reading tales to you. You always loved the ones about rabbits. I never could figure that out.

Merry smiled in spite of his tears.

So I made up all sorts of stories about orange ones and red ones and purple and green just to keep it interesting and you loved them all and I loved telling them and getting rewarded by your kiss to my brow or cheek and your arms around me, your squeals of delights and cheering and applause at the end. You would tell me then how much you loved me and I would tell you how much I loved you then you’d curl up beside me and we’d both sleep, knowing all was right with the world because we were together, brother-cousins, friend of friends. And even when things weren’t all right, having you beside me helped make them more bearable. I truly do not know how I am going to be able to bear to be separated from you and Pip and Sam, but I know we will not truly be apart, because our hearts are forever bound together. I love you so much, my Merry, so much.

Your cousin and brother,

Frodo

‘I love you, too, my cousin and brother,’ Merry thought, finally losing the battle against his tears.

He put the note in his vest pocket, closest to his heart. Pippin put his note away and laid his head on Merry’s shoulder. "Oh, Merry, he was half our heart and soul. How are we going to be able to live without him?"

Merry did not trust his voice so he merely took the tweenager into his arms and held him tight. Pippin held on just as tightly.

"I don’t want to forget anything about him," the youngster said. "I don’t want to forget how he would hold me, just envelop me in love and shelter and comfort. I always felt so safe. I don’t want to forget his smile and his laugh so full of joy and music and love. I used to do anything just to hear that laugh. And his eyes, Merry, his eyes...

"It was like looking into love itself. You could drown there. I did, so many times. And then came the pain, so much pain. But there was still love. You could always see his soul whenever you looked into his eyes. He could never hide anything, though I know he tried when he was hurting so. I don’t know how he could stand it. I’ll never look into his eyes again, Merry. I’ll never be held by him again." Pippin looked up at his cousin. "Do you think he will laugh again? Do you think we will?"

Merry looked down at the youngster. "I don’t know, Pip. One day, perhaps."

Pippin looked over at Sam. "I envy you, Sam, more than I say, that you may have a chance to see Frodo again. But I am also so happy for you, that at least one of us, will be able to. Tell him how much we love and miss him, won’t you?"

"I hope I can one day, Mr. Pippin," Sam said.

They were silent for a long time, Merry and Pippin just holding one another and finding that to be a comfort as it always had been. If Frodo was half of their heart and soul, they completed the other half for each other. They and Sam cried themselves asleep.

* * *

Frodo watched until he could see no more, then he watched still more, until Bilbo called him again and he reluctantly left the rain-slicked deck to the dry area below.

"Now, look at you," Bilbo clucked in concern, taking Frodo’s dripping cloak from his nephew’s shoulders and wrapping him in a warm blanket. "You need to get warmed up and dry."

Frodo held the blanket around him. He wasn’t sure how much of the moisture on his face was from the rain and how much was from tears. He missed his brothers so much already! His heart felt like it was being torn in two and he bit down fiercely on his lower lip to keep from crying out, from begging for the ship to be turned around, to say he didn’t care how much he continued to hurt, that it was not as bad as this new pain that overwhelmed him on top of all his other torment. But he knew this was his only path. There was no other way. He had fought his agony in a never ending battle for over two years and it was a battlefield he dearly wished to leave for he was deathly tired of fighting. This was his only hope for that. So he said nothing, but allowed his uncle to gently lead him down wide corridors instead, deeper into the ship, further away from his brothers. But how it hurt! He had no idea how much it would. He knew he would have indeed begged to be returned if he hadn’t had his uncle by his side. He barely heard anything of what that ancient hobbit said, just stumbled alongside him until they stopped at a large stateroom.

"Here we are, my boy," Bilbo said.

Frodo sat down listlessly on one of the two beds in the room, his wet curls plastered across his forehead and falling into his eyes. He coughed and Bilbo hoped he wasn’t going to get a cold. He sat down next to his nephew and brushed the hair out of his eyes. Frodo looked at him with agonized eyes. Bilbo drew him close and stroked his arm gently. Frodo placed his head on his uncle’s shoulder. He was trembling.

"I’m never going to see them again," he said softly. He still held on to the hope he would see Sam again, even more desperately than before, but he wondered in the back of his mind, if that hope would prove just as false as so many others had. He knew Sam wanted to be with him, but what if something happened to prevent it, what if either of died before seeing the other? He felt the Light embrace him a little more to ease those fears.

Bilbo continued to stroke his nephew’s arm. "I’m sorry, my boy. I am so sorry for everything. I should have never taken that Ring. None of this would have happened."

Frodo looked up, troubled by the guilt in his uncle’s voice. "None of this is your fault, Uncle. Don’t blame yourself. It all happened for a reason."

