A/N: This is Part Two of The Measure of Love saga.  It follows the post-Quest love story of Frodo and Sam as well that of Frodo and his Creator - and I'm not talking about the professor :).  It's AU and you do not necessarily need to have read the first part to understand most of this, but it would be helpful as it does continue almost directly from the first.  No slash, just lots of TLC and angst.  Enjoy! :)

"And if Sam considered himself lucky, Frodo knew he was more lucky himself; for there was not a hobbit in the Shire that was looked after with such care." The Return of the King, The Grey Havens.

Chapter One: Family

"Are you ready, tithen min?" Aragorn asked Frodo the morning the hobbits were to leave Minas Tirith.

The Ring-bearer looked up at his beloved friend and king. "Yes and no," the hobbit answered.

This would be the last of their daily talks in Aragorn’s private chambers. The day before they had mutually decided Frodo was strong enough to part from the healer king’s care, but they were already missing each other.

Aragorn smiled. "You must miss your home. Hobbits are made for open fields and warm sunshine, not cities of cold stone."

"I miss Bilbo," Frodo acknowledged. "I hope he is well. I look forward to seeing him again and it will be nice to walk barefoot through grass again." He raised his eyes to his friend again and this time they were bright with tears. "But I am going to miss you so. I ’m afraid, Aragorn, of what I must now face alone. I can still hear the Ring."

The king knelt down and embraced his brother tightly. "You will never be alone, mell min, but I’m going to miss you, too. So much I’ll wonder how I shall bear it, but I shall because you will be ever near in my heart."

Frodo held on just as tightly. "As you shall always be in mine," he said softly.

They held each other for a long time, then Aragorn broke apart slightly and looked at his dear friend. "Do not be afraid. If you ever need me, call on one of the Rangers and word will be sent. I will come to you."

Hope flared, then died down, in the troubled Ring-bearer’s eyes. "You have a whole kingdom to heal, Aragorn, not just a hobbit. I couldn’t..."

"Yes, you could. You need to heal too, Frodo. Don’t try to do it alone. Lean on Sam and your cousins and Gandalf. I know he’ll be coming around to check on you." He took his brother’s face in his hands. "I will come if you need me." He smiled. "And don’t think I’ve forgotten how stubborn you Bagginses can be. If you don’t send word, I will leave instructions with Sam to do so, if he sees the need."

Frodo’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his beloved king. Aragorn took heart at the ghost of a smile that tugged at the edges of the Ring-bearer’s mouth. "Are you threatening me?" the hobbit asked suspiciously.

The king’s smile grew wider and he kissed his brother’s head. "I’m promising you, tithen gwador."

Frodo touched the hands that cupped his face, then held his beloved friend again, head resting on that strong chest. "Hannon le," he whispered.

When Frodo at last felt strong enough to break away, he smiled bravely at Aragorn. The king returned it and stood. They left the king’s private chambers together. Sam was waiting in the outer room as he did most every day. The Ring-bearer smiled for his dearest friend and took his hand. Over Frodo’s head, Aragorn and Sam shared a look and the hobbit nodded. His hand tightened a little around the brother of his heart and the two left.

An hour later, all four hobbits were packed and ready to leave. They stood in a courtyard of the citadel, the three younger ones in a protective circle around the eldest with Gandalf on the outside edge. Aragorn and Arwen bade them farewell as did Faramir, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli.

"Namarie, my brothers," the king said as he knelt to hug all four of them, Frodo and Sam first, then Merry and Pippin.

They all returned the embrace. Arwen knelt next and each hobbit also received a farewell hug from her. The queen lingered longest with Frodo. Sam thought he heard her whisper something to the Ring-bearer that gave him comfort, but what it was, neither said. She then bestowed a kiss on each of their heads, which had Sam blushing furiously and the younger hobbits grinning. Faramir also stepped forward to hug them and kiss their heads.

"Safe journey home, my friends," he murmured.

"Thank you, Faramir," Frodo said, "for all you did for us. We are in your debt."

The Ranger smiled. "I believe it is we that are in yours."

"Thank you, Captain," Sam said with a bow.

Boromir smiled at all of them. Legolas spoke to Frodo in Sindarin which eased his heart further so by the time Gimli embraced them with a laugh, Frodo was able to join in. The three hobbits looked at him and each other happily. Then they turned their ponies to leave the courtyard. Gandalf went with them on Shadowfax. Frodo looked back at Aragorn and king and hobbit watched each other until they were lost to one another’s sight.

* * *

The trip to Rivendell was as peaceful and comfortable as could be made. If Frodo was irritated by how much his Sam and cousins fussed over him, he did not comment on it. He even laughed at Pippin’s jokes which thrilled them so much that the tween talked nearly non-stop from that moment on. Sam, Merry and even Gandalf watched him fondly as he sought to draw his cousin out.

There were tears also, mostly of frustration, whenever Frodo tried to anything even remotely resembling a proper hobbit meal and promptly lost it nearly before he finished it. Sam cleaned him up as automatically as the "Thank you, Sam. I’m sorry." issued from the Ring-bearer’s lips. One night he buried himself in Gandalf’s arms and began to cry. "Am I ever going to get well?"

The wizard stroked his friend’s curls as Frodo sobbed into his robes. "Yes, my dear hobbit, you will heal," he assured. "Body and soul. But you need to give yourself the time and patience to accomplish that."

He revealed just the smallest sliver of his true nature and surrounded the hobbit with healing Light. Merry and Pippin didn’t seem to see it, but Gandalf was not truly surprised when Sam’s eyes widened slightly.

Frodo raised his head after a while. He had felt the Light enter and strengthen him, similar to the kind that continued to surround him. "Thank you," he told Gandalf and the wizard smiled. He looked at his Sam and his cousins. "I’m sorry," he said.

They looked at him with sympathy and love. Sam pressed a warm mug of peppermint tea into his hand.

"Thank you, Sam."

He slept that night in his beloved guardian’s arms and the darkness did not trouble him.

* * *

The closer they got to Rivendell, the stronger Frodo got. He smiled more and the sadness that clung to him like a second cloak lifted a little under the bright sunlight. He was softly singing to himself as they entered the safety of the Elven lands. But then a shadow passed over the sun in his heart and though he remained outwardly cheerful, no one missed that he was more subdued, even nervous under his excitement.

He nearly leapt off his pony when he saw his uncle Bilbo standing in the courtyard, supported by Elrond. The two hobbits’ gazes caught and the ancient one’s face lit with joy. Frodo ran into his uncle’s arms and felt strong arms wrap around him.

"Frodo, my lad, my dear boy," Bilbo murmured into his beloved nephew’s ear. "I’m so glad to see you again."

The younger Ring-bearer held his uncle and began to cry in his joy and shame and pain. He softly began to beg over and over for forgiveness. The ancient hobbit continued to hold his nephew tightly and murmured comforts and assurances of love and forgiveness, though he was just as much at a loss this time as he was the last why the latter would be needed.

Elrond, Gandalf and Sam knew and ached for it. Merry and Pippin did not know exactly, but their cousin’s pain tore at their hearts. Merry clasped Pippin’s hand, finding the tween already searching for his and they held each other’s hands tightly.

Finally the two Ring-bearers pulled apart and Bilbo had his first good look in his nephew’s ravaged eyes and soul. His own eyes filled with tears then and he touched Frodo’s cheek and the tears that still streamed down there.

"I’m so sorry, dear boy. It is I who should be begging forgiveness from you. I let you get hurt again and it is all my fault that you had to go out at all to face those dangers alone. It should have been me."

"I wasn’t alone, Uncle," Frodo said quietly. But he remembered the times he felt so.

They held each other and cried in one another’s arms for a long time until finally they broke apart and Elrond guided them to a room where they could rest. The other hobbits and Gandalf followed silently. Frodo surrendered to exhausted sleep almost immediately, tossing himself on top of the covers and not even bothering to change into his nightshirt. Bilbo took a seat in a chair next to him and watched him sleep. Frodo’s maimed hand was firmly wrapped around his uncle’s and he looked almost peaceful. Sam watched his brother for a long time, lost in the light that still shone, then he laid a blanket over him and curled up next to him to sleep himself. Merry and Pippin slept on Frodo’s other side. Gandalf stood over the bed as though guardian for them all.

"He’s wonderful, isn’t he, Gandalf?" Bilbo murmured. "So incredibly beautiful. My little Elven child. I saw it from the first." He didn’t need to look up to know that the wizard smiled in return. His own smile faded though. "And I’m not saying any of that because I believe I had anything to do with it. He’s always been that way and I was selfish enough to want him beside me and look at what’s happened."

"It all..." the wizard began.

Bilbo didn’t look up, but remained focused on his nephew’s face. "I know what you are going to say," he interrupted softly. "That it was all meant to be, but tell me, Gandalf, tell me, what was meant to be about all the terrible hurt in those lovely, unbearably sad eyes? What happened? Why did he have to endure it at all and especially a second time? Once was more than anyone should have to bear."

"I cannot tell you why such evil was allowed to hurt him, but I will tell you that he freely chose to accept his burden both times so you and everyone else in Middle-earth could be free. He did it out of love and he was saved and shielded by Love that entire time. He still is. He’s just beginning to learn about that Light that has always surrounded him, but he knew enough to trust that he would be taken care of and he was. You can see his light just as well as I can, can’t you, old friend?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where all that beauty and light comes from? Frodo is not merely the son of your heart, Bilbo, but he is the beloved child of quite Another. He is learning more about that and to respond to that. That is what will heal him, just as your love and that Love healed him after his parents’ deaths and Sam has held him close all these decades as well."

"It still should have been me," Bilbo said softly. "I should have gone both times."

"You would have never made it and all the world would have been lost, him too. No, Bilbo, that was not your task. It was his. You were created for another purpose and you performed that perfectly. You gave Frodo love and security and a home he was willing to do anything to protect. You showed him what and who that was worth fighting for and gave him the strength to take on the burden he was created for. You have no idea how much you helped shape him and all Middle-earth because of what he learned from you. He’s still wonderful, dear Bilbo. He just needs to relearn that himself and to believe in his own goodness again. He was very sorely tested, but he did not fail in what he had been created to do. He was protected by a Power greater than anything you can imagine and he served as best as anyone could. Don’t keep blaming yourself for what happened. This was all set into motion ages before you were even born. You were meant to find the Ring and bear it as long as you did so Frodo would be ready and strong enough to bear it in his time. The blame for his hurt does not lie with you, my dear, stubborn hobbit."

"Then who can I blame?" Bilbo asked and there was a quite violence in his voice.

"The same one who hurt you. Sauron. The one you helped defeat."

* * *

The four hobbits spent a month in Rivendell with Bilbo. Frodo spent much of it in the library and some of the pain left him for a time as he absorbed himself with his beloved uncle and the books that he knew a lifetime could never be enough to read each one. He was as happy as he could be with his burden still so heavy. Sam, though anxious to get back to Rosie, would have happily stayed much longer as he saw how good the Elven land and being with Mr. Bilbo helped his brother. It was Frodo who made the decision to leave. His heart was lighter, it was a beautiful day to set out and he was anxious to sleep in his own bed again. He also knew Sam wanted to return, though the gardener never said anything.

Bilbo stood in the courtyard to wish his cousins and former servant goodbye. He and Frodo had already said their farewells. They gazed at each other until they were lost to sight, then the ancient hobbit sighed and returned to his rooms and his books.

* * *

The day was unusually warm and bright and Frodo’s spirits were higher than they had been for some time. His uncle was well. He was able to keep down a little more food if he ate slowly and carefully enough. The Shire awaited him ahead and he was glad that Sam would get his reward and his Rose. The birds sang merrily in the trees. Frodo looked at his beloved brother and smiled mischievously as he faced forward again and his voice lifted to join the birds when the borders of their beloved land came into sight.

"The light in the window is shining for you,

Calling you home, calling you home.

Your lass by the window is waiting for you,

Calling you home, my laddie.

"Long you have wandered and far you have been,

Glad of the fireside you'll be.

You'll sit and you'll tell of the things you have seen,

While safe with a hot cup of tea.

"Your lass, she is waiting, she's waiting for you,

To see you safe home she'll be glad.

Though long you've been roving, to you she's been true,

So hurry, O hurry, my lad!

"The light in the window is shining for you,

Calling you home, calling you home.

Your lass by the window is waiting for you,

Calling you home, my laddie.

"So hurry on home, my laddie!"

Sam blushed furiously and Merry and Pippin giggled and Gandalf smiled, but as Frodo turned once more to smile and laugh lovingly at his beloved friend and guardian, the gardener returned it all and was happier than he had been in a long time. His brother’s light poured from him as it once had and all seemed well with the world.

* * *

Frodo walked into Bag End for the first time in months and simply stood in the parlor and breathed in deeply. Sam was right behind him. He took his brother’s cloak and hung it on its peg near the door. He started a fire and the kettle for tea. He then opened the windows and aired out the place. Frodo watched him with a smile on his face. The gardener stepped out for a moment and returned with flowers from the garden which he was about to put in a vase, but the elder hobbit took him by the arm and practically pushed him back out the door. "Thank you so much, Sam, but now Rosie is waiting, isn’t she, and wouldn’t those flowers just look lovely on her table?"

The gardener blushed and smiled. Frodo watched him walk down the path, then turned to the whistling kettle and sat himself down for a mug of tea. He was home. He could hardly believe it. After a short dinner, he looked out the window he saw Sam come back up and let himself in. Frodo smiled at his return.

"And how is the fair Rose?"

Sam flushed. "Beautiful," he said.

"When have you set the date?"

"Mid-Year's Day."

"Wonderful! But I hope you'll be coming here to live sooner, Sam. Please. This place is too big for one person. It needs cheer and you and soon Rosie and all your children will provide that for decades. I can’t wait."

Sam smiled. "Neither can I."

He spent that night in one of the spare bedrooms in case his brother needed him, but both slept soundly. It was one of the few that went so well.

