19 ~ The Night Before

The four of us enter the inn and join Gen, Brend and one other hobbit in their table in the corner. The place is fairly populated tonight, and there are many hobbits around singing and drinking their fill.

“Merry! Frodo!” Brend says, calling us over to his table. “Good to see you and your friends again!” he adds, saying hello to Sam and Pippin.

“Hullo again, Brend. Who’s your friend?” Merry asks, glancing at the new hobbit questioningly. I can tell from his look that he’s also examining how trustworthy he looks. Merry picked up that habit on the Quest and still hasn’t stopped using it.

“Tom Boffin. My cousin on my Da’s side,” Brend replies. “Tom, meet my friends, Gen’s distant cousins, Frodo Baggins, Merry Brandybuck, and Pippin Took. And their friend Sam Gamgee.”

We nod and bow to Tom, then take our seats. A moment later I realize that we’d greeted him Gondorian fashion without even knowing. Ah well, the Shire will have to get used to us eventually.

“You nervous, Brend?” Merry asks.

Brend nods. “I can’t wait, but I am a little scared,” he admits, taking a bite of his mushroom potpie.

“See Sam? He can’t wait. Maybe you should follow his example with Rosie,” Pippin states, nudging Sam with his elbow.

Sam blushes, but says nothing.

“He’ll get to it when he feels like it, Pip,” I remind him gently.

“It’s not as if she’ll go off with another hobbit while he’s got his back turned,” Merry says. We all know that Rosie always has and always will be madly in love with Sam.

“He’ll wish he hadn’t waited,” Gen says, smiling. He’s the only one here already married.

The conversation continues, but I am not really paying attention. My gaze falls on the plate of food before me. Everyone is eating, and nobody is watching me, so I discretely switch my plate with Pippin’s empty one, knowing he’ll eat it. He glances at me, then whispers, “Frodo, you’ve not even touched this!”

“I know,” I say. “I’m not all that hungry right now.”

“You haven’t eaten since luncheon. Sam will be upset if he finds out,” Pippin states, looking over at our friend deep in conversation with Gen.

“Oh, please don’t tell Sam!” I plead. “I don’t want him to be angry with me, but I really can’t eat that right now.”

“Well,” Pippin replies, looking at the plate questioningly. “I wouldn’t want it to go to waste…”

I smile at him, then turn to listen to the conversation Merry and Brend are having.

“So you wear your livery all the time?” Brend questions, examining the golden embroidery on Merry’s sleeve.

Merry shrugs. “Became a habit. Pip and I both wear the uniforms all the time now.”

I glance over at Pippin. I suppose I’ve gotten so used to seeing them in the uniforms of Rohan and Gondor that I’d forgotten to notice.

“They look rather comfortable,” Brend replies.

“They are! And all of Rohan and Gondor wear them. Well, the soldiers anyhow,” Pippin says, looking up from his food to interject in the conversation.

I reach for my mug of ale, and Brend falls silent, watching my hand. Too late I realize that I am using my right hand. I refrain from drawing it back and hiding it as Brend says, “So it’s true then. I’d heard you’d lost your finger, but wasn’t sure I could believe it.”

“I did,” I reply, looking down, not wanting to meet his gaze. I am unsure what to think about my finger still. On the one hand, losing it meant that I had failed and claimed the Ring. On the other, it also meant the Ring was destroyed.

“How did it happen?” Brend asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I shake my head. “Maybe some other time I’ll tell you,” I say. I am still not quite ready to explain it all. And not to someone who isn’t all that close to me. Once I’ve written it down perhaps the whole Shire will know.

“You’ve all met the King, haven’t you?” Tom asks, suddenly changing the subject.

The four of us nod.

“Is he a good man, or is he just like all those ruffians who came into the Shire?” he asks, glancing at each of us.

“Aragorn is not a ruffian,” I say firmly. “He is one of our closest friends. I would trust him with my life.”

This seems to surprise the other three, but Merry, Pippin and Sam nod. They would, and have, trusted Aragorn with their lives and mine on numerous occasions, and he has never let us down.

We talk about Aragorn for a while, and my thoughts are drawn back to our time in Minas Tirith. We stayed there nearly a year, and enjoyed the chance to spend more time with Aragorn, even though he was still very busy.

Then finally Brend says, “Enough talk. Let’s have a song!” He glances over at Merry and Pippin.

Pippin grins and grabs his ale mug. “What shall we sing?” he asks, excitedly.

“Sing us something of Gondor,” Gen suggests, and Merry and Pippin proceed to leap onto the table and sing a hearty drinking ballad of Gondor.

Sam scoots over to where Pippin was sitting, and takes my hand under the table.

“They’re good at distracting me,” I whisper to him as he squeezes my hand.

“Why would they do that?” Sam asks, acting innocent. He turns serious a moment later, saying, “They don’t like you being so gloomy all the time. Anything they do to make you smile is worth it.”

I grip his hand tightly. It is becoming increasingly harder for me to find things to smile about. Just as it is getting harder for me to find reasons to crawl out of bed in the morning. I will try to hold out as long as I can, but it has only been a year since the Ring was destroyed and I already feel my hope ebbing away slowly.

I shake my head and try to focus on the song Brend and Merry are now singing, a song Bilbo made up for Merry and I when we were younger. I see Pippin looking at me worriedly, and give him an extra smile for his efforts. Maybe I can try not to be so gloomy.

* * *

Sam and I stumble back to Crickhollow under the weight of two very drunk hobbits. Brend and Gen offered to help us, but they are about as drunk as my beloved cousins, and I respectfully turned down their offer. After we get them to bed, Sam and I sit in the kitchen sipping mugs of tea.

“Does it bother you that they ask what happened?” Sam asks, lifting my hand and massaging the place where my finger should be like Aragorn taught him. It is supposed to help with phantom pains, but it only helps a little.

I nod. “I don’t know what to tell them, Sam. I feel so ashamed of it,” I reply.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Frodo. I’m not sure what to make of it myself,” he says. “But you don’t have to tell them if you don’t feel comfortable.”

I look up at him. “Do you think I failed, Sam? I didn’t mean to, I just couldn’t do anything else,” I say, looking away again.

Sam makes me look into his eyes. “Now, don’t you be thinking that, dearest. You didn’t fail, you did exactly what you told Mr. Elrond you would do, to the letter.”

I smile a little at him. At least one of us believes that.

“Now, you’d best get off to bed,” he tells me.

I rise, and hug my friend. “Thank you Sam,” I say, then turn and head for my room.