"But look at what it did to you. What I did to you. I should have never let you have it, especially not the second time."

Frodo placed his head back on Bilbo’s shoulder. "You didn’t hurt me, Uncle. Don’t ever think you did. The Ring’s gone now and the Shire and all of Middle-earth is safe. That’s all I did it for. It can’t hurt anyone anymore."

Bilbo tightened his grip on his nephew’s shoulder. "Except you, it seems. I’m so sorry, Frodo. I’m so very sorry. I can hope you can find healing with the Elves."

"It is my last hope," Frodo said. "I am so tired of hurting."

Bilbo took Frodo fully into his arms. The younger hobbit held on tightly. "I hope you can find healing, too, Uncle."

"We will, my boy, we will."

They sat silently for a while, the elder hobbit marveling at the light that shone from his beloved nephew even now. "I still remember the first time I held you," he said. "You were only a year old when I first saw you and you were being held by your mother. You were the loveliest child I had ever seen, with the widest, bluest, most luminous eyes. You were even more beautiful than your mother, and I’m sure you know that’s saying quite a lot. My little shining star, she called you and it was obvious even then why. I had never seen the Elven light in a hobbit before."

"I’ve seen it in Sam and Aragorn, too. It’s so lovely. I wish I remembered what Mama looked like and Papa. I tried so hard to hold onto that, but I couldn’t. I’m so afraid now that I will forget what Sam and Merry and Pippin look like, too. That would be so horrible."

"Your heart will remember even if you don’t. That’s the important thing, my boy. And when we pass beyond this life, you will see them once more and then you will never be parted from them again. And Sam will come before then. There is no one more dependable than he. He will come. Don’t you fret about that."

"I know he will, or at least I hope he will."

"He will."

After they sat together some time more, Bilbo spoke again. "Why don’t you try to sleep some, my lad," he suggested. "Right here in my arms if you’d like. When I held you that first time, your mother was amazed when you fell asleep while I did. She said you had never done that before with anyone else, but there you were, perfectly content, with a little smile on your face. She said I looked just like you, just a little older," he finished with a small laugh.

"I guess I knew even then you’d take care of me," Frodo said, holding his beloved uncle even tighter. He looked up at him now. "Thank you, Uncle, for all you’ve done for me. I can never repay that."

Bilbo held him a little tighter. "It is not a debt you owe, my dear boy. I can never repay you either for all the joy you have given me."

"Would you sing to me, Uncle, please?"

Bilbo thought for a moment. He didn’t think he could truthfully sing the one he knew Frodo loved the most. He had not protected or defended his nephew from all the horrors that assailed him and still did. He had failed utterly in that respect, though he knew he couldn’t have gone on either Quest. He would have been a burden, a distraction, probably a deadly one, but that didn’t stop him from blaming himself for failing. So he sang another one that he knew Frodo also favored as he gently stroked his curls. It had been too long since he had the joy of doing this.

"Now has come the time for sleeping.

Shadows steal across the sky as

Over thee my watch I’m keeping.

Rest in peace till morn is nigh.

"Softly now the night descendeth.

The sun has gone into the west.

Sleep until the night has end.

Sleep and may thy dreams be blest.

"All the world is swathed in shadows.

Fields and mountains, woods and hills.

Fens and forests, vales and meadows.

All in slumber now are still.

"Though the night be long and dreary,

And no bright star shines above,

Yet your light does shine, though you are weary

Sleep now, dear one, sleep in the arms of love."

"Thank you, Uncle," Frodo said sleepily. "It’s so good to hear you sing."

Bilbo held him a little closer and kissed his head. As he watched his beloved nephew slip into peaceful sleep, he watched the Light that surrounded him. He may not have understood it all, but he knew Frodo did indeed sleep in the arms of Love. He added his vow that he would from now to his dying breath protect and defend his dear one. He would be worthy to sing that other lullaby to him one day.

Frodo slept for several hours, trembling slightly. Bilbo held him the entire time. When the time came for dinner, Bilbo did not have the heart to wake him. His nephew cried some in his sleep, the tears streaming down from his closed lids, but he still slept and Bilbo thought maybe that would be more healing than a full stomach, though he was troubled by how painfully thin Frodo was.

"Tomorrow," Bilbo promised himself. "Tomorrow, I will start putting some meat back on my boy and I won’t stop until he fills out his clothes again and stops looking like a child dressing up in his father’s best."

He gently laid Frodo down and covered his shaking frame with several blankets. Bilbo gave his nephew’s cheek a quick caress. "Maybe I’ll even bring you back a pastry tonight." He then levered himself up from the bed and groaned slightly as his muscles protested from sitting too long in one position.