* * *

Frodo was determined that the day of Sam and Rosie’s wedding was one that his brother would not spend worrying about the continuing struggles he had with his memories and the darkness that still so haunted him. And he wasn't going to worry about himself either. They had already suffered through another March 13th illness, but the day of the wedding, he laughed and danced. He led many of the toasts and all of the cheers. He drowned the song of the Ring with his own songs. He silenced its harsh whispers of false promises with his own vows to be ever grateful for the sacrifices his Sam had made for him and had now been duly rewarded for. He did everything he could to fill the emptiness inside him. The only tears he shed that day were ones of joy and relief as he embraced Sam to congratulate him.

He was well aware of Sam’s many anxious glaces at him throughout the day. He met each with a loving smile, until with fond exasperation, he drew his brother aside, wrapped his arm around his shoulder, drew him close and whispered gently into his ear, "I’m all right, Sam." And that day he was.

Sam drew back slightly and looked at his beloved brother for a long time, trying to decide if Frodo was telling him the truth or not, for they were both aware that shadows still lingered in many of the elder hobbit’s smiles and not all of those smiles reached his eyes. But this one did and the shadows were so faint only one who know Frodo as well as Sam did could see them at all. He touched that smile as thogh to assure himself it was really there which only made it broader, then he smiled himself and held his friend briefly but tightly. Frodo returned the embrace, glad to see the worry disappear for that day at least. Sam’s glances at him for the rest of the day were of fond love which Frodo returned in full measure.

Merry and Pippin also watched their cousin nearly as solicitously and it was for their benefit as well that Frodo was determined to enjoy himself so they could also. This was a day for joy and merrymaking, not for sadness. Though Pippin was still underage, Merry and Frodo both allowed the tween sips from their half-pints of stronger ale than usual which Pippin took full advantage of.

"Are you all right, cousin?" he asked when Frodo looked at him as lovingly as ever and laughed at all his jokes, but still behind his eyes there was a sadness none of their or his own efforts could completely dissipate.

Frodo smiled and ruffled his cousin’s hair. "Yes, dearest, today I am nearly all right."

Pippin’s heart leapt to see that smile and hear those words as some of the lingering pain left Frodo’s eyes. He kissed his cousin’s cheek quickly and held him tight for a moment. "I’m so glad."

"So am I," Frodo said and kissed his head and squeezed him quickly but tightly.

A/N: The song is another masterpiece of Queen Galadriel.

Chapter Two: Pray For Me

Sam watched his brother with growing concern. Frodo had enjoyed himself enough, Sam thought, at the wedding almost five months previously, but each day he watched him struggle to keep that light alive in him that he had shone with so effortlessly before.

For the first couple months, Frodo’s sleep was plagued by nightmares more often than not. Each night, Sam tucked him in and then handed him a mug of chamomile tea and they talked about mundane things. When Sam assured himself that Frodo was ready for sleep, he got up and kissed that dear brow with a murmured "Sleep well, my dear. I love you."

He saw his brother smile and heard, "I hope you do, too, my Sam. Thank you. I love you, too." Sam returned the smile and then quietly left with the drained mug and made sure the door was part way open so he would be able to hear if he was needed. As he left, the Ring-bearer curled on his side and Sam heard the beginning of the prayer Frodo said every night. "I come sick to the Healer of life..."

Sam did not understand who Frodo prayed to, but he added his own silent plea each night for his brother. He knew sometimes Frodo had to repeat the prayer over and over until enough peace would come for him to sleep at least for a little while. The gardener and guardian rinsed out the empty tea mug in the kitchen and on his way to his and Rose’s bedroom, poked his head into Frodo’s room to make sure he had fallen asleep, marvel at the light from him and then seek his own bed. He fell asleep each night with a prayer of thanks for his beloved wife and dearest brother. He had learned on the Quest to keep an ear open even as he slept for anything Frodo would need during the night.

If the night terrors came too strongly, Sam held Frodo in his arms, sometimes the entire night, as though Frodo was a child who needed the security of a parent’s embrace. Frodo laid on his stomach, ear pressed to Sam’s chest to be soothed by the beat of his friend’s heart. It was sometimes the only way he could sleep and he longed to be held that way forever, but he knew he couldn’t be.

"You said before you would protect me from my dreams if you could," Frodo said the first night he had woken and felt Sam’s arms around him before he was even aware he had cried out. "I believe you."

Even before Sam and Rosie had moved in with Frodo, the gardener had not let up his watch over him. Frodo didn’t know what he would do if he did. It was a balm to his troubled soul to have Sam remain with him. He also kept Arwen’s gem close around his neck where the Ring used to hang and would often reach to finger it. Sometimes he wondered whether he was reaching for it or the Ring, but it soothed him so he told himself it was for it and not the Ring. He wasn’t sure he always convinced himself though. He still heard the Ring’s voice just as clearly as always and the desire for it had not left him. He wondered if it ever would. He didn’t think he could bear it if it never did. When the longing was the worst, he dreamed of the Sea and would wake comforted.

He spent his mornings alone, after breakfast with Sam and Rosie, writing in Bilbo’s book the story of the Ring as he and Sam had lived it, trying to ease the longing that way. He had always been able to write out his frustrations and agonies before and then let them be, the poison drained out of him into the paper, not to bother him again. He was still waiting for that to happen with this deepest hurt. To hear Sam puttering around the house or in their garden always brought a smile to Frodo’s face, though. For a moment the demons that still stalked him were driven away and the Ring-bearer knew he could bear his burden a little longer as long as Sam was always there.

The younger hobbit was happy to have his brother slave away with the manuscript during the morning and kept him to himself, only coming to the study to bring him second breakfast and elvenses and not leaving until Frodo ate to his satisfaction. He had learned early on that if he just didn’t stay, the tray would not be touched. The gardener made sure that his brother didn’t spend all his time in the study, though he knew Frodo had to get it all out somehow and as far as the young gardener was concerned, the sooner the better, but still he put his foot down to Frodo doing anything past luncheon. Then he took his Frodo out for long walks around the Shire and as often as possible Merry and Pippin came as well and the tween was always able to get his cousin to laugh. It was so wonderful for them all to hear that, Frodo himself included. It gave them all hope.

Sam always made it a point to show how the area was prospering, especially where Galadriel’s seeds were planted. He wished privately that the Lady had had something that could heal Frodo just as easily as it was healing the hurts of the Shire. He sometimes saw sad, wistful looks on his brother’s face as they traveled around and wondered if Frodo was wishing for the same thing. His hand was always clutched around the gem Arwen had given and it seemed to help and Sam was grateful for that, but why was it taking him so long to heal? Why, why, why? He had no answers and seeing the worried looks Merry and Pippin exchanged with him and each other when Frodo wasn’t looking, he knew they wondered the same thing and felt just as helpless to answer them.

Something had been burned away from their cousin and friend, some hole left in his heart and soul and as much as they poured all their love into it, they could never fill it up completely for long. But they tried everything they could and for that moment it would be enough. They talked and teased and remembered earlier, more innocent times. They didn’t take their pipes though. Frodo could not abide the sight or smell of smoke anymore. Rosie packed a picnic for them and they ate quietly in some meadow or another. Frodo ate as well as he could, which was still not "proper like" as Pippin had phrased it once, but it was slowly improving under Sam’s and Rosie’s devoted care and enticingly delicious meals. Sam had done everything in his power to keep his brother well on the Quest. Frodo had no wish to mock those loving efforts by not eating as much as he could. They always returned before dark though. Frodo’s love for nocturnal walks had been another thing burned away by the Ring. Sam hoped nothing else would be.

It was during one of those walks that the biggest smile came when Sam proudly announced that Rosie was pregnant.

"Oh, my Sam, that’s so very wonderful!" Frodo exclaimed and it was as though the sun burst out from him in sudden joy. He hugged his brother tightly. "I can’t wait! I promise to be a good Uncle Frodo to them all."

Sam hugged his brother back. Seeing that smile gave him as much joy as the news itself had. "I know you will be, dear. A wonderful one."

The first few times they had returned from the walks, Frodo had returned to the study, but Sam quickly put a stop to that. The walks had added a bit of color to his brother’s too-pale cheeks and had raised his mood. Sam saw all that destroyed when Frodo started writing again afterwards so he told him in no uncertain terms that there wasn’t going to be any writing after luncheon. He hoped it would also help ease the nightmares.

"It’s too close to bedtime," Sam insisted when he first announced it when Frodo had returned to the story after their walk.

"Bedtime?! But that’s hours away, Sam," Frodo protested.  "It's barely even tea time." 

He turned back to his story. Sam reached over his shoulder to take the quill from his hand and firmly closed up the ink jar. Frodo looked him with a raised eyebrow, but Sam stood his ground. "It’s still too close, me dear. You need to have more pleasant things to think of before retiring."

Frodo sighed, then smiled and Sam returned it. "I bow to your better judgement, Sam."

Sam let out a silent sigh of relief, surprised that his brother had not argued further with him. He was never comfortable fighting with him, but there was some things he was not willing to compromise on when it came to getting his Frodo better. They were both aware that sadness hovered too closely around the elder hobbit, and too often overwhelmed him, but they kept it at bay as best they could with sunlight, exercise, the company of friends and prayers for healing.

One night, Frodo repeated his prayer over and over, a litany of supplication, but it did not provide the comfort it usually did and he so desperately needed. He got up to get something to drink to ease a throat too dry from speaking. He padded quietly through dark halls into the kitchen and reached for a mug.

"Do you need something, dear?" Sam asked quietly behind him.

Frodo started, but hoped Sam hadn’t seen. Yes, my dearest friend, I need much. I need peace and quiet and rest. I need an end to hearing the voice of the Ring. I need to stop desiring it. I need you to hold me and never let go. "My throat was dry, Sam. I was getting something to drink. I didn’t mean to wake you."

Sam watched him drink the entire mug and then fill it again. Then the younger hobbit took the mug from him and placed it on the counter. In the moonlight, Frodo looked up at his beloved guardian. Sam had always heard what he hadn’t said also. He took his brother into his arms and rocked him gently in the dark kitchen. Frodo placed his head against his Sam’s shoulder and held on as he listened as the gardener sang softly,

"Long have you wandered, O traveller dear;

Darkness and pain you well know.

But now you've returned, so let go your fear,

And list while I sing soft and low:

"Day is now over and shadows are deep,

The moon is full bright in the sky;

The mother is rocking her bairnie to sleep

And singing her soft lullaby.

"The fire on the hearth is a-glowing warm red,

The night's falling, darkling and still.

So close now your eyes, dear, and rest your sweet head,

And sleep now, safe under the hill.

"Far have you wandered, O traveller dear,

Terrors and trials you have borne.

But safe in my arms you have nothing to fear,

So rest ye in peace till the morn."

For a long time they stood together as Sam continued his soft crooning until he felt his Frodo relax enough for rest to come. He took the mug with him as they walked back to the latter’s bedroom. Sam then placed the mug on the nightstand, tucked his dearest friend in and kissed his brow.

"Thank you, Sam," the elder hobbit murmured as he curled around himself under the covers.

"Sleep well, dear. I love you."

"I love you, too, Sam."

From the night on, Sam always made sure that Frodo had a mug of water beside him.  He said a silent prayer of thanks when he came each morning to check on his brother and saw that the water hadn’t been used and grieved a little when he saw that it had.  Frodo was normally still sleeping when Sam came, his hand clasped around the gem around his neck. Sometimes, though, he was awake.

"I’m sorry, Sam," he said when he saw his beloved guardian’s sorrowful face that the mug was empty.

"What more can I do for you, dear?" he asked with tears bright in his eyes.

"Pray for me."

A/N: Another lovely song from the queen.

Chapter Three: Rare Souls

When Merry wrote to ask Sam to come to see to some ailing plants near Buckland, the gardener debated whether he should or not. He didn’t want to leave Rosie or Frodo, especially when Rosie was still somewhat ill from early pregnancy, but they both insisted.

“Your fame as a gardener is growing,” Frodo said with a smile and a distinct tone of pride and love. “I’ll take care of Rosie, Sam. Don’t you fret. And she will take of me. We’ll be fine. It’s only a week.”

“I’m sure it’s not that urgent,” Sam said. “Or maybe we could all go. You could see Mr. Merry...”

Frodo’s features clouded. “That would be wonderful, Sam, but you know I don’t like being out after dark anymore and Rosie is still recovering. We’d be better off right here, but do tell Merry and Pippin - I assume he’ll be around - hello for me and give them my love.”

“Go, my Sam,” Rosie said. “Frodo is right. We’ll be fine.”

Sam then agreed to go, but still not without reservations. He kissed Rosie goodbye at the door and Frodo walked with him down to the gate.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Sam asked. “It’s that hard to be seeing Rose sick, but I know it’s natural for lasses in her condition. I’m know just as well it’s not natural for you to still be suffering what you are.”

Frodo’s featured twitched, then he smiled bravely. “Gandalf told me it would take a while to heal, but you and Rose have helped me so much.” He smiled fuller when he saw his Sam still so hesitant. “I’ll be fine, dearheart. It’s nowhere near the 6^th or the 13^th. I haven’t had a nightmare in two months. I’ll make sure I continue walking, I’ll eat everything Rose sets before me and I promise I won’t write past luncheon. I’ll even wash between my toes.”

Sam laughed out loud at the last, treasuring the mischievous glint in his brother’s eyes and in his voice. “Then I suppose you’ll be all right.”

Frodo embraced his beloved guardian and kissed his cheek. He savored the feel of the return embrace as Sam’s strong arms enfolded him and stored it in his memory for the days ahead he wouldn’t be feeling it.. “Be careful,” he murmured. “I can live without you for a week, but I don’t know how much I could bear beyond that.”

Sam’s doubts about leaving all rushed back as they reluctantly let go of each other. Frodo saw his friend’s indecision return and gave him a gentle shove with a laugh. “Get going, dearest ninnyhammer. The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll be back and the happier we all will be. I miss you already.”

When Sam still looked reluctant, Frodo turned him around and pushed him down the road. “Go,” he said softly. Sam did, but looked back to see his brother still standing at the gate. The elder hobbit waved and Sam waved back still a little uncertainly. Frodo remained standing until his friend disappeared from sight. He removed his hand from the fence post when he realized it was trembling, then he told Rose he was going to spend some time in the garden.

