“Farewell, my brave hobbits. My work is now finished,” Gandalf said. He was standing on the dock at the Grey Havens and we, me, Pippin, Sam and Frodo were all a little teary. “Here at last, on the shores of the sea, comes the end of our Fellowship.”

I was about ready to cry. Was everyone going away? I hate saying good-byes. It usually means we’ll never see the other again, that good-byes are forever.

“I will not say, ‘Do not weep!’ for not all tears are an evil,” Gandalf finished. Well, that made me feel a little better. Not much, but a little. I noticed Pip was really crying hard, but silently. I put my arm around his shoulders. Poor Pippin! No Gandalf to call him a ‘Fool of a Took’ anymore.

Gandalf started to walk towards the boat, but before he reached it, he turned back to us and looked at Frodo. “It is time, Frodo…”

I was so stunned my tears were gone instantly. I knew what Gandalf meant. Frodo wouldn’t, would he? Not really? I realized he would. He was really going to. My tears came back in full force.

“What does he mean?” Sam asked. Thank goodness Frodo answered. I don’t think I could have. Ever. It was too much.

“We set out to save the Shire, and it has been,” Frodo calmed Sam. “But not for me.”

Sam was almost panicking. I agreed with him. “You don’t mean that… you can’t leave!”

Frodo silently handed Sam Bilbo’s old journal, the cover still red, but a little more worn than I last remembered it being. “The last pages are for you, Sam.”

Sam had started sobbing. So was Pip. I suppose I was, too, but I don’t really remember. All I remember is feeling empty and lost. Frodo was leaving. Leaving forever, and would I ever see him again? He came up to me and gave me a hug. I embraced him back, wanting to hold him back from leaving. I wanted to cry out, “Don’t leave Frodo! Please don’t go…” but I didn’t. I just let him hug me and then he was gone, moving to Pippin whose tears had increased since I last looked. Lastly, Frodo went to Sam.

We all watched as he boarded the ship. Each of us was weeping now in earnest, if we hadn’t been before. I watched Frodo walk onto the ship. I wanted to pull him back, take him back to the safety of the Shire. I wanted him to stay, but I couldn’t… for some reason I just couldn’t run to him or make him stay or even speak. I was frozen. The ship set sail. It disappeared into the sun.

Pip and I left then, going to see to the ponies that a few elves were watching over. They had already said their farewells to Elrond, Galadriel and Celeborn, who left with Gandalf, Bilbo and our dear Frodo. Sam stayed, watching as the sun took our beloved cousin and friend as it set below the sea.

We rode towards home in silence, each of us grieving at our loss, the best friend and cousin we had ever hoped for. Now he was gone. Gone forever. I wondered briefly if we would ever see him again, maybe in the Overheaven when our time here in Middle Earth was over. Could that happen? Would it happen?

If anyone had ever deserved peace, a good long life and happiness, it was Frodo. For what he had done for us, for all of us, for all Middle Earth, he deserved everything we could give. Yet that was not enough. He had suffered, oh how he had suffered! First Weathertop, then Moria, then… everything. Through so many trials he had borne such an evil thing. So small, it was, and innocent looking, but so evil. So evil that it had broken my beloved cousin down.

“It weren’t your fault, Mr. Merry,” Sam said quietly, dragging me out of my misery. “It weren’t anyone’s fault, really.”

“But, what if…” I started, but was interrupted rudely by Pippin.

“What if, what if, what if! Merry, you’ll start sounding like Gandalf! What if…” he muttered. I was surprised at him. He had grown so much, so quickly, and still I underestimated his brilliance. “There are no ‘what ifs,’ cousin. Sam’s right. It wasn’t your fault, or my fault or Sam’s. If you want to blame someone, blame Sauron.”

I nodded sadly. “I still feel bad about it,” I said lamely. “It’s just… couldn’t we have done something for him? He was hurting so much!”

“He was, that, Mr. Merry,” Sam said. “That’s why he had to go.”

“I know. But did we do something wrong? Did we make a mistake somewhere that would have helped him, let him stay?”