"One good thing that Ring did was keep old age at bay," he mumbled. He looked down at Frodo’s face. "But I would have gladly gotten old at the right time if I had known how much harm that thing would do that one hobbit who should have never been harmed by anything or anyone, least of one who loved him so much and showed it so poorly." He gave those dear curls a gentle stroke. "I will make it up to you, my boy. I promise you I will."

He hobbled out of the room, wiping at a few tears of his own. He didn’t enjoy dinner, though he tried to hide that from his hosts. He went right back to his room, with a pastry, but Frodo still hadn’t waken. One of his hands stuck out from under the blankets, bent as though curled around another hand Bilbo could not see, but Frodo could feel. The ancient hobbit also noticed his nephew had cried some more. Bilbo put down the desert and wiped gently at the fresh tears, then stroked his cheek gently. Frodo leaned into the touch, murmuring something soft, but not waking.

"Good night, my boy," Bilbo said with a kiss on his head. "May peace come to you."

He crawled into his own bed. "May peace come to both of us," he sighed. But Frodo first, he prayed. Please, Frodo first. The gentle motion of the ship soon lulled him to sleep.

* * *

Frodo was still asleep the next morning when Bilbo woke. The ancient hobbit was tempted to keep him sleeping. He looked so peaceful, so beautiful. There were no more tears waiting to be wiped. But the boy had to eat. It was downright strange for a hobbit to miss a meal, not to mention all those Frodo must have missed to look like the starved waif he did now. He did not blame Sam for not looking out for him. Bilbo knew that good lad loved Frodo just as fiercely as he did, but he also knew what melancholy could do to someone, having felt it himself during his lifetime before he had adopted Frodo. That lad had already long before curled up in his heart and it was the happiest day of the old hobbit’s life when he had received the letter that Frodo had accepted his invitation to stay with him. He swung his legs over the side and stood up.

Frodo began to murmur, tossing his head his head in his sleep. "They’re here," he murmured. "All Nine of them."

Bilbo looked around him, concerned. All nine of who? "Frodo?" Bilbo called quietly. "Frodo, lad?"

Frodo then sat up abruptly, his eyes wide open with terror, but seeing nothing but what played in his mind. He pulled on his hand, where his missing finger had been.

"Frodo?" Bilbo called again, louder this time, a slight tremor now in his voice.

Frodo did not give any indication he heard. He inched himself away from his uncle, closer and closer to the corner. His breathing was quick and heavy. He was obviously struggling with some nightmare or another, but a worse one than Bilbo had ever seen. The elder hobbit began to reach out to the troubled younger one when Frodo let loose a horrible, anguished scream and clutched his shoulder, arching his back in agony, then falling back against the wall.

Bilbo was so startled that he jumped back and bumped into something solid. He would have fallen had not two strong hands come down on his shoulders to steady him. He looked up surprised and saw Gandalf standing over him. The wizard looked down into his dear friend’s frightened eyes as Frodo began to moan and cry out in a language that Bilbo did not recognize but Gandalf did. Bilbo looked back at his nephew.

"What’s happening to him, Gandalf? What’s he saying?"

"Today is October 6^th," the wizard said, gazing with sympathy at the tormented figure on the bed, now tangled in blankets, so small, so vulnerable, burning with more torment than his gentle soul could possibly endure, but still fighting it, still not giving in. What strength you have in you, my boy! he thought and sent a silent prayer of thanks and pleading to Iluvatar.

He looked at Bilbo. "It’s the anniversary of the time when Frodo was stabbed on Weathertop. The language is that of the Nazgul. I won’t speak those words here."

Bilbo watched in fascinated horror as Frodo calmed some and murmured softly to himself. "Does he always have these dreams at this time?" he asked.

Gandalf continued his own watch with compassion and concern. "He has suffered from them since the beginning, but hopefully they will ease once we reach the West."

Bilbo felt quite ill. He would have sank to his knees had not Gandalf held him up and guided him to his own bed. "This is all my fault," he said.

"This is the fault of Sauron, my dear Bilbo," Gandalf corrected gently. "Not yours."

"That blasted Ring! I should have never left you convince me to give it to him. That’s when this whole trouble started. He’s been through more terror than any one should. I should have protected him from it, but no, the first chance I got, I let him go. I absolved myself of any further guardianship, thinking only of myself. And that’s when he needed me the most. If I hadn’t left, he would have remained safe."

"For a time, perhaps," Gandalf said. "But that would have only been an illusion. The Ring was stirring. It was seeking its master. It would have only been a matter of time before Sauron found out where it was. By then it would have been too late. Frodo would not have been safe, no one would have been."

"But at least I would have been there to protect him."