He spent most of the time his brother was away there because it made him feel closer to him. His gaze was often fixed on the gate, anxiously awaiting Sam’s return. He and Rose took all their meals there and Frodo, as promised, ate everything laid before him. Neither he or Sam had commented on the fact that with Frodo’s stomach still delicate at times and Rose’s even more so, that there was not much eaten anyway so it was an easy promise to keep. He tried working on the book, but found the memories were too much without Sam there to help banish them. Instead, he found another book and sat down to read, something he hadn’t done in a long time, and rediscovered that simple joy. He would have stayed in the garden even at night, but it was too frightening for him to be outside after dark.

He discovered, though, that staying away from writing was not enough to keep the demons that plagued him away. Rosie came to him the second night after Sam had left when his nightmares returned and he cried out for Sam. She held aloft a small light. “Mr. Frodo? Are you all right?”

Frodo was on his knees, his legs tangled in blankets. His right elbow was raised above him and his arm was pointed down as though he was holding something in that grip. His left was clutched near the side of the bed like he was holding something down. The rage and hatred on his face as he plunged his right arm down frightened Rose, but then it changed so quickly she wondered if she had even seen it. The next look broke her heart.

“Sam! Oh, no, Sam!” Frodo cried, terror clearly visible on his features.

“He’s not here right now, Mr. Frodo,” Rose said softly. “Remember he...”

Frodo collapsed and began to weep. He clutched the gem around his neck convulsively. “I killed him, didn’t I, Rose? Just now.”

Rose sucked in a surprised breath as Frodo’s tormented eyes met hers. He reminded her suddenly of an injured bird she had found once in the garden. It had looked up at her with much the same pain and fright in its eyes and she had so wanted to help it. She set the light down and took him gently into her arms just as she had the injured little bird. She did not think about whether it was her place to do so or not. It just seemed the right, only thing to do.

“No, of course you didn’t, Mr. Frodo,” she soothed, rocking him gently as she knew she would her children one day. “He’s gone for a few days to Buckland, remember? He’ll be back, safe and sound, you’ll see. You haven’t hurt him at all. I know you never would. Did you dream you had?”

Frodo didn’t answer for a long time, just shivered in his sweat-soaked nightshirt. Rose didn’t think he would ever respond and was just about to apologize for being so forward, but then very softly, so softly she had to strain to hear it, he whispered, “Yes.”

“You didn’t though. ’Twas only a bad dream.” She held him a little longer, until he stopped shaking, then let go. “My Sam still has nightmares himself sometimes.”

Frodo looked up at her sharply in concern.

“He won’t talk about it much,” Rosie said. “I know he doesn’t want to worry me. ‘It’s over now,’ he’ll say.” She looked directly at Frodo now, stunned by her own forwardness, but wanting to help. “But it’s not over, is it, Mr. Frodo? All the things that hurt you and him may be gone from this world, but they are still hurting you all the same, aren’t they?”

There was another long pause and Rose bit her lip, convinced that she had truly gone too far. Frodo stared at the light she brought in, not nearly enough to drown the darkness that still clawed at him. “Yes, Rose, they are,” he said finally. “I’m sorry.”

Rosie reached out to touch his arm. “Oh, no, Mr. Frodo. I’m the one that’s so sorry. You have done so much for us and it’s not fair that you still suffer so cruelly.” Tears shone bright in her eyes.

“It’s all meant to be somehow, Rose,” Frodo said in a weary voice. “I’m trying to get well, but... It’s not easy without Sam being here,” he finished.

Rose tightened her grip on his arm. “Just keep trying, Mr. Frodo. That’s all we want - Sam and I and Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin. We just want you be happy and healthy again.”

Frodo was moved by her words. “That’s all I want, too. I’m sorry I woke you.”

Rose smiled. “We told Sam we’d look out for each other, didn’t we? I’ll get you some of that tea he always makes for you. Perhaps that will help you sleep better.”

Frodo smiled “Thank you, Rose. I’m sorry to be such trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Mr. Frodo. Just sit tight and I’ll be right back.”

The light disappeared with her and Frodo almost panicked, but Rosie returned soon enough and he gratefully accepted the mug of camomile she handed him. She sat down as he sipped it slowly. His good hand shook badly though and he nearly spilled it. His maimed hand he tried to keep under the covers. Rose bit her lip to see he was still ashamed of it.

He finished the tea and looked gratefully up at Rose. “Thank you for coming to check on me, Rose. I’m sorry you had to.”

“As I said it was no trouble, Mr. Frodo. I’ll just sit here with you if you don’t mind until you get back to sleep.”

The best smile yet graced Frodo’s lips and Rose smiled back, glad to see it. “Thank you,” he said. “You are a true friend, Rose. Sam is so lucky to have married you.”

“I’m just as lucky, Mr. Frodo.”

“We both are, aren’t we? A rare soul is Samwise Gamgee. A rare soul.”

“Like attracts like, Mr. Frodo.”

Rose smiled as she took the mug from him as Frodo settled back under the covers and closed his eyes. Rose watched him, struck by the way the moonlight illuminated his pale face. He was half in its light, half in shadow. She grieved for how far into the darkness he had gone, but the half that was in the light was beautiful. How she wished he could live entirely in the light as he had once done, as they had all done. When she was sure he was asleep, she leaned down, brushed at his curls and kissed his brow before quietly leaving the room.

The next night and the ones following, she also spent soothing him.

The evening Sam returned, Frodo was waiting at the gate. He embraced his dearest friend and held him for a long time, not speaking, but with joy and relief radiating out from him. Sam returned the embrace, sensing all that, but also the tension that only now was releasing itself. His brother’s eyes looked more tired and pained than before too and Sam knew he should have paid more attention to his doubts about leaving, even though he had been successful and had felt good about that. Rose greeted him when he entered Bag End with an embrace and kiss and smile, but her sorrow when she glanced at Frodo, then her husband, wasn’t missed.

At dinner that night, Frodo kept looking at Sam with a smile, like a child who was overjoyed that his father had returned from a long trip. The younger hobbit wished that was all there was to that, but he well knew no child would or should have the haunted look that was in his brother’s eyes, more deeply shadowed now than before.

As Sam and his wife lay in bed that night, he squeezed her hand and kissed her quickly. “Thank you for that delicious supper, my Rose. It was wonderful to return to all my favorites.”

“Thank Mr. Frodo. He was cooking all afternoon. He wouldn’t let me do a thing.”

Sam smiled. “Then I’ll have to thank him in the morning.” He smile faded when he spoke next.

“How have you two been?”

“You saw how happy he was tonight and how well he ate.”

“And how well you did. Is your sickness passing then?”

“I think so.”

“I am that glad to hear that, but there’s more isn’t there? I saw how he looked underneath. He’s not doing as well, is he?”

Rose hesitated only a moment. She would have shielded him from it if she could have, but Sam’s heart was not blind. “He’s been having nightmares almost every night,” she said quietly. “I’ve sat with him until he goes back to sleep. It’s so warm in that room I don’t know how he can sleep, but whenever I went to open the window, he begged me not to. He said he was cold and that ‘I don’t want them to come’.” She looked up at her husband. “Who’s ‘them’?”

Sam didn’t want Rose to know everything that he and Frodo had had to endure. Such a gentle lass shouldn’t know such things even existed. But then again, such a gentle soul as his brother’s shouldn’t have had to known either. “Black Riders,” he said. “They were after him before, but they’re gone now.”

Rose waited for him to say more, but knew he wouldn’t. She had comforted him when he had woken from his own nightmares, never knowing exactly what he had woken him, apart from what she could gather when he called out in sleep, mostly in warning to Mr. Frodo.

“He almost never lets go of that gem around his neck. I know you said it was supposed to help him, but I wish you could talk to me about it. Keeping it all inside is not going to help him. Nor is keeping all your hurts inside going to help you.”

Sam agreed, but he still didn’t want to share anything with Rose. She was so full of light, just like Frodo had once been. He didn’t want to see it dimmed like his had been. He leaned over and kissed her head. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, my Rose. It’s over.”

Rose would not be placated. It frightened her to even guess what they had had gone through. She was tired of imagining the worst. “But it’s not, my Sam. It’s not! It’s tormenting him just as bad and it’s still hurting you. I know you want to protect me, but who is protecting you? We both want to protect him, but there are things and places he goes to that frighten me. In one of his dreams, he killed you.”

Sam paled, then took her into his arms as she began to cry. “Hush, my Rose, shhh. Don’t you cry. I don’t want you to think about it. We had a rough time of it, but we came back. That’s the important part.”

“I don’t think Mr. Frodo came back, Sam. I think he’s still there, where ever you were. I know you are trying to pull him back here, but something is preventing that. If I knew more about it, maybe I could help. I can’t stand it anymore than you can that he is still hurting so much, that you are still hurting.”

“I just want us all to forget about it.”

“I can’t. He can’t. You can’t. After he woke up each night, we talked a little while he drank his tea and he’s the most perfectly mannered gentlehobbit there is, but he won’t talk about what I can see burning in his eyes and my heart breaks for it. He got to be closing his door when he’d retire so I wouldn’t hear him cry out, but after he was asleep, I’d open it again so I would hear him.”

Sam smiled. “That’s my Rose,” he said with pride and love and thanks. “Thank you for taking care of him so well.”

“He took good care of me, too. Made all the breakfastses and the elvenses. But please, Sam, let me do something. I love him too.”

Sam looked tenderly into his wife’s earnest, tear-bright eyes and his love for her soared until he though his heart would burst from it. But he could not give her what she wanted. “Don’t ask me more about it, dearest. I can’t tell you. I don’t want to tell you. I don’t want you to ever know all that happened, it’s just too awful. But I will tell you one thing, my Rose. Through it all, I thought of you. I was not going to go back to the Shire without Frodo, but I was not fighting just for him, but to come back to you. And he was fighting for all of us.” Sam’s voice began to hitch with his own tears.

Rose sank her head into her husband’s chest and held him. “I know, my Sam, I know. I do not begrudge you or him that at all. I am glad you were there for him. There are no luckier hobbits than him and me because you love us so much. He talked of little but you while you were gone. He loves you so much.”

“I love him,” Sam said. “I should have never left, but he seemed to be doing better. I thought...” His voice trailed off. “I’m not going to leave again. Not until he’s better.”

“Perhaps he’ll sleep better now that you’re back.”

“Perhaps.”

Sam feel asleep in his wife’s arms with that hope in his heart and plea on his lips. It was not long before a moan from his brother’s bedroom shattered it.

Chapter Four: Held

Sam listened for a moment, heart breaking. Rosie wiped at the tear that traveled down his cheek. Sam turned to her, surprised to see she was awake.

Frodo moaned again, then cried out for Sam. "He’s called out for you each night," Rose said. "Go to him now."

Sam leaned over and kissed his wife’s head. "Thanks, my Rose. I’ll go and get some of that tea for him."

He was nearly out the door when Frodo cried out for him even more desperately and Sam turned back to his wife. "Do you think you could make the tea instead, Rosie dear, please?"

Rose smiled. "He doesn’t need it. All he needs is you."

Sam smiled and left to go to his brother. He hurried his steps as Frodo cried out an anguished, "No!"

"I’m here, my dear," Sam said as he entered the room. Rosie was right - the room was too warm. He moved to open the window a bit.

Frodo was sitting up, amid disheveled sheets, breathing heavily. "Sam!" he cried in relief, then "No, Sam, don’t!" when he saw what his friend was doing. "They’ll come, they’ll find me!"

Sam turned away, but left the window open a crack. From the moonlight streaming in the window, he could see the terror still in his friend’s eyes. Tears burned in Sam’s eyes as he gathered his badly trembling brother into his arms. "No, they won’t. They are all gone, me dear," he murmured. "They can’t hurt you anymore. Nothing can while your Sam is here. It’s all right. You’re safe."

Frodo clung to him desperately. "They are still going to come," he whimpered. "I know they will. They want the Ring. They can hear its call. Aragorn said they would never stop hunting me."

Sam kissed his brother’s head and began to rock him gently to try to calm his tremors. "Shhhh now, dear. The hunt is over. The Ring is gone."

"No, it’s not. I can still hear its voice inside me, Sam. I have never been free of it, all these many, many months since we first set out. Endless hatred and malice for all things, whispers of false promises, shouts and screams, taunts each time I resisted it, contempt each time I gave in...twisting me, always twisting me. And then despair, horrible, all-consuming despair, terrible betrayal and rage. It was so much a part of me by then, I felt everything it did. I burned with it, Sam. Both times. Sometimes I think I’m still burning."

Frodo looked up at his friend now and Sam could indeed imagine he saw the fires of Mordor still burning in his beloved brother’s soul. New tears began to fall from Sam’s cheeks into Frodo’s curls as he held his dearest friend tighter and continued his gentle rocking. Perhaps, he thought, if he cried enough, he could make the fires go out.

"I’m so cold, too, Sam, like when the blade first pierced me. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Sam. Gandalf said I would be driven mad if the Ring was separated from me by force. I think that is what has happened."

"No, no, hush, dear," Sam said softly. "You are not mad. You have been hurt badly and that is what is causing you all this pain, but what caused the pain is gone."

Frodo looked up into his beloved guardian’s eyes. "How can it still torment me then? I have had such terrible dreams, Sam. I had hoped now that you were back they would stop, but they just keep getting worse."

"Then tell your Sam about them," came the gentle coax. "Maybe that would help them disappear."

There was such a long pause Sam didn’t think Frodo would answer or perhaps hadn’t even heard him, then the elder hobbit spoke. "They change every night and they are so real, I can’t even tell that it’s not truly happening again. Weathertop. Osgiliath. The tower. The fire. And there are changes to it sometimes. Things that didn’t happen but could have. Once I saw the orcs with the Ring and it drove me mad to see them have it and not me." Frodo looked up at his friend with tormented eyes. "I dreamed once that I killed you."

Sam’s eyes filled with fresh tears. He held his beloved brother tighter as Frodo began to cry.

"Why is this happening, Sam? Why can’t I just let it all go? It’s not even near the 6^th or the 13^th."