No one answered my question. I knew the same thoughts plagued my companions. I had just voiced them. We had no answers. We didn’t know. Despite what Pippin said, and despite it’s truth, we were all worrying over the ‘what ifs.’ I felt responsible for Frodo’s leaving. I knew Pippin felt the same. And Sam. Sam most of all, maybe. He had been the closest to Frodo these last few years after the Quest. Pippin and I were busy helping our fathers rebuild the Shire and taking more of the responsibilities of Thain and Master. Because of our responsibilities, we couldn’t be there for Frodo when he needed us the most. What if we had been there for him? Would that have made a difference?

Our trip home was nearly silent. No one said anything if it wasn’t needed. At first it really didn’t bother me, since I was thinking so hard, I heard nothing but my thoughts. As my thoughts drifted, though, I realized there wasn’t the usual nattering. Pippin was as silent as I was. Sam, too, seemed lost in his own thoughts. I felt like breaking the silence, but I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

When we would set up our camps, we did it without talking. No orders were needed to be given. Everything came at an ease lent by many nights setting up camp with Strider and the others. We knew what needed to be done. Only occasionally would we speak, and then only if we really needed to.

About four days passed on the way home with the sun shining in a depressingly cheerful way. Four days I thought hard at times, other times I only wanted to break the silence, but didn’t know how. We were going home. Home. Would it really be home? A home without Frodo seemed inconceivable. Frodo had always been there. First at Brandy Hall; he was there for me when I was a lad. Then at Bag End; I could visit him whenever I needed to, or almost, when my parents would allow it. Even after Bilbo left for Rivendell, Frodo was cheerful old Frodo, ready with a smile and a plate of food for one, and later two, hungry young hobbit lads. Would it truly be home without Frodo there?

The night of the fourth day from the Grey Havens we departed from the company of the elves who had accompanied Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel. They were polite as they always were in that slightly aloof way. Yet, I could see in their eyes a sadness close to our own. Only, they had a surety; the surety of seeing their friends again. It was a surety that Pippin, Sam and I did not have.

With each plod of the pony’s hoofs, my heart grew heavier. How would I tell my parents, especially Mum, that Frodo had gone for good? How would I accept it? Could I accept it, or would I be waiting all my life for Frodo to come home? I saw him suddenly showing up at Brandy Hall’s big door with a smile and a treat for a young hobbit lad. I shook my head, throwing out the memory of Frodo doing just that when I was younger. I had always loved it when he did that, coming for visits with Cousin Bilbo. I would fantasize about Frodo coming to Brandy Hall for months after each visit, him showing up just as he did, a candy or a book or a toy just for me. It wouldn’t be the Shire without Frodo, would it?

We reached Michel Delving on the sixth night from the Grey Havens and we stopped at one of the inns there. As was to be expected, it was bustling with activity and the poor innkeeper was running around, hardly noticing three travel-stained, grief-wearied hobbits who asked for rooms and a place for their ponies. It reminded me of the Prancing Pony, in a way; shadowy, dank and loud. In one corner of the Pony there had been a rough looking man shrouded in a cloak so no one could see his face. The thought made me turn around to look to one of the dark corners, but it was unoccupied. There was no Strider to be seen. It made my heart sink even lower. A sudden burst of thunder announced the presence of rain.

“Well, Mr. Merry, I hope it clears afore morning. It’ll be hard goin’ if it doesn’t.” It was the first thing any of us had said that didn’t need saying. I thanked Sam in my heart for breaking the silence, but even then I could only nod mutely in agreement.

We left early the next morning, the rain pouring down hard. Frodo had always liked the rain, sitting in front of the fire in the study at Bag End. He would write or read or tell us stories. It was usually him, Pip and me there. Sometimes Sam would come up, too, and listen to Frodo spinning a tale about Bilbo’s adventures or some elvish lore. Pippin always loved the adventures the best, delighting in being terrified out of his wits by hearing of the trolls or the goblins or, very early on in his childhood, the dwarves. He would snuggle close to me or Frodo, listening with wide eyes as a troll nearly sat on or cooked Bilbo, or that Gollum creature leapt at our wise old cousin. How would Pippin cope without Frodo? Frodo was the one Pip went to when I got short with him. It was usually Frodo he would curl up next to when he and I went to Bag End. What was Pippin thinking now? What about Sam? Sam didn’t have his Mr. Frodo to protect or care for any more. Would he be alright? What would pull them out of this misery we were all facing?