"If you had stayed, he would have stayed with you and perhaps you both would have been captured. Remember he was no less protective of you than you were of him. He would have died to save you and then where would the Ring be? No, Bilbo, Iluvatar had far better plans to help him than any of us could have conceived. It was better he was out in the open road so when the agents of the dark lord did come seeking him, but he was already gone and barely in time. Don’t play ‘I should have’s’. It is only a game you will lose, no matter how many times you wish to win."

"I didn’t know, Gandalf. I didn’t know the Ring was so evil. I..."

Gandalf gripped Bilbo’s shoulder gently as the hobbit’s lower lip trembled with the restrained tears that shone brightly in his eyes. "I know you didn’t, dear friend. None of us did at first. I admit I grieved when Frodo accepted the burden at the Coucil, but I knew Eru had His reasons for choosing him and I did not question them. Frodo proved to be incredibly strong, far beyond my fondest hopes and worst fears. He was created to be that way. That gentle soul of his had to withstand much suffering, far too much, but that gentleness, that love that burns so brightly in him is also why he chose to take on this burden himself. It speaks especially highly of him, that he accepted it a second time, knowing all the darkness and terror he would be walking through, how badly he was already burned by it all."

He looked now down at Frodo who was moaning softly and Gandalf’s heart that had begun to slowly break since Frodo’s first announcement at that Council so long ago, broke a little more. How did these two hobbits and hobbits in general endear themselves so much to him, the wizard wondered. "He was the only one who could have done what he did, but it has proven too much for even his great heart, I’m afraid. Go to him, Bilbo. Comfort him. A familiar voice and touch may help bring him back."

Bilbo nodded. "I wasn’t where I should have been when he needed me before. I won’t make that mistake again."

"You were right where you were meant to be, just as he was," Gandalf said softly. "Just as you are now."

Bilbo took a few tentative steps toward his troubled nephew and touched Frodo’s shoulder gently.

"Go away!" Frodo cried. His eyes opened but what they saw Bilbo was afraid to guess. "Go away! Go back to Mordor!"

Bilbo looked back at Gandalf uncertainly.

"He is reliving all that happened from the time he was stabbed. He is not talking to you. Go to him. Do not fear, but be warned that he may recognize you or be aware of where he is."

Bilbo licked dry lips, then nodded and turned back. Gingerly at first, then more tightly and tenderly he took Frodo into his arms. The younger hobbit struggled, still lost in his terror. "You will have neither the Ring nor me!" he shouted.

"Shhh, my lad, it’s..."

Frodo’s struggle ceased abruptly as he recognized a familiar embrace. "Sam," he murmured in relief.

Bilbo looked back up at Gandalf who only nodded encouragingly.

"No, my boy, Sam is not here," the wizened hobbit said. "It’s me, your Uncle Bilbo."

Frodo’s eyes widened as he looked at his uncle, but Bilbo was not sure he recognized him. "Where’s Sam?!" the younger hobbit cried. "Why isn’t he here?! I need him!"

Bilbo held his nephew tighter in an effort to control Frodo’s growing panic. "He can’t be here right now," he said as calmly as he could, though he feared Frodo could hear the unease in his voice.

"But where is he?" Frodo asked frantically. "Is he coming?"

Bilbo’s efforts to calm him did not seem to be working. He looked to Gandalf again.

"He’s coming, Frodo," the wizard said gently as he laid a hand on the young hobbit’s shoulder and looked into his eyes.

Frodo tried to focus on this new voice, but Gandalf could see that he wasn’t entirely successful.

"Are you sure? When?"

"Not right away, but he will come," Gandalf assured.

Frodo sank back into his uncle’s arms and calmed again. "Good," he said quietly. "I can’t wait."

The wizard stepped back. Frodo now lay in his uncle’s arms, the terror having lost its hold on him. Bilbo looked gratefully at Gandalf who looked pleased.

"That’s not nearly as bad as some of his attacks have been, from what I understand from Sam," the wizard said.

Bilbo’s eyes widened in horror. "Not as bad? You mean, they’re usually worse than this?" He looked down at his nephew, kissed his dear curls and held him tighter. "I’m sorry, my boy, so sorry." He began to cry softly. Gandalf touched his shoulder and gripped it gently in support and sympathy. Frodo did not respond. He was cushioned from his fears in the arms of a loved one, much as he had been from nightmares he had had as a child. He knew no terror could touch him as long as he was held. He was safe.

"Uncle?" he asked after a while Bilbo had stopped crying, for which Frodo was glad. He hadn’t been able to understand why his uncle had been or what he had been apologizing for. His mind hid from his terrors and his voice was like that of a child.

"Yes, my lad?" Bilbo asked, remarkably calmly he thought.

"Why is the floor moving?"

Bilbo paused for a moment, then he remembered that Gandalf had said Frodo might not remember where he was. "We’re on a ship. Do you remember boarding it yesterday?"