The torment in Frodo’s eyes and voice begged for relief, relief Sam would have given anything for, but wasn’t sure how he could. He returned the gaze through tear-filled eyes, then pulled his dear one closer and stroked his curls. "’Tis just a memory you are hearing of the Ring, dear, and it’s frightening you into these dreams, but it’s only a bad memory and memories fade."

Could it be? "I want so much to believe you, Sam."

"Then do, dear."

Frodo almost smiled. Dear, trusting, ever-optimistic Sam. He was so glad that his friend had remained untainted by the Ring. Could he wish one day he wouldn’t be as well?

He continued to tremble badly. "I’m so cold, Sam."

Sam partially let go of his brother and with one hand brought another blanket around him, on top of the three that already covered him and still weren’t adequate. At last, the sound of Sam’s voice and his steady, soothing heartbeat reached Frodo and he stopped shaking. "I’m sorry I woke you," he said. "You should be with Rose..."

Sam smiled. "I’m where I need to be right now," he said, but then his smile faded. "I’m sorry I wasn’t before. I should have never left. Maybe your dreams wouldn’t have come back."

"Don’t blame yourself, Sam. They may have returned anyway. I just wish I could get better."

"I wish that more than anything, my dear," Sam said. He wiped at the last of Frodo’s tears and smiled again. "Why don’t you try to get back to sleep? Nothing’s going hurt you while your Sam is here guarding you. Do you want me to get you some of that tea?"

Frodo looked into his beloved guardian's loving eyes. "No, thank you, just stay with me, please, will you, Sam?"

Sam smiled wider and his heart rejoiced to see Frodo return it, if only faintly. He kissed his brother’s head. "I’m not going to leave you."

"Rose said you were having nightmares, too, sometimes, Sam," Frodo said as he lay his head back down on his brother’s shoulder. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t know."

Sam looked uncomfortable for a moment, then his features smoothed out. "It’s nothing for you to worry over," he said and looked down, though he knew his brother was not going to be dismissed that easily, much as he would have liked it.

"I would worry more if you didn’t tell me," he said softly.

When Sam still didn’t respond, Frodo raised his head and his features quirked into a smile.
"Come on, Sam," the elder hobbit cajoled. "Fair is fair. I told you my dreams. You have to tell me yours."

"Stubborn Baggins," Sam muttered.

Frodo laughed suddenly, a clear, rich laugh and Sam’s heart skipped a beat to hear such a beautiful sound so unexpectedly. "Stubborn Gamgee," Frodo teased back. "Now out with it, dearest hobbit."

Sam looked up now and Frodo was surprised and worried to see tears in his beloved friend’s eyes. His smile disappeared, the light that shone for a moment vanishing. Sam bit his lip, knowing he was responsible for that.

"Sam, please tell me."

"I dream about the same things you do, I suppose, in some way," Sam started slowly. "Weathertop, the tower - the times I failed to protect you as I should have."

Frodo tightened his grip around his friend. "Sam, please don’t blame yourself for those things. I beg you. None of it is your fault."

Sam looked at his brother full in the eyes, tears brimming over and beginning to fall down his cheeks. "But you nearly died before we could get you to Rivendell and even there, we weren’t sure if you would survive and I don’t even want to think of what those orcs did to you. It was horrible, wasn’t it?"

A terrible, sharp pain stabbed Frodo’s eyes. "Yes, but then you came and rescued me."

He held Sam tighter, the one in need of comfort now turning comforter. He stroked his friend’s sandy curls while Sam cried and began to softly sing.

"The night has come, long, dark, and dreary.

The road is long, and we are weary.

Alone we are, in land of dire despair;

Hope seems beyond our reach, yet she is there.

"There waiting patient in the shadows,

She whispers of the woods and meadows

That yet remain, untouched by deepening gloom;

She strengthens, heedless of the voice of doom.

"One lonely star, her light undying,

She burns so bright, all fear defying,

Amidst the clouds in dark and gloomy skies.

Oh hark, dear heart, to her soft battle cry:

""Be not weighed down by care and sorrow;

Press on, brave heart, unto the morrow.

Though all is dark and shadows hide the sun,

This too shall pass, the battle will be won."

"It’s so wonderful to hear you sing," Sam murmured. "You have always had such a lovely voice."

Frodo kissed his beloved brother's head. "Do you remember when you sang that to me after seeing that star in Mordor, my Sam? You have no idea how much that helped me. There is light still in the world. You proved that to me. I will not stop searching for it."

They held each other silently for a long while, then Frodo pulled back and wiped the last of the tears off his Sam's cheeks. "Don’t blame yourself for anything bad that happened, dear Sam. None of it is your fault." He smiled. "Now say, ‘You’re right, dear.’"

Sam sniffled, then returned his treasure’s smile. "You’re right, dear," he repeated obediently and Frodo smiled wider, then let him go and held him by the arms.

"Thank you for telling me of your dreams, Sam. I’m glad you did. I hope they stop, now that you know you are not to blame. I’ll tell you what you should be feeling instead. You have been nothing but my hope, my light, my strength, everything I couldn’t be and can’t be by myself. You have blessed me with your support and your friendship and your love and I know that I am not only the luckiest hobbit in all Middle-earth because of it, but the luckiest creature period."

Sam looked to be on the verge of tears again with such praise. Frodo smiled, squeezed his arms, then let go of his friend, reached in a drawer for a handkerchief and handed it to Sam. "Now blow, dearest."

Sam looked askance at the proffered hankie.

Frodo grinned mischievously. "I know what you are thinking, that it’s too good for your nose. Don’t even start. I have no doubt it would be honored to be used by so fine a nose as yours."

Sam looked up with no little horror, then saw Frodo’s smile widen, his eyes not only filled with light, but sparkling. The elder hobbit giggled. Giggled! Sam thought his heart would burst from the bliss of hearing that. He could do nothing but stare in wonder at such a wonderful sight and sound.

Frodo frowned then. "What is it, Sam?" he asked. "Have I grown a third eye or something?"

Sam didn’t tear his gaze away, but found his voice. "No, but the two you have, they are so beautiful. They are dancing, like they always used to."

Frodo’s smile returned. "I have you to thank for that, dearheart."

And then Sam laughed. It started deep in his heart, then bubbled up his throat until it emerged full and rich and he hugged his beloved brother, tears again streaming down his cheeks, unnoticed, but tears of joy this time as Frodo held him tightly and cried tears of his own.

"I think I can go back to sleep now, Sam," Frodo said after a long while and let go of his guardian. "But could you stay until I do?"

"Of course I will, dear."

Frodo laid back down and Sam brought the blankets up to his chin. The elder hobbit put his right hand out over the coverings and held it out for his Sam to take. "Goodnight, Sam," he said. "Thank you for everything."

He dropped back into a deep, untroubled sleep as Sam held his hand. When Sam was sure his brother had gone back to sleep, he gave his head a kiss before he quietly left the room. "Sleep well, my dear," he murmured. "I love you. Thank you for everything."

The next night, the nightmares returned with even greater ferocity and Sam held his brother all night. He cradled Frodo’s head against his heart knowing it soothed his friend and cried silently at how much suffering such a gentle being had already suffered and continued to suffer, but he held out as a light against such darkness, the memory of the teasing joy they had shared the night before. He marveled also at the light that continued to shine softly in his dear one. He could see it surround him as though he was not the only one embracing him.

A/N: Need I say that song was another masterpiece of Galadriel’s? I didn’t think so. :)

Chapter Five: Birthday Gifts

When Gandalf came for one of his visits to Bag End on the occasion of Frodo’s 53^rd birthday, he was surprised by how pale and thin Frodo was. His last visit, a month earlier, had revealed a hurting, but he hoped, healing hobbit. But now...

"Mr. Gandalf’s here, dear," Sam said as the worried hobbit showed the wizard into the study.

Frodo looked up, visibly drawing himself away from whatever memory had him trapped at the moment. "Thank you, Sam."

He stood and hugged the wizard. "It’s so good to see you, Gandalf. Thank you for coming."

The Maia returned the embrace, startled again at how thin and frail Frodo seemed and how tired his voice sounded. "Happy birthday, my dear boy. I’m very glad to be here. How have you been?"

Frodo’s hesitation was only momentary. Perhaps someone who didn’t know him as well as Sam and Gandalf did wouldn’t have even noticed it. "Sam has been taking very good care of me," he said. No one missed that he didn’t address how he himself was feeling.

"Shall we go for a walk, Frodo?" the wizard suggested and he could feel Sam’s eyes bore into them both, silently begging his brother to say yes. "It’s a beautiful day."

Frodo looked like he would refuse, but Sam was visibly relieved when he said instead, "Yes, that would be nice, I think. Maybe it will clear away some of the cobwebs."

Gandalf smiled, but Sam wondered if his brother was speaking truly of cobwebs or just fatigue. He helped Frodo into his jacket and watched them both leave.

They walked silently for a little bit, Gandalf watching Frodo carefully, but not obviously. "Sam is very protective of you," the wizard said.

Frodo smiled. "He always has been. I’ve been spoiled terribly since I first met him when I arrived to live at Bag End with a horrible cold. He is not only the brother of my heart, but I wonder sometimes if my brother in blood, for I learned very early that he could out-stubborn me whenever he wanted to and no one is more stubborn than a Baggins. He doesn’t allow me to write past luncheon because he doesn’t want the memories interfering with my sleep. He makes sure I eat enough. We go for long walks every afternoon to get out in the sun because I’ve been in the study all morning writing. More often than not, Rosie will pack a picnic for us and Merry and Pippin come often as well."

"I’m glad you are doing so well," the wizard said guardedly, watching his dear friend closely.

Frodo’s smile faded. "As well as I can. There are still some days it’s more of a struggle than I want to bear, but Sam is always there and I know I can go on." He looked up at his friend. "Lady Galadriel gave me one light, but you gave me one much brighter. I can never thank enough for that."

Gandalf smiled gently and Frodo saw all the light and ageless wisdom, love and compassion in those eyes deeper and brighter than he had ever seen them, as though the wizard was merely reflecting the Light the troubled hobbit had started to know. "I was not the one that gave you Sam."

Frodo continued to look at his friend for a moment more, then out to the glory of the day. "I know. Or at least I’m beginning to know. Why have I been so blessed, Gandalf?"

"Because Iluvatar loves His children, Frodo, far, far more than you can possibly imagine. He knows what each one needs long before they do and provides more than they can even conceive to ask for."

"Then why do I still want the Ring?" the hobbit said. "He wouldn’t want me to do so, would He? I had it so long that I can no longer think of myself separate from it. It’s gone, but it’s not." He looked up at his friend. "Will I forever be tormented by this perverse desire?"

The wizard looked into the Ring-bearer’s agonized eyes and into his soul. "No, Iluvatar does not wish for you to still want it, but from nearly the very beginning of time, has evil existed alongside with good and all His children have had to wrestle with it in their time. Such is the burden of all beings while they are within the Circles of the World and Ring-bearers have always had the greater struggle than most, though if they are open to it, they have also received the greater number of graces because of it. It is an unfortunate case, though, that not all of them have been open to those gifts. Gollum had been seeking it since Bilbo took it from him, before you were even born and..."

"Bilbo nearly attacked me when he saw it around my neck at Rivendell," Frodo said softly, still haunted by that. "And he hadn’t seen it in 17 years. Had he been longing for it all that time?"

"Yes."

"Then I am doomed to always desire it as well." The flame of hope Frodo had been so valiantly guarding within his shattered heart and soul guttered.

"As long as you live here in Middle-earth, you will have to struggle with that desire," Gandalf agreed, "but it need not master you. Of the five Ring-bearers in all the ages, you, Bilbo and Sam have been open most to the graces Iluvatar wished to give them all and you have both accepted them, even if you did not know what they were at the time. Sam is one of the greater blessings for you, but the greatest one may still be coming to you and Bilbo and him. If the struggle becomes too wearisome, think of Arwen’s second gift to you. You may go West and seek relief at last from your burden, if you cannot find it here."

Frodo fingered the gem around his neck. "I have thought of it. I’ve dreamt of it at times and it’s always comforted me, but I can’t leave Sam. I just can’t." The Ring-bearer’s voice was almost despairing. "He never left me. Even when I kept leaving him, he always came after me. The Ring twisted me into attacking him again and again and still he stayed. Gollum and Bilbo didn’t have that support that Sam has always given me. His love got me to Mordor. It can bring me back, too, back home at last. I have to believe that."

They walked silently for a little bit, then Frodo spoke again. "Sometimes the voice of the Ring is just a whisper, like an itch you can’t quite reach, an annoyance but nothing more. But sometimes it is a scream and I want to scream with it, just so I can’t hear it. But somehow, Sam can drown it out even then, with just a soft word, a smile, a touch." Frodo smiled and shook his head. "I wish I knew how he did that."

Gandalf smiled. "Because he loves you and love can accomplish all sorts of miracles. Perhaps you will be one of them."

"Perhaps."

They walked along silently for a while longer. Frodo stared down at the ground. "It’s all right if you want to cry, Frodo," Gandalf said softly. "Or scream."

The tortured hobbit raised eyes bright with tears barely held back. "How do you know how much I want to?"

"Because you have always held your heart open. The Ring recognized it and assaulted you mercilessly because you had no defenses against it. You raised those defenses and fought and fought and fought. But you do not have to do it alone. There have always been others to help you with your burdens. You have seen that and felt that."

"I know, but I’m afraid."

"Afraid? Of what?"

"I’m afraid if I start now I would never stop. I could water the entire Shire and if Sam or my cousins saw that, it would only hurt them more and I’ve done far too much of that already. I would be like Merry and Pippin described Isengard being after it was flooded. The place was destroyed."

"I prefer to think of it as being cleansed," the wizard said. "Darkness washing away. It’s causing you and them more pain to keep it all in. Don’t think they don’t see that. Sam especially has always seen you with the eyes of his heart. Don’t think you are sparing them anything."