The rain had let up a little. We stopped for a little while in Hobbiton, to let Sam off at Bag End and hand him over to the care of his Rosie. Pip and I dismounted outside Frodo’s old, beloved Bag End and watched the happy reunion between Rosie, who was holding a young Frodo lad in her arms, and Sam. Then there was a tremendous squeal from a young hobbit lass from inside the smial. Out came the beautiful Elanor, and Sam, with a smile of pure happiness, scooped the little lass into his arms. I realized then that Sam would have no trouble pulling out of the misery Pippin and I were clouded in. He had his beautiful little family to lift him up. Pip and I left a little later after paying our respects to the lady of Bag End. We set off towards Buckland and the rain, matching our moods, started to pour again.

Brandy Hall was just ahead. We could see it through the driving rain. My heart sank to my toes. The first thing Mum would do is drag us into the smial, scolding us on getting wet and riding in the rain. Then, realizing we were being sullen, she would ask us what was wrong, and I would be the one to tell her.

We stabled to ponies and went up to one of the doors to the Hall, one of the less conspicuous ones, and let ourselves in to dry. Despite my hopes, Mum came swooping down the hall towards us, clucking her tongue and pestering us. She herded us into one of the studies. I caught something in her eyes, something just a little different, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I wasn’t even trying to figure it out.

“Meriadoc! Peregrin! You’re shivering! Come and sit here by the fire and I’ll bring you some tea.” With that, Esmeralda Brandybuck was off, skirts whispering down the hall to the kitchen to fetch us the tea.

She was back in no time, and fussing over us as we drank the tea she had brought and warmed ourselves next to the fire. First it was Pippin’s turn for the fussing.

“Peregrin Took! You know better than to go out in this sort of weather! Why didn’t you wait until it had blown over? Then you could have come home dry! Instead, here I am, drying you all off! Merry, why didn’t you just wait for the weather to turn? It’s dangerous crossing the Brandywine when it’s raining.”

“It’s dangerous anytime, Mum,” I said reasonably, not realizing it was the first time in days I had really spoken to anyone. “Besides, we took the bridge.”

“That is beside the point, Meriadoc! You should have known how dangerous it could be! Travelling in the rain like that!” All through her oration, Mum went between Pip and me, fussing over us, combing through our hair with her fingers, patting our cheeks with towels, or just whisking away a stray scarf or jacket that we hadn’t removed quick enough for her taste.

That was Mum’s way of reassuring herself and everyone else that everything was fine. Nagging was always easy for Mum. Well it comes easy to every Took lass, it seems. I always preferred the nagging to an all out scolding. The nagging was just to let Mum’s worry off, and we were used to it by now.

Supper was a quiet affair, except for Mum. She kept up a steady stream of nags, advice, gossip and simple stories. I listened easily, having listened to her chatter all my life. It wasn’t nearly so constant as Pip’s, but it was close. It comforted me to hear her talk. I think it did Pippin as well, which made me grateful. Supper ended quickly. What surprised me, though, was that Mum didn’t ask why we were sulking, nor did she seem to notice how morose we were being. Before I could say anything, or even to find what words to say, I was herded out of the room, Pippin right behind me.

“Off to bed with you! You could catch your deaths being cold, wet and tired. Off, now!”

Without so much as even a yawn, we obediently went to our respective rooms. I looked around my room at first, looking at all the trinkets that I kept for no reason whatsoever save that they had always been there. Nearly every piece reminded me in some way of Frodo. I started touching everything gently, reverently. This Frodo gave to me for one of his birthdays. This rock I found a few days after Frodo had left from a visit to Brandy Hall. Here, this feather he kept for me for months when he found it after he left for Bag End; it was a falcon’s feather. He had said he found it the day Pippin was born. Everything reminded me that Frodo was gone, that he wasn’t coming back. I crawled under the blankets of my bed and buried my face in my pillow. Maybe I cried, maybe I didn’t. All I know is the next morning, I woke up to sunshine pouring through my window and Pip curled into my side like he had when he had been just a little lad.