"Oooohhh," Frodo said, a little frightened. "Sam doesn’t like ships." A pause, then, "Where are we going?"

"To the West, my boy, with the Elves."

"Oh, that’s good," he said, calm again. "Sam likes the Elves." He looked up at his uncle and his eyes were wide and trusting and the pain was only a shadow of what it had been. Bilbo’s eyes smarted to see that, a glimpse into Frodo’s youth when nothing but brightness shone from those deep pools. "Will he know how to find us?"

Bilbo looked up at Gandalf who nodded. "Yes, Frodo. He’ll be guided there just as we are being now."

Frodo looked back down at the floor. "I hope he comes soon," he said quietly, still in that beautiful childlike voice, a refuge from the storm that had been tearing him apart for so long. Bilbo wished his nephew could remain there, wherever he was, until he was healed. Frodo looked back up into Bilbo’s eyes. "Do you think he will?"

This time Bilbo did not dare look at the wizard who towered over them, afraid the Gandalf would shake his head and Bilbo couldn’t have borne to lie to his nephew. "I don’t know, Frodo, I just know he will be."

Frodo seemed satisfied with that answer. "All right. I’ll wait for him. I just hope it won’t be long."

"Do you want to sleep, Frodo?" Bilbo asked after a short bit. "You’ve had an exciting morning already."

Frodo looked up at him as though confused by what his uncle meant and the ancient hobbit was afraid he had made a mistake. He was floundering for a way to proceed when Frodo smiled at him, a beautiful, bright smile that nearly broke Bilbo’s heart with the joy of seeing it after having not for so long. "All right, but could we get something to eat first? I’m so hungry."

Bilbo smiled. "Of course, my boy, anything you want."

Frodo beamed. With his hand firmly wrapped around his uncle’s, the two hobbits left their room and Frodo gazed wide-eyed at all the marvelous things he saw. The Elves they passed bowed to them and Frodo and Bilbo and Gandalf bowed back, though the younger hobbit giggled afterward. "This is fun, Uncle!" he said and Bilbo and Gandalf both smiled.

They were very pleased by how heartily Frodo ate, then they returned to their rooms. "Why don’t you sleep now, Frodo," Bilbo said, running his hand through his nephew’s curls. Frodo did look tired as he lay down.

"Could you sing to me again, Uncle, like last night, but the one that Mama and Papa sang this time? I could start you out if you don’t remember it all."

Bilbo swallowed, looking into Frodo’s expectant eyes. How dearly he loved this boy! Hardly a boy, he reminded himself, now matter how innocent and young he looked still. "Why don’t you do that?" he said.

Frodo wrinkled his nose a little in concentration like he used to as a child when trying to pull from his memory a particularly difficult poem or song he had learned and Bilbo had asked him to recite as part of his schooling. His voice was tremulous at first, but then in a high, lilting, melodious voice, he began to sing.

"Sleep now

And know that I love you.

Let aside your cares,

I will protect you.

"Sleep now

And know that I love you.

Let no darkness touch you,

I will guard you."

The beauty and purity of that voice, free of the torment that had plagued Frodo for so long, brought tears to both Bilbo’s and Gandalf’s eyes. Both wizard and hobbit wished it could be that easy for their beloved friend to heal. It nearly broke their hearts when Frodo stopped, mid-way through.

"Why are you crying, Uncle?" he asked, confused and a little frightened. "Am I not singing it right?"

Bilbo couldn’t speak right away, being so moved no words could form. He merely hugged his nephew tighter than he ever had. Frodo embraced him back, still confused, but happy to be held. Had he done it right then? His eyes searched out Gandalf’s.

"You are singing it very well, Frodo," the wizard assured in a soft voice rough with emotion.

Frodo beamed. He looked at his uncle. "Do you remember it now, Uncle? Could you sing the rest of it to me?"

Bilbo swallowed around the lump in his throat. Frodo closed his eyes as Bilbo began to sing, stroking his nephew’s curls as he did so.

"Sleep now

And know that I love you.

Let your worries fade away,

I will not leave you.

"Sleep now

And know that I love you.

Let no pain plague you,

I will defend you.

"Sleep now

And know that I love you.

Let no terror frighten you,

I will always be with you.

"Sleep now

And know that I love you."

As he listened, Gandalf could feel that two hobbits, not just one, were beginning to heal.

"Thank you, Uncle," Frodo said sleepily. "That was so beautiful."

Bilbo continued to stroke his nephew’s hair. "You’re welcome, my boy," he said softly.

Frodo slept soundly for hours.