Frodo didn’t answer. Gandalf sighed, then opened his arms. "Well, if you are so stubborn that you can’t cry with Sam, cry here. Normally I would say birthdays are no days for tears, but let the water cleanse you and maybe you can think a little clearer. Scream all you want. Only the birds will hear you."

Frodo screamed loudly in all his rage for what had been done to him and continued to torment him, all the pain and grief that he had lost so much of himself that he feared more and more he would never regain but glimpses of, if that. Why couldn’t he have joy and peace for more than a few moments? Why did it come to him long enough to make him hope again, that he could heal and would heal, that the pain was finally passing and it was only a matter of time before it disappeared all together, then have that hope and peace disappear again like dew in the morning sun, tossing him back into the darkness and making him despair of ever getting well? He buried his head in the wizard’s cloak and hung on tightly and sobbed until his throat was raw. The ancient Istari held his dear friend against the tears and pain that flooded out, so much for such a small being. He closed his eyes, but his own tears tracked slowly down his aged cheeks. Softly he sung a lullaby, hoping his beloved friend would find some relief.

"Sleep, thou child of Eru,

Safe in his embrace;

May Elbereth surround thee

With her light and grace.

Close thine eyes, beloved,

May thy dreams be blest;

Sleep, thou child of Eru,

And may thy soul find rest.

"Sleep, thou child of Eru;

Dreams I’ll weave for thee:

Dreams of rivers flowing

Onward to the sea,

Dreams of stars that glisten

In the heavens high,

Dreams of fields and forests,

Slumb’ring ‘neath the sky.

"Sleep, thou child of Eru,

Cradled in His arms;

May his love surround thee,

Keeping thee from harm.

Hush now, my beloved,

May thy dreams be blest.

Sleep, thou child of Eru,

And may thy soul find rest."

When Frodo’s sobbing at last eased and he fell into exhausted sleep, Gandalf continued to hold him. One servant of Iluvatar sent a prayer of thanksgiving that His other one was now resting peacefully, surrounded by Light and receiving further blessings of hope, solace and love that reached directly into the troubled Ring-bearer’s heart even if he didn’t hear or understand the words.. Frodo indeed felt better upon waking two hours later. He smiled bravely for his friend. "Thank you," he said.

He looked up at sun, a little alarmed at how it was already beginning to dip slowly in the sky."We should be getting back. Sam will be getting worried. And Merry and Pippin should be here by now. But let’s take the long way around. I don’t want them to see how red my eyes must be."

When they did arrive back at Bag End, Sam took one look at Frodo, and as Gandalf knew he would, saw the truth. Merry and Pippin did too. But they were glad, too, that Frodo seemed less burdened. And gladder still, that his smiles upon seeing them were genuine, his embraces tight and his words of welcome strong. Gandalf smiled.

The best moment for them all was when there was a knock on the door. Frodo was surprised when Sam did not automatically go to answer it.

"It’s for you, dear," he said with a tender, just slightly mischievous look.

Frodo raised an eyebrow and went to answer it himself. His eyes widened when he saw who was standing there and he nearly jumped in excitement.

"Aragorn!" he exclaimed. "What a wonderful surprise! How..."

The king laughed as he took his brother into his arms for a tight embrace, lifting him up as though he were a child. "Happy birthday, tithen gwador!" he said. "Did you think I would miss this?"

Frodo held his beloved friend for a long time and they were all cheered by how bright his face was.

When Aragorn finally let him down, the Ring-bearer looked at Sam who smiling widely. "Now I know why you’ve been looking so pleased with yourself these last few weeks. I should have known something was up."

Sam flushed, but didn’t look away. "This is your first birthday back home, dear. I wanted it to be special. I know how much you’ve missed Mr. Strider and all."

Frodo hugged his dearest friend and kissed his head. "Oh, my Sam, you have always known my heart. Thank you so much."

Sam hugged him back. "You’re welcome, dear. Many more happy birthdays."

Dinner was one of cheer thanks to the king’s surprise visit and Pippin’s non-stop chatter to keep his cousin informed of all the latest gossip in Tuckborough and Buckland, with Merry’s occasional additional comments when he could get in a word edgewise. Frodo smiled throughout the meal, glad for the distraction. He wasn’t sure how interested Gandalf or Aragorn were in the news, but they all listened politely, happy to listen as long as it made Frodo happy. The eldest hobbit also hoped the constant stream gave Sam no time worry about how long he and Gandalf had been out or what they had talked about, though he was aware of all the glances the young gardener made to them both. Still each time their gazes met, Frodo smiled and Sam was more than content with that.

On the rare occasions that Pippin stopped for an instant for breath or to heed one or the other of his cousin’s admonitions not to talk with his mouth full, someone else would get in a word or two, but then the tween would start up again. But no one minded. The look on Frodo’s face was worth it.

When dinner was over, Frodo laid down his fork and smiled. "Thank you, Rosie, Sam, for that most wonderful meal."

Rose beamed. "You’re most welcome, Mr. Frodo," she said.

"Keep your fork, cousin," Pippin said. He looked at Merry and Sam who exchanged conspiratorial smiles and disappeared into the kitchen.

Frodo’s smile widened. "Another conspiracy?"

Pippin’s features assumed their most innocent expression. "I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about it, cousin," he said in a wounded tone.

"I’m sure you don’t, ’squeak dear," Frodo said agreeably. He switched his gaze to another friend. "Actually, I think you, Gandalf, are part of all this. And I thought you took me out on a walk just because you were concerned about my health. How do you manage to look so innocent when I just know you are as guilty as Sam and probably everyone else here?"

The wizard looked at his dear friend and answered with a completely straight face. "I have had a very good teacher."

Frodo looked at him for a moment longer, then burst into laughter. He hugged his friend as they all celebrated the joy of hearing such a wonderful sound, including Frodo himself.

Sam and Merry emerge from the kitchen with a large cake that they placed in front of Frodo. The Ring-bearer’s eyes widened and tears of joy burned there as he looked at it. The number 53 was inside a large heart. The eldest hobbit looked up at his closest friends who were all beaming at him, their own eyes bright with tears.

"Sam made it, Mr. Frodo," Rose said.

Frodo looked up at his brother and hugged him. "It’s so wonderful, my Sam, so very wonderful. Thank you. I love you."

"I love you, too, dear."

Frodo looked at all his friends. "I love you all so much."

"We love you, too," they all said at once and then Frodo did begin crying, but wiped his tears away. Gandalf looked at him a little sadly. Oh, Frodo, can’t you even let your friends see your joyful tears?

"We were going to put candles on it," Pippin said, "but we were afraid with that many, half the Shire might burn down if anything happened."

"Like if you reached for your piece too quickly, you greedy Took?" Merry asked.

Pippin assumed an offended expression while Frodo and the others smiled. "I can hardly be blamed if I did," the tween said. "I was already starving when I got here as you well know. Then I find my favorite cousin isn’t even home and I got shooed out of the kitchen before I even got a foot inside."

"Sam did give you an apple," Merry reminded. "And there was that pear you stole."

"But someone should have sampled the cake to make sure it tasted good."

"And trailed their finger through the left over batter and licked the spoon," Frodo added.

"Someone did," Sam said under his breath.

Merry looked guilty for a moment, then smiled innocently. "I didn’t want any of it to be wasted."

Pippin looked quite hurt and shocked. Frodo stroked his arm. "Poor Pip, doubly cheated out of all the fun. I’ll make it up to you, ’squeak dear. Tomorrow we’ll make sweetcakes and you can do all the trailing and licking you want. How’s that sound?"

"Would you help me?" the tween asked, looking up at his eldest cousin while Sam looked as horrified as he dared.

"With the making or the licking?" Frodo asked with a bemused smile.

Pippin grinned. "Both. And the trailing."

Frodo laughed. Sam saw what the tween was doing and was slightly mollified by the cheer that spread through his brother. "I would be happy to, dearheart. And thank you for calling me your favorite cousin, right in front of who we all know really is your favorite."

The tween looked thoughtful for a moment. "It’s a tie, actually. I’ve always loved the both of you ’til I’m sure my heart will burst from it. You know that."

Frodo leaned over to kiss his young cousin’s head. "I know, ’squeak. We love you just as much."

Pippin curled his five fingers around Frodo’s four and squeezed gently. Then he looked at the cake. "Well, let’s eat this magnificent creation, shall we?" And he reached his fork in for a large slice, but Merry batted his hand aside.

"You are a greedy Took!" he said. "It’s not even cut yet!"

The tween looked at his cousin seriously. "I’m a hungry Took, my dearest Brandybuck. There is a difference and we do have a birthday to celebrate. That is not something to be taken lightly."

He reached again for the cake. This time Gandalf stayed his hand. He murmured something the others didn’t quite catch but caused Pippin to pale considerably in horror.

Frodo smiled in delight at having his cousins around him. "Merry, would you please cut the cake before our dear cousin passes out from hunger or from fear of whatever Gandalf threatened to turn him to?"

The tween gave Frodo a grateful look and eagerly awaited his piece. Merry carved out very generous pieces for everyone. Pippin’s eyes longingly followed each plate to its owner, until at last, he finally got this. The tween finished first and was the first to reach for seconds.

"Most delicious, Sam," he praised around a mouth almost too full to understand.

Frodo nodded and swallowed before speaking. "Yes, Sam, most delicious indeed. I appreciate all the trouble you went to."

Sam looked tenderly at his brother. "It was no trouble, dear. I was glad to do it."

Frodo smiled at all the love in Sam’s eyes, his cousin’s, Rosie’s, Gandalf’s and Aragorn’s. A quiet but fierce joy rose in him and a shout inside that drowned the voice of the Ring. He felt truly happy and at peace. He was himself again before the Ring had emptied him of everything but itself. He wrapped one arm around Pippin, the other around Merry and placed his head against Sam’s chest as he tried to envelop them all in one large embrace. "Thank you for making this such a happy birthday for me."

He felt three separate kisses bless his head as the other hobbits grasped him back. "You’re welcome, dearest," each of them said.

They held onto each other for a long time, not wanting to part, then finally did. Merry and Pippin wiped at Frodo’s glad tears and Frodo at theirs, then the four smiled at each other.

"So who wants the last piece?" Pippin asked, fork poised to pounce.

"You do!" all the others chorused together, Gandalf and Aragorn included and then they all laughed, Frodo the loudest and the others cheered within themselves to hear such a sound.

"Well, if you insist...," the tween said.

Frodo mussed his cousin’s curls. "We do, but don’t wake me in the middle of the night complaining of a bellyache."

"No," Merry said, "he’ll wake me. He always does, clutching his stomach and moaning and groaning dramatically about how he’s sure he’s going to die before daybreak."

"The peppermint tea is on the second shelf in the kitchen," Frodo supplied helpfully.

"Thank you, cousin," Merry said as Pippin finished his third piece and would have trailed his fingers through the crumbs had not Merry skillfully moved the plate away from him.

The tween pouted and sulked for a moment, then took Frodo’s hand and sat there contentedly for a while as the others got up and starting clearing the dishes away. Pippin lay his head on his cousin’s shoulder. "Happy birthday, cousin," he murmured.

Frodo smiled, kissed his head and stroked his curls gently. "Thank you for helping make it so happy, dearest ’squeak," he said.

"Many, many more."

"So you can have more cake?"

"Sam worked very hard on that cake. Someone had to do it justice."

"It was good of you to take on so much of that great responsibility yourself."

"A Took never shirks when duty calls."

Frodo laughed. He took his cousin into his arms and hugged him tightly. "I love you so much, you greedy Took."

Pippin laid his head against his cousin’s chest where he could hear his heartbeat. "I love you, too, you silly Baggins."

When the others had returned from the kitchen, Frodo presented his birthday gifts to his cousins, Sam, Rosie and Gandalf. He looked embarrassed at his king. "I’m so sorry, Aragorn, that I have nothing for you. I didn’t know I would be so blessed to have you with me. But I should have guessed there was another conspiracy afoot with Sam positively glowing with anticipation over something for weeks."

Rose hugged her husband and Merry and Pippin slapped Sam’s back. The gardener beamed. The evening had gone better than he had dared hoped.

Aragorn smiled widely. "Do not fret over me, tithen gwador. Merely seeing you again and happy is more than gift enough."

The king, wizard and eldest hobbit retired to the parlor for tea while the other four cleaned up the dining area. "Come and tell me of all that’s happening in the White City," Frodo said. "How is the queen? How is your son?"

"They are all doing very well, thank you."

They sat down close together on a couch near the fire. Frodo faced away from it, but was grateful for its warmth. He leaned his head against the man.

"I’m so glad you came, gwador nin," he murmured. "I’ve missed you so much."

"The joy is mine, mell min," the king replied and kissed his brother’s head softly. "I have missed you sorely. How are you? Gandalf was hopeful last time I saw him."

Frodo looked up at both of dear friends and smiled lopsidedly. "So he’s your spy, too? Do I have any secrets left at all?"

"None," the wizard said. "You haven’t answered his question."

The Ring-bearer sighed. The cheer of the evening seemed to have already left him. "Sam has taken very good care of me. Merry and Pippin come often and it’s always wonderful to see them. My writing is progressing. But not much has changed. I still suffer from illnesses on the 6^th and 13^th. The nightmares come and go. I had hoped that coming home would help more. I keep waiting to feel better, to feel more like myself, like I used to, before. I get nothing but these agonizingly short glimpses and then it all disappears again."

Aragorn looked at the hobbit sympathetically, his heart aching for the pain his beloved brother was still in. "To go back is something everyone who has gone through a terrible trauma longs for, but it cannot be, tithen gwador. After the siege of the City, I saw so much of that. I saw men missing an arm or leg or eye. I saw children who would not walk again. They have all wanted to go back to the way things were before. It is another wound under the first one that is even more difficult to heal than the injury that caused it and I have grieved to watch all those struggle with that longing and I have celebrated each time they have overcome it." Aragorn reached out to touched his friend’s cheek. Frodo raised his eyes to his dear friend. "You can heal too, if you always look forward with the same courage that got you this far. It can carry you even farther. You are so much more than a Ring-bearer, Frodo. You are a being of incredible light and beauty and love. I can see that, Gandalf can, Sam can, Bilbo can and Merry and Pippin know it. Even if they can’t see your light with their eyes, they have always seen it with their hearts. Can you see it as well?"