“Merry?”

“Hmm?”

“What are we going to tell her?”

Of course, Pippin was talking about Mum and he was wondering just what I was: How are we going to break it to Mum that Frodo was gone?

“I don’t know, Pip.” We were quiet for the longest time. Finally, I broke the silence. “Do have an idea?”

Pippin looked up at me, surprised. “Me? You’re asking me, Merry? Why?”

“Because you would know better than me,” I answered him sincerely.

Pippin was surprised, I could tell, but he didn’t say anything. We sat there, thinking deeply, each to our own thoughts. My eyes wandered over my trinkets again. Tears started to bud up in my eyes again. There, that wooden pony. That was Frodo’s when he was a lad. He gave it to me when I cut my hand on a knife I had found in the kitchen and I had forgotten to return it. There was a twisted bit of wood I had sworn looked like an Oliphaunt. I had found that walking and had saved it to show Frodo; I had been fourteen then and I had forgotten to show him. I forgot to return that book. That ink well and quill, I forgot to thank Frodo for that when I was ten.

“Don’t cry, Merry,” Pippin said. I hadn’t realized the tears had spilled over and were coursing freely down my face.

“Sorry, Pip.”

Pippin just smiled and sat up. “I think the best we can do is just tell her that Frodo is gone. We can’t really wait to tell her, that’d be cruel, Merry. Let’s just go and tell her.”

That was what I had been thinking, but I had no idea how to go about doing it. Mum would be so sad, no matter how we told her. I looked at Pippin, intending to ask how we would tell her, but I saw in his eyes the same thoughts I was thinking. Instead I simply said: “Alright, Pip. Let’s go tell Mum.”

She was in the kitchen, bustling around happily. “Oh, good!” Mum exclaimed, seeing Pip and I at the door. “I was wondering if you were going to get up or just sleep the day away!” We just stood there. She was so cheery that it took us by surprise. Her mood was so opposite our own melancholy one. Mum’s hands went to her hips and I perked up, realizing she was about to nag or scold us. “Well, sit down! Honestly, you would think you had just seen a ghost! Sit! Breakfast will be ready in a moment.”

We sat. Pippin scooted close. “So, how are we going to tell her? Have you thought of anything?”

“No,” I answered simply. “Have you?”

Pippin shook his head sadly. Mum turned back to us we both sat up straight as though we had been caught with our hands in the cookies.

“Breakfast!” she said happily, ignoring our guilty faces. “Now, eat up. We don’t want any starving hobbit lads!”

We started piecing on our meal, none of it looking too tasty, even to Pippin. Mum continued to bustle around the kitchen, cleaning this mess up, dispensing of that invisible spot on the counter, wiping down the tub and finally grasping a cup of tea and alighting on a chair across from me and Pip like some graceful, beautiful bird. Mum had always been beautiful.

“Now!” she said, startling us. “I know you lads are either hiding something from me, trying to tell me something or both. What is it?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no sound came out. I looked at Pippin and I saw my expression reflected in his face. I was going to be the one to tell Mum. I had to; it was my responsibility.

“Mum…”

“Aunty Esme…”

Pip and I had started at the same time. Mum looked amused and I grinned at Pippin sadly. He understood. I would tell her.

“Mum,” I said again. “Mum, Frodo’s not coming back. He left with Bilbo to go to Valinor.”

Silence stretched on forever. I closed my eyes; I didn’t want to see Mum’s grief.

“Well, of course he did, dear,” Mum said.

My eyes popped open, surprised. Her face was sad and drawn slightly, but I realized that she had known since we came home, perhaps even before that. Maybe she knew when we left with Frodo over two weeks before. I had seen the sadness the moment we came home, but I had been too grieved to realize what it was. I looked to Pippin, his surprise even greater than my own.