* * *

Frodo woke slowly the next morning. He was disoriented and confused why the floor seemed to be gently rocking under him, then he remembered he was on a ship, on his way to the Undying Lands and his last hope for healing, going further and further away from nearly all he loved. He looked over at the other bed, but it was empty. Bilbo had already risen and left. He turned and saw Gandalf, looking at him kindly.

"He just left a moment ago to get you something to eat," the wizard said. "He wasn’t sure if you’d be up to leaving the room or not."

Frodo looked momentarily confused. "What time is it?"

"Ten a.m. October 7^th."

"The seventh," the hobbit repeated softly, almost to himself. He looked up at Gandalf. "Then it happened again yesterday, didn’t it? I had hoped it wouldn’t, that I’d be getting well. Will I ever, Gandalf?"

The wizard smiled gently into his dear friend’s eyes and sought to ease the torment there and in his voice. "Yes, you will, dear boy, but remember, you were not injured all at once and you will not heal all at once. It will take time, but it will come."

Frodo took some comfort in that. "I don’t remember yesterday. It was bad, wasn’t it?"

"Bilbo remained with you the whole time and I was with you part of the time too, at the worst of it."

"I wish he hadn’t had to see it. He shouldn’t have my burdens. It was bad enough Sam and my cousins did."

"He loves you no less than them, Frodo. No less than I do. He wants to help you heal, if you can. To do that, he needed to see how you were hurt."

Frodo was silent. He didn’t look at his friend until the wizard spoke again. "Why don’t we go out for a bit of fresh air? It will do you good to get out into the sun. Maybe we can find Bilbo and have elvenses out on the deck."

The hobbit’s features twitched into an almost smile as he heard such a hobbity term come from his wizard friend. He changed out of his crumpled nightshirt and took the hand Gandalf extended. He bravely returned the smile the Maia gave him.

Frodo stood for a long time at the stern of the boat, the closest he could get to the Shire. He clutched his Elven cloak tightly around him as a strong wind blew into his face, causing his eyes to tear. Or was it his broken heart that was causing that? He felt the Light also and drew that even tighter around him. It was stronger here, he thought and growing brighter. He needed that. He didn’t move, not even to wipe at stray curls that blew into his eyes whenever a contrary wind blew. Gandalf stood beside him, silently giving what support he could.

"Did I do the right thing, Gandalf?" the Ring-bearer asked, still staring straight ahead.

The wizard looked down at the beloved, sorely wounded soul beside him. "What do you think, my dear boy?" he asked gently in return to the anguished doubt and fear in the little one’s voice.

Frodo didn’t answer at once. "I had to," he said after a long pause. "I wanted healing more than anything, more than being in the Shire, more than being with my family." He looked up at the wizard now and Gandalf sorrowed to see such agony in those beautiful eyes. "Do you think they will ever forgive me for being so selfish?"

Gandalf placed a hand on the injured hobbit’s shoulder. "My dear Frodo, there is nothing for them to forgive. They wanted the same thing for you that you did. Wanting to heal and seeking the means to do so is not selfish. I think we’ve had this talk before."

Frodo looked down at the deck. "I know. I guess I needed to hear it again. I am so full of doubts and fears, Gandalf, that I think I will go mad and on top of that, is the Ring. Even here, it seeks to still torment me."

"And on top of that is Sam’s love and Merry’s and Pippin’s and Aragorn’s and Arwen’s and Bilbo’s and mine and on top of that is Iluvatar’s. It was love that allowed your beloved brothers to let you go and we all share Eru’s desire to see you happy and whole again."

"I will never be whole without them," Frodo said, looking back out over the water.

"You are not without them, even now."

"I know, but still I wish they were here beside me or that I never had to leave."

Gandalf tightened his grip gently but firmly on Frodo’s shoulder and waited for the hobbit to raise his eyes to him. "You did the right thing, Frodo. Never doubt that again. Your heart and soul have been sorely tried from all the Ring took from you, but where you are going now, all that you lost will be restored to you. You will smile again. You will laugh. And that joy will not be a fleeting thing, but one that will last forever. Life will be not such a burden anymore."

The hope in Frodo’s eyes almost hurt to see, but it was a wonderful thing to see as well. Gandalf smiled and Frodo smiled faintly back.

"So this is where you’ve been hiding!" came a welcome voice behind them and they turned to see Bilbo toddle up to them.

"I’m glad you felt up to coming up, my lad," the ancient hobbit said cheerfully as he looked at his beloved, softly shining nephew. "I see it’s put some color into your cheeks already and it’s good to see our dear wizard has not let you be blown overboard."

Frodo smiled at his uncle. "He’s been taking very good care of me, Uncle," he said, "just like you have."

"Well, let’s get to the other side and get something to eat. If we stay here, it’ll be just for the gulls to eat and wouldn’t that be a waste?"