Frodo looked up to make sure they were still alone. "I have. It’s still so far off I think I will never reach it, but I’ve seen it. Across the Sea." He looked at Aragorn. "Thank you, my king. That gives me hope."

He leaned against his friend’s chest, wrapped his arms around Aragorn’s waist and closed his eyes. Man and wizard looked at each other over the hobbit’s head. The question was clear in the man’s features, why did this dear being still have to suffer so? Why couldn’t he have joy for more than a few moments at a time? Gandalf nodded down at their beloved friend in reply. As they watched, peace and light returned to Frodo’s features as Iluvatar covered His child with love. Aragorn relaxed and brushed at his brother’s curls. He murmured a silent thanksgiving even as he mourned for all the pain that had come and would still come to Frodo and to himself and all those the Ring-bearer loved. He had many times gone away by himself or sometimes with Arwen before and after Frodo had left the City and let out his rage that a being of such beauty and light had been so abused, had even raged at Eru Himself for allowing it to happen, but after all that had been drained, he felt peace and love and compassion come from his Creator and understood what a blessing it was that Frodo was loved beyond anything he could ever conceive. He knew that his Creator accepted his grief and rage as he offered up all the tears shed on that being’s behalf. His arms tightened a bit around his beloved brother as he watched him sleep. It would not be until he had passed beyond the Circles of the World himself that he would see the completion of all Iluvatar meant for Frodo, but he was grateful for this small glimpse.

Gandalf watched also. Better than anyone, he knew Frodo would not feel at home until he was home. The Maia grieved that was another source of pain for the hobbit as he began to understand that home was not in the Shire. But he hoped the pain would ease as Frodo accepted all that had happened to him and was continuing to happen to make him whole again and filled with the joy he had been created to have. It would not be easy, but the Maia smiled now as his beloved friend sleep contentedly, not only just in his king’s arms, but in the arms of his Creator. Hold on, my dear boy, hold on, he thought as he watched over his charge. There is so much joy to come. He sent a silent plea that some of it would be here before Frodo passed. Immediately, he also sent his thanks for he had no doubt his prayer was already answered.

Sam returned from the kitchen and watched in wonder at the three. His brother was sleeping, softly glowing and Gandalf was as well, brighter than he had ever seen the wizard. It cheered him but frightened him at the same time.

A/N: I'd give you three guesses where that lullaby came from, but you don't need three, do you? :)

Chapter Six: A Time for Joy

Sam looked on with a grateful smile from inside the smial as Merry and Pippin engaged their cousin in a game of tag. So it had been going since the cousins had arrived two weeks earlier for Frodo’s birthday celebration. Aragorn had not been able to stay more than two days and Frodo had been very sad to see him go so soon. He would have held him forever, but he let go and watched him leave and then retreated into the smial and nothing anyone could do could entice him in any activity that day. After a long walk with Gandalf the next day, Frodo returned alone, bereft of another source of support and was nearly as silent that day. But the next he was better and had allowed himself to be dragged into a game of checkers with Merry and Pippin. He won, which gave him some satisfaction and a small smile to his face. He had held his cousins then for a long time without talking and that too seemed to soothe him.

Sam hadn’t thought it his place to ask them to stay though he dearly wished they would, but Merry and Pippin had figured things out themselves and seen how much their beloved cousin needed some distraction, so they overwhelmed him with so many activities he had no time to be sad and too exhausted to have nightmares. It gave them all, Frodo included, great joy to flourish under their watchful, loving care. Sam thought it was as though his beloved brother was bleeding deep within and while Sam did all he could, he could only control the bleeding. Merry and Pippin were able to stop it and Sam was eternally grateful for that and would have loved to have them stay forever, though he wondered how he would ever feed them, especially someone with Mr. Pippin’s appetite. Sam had long ago stopped thinking of Frodo as a childhood companion on romps through the Shire, but the younger hobbits never had and it was that that Frodo needed, a reminder that there had been happier, carefree days. A shriek of laughter came from outside and Sam smiled. It was Frodo’s.

"Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?" Rose asked as she joined her husband.

"The most beautiful sound there is, my Rose," Sam agreed. "The most beautiful sound," he repeated much softer, almost to himself.

The sun would be setting soon and they all knew that Frodo no longer stayed out after that and soon enough Sam and Rose heard the door slam and excited voices in the hall. Three bright, shiny faces, red from exertion and excitement, greeted them. Sam could have stared at his dearest friend forever from the sheer joy of seeing him happy. Frodo smiled at him as he tried to catch his breath. Sam returned that smile.

Pippin grabbed Frodo’s arm and would have dragged him off somewhere, but the elder hobbit stood his ground. "No more tonight, Pip dear. Have pity on an old man. I shall sleep very well tonight I think because of you. I am certainly too tired to do anything else."

The tween beamed. "I should hope so, cousin, for your sake, because tomorrow is another day!"

Sam’s smile widened and he shook his head as Frodo gave a mock-groan and moved off to the parlor to sit down. He extended the smile to Pippin who looked between him and Merry who was smiling widely as well at the tween with love and pride.

Pippin rubbed his hands together, bouncing on his heels, quite proud of himself. "Well, that was fun! I have tomorrow all sorted out as well for how our cousin shall be entertained."

"Very good, Pip," Merry said. "I shall leave it in your capable hands and join our dear one for a breather."

When Sam came to check on his brother before bedtime, he found him already with his eyes closed in Bilbo’s larger bed, safely ensconced between his two sleeping cousins, with a smile on his face. Sam stared for a long time at that smile, memorizing it, then he brushed at Frodo’s curls and leaned down to kiss his head. "Good night, dear," he murmured. "Sleep well. I love you."

"Good night, my Sam," came the very sleepy reply. "I love you, too."

Merry reached out in his sleep and put an arm around his cousin. Sam left, knowing his brother was literally in very good hands. Frodo woke only once when Pippin’s restless legs jabbed him. He turned over and brushed at the tween’s curls.

"You’re kicking again, dearest," he said softly.

"Sorry," Pippin whispered. "I’ll move."

Frodo took his hand. "No, I want you to stay right here. Forever if you can manage it."

Pippim smiled, then realizing his cousin couldn’t see it, he brushed his brow with a quick kiss instead. "I think I can, at least until Pa drags me back to grow up."

Frodo laughed quietly. "I don’t anyone can make you do that, dear ’squeak. I think you will remain forever young. But then sometimes I think you are already grown."

They drifted back to sleep. The morning found them rising early. After breakfast, Frodo went to the study to work on his book and Merry and Pippin went with him part of that morning, answering his questions about their roles in the War after they had been parted. They remained close about what their treatment at the hands of the orcs, not wanting to upset their cousin, but Frodo had already been the day they were reunited when he had touched the scar on Merry’s forehead and had looked at it with frightened, worried eyes. Merry had grasped the fingers that searched the area and held them away as Frodo looked at him. "It’s all right, cousin," he had said to the questions in those beautiful eyes. "It all turned out all right." That was all he ever said and Frodo had not asked further.

The other mornings the two hobbits left their elder alone and impatiently waited for lunch to come so they could drag their cousin away. They all knew he was never truly alone. He was with all his memories and those, they well knew from their own nightmares, could be overwhelming.

So it was this morning, that after their interviews were over and Frodo had politely thanked them for their input, he had turned back to scribble furiously while Pippin and Merry very nearly drove Sam to distraction with all their impatient pacing waiting for noon.

When at last the appointed hour came, Pippin sprang toward the study like a cage animal suddenly freed from chains. Sam looked at the floor as though he believed he would see a furrow there caused by all the pacing.

Pippin entered the study and physically dragged Frodo away, barely even giving him the time to drop his quill. "Come on out, cousin, or you are going to get as moldy as the books."

"My books are not moldy!" the elder hobbit protested, but went away willingly enough, resisting the tween’s pull only long enough to put the stopper in the ink bottle and clean his quill.

They had lunch out in the garden for it was uncommonly warm weather out. Frodo still shivered in it, though he tried to hide that and his four companions tried to honor his unspoken wish to ignore it as well until Sam finally couldn’t stand it anymore and went back in to bring out a blanket to put around his brother’s shoulders. Frodo had grasped it gratefully and a little sadly.

"Thank you, Sam," he said.

He was carefully watched by both his cousins to make sure he ate enough. They piled his plate with food and refilled his glass and didn’t allow him to stop until they, not he, determined that he should.

"But if I eat another bite, I shall burst!" he protested more than once and they ignored him as they had every other time he had said anything similar for the last two weeks and he kept eating and they kept smiling among themselves, Sam and Rosie also.

Afterwards, Pippin took him by the arm. "Let’s go for a walk, cousin. It’s a beautiful day for one, don’t you think?"

Frodo gave him a loving, indulgent smile. "And for what else, dear, I wonder?"

"You’ll see!"

Frodo laughed and let himself be led by the hand down the walk. "Slowly," he said. "I’ve eaten so much I can barely move."

Pippin looked up, smiled and tugged his cousin along. The tween kept up a constant stream of chatter, looking over occasionally at his cousin to make sure he was still listening. Frodo smiled, squeezed his hand and put in the few words he could manage while Pippin paused to take a breath. At one point, the youngster let go of his cousin’s hand to animatedly describe something and when he looked over next, he suddenly realized that Frodo was no longer at his side. He looked around warily, well familiar with the tricks he, Merry and Frodo had played on each other when young. A slow smile spread on his face as he realized that was happening again. It was nearly wiped off when he was tackled to the ground from behind and his assailant sat on his back.

"You dare to call my books moldy!" came a deep, threatening voice.

Pippin giggled. "Yes, I do dare and more besides!"

"Impudent Took!"

"Moldy Baggins!"

"Baggins? Who is this Baggins? I am Balderac, Lord of Dragons!"

Pippin tried to squirm but he remained firmly pinned. "Don’t you mean Balderdash?"

"Ahhhh!!" the dragon roared and Pippin giggled all the harder even with hands on his shoulders pushing him further down. "I will punish you for your careless words! Yield now!"

"Never!" Pippin cried defiantly.

The pressure on his shoulders eased suddenly and he began to squeal and squirm as his cousin began to tickle him mercilessly, knowing from long experience exactly where the tween was most vulnerable.

"Do you yield!?" came the dragon’s roar once more, but not so deep or threatening as Frodo began to laugh as well.

"All right! All right!" Pippin cried between breathless giggles. "I yield!"

Frodo immediately stopped and released his prisoner. Pippin got up, looked at his cousin’s beaming face and directly in the eye, pleased beyond all telling to see only the vaguest of shadows there. "But I still think you and you books are moldy," he pronounced cheerfully, then scampered out of the way as the dragon roared again and lunged after him, running full out toward the laughing hobbit. He was no longer shivering.

When they finally returned to Bag End, it was time for dinner. Sam looked up as they entered, at the whirlwind that was Pippin and the gentle breeze that was his brother. Their faces were shining, lit from within. Frodo had twigs and leaves in unruly curls and grass stains on his shirts and breeches and mud on his feet. Sam thought he had never seen his brother look more beautiful.

His eyes smarted a little from the sheer joy of seeing him so filled with light, like he had ever been before the Ring and so rarely after it. Frodo looked at him beaming, trying to catch his breath, and Sam smiled, then turned away to fetch his brother some clean clothes and set a jug aside in his bath to clean his feet. Frodo was still beaming when the gardener returned and Pippin equally so, very pleased with his accomplishment of once more making his cousin so happy. Merry smiled at him proudly.

Sam handed Frodo his clothes and smiled. "Dinner’s almost ready," he said.

"Thank you, Sam," Frodo said. "I’m starving."

Sam’s smile grew beautific. Frodo, who barely ate enough to keep body and soul together, was starving! At this, the swelling in love in Sam’s heart spilled over and he clasped his beloved brother tightly in his arms. Frodo hugged his dear guardian back just as joyfully. The younger hobbit could have happily held his elder forever, but settled for a long moment, then kissed his brow and reluctantly let go.

"You better get changed and cleaned up, dear," he said. "Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin are already going to beat you to the table and you know what that means."

"I do indeed, Sam," Frodo said with a loving, teasing smile for his beloved cousins.

Merry pulled Pippin into a tight side embrace as Frodo disappeared into his bedroom. "Thank you," Merry murmured and Pippin beamed.

The dinner that night was filled with light and cheer. Merry and Sam both made sure that Pippin got extras, especially of the sweets he adored, which made him very happy. And they all watched Frodo take seconds which made them all even happier.

When Sam made his nightly check to make sure that his brother was tucked in, he stood there for a long time just looking at the slumbering Frodo’s smiling, peaceful features, his light shining from within as bright as it ever had, his body curled around Merry’s and both cousins’ arms sheltering him. Sam leaned down, brushed at his curls and kissed his brown, breathing in that clean scent that was uniquely Frodo’s. "Good night, dear. Sleep well. I love you so much."

"Love you, too, Sam," Frodo murmured, "very much."

Sam watched him for a little while longer, then left for his and Rosie’s room, a smile on his face as he held the memory of Frodo’s smiling face in his heart. The four hobbits hoped in the joy of their time together, Frodo would forget all together that the next day with the 6^th.

Chapter Six: The Sixth

They were all woken several hours later when Frodo woke, crying out in a terrified voice. “The king! Where’s the pale king!”

Sam cried softly, holding the memory of his brother’s smiling face even tighter to him. Rose held him for a moment, then kissed his head. They brushed at each other’s tears, then Sam got up to go to Frodo.

Merry and Pippin leapt up when Frodo sat up abruptly and started crying out. With trembling fingers, Merry lit a lamp while Pippin tried to calm his frantic cousin. Frodo stared blindly, wildly searching the room. He clutched his shoulder tightly, his features were wracked with pain. His gaze fixed on Pippin, but the tween wondered if he even really saw him.

“Where is he?” Frodo cried as he grabbed Pippin by the arms and began to shake him. “Where is he?”

Pippin gripped his cousin’s arms and tried to steady him. “He’s not here, dearest,” he said in a small, frightened voice, his eyes bright with tears as he stared into Frodo’s wild ones.

