16 ~ The Sea

Sam and Rosie had a wonderful time at the party last night. I am at Sam’s hole today, to talk before he leaves for Buckland tomorrow for two weeks. Sam and I are sitting in the parlor, sipping mugs of tea.

“Are you planning on asking for her hand soon, Sam?” I ask when he finishes telling me about the events of the party.

“Soon,” Sam replies blushing and smiling. “Soon enough.”

I smile back. “We’ll you’d best hurry! You’ve waited too long to make her wait much longer,” I say.

“I know. It’s just not the right time yet, it seems,” Sam states.

I nod. “I understand.”

“What were you keeping busy with, Frodo? You seem quite…peaceful today,” Sam says, changing the subject.

“I was writing,” I reply, glancing down at my hands, and noticing an ink stain still on my palm.

“Writing what? I thought you’d finished Mr. Bilbo’s book by now.” He looks confused.

“I did,” I reply, pausing for a moment. Then I say, “I’ve started on ours.”

“Ours?”

“Yes. Sam, I have to, if only to just get it all out,” I say. “Whether anyone else ever reads it or not.”

Sam sits silently for a moment, then he nods. “I thought you would write something about it before long,” he says.

“You did?”

“Yes. But I didn’t think you’d take on the whole story. Thought it might be…” he pauses, and shrugs.

“Might be painful to remember?” I ask quietly.

He nods.

“It might. But I started it last night, and somehow it made me feel better. I want so badly to be better,” I say, clutching at my necklace.

“Well, if you think it’ll help, then I’ve no objections,” Sam replies, smiling at me. He rises from his seat to come sit by me. “You will be well again, dear,” he says, enveloping me in his arms. “I have no doubts you will.”

I lean on him and say, “Yes, I believe I shall.” But silently I wonder where and how long until it happens.

* * *

I hear the sea at night in my dreams. I have since my parents died. I heard it, and, at the time, I had wanted to leap into the Brandywine to be swept away to sea, never to be seen in Middle-earth again. But I didn’t then, and I shan’t now. I haven’t lost my regained hope yet.

I sit here by the Water, in a secluded grove, writing in my book, wondering how to continue. Perhaps it would be best to write the rest of this when Sam comes home. He left this morning.

I have already gotten through half of what Gandalf told me that day when he came with the news of the Ring. I marvel that I didn’t throw it to the wind when I still could have. But if I had done that… I don’t think anything would have turned out as well as it did, for everyone else. Everything good comes with sacrifice, it seems. And though I feel as though my sacrifice may turn out to be my life, I will not give up yet. I cannot give up yet.