Frodo gave one last longing look back East, then hold onto Bilbo’s arm to steady him against the wind as they walked away. They found a less windy place and the three of them had a proper elvenses. After he saw his uncle safely back under the deck, Frodo returned to the top and looked back East.

* * *

Merry, Pippin and Sam had decided on the way home that they didn’t want to be alone, not yet. The loss was too fresh and they felt better still staying together at Bag End. Merry was concerned about Pippin, who had almost painfully clutched his hand almost the entire way back as though concerned that he would lose another beloved cousin. But once they entered the smial, Pippin let go of Merry’s hand and walked directly to Frodo’s bedroom, without a word or glance back, and closed the door behind him. Merry and Sam watched but didn’t follow. Sam went to the living room, sat down in a chair near the fire and began to sob uncontrollably. Rose came to him and held him. Merry sat down in Frodo’s favorite chair and stared into space, numb. At first Sam was angered he had sat there, but didn’t say anything. Then he thought it was right that someone should sit there, even if Frodo never did. He thought maybe looking at an empty chair would be worse.

Once inside his cousin’s bedroom, Pippin just stared at the empty bed for a long time and made no attempt to stop the tears streaking down his chin. He was barely even aware of them. Then he went into the closet and sat down among all the clothes and breathed in everything that was Frodo. He held and rubbed one cream-colored sleeve against his cheek and pretended it was his beloved cousin’s hand. Then he closed his eyes as the tears continued to fall, unnoticed.

An hour later, the door opened. Merry stuck his head in. "You all right, Pip?" he called. He stepped in when he heard no answer. He too looked at the empty bed and it grabbed his heart with physical pain to know that his cousin was never going to rest there again. He closed his eyes against his tears as he knew all too well how little rest Frodo had found in the last two years and he fervently, desperately hoped his cousin would find the rest and peace and healing he so needed and deserved. He closed his heart against any other possibility but that. Frodo had left all he knew and loved behind because of that hope. To think it wouldn’t be fulfilled hurt Merry worse than anything. He closed his eyes for a moment and then wiped at his tears when he heard a soft noise from the closet that alerted him to where his younger cousin must be.

Merry pushed the clothes aside and saw Pippin curled up asleep on the floor, his hand still clasping one of the Frodo’s shirts to his cheek. Merry’s eyes smarted again at the sight.

"So this is where you’ve been hiding, my dearest fool of a Took?" he murmured as he gently took his cousin into his arms, making sure he had the shirt as well.

Pippin murmured something against his shoulder, but didn’t wake. Merry laid him out onto the bed and ran his hand through his cousin’s curls, kissed his head and then took a deep breath of the shirt himself before laying down next to Pippin. He took his free hand, then closed his eyes.

Sam gravitated to the study. There his first master had taught him to read, there Frodo had taught him to write. There his brother had labored to write out his own tale and just as Frodo said it would be was the book, waiting upright on a stand, calling to him to read it. He picked it up, fearing for the pain inside, but opening it and running his fingers reverently down the opening page, to see both of his beloved masters’ writing there.

The cover page read in Mr. Bilbo’s writing:

There and Back Again

by Bilbo Baggins

And then in Frodo’s hand:

The Lord of the Rings

Dedicated to the children of Samwise Gamgee

Being a tale of the heroic acts of

Men, Elves, Dwarves and Hobbits, most especially their father

Told by their friend and his brother, Frodo Baggins

Moved to tears again by the loving touch his brother made to children he barely or would never know, though embarrassed as well by having his acts described as heroic, Sam immersed himself in his story and for a while, it was almost as if Frodo was back with him. Sam let himself get lost in the story, though he was more and more embarrassed by the emphasis his brother placed on his help.

When Merry and Pippin woke, the latter looked over Sam’s shoulder and started reading.

"Maybe it will help us understand why Frodo had to leave," he said. "There is so much he didn’t tell us."

Sam wiped at his tears. "It’s all in there," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "All his pain, all his doubts and griefs and torments. I was there the whole time and even I didn’t know it all."

"I wish he could have just left them there," Pippin said, "instead of leaving us."

Sam looked at the tween. "So do I, Mr. Pippin. So do I."

He began to close the book, but Pippin reached over and took the book gently from Sam’s hands. The older hobbit almost didn’t want to let it go, but he did.

"It’s not all pain, Sam," Pippin said as his eyes hungrily devoured everything Frodo had written. His fingers reverently touched the strokes of his cousin’s handwriting. "It’s so beautiful, too, how he writes about you, about Merry and me. I don’t know how I can read it all and not miss him all the more. But I will read it, over and over. It’s all we left of him."