Frodo looked at him blindly for a moment, then continued his panicked search. “Yes, he is! He is! I saw him. I can feel his blade in me! Where is he?!”

“He’s gone, Frodo,” Merry said.

Frodo swung his eyes over to him and squirmed out of Pippin’s grip. “No, he’s not! He’s here! He’s come for me! Where is he?!”

Merry put down the lamp and approached his cousin slowly so as not to frighten him further. Frodo’s legs were tangled in the sheets and he would have fallen if not both cousins reached out to steady him. Merry gently but firmly clasped him in his arms. Frodo was trembling badly. His shoulder and arm and leg where the Morgul blade had bit and spread its poison were ice cold. The tortured hobbit fought his cousin fiercely. “Let me go! He’ll find me! He’ll take me! Let me go!”

Merry held Frodo’s head against his chest, his other arm firmly around his cousin’s back. “Hush, dearest,” he murmured as he began to rock Frodo. “It’s all right. No one is going to take you. The king is not here. Just your Merry and our Pippin. It’s all right. Do you understand, love? It’s all right.”

Frodo shook his head and began to cry, still trying to get loose but Merry held him firmly. “No, it’s not all right,” he protested into his cousin’s chest. “He’ll find me, he’ll take me and I won’t be... I can’t fight...”

“Hush, hush,” Merry said as he continued to rock. “You don’t need to fight. Let your Merry do that for you. Just rest now. Rest.

“Sleep now, brother most dear,” he began to softly sing.

“Close your weary eyes;

Soon night will be o’er,

And the sun shall rise.

Fear not, for I am nigh

To dry all your tears.

“Sleep now, and when you wake,

I will be here.

Rest now, brother mine,

Do not be afraid;

All the dark night through

Beside you I will stay.

Lie still, safe in my arms,

While I my vigil keep;

I’ll be here when you wake.”

Frodo was crying harder now. “I can’t sleep. He’ll find me.” He continued to strain against Merry’s arms, but he could manage nothing more than weak flutterings against such strong, sheltering arms. He looked up at his cousin. “Let me go,” he implored. “Please let me go. I have to get away. I can’t let him find me.”

The tears Merry had tried so hard to hold back started to fall at the pleading in his cousin’s voice, the horrible fear in those once so bright and beautiful eyes. Merry remembered all the times growing up how he could have and would have loved to have fallen into those eyes, into the endless depths of love that had always shone there before. His heart broke to see what was there now - a black hole where all the joy used to be. He did not want to fall in there, but he would have if it had meant he could find his cousin and bring him back. He looked up at Pippin’s already tear-streaked face, then back down at his cousin and began to stroke his curls hoping that would calm him as he continued to rock him and hold him. “He won’t find you, dearest. I promise you he won’t.”

“He already has,” Frodo murmured. “He already has. Please let me go. Please. I have to leave. I have...” His voice trailed off and he was still for a moment.

Sam watched from the threshold, tears streaming down his face. He watched as Frodo calmed in Merry’s arms and he hoped against hope that this would not be as bad a turn this time as usual. But as he thought that, Frodo grew more agitated and squirmed so fiercely this time he won free of Merry’s arms. “He’s here, he’s here!” The Ring-bearer tried to run, but his leg collapsed under him and he fell writhing and screaming to the floor.

Sam rushed forward. Frodo opened his eyes. He held out his arms to Sam as a child would and his voice had changed to that of a child. “Hold me, Sam? He’s hurt me, Sam, so bad.”

Sam took his brother into his arms. The elder hobbit found his favorite place against his guardian’s chest and held on tightly. “Oh, Sam...”

The gardener kissed his dear one’s head. “I’m here, dear. Your Sam’s here. Nothing’s going to hurt you no more. Understand?”

“Yes, Sam,” the troubled elder hobbit murmured. “Thank you.”

“Sorry, Mr. Merry,” Sam said to the rejected younger hobbit who with Pippin was looking frightened at their cousin. “He doesn’t really know where he is or who he’s with when he gets a spell like this.”

Merry looked between the two of them. Frodo had calmed in Sam’s arms. “He’s seems to know who you are.”

“He’s also mistaken me other times for an orc.”

“Who are you talking to, Sam?” Frodo asked in that same child-like voice.

Sam turned his attention back to his brother and gently rocked him and stroked his curls. “Mr. Merry, dear.”

“Merry’s here?”

“And Mr. Pippin.”

“Oh yes, of course. They came with me. You lit that fire to cook things and that’s how he found me. Very silly of you.”

“Yes, very silly,” Sam agreed. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, Sam.” Frodo looked up now. “Where’s the pale king now, Sam? Did you drive him away?”

“He’s gone now, dear,” Sam soothed as he continued to stroke. “You’re safe. He won’t find you. You’re safe at home.”

Frodo hugged his friend closer. “But I saw the fire, Sam. It’s too late. He saw it too. He must have because he came and hurt me.”

“It’s only the one that was burning in the hearth to keep you warm, dear. He wasn’t here. Not really.”

Frodo looked up into his friend’s eyes. “But why does it hurt so much then, Sam? Will you make it go away? Please? I don’t want to hurt anymore. I’m so tired of hurting.”

Sam blinked away tears. Pippin sniffled in the background. Merry pulled him close and murmured what comforts he could as he hid his own tears in his cousin’s curls and Pippin cried into his shoulder.

“It’ll hurt just for tonight like this, dear,” Sam said, keeping his voice as calm and gentle as possible. “I’m sorry. But in the morning it won’t hurt so bad. Do you think you can be brave for your Sam until then?”

“Will you stay with me?” Frodo asked in the same child-like voice as he looked up, his eyes full of trust.

Sam looked into his brother’s eyes. They were pained, but they were also innocent. The dark shadows that were so often there were absent. He smiled through his tears. “Of course I will.”

“Then I can be brave.”

Sam kissed his head. “That’s my Frodo. My brave, beautiful Frodo.”

Frodo beamed, though he was puzzled by the tears that were slowly trailing down his friend’s cheeks. He reached up to wipe at them. “You’re beautiful, too, Sam. Don’t cry. I’ll be brave for you and you can be brave for me. All right?”

Sam smiled. “All right. We’ll be brave together.”

Frodo smiled, satisfied at the arrangement. He placed his head back on Sam’s chest. “You’re my favorite hobbit, Sam, in all the Shire,” he murmured, “my very favorite.”

“You’re my favorite, too, dear,” Sam said. “You and Rosie.”

“Ah, yes, Rosie Cotton. You always did like her, didn’t you, Sam?”

Sam smiled. “Yes, dear, I always did.”

“I love Merry and Pippin too. They’re my best friends, too. I’m lucky, I’m so lucky.”

Frodo felt three separate kisses pressed against his head. “So are we,” came three voices at the same time.

So the night passed. Frodo slept fitfully as the all too real pain in his shoulder and leg woke him often, but he didn’t complain though his features were contorted with the effort to keep from crying out. Sam rocked him and sang to him when he was awake to try to distract him and get him back to sleep.

“Am I being brave, Sam?” he asked one time.

Sam held him tighter. “Yes, love, you are being very brave.”

“Good. I wanted to make you proud.”

Sam kissed his head. “I’m very proud of you.”

Frodo smiled widely at that and Sam’s heart nearly broke at the innocent beauty of that as his beloved brother’s light shone brightly through the dark.

“You’re being brave, too, Sam. I’m proud of you, too. I always have been.”

When Frodo did sleep, Sam cried softly. The other hobbits slept in the same cycle. They allowed exhaustion to claim then only when their cousin slept. Sam barely slept at all.

A/N: The lullaby is, of course, Galadriel’s.

Chapter Eight: Cracked but Hope for Mending

Sam was well aware of the murmurings of his fellow hobbits about his brother’s strange, withdrawn behavior. He long knew Frodo was not comfortable being around others with his maimed hand and avoided company as much as possible, preferring only those who he knew would understand. If he encountered anyone during his walks with Sam, he always bowed and greeted the person politely and be the perfect gentlehobbit, but Sam would see the tenseness in his posture and the brittleness under his voice and he guessed that others did so as well. Frodo was always very relieved when he was left alone again. He didn’t go into the market so he didn’t hear all the talking that was going on behind his back, but sometimes in front of Sam. The gardener never said anything, just bowed his head and bit his lip. He didn’t cry out his frustration and anger and grief until he was safe at home in Rose’s arms and only then, if he was sure Frodo wouldn’t hear.

One day, though, he couldn’t stand it anymore and lashed out angrily at the crowd at the market.  “Stop it, just stop it!” he cried. “Yes, Frodo is ‘cracked.’ In fact, he’s broken. You have no idea what he went through for you and you don’t even care to know! He did it all for the love of the Shire, for the love of all of you so you would have a safe place to call home. He gave everything and has received nothing. All the sacrifices he made for all of us have destroyed him and your words are just completing the process!”

Sam’s anger dissolved into tears in front of the stunned crowed that had continued to grow since the mildest of all hobbits had begun to raise his voice. He pushed past them and didn’t say a word further. His head was bowed as he walked home, arms laden with bags of food and other supplies. He was crying so hard he could barely see the road in front of him. Those who hadn’t heard his speech looked at him oddly, but word spread quickly at what had happened.

Sam heard them talking, but didn’t respond. The only regret he had about his outburst was that Frodo was bound to hear of it and be upset that his Sam was upset. The gardener certainly didn’t want to give his brother another thing to worry about on top of all the other pain he already had.

“Well, there’s nothing for it,” he muttered to himself as he neared Bag End. “They needed to know the truth and now they do.”

But the young hobbit also realized it brought into the open all the pain and fears he had been trying to hide from himself. His dearest was broken or appeared to be so and for a moment, Sam groaned under the weight of that despair. But then he straightened his posture. “Stop such nonsense,” he told himself severely. “He’s going to get better. He has to. Just wouldn’t be fair if he didn’t.”

He stopped a moment at the door to home, put down his bags and wiped at his tears. Then he picked the bags up again, took a deep breath to calm himself and expelled it slowly as he entered the smial. Rose came into the kitchen as Sam began to put away his purchases. She took one look at her husband’s face, saw through his brave smile and took him into her arms. Frodo was nowhere to be seen and Sam was glad. His brother didn’t need to see him in tears.

Over the next few weeks, Bag End was visited by many in Hobbiton who came to offer their apologies and support. This had, at first, confused and embarrassed Frodo who hadn’t, of all wonders, heard of what had happened. He remained the gentlehobbit he was and thanked each visitor for their kind words; the baskets of food, ciders, teas and wines; the pouches of Old Toby and Longbottom Leaf. The latter he saved for Merry and Pippin and the former he gave to Sam in the hopes that one day his brother would enjoy the simple pleasure of smoking again without thinking of the fire that had nearly killed them both. He knew that could never enjoy such again himself.

Early on, he asked Sam about all the sudden influx of well-wishers. The gardener truthfully responded that he was just as surprised as Frodo was and then something else under his breath that the elder hobbit didn’t quite catch but sounded like “’bout time they did something.’” So it was that the Ring-bearer suspected that his dearest friend had something to do with it all and there were Sam’s satisfied smiles as he was handed the sundry items to be stored, cooked, drank or smoked. That sealed it, but Frodo let him have his secrets since his Sam seemed to prefer it that way. Rose often found Frodo smiling tenderly at his brother as they sat together to enjoy the windfall of gifts. It was similar to her own smile.

Sam was worried at first that Frodo would still find out what had caused it all, but beyond that first inquiry, his brother hadn’t asked further. So the younger hobbit simply treasured each of Frodo’s smiles as each new gift was brought in.

* * *

Several weeks later, the sound of something breaking caused Sam and Rosie to jump. He turned around and saw Frodo staring down at the broken pieces of his favorite tea mug on the kitchen floor. He seemed to be in shock, trembling, not even aware that his hand was bleeding and probably scalded by the hot water that had moments ago been in the mug.

Sam came over to his brother’s side with a wet cloth, some salve for the reddening skin and a cloth bandage. “Frodo dear?”

“That’s me, Sam,” Frodo said in a strange voice, transfixed by the broken mug. “All shattered.”

Sam looked down at mug. It had broken in four pieces, but cleanly enough. “I can fix it. Don’t you fret about that.”

Frodo looked up at his dearest friend and Sam tried hard not to flinch from the pain in those haunted, but still so beautiful eyes. “Can you fix me, too, Sam?”

“I want to, my dear, more than anything. Now come over and sit down here and let your Sam tend to your hand. We’ll start with that, all right?”

Frodo let himself be led to the closest chair and Sam tended to his wound as gently as he could. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

“Don’t you fret, dear,” Sam said. “Accidents happen.”

Once it was all bandaged, Sam kissed his brother’s hand and then looked up to see Frodo smiling faintly down at him. “You’ve always taken such good care of me, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam returned the smile. “It always made me feel better when you or my mum would do it when I was hurt.”

Frodo smiled slightly wider. “I remember that.” Then his smile faded. “I wish hurts were so easy to fix now as it was then.”

Sam was silent for a moment as he desperately wished for the same thing. “Why don’t you take your favorite seat next to the fire, dear, and I’ll get you a fresh cup of tea?”

“Thank you, Sam.”

Frodo got up and Sam guided him to the chair in the living room closest to the fire, bundled his shivering frame in a blanket and set a book on a table next to him. “Maybe you’d like to read a few pages while you’re waiting from one of Mr. Bilbo’s adventures,” Sam suggested.

“No, thank you, Sam,” Frodo said as he pulled the blanket around him. “I’ve had enough of adventures, I think.”

Sam bit his lip and flushed. “Of course you have.” “Ninnyhammer, Samunwise,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

He was about to move away when Frodo reached out to grab his hand and smiled at him. A true smile, like he used to smile all the time, full of light and love. Sam’s heart nearly broke with joy to see it. “Don’t call yourself that, Samwise,” Frodo said gently. “I know you are only trying to help and I will never be able to thank you enough, even if I said nothing else but thanks for the rest of my life.”

Sam flushed deeper, but smiled back. “No need to thank me, dear. I’ll be right back with that tea.”