“Mum…?” I asked.

“Couldn’t you tell, Merry?” she asked me. “He’s been planning on going for a while.”

“He… he was?” Pippin stammered.

“Of course!” Mum said. “He gave up so much…”

We looked at her blankly.

“You told me. All of you, you told me. And even if you hadn’t told me about that cursed ring, I could have seen it in Frodo’s eyes sure enough. He gave up so much for everyone. He deserved some peace.”

“But, Aunty Esme, couldn’t Frodo have stayed here and been happy?” Pippin asked. I nodded in agreement.

Mum was shaking her head. “I know what healing powers the elves have, but I also know that here in Middle Earth, their powers are not the same as they are in Valinor. There he can rest and truly heal.”

“But Mum!” I said. “Frodo won’t be happy!” Her smouldering look was enough to nearly make me eat my words. “Would he?” I finished weakly.

“Do you think he would be happy here, Merry?”

I sat in silence. I realized what Mum was saying behind her words. I wasn’t thinking about Frodo. I had never been thinking about what Frodo would have wanted. I was always more worried about how I would feel or how my friends would feel or what my parents would feel. I never thought about Frodo’s feelings. My head dropped forward into my hands cupped above my plate. I felt Mum stroking my hair.

“Was it something we did?” I asked.

“Or something we didn’t do?” Pippin added. “We weren’t there for him, really, Merry and I.”

“Sam was there,” I said. “He was always there, and for that I’m very thankful.” I lifted my head and looked at Mum. “But was it something we did or didn’t do?”

Mum was shaking her head. “No, my loves. It was not that. It was Frodo’s choice to leave.”

“But why?” Pippin asked. I was thankful he asked first, because I had been about to voice the same question. If I had asked that question, in all likelihood, I would have gotten a cold stare.

“Because he had to, love. To be happy.”

I thought back to when he was boarding the ship. At first he seemed so confused. I remembered his face. For the first time I saw what had really happened as he walked onto that ship. I had seen it in the Grey Havens, but I hadn’t paid any attention to it. Frodo had smiled back at us. Not the forced smile he was wont to wear after the Quest, but a genuine Frodo-smile. I looked at Mum. A smile was forcing its way through my tears. I understood. Maybe not fully, but enough to know that Frodo was truly happy. I nodded to Mum, showing her I finally understood her point. Pippin was wearing an expression just like mine: a tear stained smile. Mum’s eyes were wet, too. I thanked her silently with my eyes as she patted the back of my head in understanding.

Suddenly, there was an enormous sniff from Pippin. He was smiling, but weeping at the same time. Considering that the strange mixture of emotions was coming from Pippin, it was an amusing sight and Mum’s tears dried up almost instantly. “Now, really! We’re acting like a lot of geese! Crying… when there’s food to be cleaned away! Get to it, you lads!”

Pip and I laughed. No matter what Mum said, she could always make us smile. I realized that we wouldn’t be lonely and that it certainly would be a Shire without Frodo. We’d all miss him, of course, but life would go on, and we would be happy and very thankful for it.

However, it was many years before I truly realized just what Frodo felt and thought that day when he decided to leave Middle Earth.

* * *

Minas Tirith rose around us in all its dignity and grace. Pippin and I were in a garden, somewhere in the lower levels of the city, enjoying the sunshine. I recognized this as one of the gardens dear Sam had worked on when we had been here, healing. I saw many of the flowers Sam had planted, still there, still growing proudly. Pippin snorted next to me and turned in his sleep. I smiled over at him, going over every beloved feature of his face, little changed by age. Even his white hair couldn’t diminish his Tookish face that had been the same since the day he was born.

“Oh, my Pippin,” I whispered. The sun was comfortably warm and I was so tired. I relaxed just a little bit, slumping back to the ground. “I can go now, Pip, I think. There’s nothing left for me to do. Good-bye, my little falcon.”

I fell asleep, oh blessed sleep! And I wasn’t sad or frightened or angry. I left so easily, so softly.

Not all good-byes are forever.