"No, Pip dear," Merry said, stroking his cousin’s curls, "it’s not all. He’s still here because we will never forget him. We’ll see him everywhere. At his favorite tree, smoking, his head stuck in a book. At the Party Tree, smiling and laughing at fireworks and our antics. At Bag End, admiring the garden. In a meadow spreading a picnic, just waiting to smother us in his arms and his love. Remember how sometimes we’d go together and he’d race us..."

"And let us win," Pippin sniffled.

"Or get ahead of us and hide and scare the hide off us when he’d jump out and tackle us to the ground, tickling us until we were breathless."

"It’s a wonder our screeches didn’t bring the entire Shire down on us," Pippin said with a smile. "I don’t know how he always managed to scare us. I mean we knew he was hiding, just waiting for us. But still, every time..." He sighed. "Oh, how I loved those days. Nothing but sunshine and light and his love which shone brighter than anything. It was as though he was made just of love and light and he gave it all to us and Bilbo and you, Sam. We were so lucky. Now he and those days are gone forever."

Merry squeezed his cousin’s shoulders. "Not forever, Pip. Look for him. I know I will be."

"I will, too," Sam said, almost in a dream.

* * *

Pippin sat down on the bench with a deep sigh, put his head back and closed his eyes against the bright sun. He had looked forward to this day for years - his coming of age party. He and Merry and Frodo had planned it to the last detail. But Pippin found no enjoyment in it now, coming mere months after Frodo had left. He was glad to get away from all the partygoers and just have some time to himself. He still felt so empty inside or not empty, pain still filled him, longing and missing his cousin so bad, he thought he would go mad from it all. It was even worse than missing Merry when they had been separated during the first Quest and Pippin had thought nothing could possibly feel worse than that. He had no idea he would feel even worse later.

"Oh, why did you have to go? Why couldn’t we have helped you heal here?" he said quietly to himself. He had no answers, but it didn’t keep him from asking over and over again, hoping one day, if he asked enough, answers would come.

Merry and Sam came to sit down next to him, but it was not either of their touches that Pippin felt when someone cupped his cheek. He leaned into that warm, loving touch, recognizing it immediately. "You’re late, Cousin," he murmured sleepily, eyes still closed. "That’s not like you. You missed the whole party."

Then he jerked awake or thought he was awake, but he couldn’t be, could he? He stared full into Frodo’s loving, joyful eyes who stood smiling before him, so full of light, Pippin had to blink even as his eyes widened at the dream before him. For dream, it had to be. His cousin was gone, never to be seen again. The young hobbit wanted to reach out to him, wanted to clasp him in a tight embrace and never let him go. But did he dare to? What if this beautiful vision disappeared the moment he touched it? What if there was nothing to touch? He didn’t look at either Sam or Merry so didn’t see their eyes fixated on the same point, seeing the same thing or was it a trick of the light and their own longings?

"I’ve missed you so much," Pippin whispered.

Frodo smiled wider. "Nowhere as much I have missed you, dearest ’squeak." He leaned down and kissed Pippin on the head. "Happy birthday, Cousin. You know I would not miss this day of yours, don’t you?"

"I don’t have any gift for you," the tween said. "I’m sorry."

"Never fear, dearheart. I have one for you instead, one actually for the three of you."

He looked lovingly at each one of them in turn, then placed a wrapped box on the bench beside Pippin. As they watched and began too late to reach for, Frodo disappeared, becoming one with the light, paler and paler until he disappeared all together if he had ever been there at all.

No! the three hobbits wanted to scream. But they didn’t speak. Wind brushed against their cheeks as though in a parting caress and dried their tears.

The three of them looked down at the present Frodo had left. Pippin touched it almost fearfully, but it was real, it was solid, it was actually there. So maybe Frodo had been as well? Or was he still dreaming?

"Open it, Pip," Merry murmured, afraid to speak any louder as though it would break the wonder.

Pippin opened it slowly and carefully. It was at first glance empty, but then their hearts saw what their eyes could not. A great peace and love enveloped them, the same love Frodo had wrapped his cousins in their entire lives and Sam since he was nine. For the first time in months, their hearts were not torn and bleeding. Pippin smiled. "Thank you, cousin," he said softly. "I’m glad you came."

End of Part Two!

A/N: Bilbo’s lullaby is Galadriel’s. "Sleep Now..." is mine. The part in Frodo’s farewell letter to Sam about not being able to carry the burden alone and being sustained by Sam’s love is adapted from part of the Installation Homily of Pope Benedict XVI.  The prayer is adapted from An Act of Confidence in God by St. Claude la Colombiere, SJ.

Hannon le for continuing to walk with me beside our beloved two and I look forward to continuing the journey with you. Part Three, "Love Letters" which will be excerpts from the journals Frodo and Sam keep for each other while they are physically apart, will be starting soon.