1~The Scouring of the Shire

It is the end. Saruman is dead. At my doorstep. The Shire has been nearly all destroyed. I gaze over the ruins of what was once the beautiful garden of Bag End, and see Sam doing the same, a tear coming to his eyes.

He glances away and sees a few hobbits helping a badly wounded hobbit-lad down the hill to his hole, and leaps up to help them.

I look back down the lane and notice the crumpled body of Wormtounge still in the road. I had looked away when they shot him. The sight makes me feel sick, and I begin to sway, realizing that Sam isn't by my side.

But before I fall I see Sam giving Pippin a look and my dear cousin is by me, holding me up.

"Easy there, Frodo!" he says. "You feeling all right?"

"Not at the moment," I reply, suddenly thinking that I'm glad he's gotten stronger and taller than I, otherwise I would have knocked him over.

"When Sam's done, he can take you down to the Cotton's farm with him," Merry says. "Pippin and I will deal with this mess for you, Frodo."

I thank him, grateful. I do not want to handle this, and am glad that Merry and Pippin are willing to help.

A moment later Sam returns, and my stomach is more or less settled. He looks at me anxiously, and I say, "I'm fine, Sam."

"We should go now," he says. Most of the other hobbits are gone now, only a few, curious about us, remain.

"What will you do once you're finished here?" I ask, turning to my cousins.

"We'll come join you for the night, then decide where to go from there," Merry responds. "There's a lot to be done around here, that's for sure."

I nod and say farewell, then turn and follow Sam, who is holding the reigns of our ponies.

The Cotton's have been kind enough to offer the four of us a place to stay as long as we need it, and I am glad of it, as Bag End is not mine any longer, and I would not want to stay with my family at the Smials or at Brandy Hall. I love them dearly, but I don't want to leave Sam just yet.

When we get there, Mr. Cotton and Mr. Gamgee begin asking us questions about what we'd been doing. The Gaffer didn't seem to happy that I had run off for a whole year with his son, but he didn't say so.

"Where exactly were you?" Mr. Cotton questioned.

"Lot's of places," Sam says. "Mordor, mostly."

I shudder, not wanting to remember it.

"Mordor?" Mr. Cotton's eyes grow large. "Where Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin there too?"

"Merry was in Rohan and Pippin was in Gondor," I reply, glad that he at least seems to believe us.

"Why'd you go there?" the Gaffer asks, looking quite cross.

"We had to, Da," Sam replies, but says no more. He glances over at me, and I smile at him the best I can.

"You had to, eh? Did you know yer sisters and Rosie have been worried sick about you?" the Gaffer replies.

Sam frowns. "Yes, Da. I realize that," he says.

I reach up to hold the jewel Lady Arwen gave me, and Mr. Cotton's eyes get very large. "What happened to yer finger, Mr. Frodo?" he asks.

I meet Sam's eyes, suddenly panicked. I'd not thought up a suitable explination for that. To tell them what happened would mean telling them the whole story, and I don't have the time, or the courage, to do that just now.

"I'd rather not talk about it just yet, Mr. Cotton," I reply quietly. Perhaps I'll just let them think that is the worst scar from my journety. Though I will never have it back, the loss of my finger is the least of my worries. I'm beginning to fear that my worst scars will not heal here in Middle-earth, not even given enough time.

Now it's supper time, and Merry and Pippin come through the door just as Rosie calls us to the table. It is laden with a less-than-hobbit sized meal, but it seems alot, concidering the circumstances.

Sam takes a seat by Rose, and I sit on his other side, with Merry and Pippin across from me. The Cotton boys and Sam's sisters find their places by us, and Mr. Cotton sits at the head.

My apetite must still be lacking, because I keep noticing May and Daisy watching me with worried expressions throughout the meal.

Sam also notices how I am eating, and leans over to tell me, "I'm glad you're eating more."

I smile at him and see Daisy's eyes widen in surprise.

"I suppose my stomach is healing more," I reply. All those weeks in Mordor with little or no food harmed me far worse than I had thought initially. "I'm hungry today. But Aragorn said not to over do it."

Sam shrugs. "Just don't starve yourself either, dear. Just because Strider says something doesn't mean it has my approval, hear?"

I nod. "Yes Sam."

Daisy and May are now looking at their brother, astonished that he would dare order me around.

I sit quietly for a moment, and am suddenly drawn back to the table by Sam saying, "Drink this, Mr. Frodo. Might make you feel better." He hands me a mug of ale. "Drink it down and try to enjoy yourself, we're celebrating the freedom of the Shire tonight."

I take the mug. "Did Aragorn say..." I begin.

"I don't care if Aragorn said you could or no. You're drinking that whole thing."

I smile, glad Sam said so.

But then I hear the Gaffer say, "Samwise, you oughtn't to order yer betters about."

I turn to him and say, "Mr. Gamgee, I am not Sam's 'better'. If anything, he is 'better' than I."

Sam blushes and the Gaffer looks confused, and a little surprised by my words.

"Frodo," Sam begins.

"And don't you 'Frodo' me. It's the truth and needs to be said," I tell him.

Merry and Pippin smile.

"Now that's settled," Merry says clapping his hands. "On to business!" He winks at Pippin, and they both grab their mugs of ale. "I hearby challenge Sir Peregrine of Gondor to a drinking match!"

I shake my head, smiling. They'll be in pain in the morning. And they know that, yet they insist on having their "fun." I remember doing the same as a tween and enjoying it at the time, but such games do not tempt me now.

"Frodo! Come keep count!" Pippin says as the girls clear the table and start knitting.

I step over to where I can see them both and say, "Go." I begin to drink my own ale at a much more leasurely pace.