Frodo let go of his hand and clutched Arwen’s gem instead. The smile remained, but it was faltering, dragged down by the constant torment. “I’ll be here.”

Sam cleaned up the broken mug and spilled water. When he returned to his brother’s side, Frodo had his eyes closed so he just carefully put the tea on the table, removed the book and stepped away. “Thank you, Sam,” Frodo said.

“You’re welcome, dear. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you,” Frodo replied wearily. “I’m just a little tired right now.”

Sam reluctantly walked away. He felt so helpless in front of his beloved brother’s pain. He retreated to the kitchen when he helped Rosie finish cleaning up after dinner, keeping both ears open for any noise from the living room.

“He’s resting a little,” he said when his wife looked up.

Rose covered his hand with her own and squeezed for a moment. “Good. Maybe that will help.”

Sam wrapped his hand around hers. “Maybe,” he said. He looked at the broken pieces of the tea cup and set to gluing them back together. When he was finished, only small cracks could be seen. “We’ll let that set overnight.”

He went back out later when he thought he heard something. “Frodo?”

Frodo didn’t respond. Sam came around him and found the tea, cold now and untouched. And his dearest friend’s cheeks stained with tears. Sam just wanted to hold him and not let go until he was better, but the chair was not big enough for both of them. He picked his brother up, blanket and all, and sat in the chair himself, placing Frodo in his lap as he would his children one day. Frodo leaned his head against his beloved guardian’s chest, listening to his heartbeat as Sam gently stroked his curls.

“It hurts, Sam,” Frodo said and Sam knew he wasn’t talking about his scalded hand. “It hurts so much.”

“I know it does, dear. I know. I hate that more than anything.”

“When is it going to stop?”

Sam again felt the terrible helplessness to ease the great pain engulfing his brother. They were just little hobbits. What could they do against such an enormous enemy? Then answer came immediately. The same thing they had done before. Battle against it with their entire heart and will. “I don’t know when, dear, I just know it will. Rest now against your Sam.”

They sat silently together for some time until Frodo spoke again. “I wish I could get better. I wish for so many things, Sam, that will never come true.”

“Doesn’t mean you should stop wishing, dear. While there’s life, there’s hope. Don’t say ‘never.’”

“It hurts to wish anymore and it hurts not to.”

“Then keep wishing, dear. It hurts less to hope then not to.”

Frodo snuggled closer. “Don’t leave me.”

Sam kissed his brother’s head. “I don’t ever mean to.”

He rubbed his dear one’s back gently in slow, soothing circles as he softly sang.

“Sleep now,

and when morning comes,

with untainted futures,

I'll come to you,

to share in your joy

to show you I love you

and will always be with you,

that each new morn will

bright hope be.

“When day wears on,

with life's trials,

I'll stand by you

to share in your life,

to give you comfort

and be your safe haven

so each new burden

you need not carry alone

“When evening comes,

with all its weariness,

I'll be there for you

to conquer your doubts,

to help you meet each new challenge

with love and strength,

to be your guardian

of hope and light.

“When night befalls

and darkness o'ercomes you,

I'll watch over you

and keep you safe through the night

The light will return

and you'll see the dawning

and know that I love you

through morning and night.”

Rose came out of the kitchen and stood behind her husband to listen to the song and all the love that was in her Sam’s voice. She leaned over the chair and kissed the top of his head. “That was beautiful,” she said. “He is so lucky to have you.”

Sam looked up at her smile. “I’m the lucky one. To have you have both.”

Rose smiled.

Sam carried his brother to bed and put him under the blankets still fully clothed. “I’ll be in for a scolding come morning,” he muttered to himself, “but he needs his sleep. I’m not going to wake him just to change his clothes.” He leaned down and kissed his brother’s forehead. “Sleep well, me dear. I love you so much.” he said and wrapped one of his brother’s hands around Arwen’s gem, then sat down in the chair next to him and took the other hand in his own. He closed his own eyes, intending to just nap for a little bit.

Rose came in an hour later. Sam was snoring softly, his hand still clasped to Frodo’s. The elder hobbit had a peaceful look on his face. His one hand had dropped off the gem, but was still cupped as though holding something. His other hand remained firmly around Sam’s. She did not see the light that surrounded them both as she put a blanket over her sleeping husband and stepped silently out of the room.

The next morning, Sam rose, a little sore from sleeping in a chair all night, but glad to have done so. Frodo’s features were peaceful, the morning light shining right on him, making him look like an angel. Sam touched his cheek briefly in appreciation at such a sight, then rose silently and padded to the kitchen where he heard Rose already up and making a delicious smelling breakfast.

She smiled and kissed her husband quickly when he entered. “How is he?”

Sam smiled. “Beautiful,” he said. “The morning light is hitting him just so. But he’s sleeping right through it.”

Rose squeezed his hand. “Good. He needs it.”

Sam picked up the repaired tea cup carefully and poured in a little water to see if it could be used again. It held together and Sam smiled and poured a little more in.

“Good morning, Sam, Rose,” came a voice behind them a short while later.

Frodo stood, dressed in different clothing. Dark circles remained under his eyes from previous nights of interrupted sleep, but he looked otherwise almost well. Though pain still deeply shadowed his eyes, they still seemed a little clearer.

Sam proudly handed Frodo his repaired tea mug. “Careful, though, dear. I think it’s going to hold together, but...”

Frodo smiled and sipped carefully. “Thank you, Sam,” he said. “You continue to be a marvel. I would have hated to have lost the mug. Maybe there’s hope for me too?”

Sam smiled. “Of course there is.”

A/N: The lullaby is, gasp, not Galadriel's, but from another friend of mine, Thalapenhannas.  I added the first line, the rest of the masterpiece is hers.

Chapter Nine: Anniversaries

Sam was shocked the first time he saw grey hair in Frodo’s beautiful curls. He’s getting old, he thought. The gardener had thought growing up that Frodo would remain forever young and alive and full of light. It was that hard to stop himself from wanting to pull those hairs out, but then he thought of what seeing them really meant. The Ring had kept both his masters from aging, but once it was gone, time reasserted itself properly. It had been a right shock to see Mr. Bilbo so ancient, but then it had been seventeen years. This was a much gentler surprise that Sam felt now as he looked at his brother. Was that despicable thing finally losing its grip on him? He had always thought that dark hair was the wrong match for such a luminous being as Frodo had been and still was in many ways. No, silver, then white would suit him better and make him glow all the more. Sam stayed his hand and instead silently celebrated each new strand as it came in.

He came up behind Frodo soon after his first discovery to see his brother standing in front of a mirror, staring intently at his reflection. The silver was more noticeable now and Sam watched as his brother reached up with his maimed hand to touch those greying locks as though to convince himself they were truly there.

"Am I to be free of it at last?" he murmured to himself in wonder. Hope, that had been dying in his heart for months, flared anew to continue the struggle to heal.

Sam walked away quietly with a smile. Frodo showed no sign he was aware that his guardian had even been there as he continued to stare fascinated at his reflection.

* * *

Sam came anxiously into his brother’s bedroom after he had heard Frodo moan, then cry out. It had been months since the elder hobbit had been so tormented and the former Ring-bearer had begun very cautiously to hope that he had finally being able to let the Ring go as his body began to age normally again. Sam’s hope and confidence were even greater, but now realized the date. The thirteenth was determined to have its torture on Frodo’s soul once more. Sam stood a moment at the threshold watching his brother tangle himself in his bedsheets as he thrashed about. A tear trailed down the gardener’s cheek unnoticed as he took Frodo into his arms.

At that, the troubled hobbit’s flailing became even more violent. "Let me go! Let me go!" he cried.

"It’s me, dear," Sam said softly into his ear. "It’s your Sam."

"No!" Frodo called out and struggled all the harder. He arched his back and his head connected with the headboard with a sickening crack.

Frodo suddenly went limp in his guardian’s arms which frightened the younger hobbit badly. "Wake up, dear!" he cried softly. "Oh, please, wake up!"

Frodo’s head lolled to his side and Sam adjusted his grip to feel the back of his brother’s head. There was already a lump forming and Frodo moaned softly as Sam’s fingers gently probed the area. He bit his lip when he felt a slight stickiness. He left for a moment to bring back a lamp and parted the salt and pepper curls to see how much blood there was. He sighed in relief to see only a small trickle, already drying. Gently, Sam lay Frodo on his side and went to get a small basin of water and a clean cloth. He cleaned the wound as carefully as he could and bit his lip against new tears when Frodo whimpered and murmured, "Please stop hurting me."

"I’m sorry, dear," Sam said as he finished. "I just needed to clean you up a bit. Can you wake up for me now? I need to know you aren’t hurt worse."

Frodo did not respond, other than to continue to beg not to be hurt. Sam stroked his curls. "No one’s hurting you anymore, love. You banged your head is all. You’re safe in your own bed. But I need to you wake up. Can you do that for your Sam? Please?"

Frodo tossed his head. "Leave me alone," he murmured. He reached up from under the blankets to cover his head with his arms as though trying to ward off a blow.

Sam caught his hands and held them with his own. Frodo struggled against that and cried all the louder. "Leave me alone!"

He nearly struck his head again, but Sam grabbed him back before he could and pushed him down the bed so he struck only pillows. It was hours before Frodo settled down to sleep again. Sam had not been able to hold him as it agitated him all the more. He could only watch helplessly and in tears as his brother struggled alone with the memories and pain. Oh, me dear, what did they do to you? he wondered and he cursed himself again for ever leaving his dearest one.

Near dawn, Frodo stopped his thrashing and his moans and cries became soft murmurs and then trailed off altogether as fell into true slumber. Sam’s tears wet Frodo’s cheeks as he leaned down to kiss his brother’s head. "Sleep well, dear, I love you," he murmured, then retreated back to his own bed. Rosie was very near her time so could not embrace her husband as she wished, but she held his head as he cried into her shoulder and sang soft comforts to him until he was able to sleep.

The spell passed as it always did, but the circles under Frodo’s eyes were darker and the shadows deeper in his eyes as the hope there faded. Sam didn’t say anything as Frodo came late for breakfast the morning after, just held his brother for a long time and felt his brother’s arms tight around his, his body shaking with the effort to keep his tears unshed. They held each other so long the mushroom omelette Sam was re-heating was burned and he cursed himself for a ninnyhammer for not watching it closer.

Frodo laughed softly into his shoulder then and then let go. Sam’s heart jolted with joy to hear such an unexpected sound, like sunshine suddenly bursting from behind dark storm clouds, then he looked sorrowfully at the ruined omelette. He was about to throw it out, but Frodo reached over his shoulder to take the spatula from him.

"Don’t you dare throw it out, dearest ninnyhammer," he admonished with a true smile that Sam could have stared at forever. "It will be even more delicious because of the manner in which it was burned."

Then the Ring-bearer sat down and ate the entire scorched omelette with a greater appetite than he had shown for weeks. Sam watched with a soft smile.

A week later, the gardener was startled awake by Frodo’s cry. "Why don’t you answer me?!"

He rushed to his brother’s bedroom. He stood for a moment at the threshold as Frodo tossed and turned in his nightmare, then padded softly forward and gently began to untangle the sheets and blankets from around the Ring-bearer’s legs. Frodo lay on his stomach as Sam straightened out the coverings over him. "Why don’t you answer me?" the broken elder hobbit murmured. "Why can’t you hear me?"

Sam stroked his brother’s back gently and felt how badly Frodo was trembling. "Wake up, me dear. You’re having a bad dream. Just a dream. Wake up now. Your Sam is here. There’s nothing to be afraid of."

He continued his slow rubbing of Frodo’s back until the Ring-bearer looked up at him blearily.

"Sam? Is that you? Did you hear me?"

Sam smiled bravely through tear-bright eyes. "Yes, dear, I heard you," he said softly as he continued to stroke.

"Then why couldn’t the others? I called and called, louder and louder, but they all walked past me, like I wasn’t there at all. But I was, Sam, I was!"

Sam never knew what to make of this dream that his brother had had before around this same time the previous year, but he hoped just the sound of his voice would help bring him back. "I know you were, dear," he soothed. "I know, but you aren’t there anymore. You’re back at home now, back in your own bed."

"Home, Sam?"

A tear escaped down the young gardener’s cheek to hear the wistfulness in Frodo’s voice, the hope of something long despaired of. He reached up to stroke his brother’s curls now. "Yes, my treasure, home. Back where you belong, in the Shire, at Bag End, in your own room. Do you want me to get a lamp so you can see?"

The tortured Ring-bearer looked at his dearest friend. "Yes, Sam, please. It’s so dark where I am, so dark. And I’m so cold. I’m so very cold."

Sam placed another blanket around his brother who clutched it tightly. "I’ll be right back, dear, then," he said.

"Thank you, Sam."

The gardener returned with a lamp and held it aloft, slowly circling the room so Frodo could see that he was truly home. "See, dear? It’s your own bedroom. You aren’t in that awful other place anymore."

Frodo sat up and stared at the lamp, then his surroundings and slowly relaxed. "I see, Sam. I see. Thank you."

The relief in the Ring-bearer’s voice was palpable as he sank back down under the covers. He closed his eyes. Sam put down the lamp and brushed at his brother’s curls. "Can you promise your Sam that you’ll remain in your room the rest of the night?" he asked. "I don’t want you traveling to all those strange places without me."

"I promise, Sam," Frodo murmured, then slowly dropped off into true sleep.

Sam watched until he thought his brother would be all right, then leaned down to kiss his brow. "Sleep well, my dear. I love you."

He wiped at a tear as he picked the lamp back up and left the room. He directed a plea to whoever his brother prayed to. When, oh when, is he going to get better? There have been such wonderful moments when I think it’s going to be all right, then the shadows always gather around again and it’s like no progress has been made at all. I’m not going to give up hope. I can’t. Frodo looks to me to have it, even while his continues to die. I think he’d despair totally if I lost mine, so I never will, but please let him get better! Please! He gathered together the tattering threads and wove them back together. Frodo would get well. He had to.

Several days later, Sam was surprised when a cold blast of air greeted him when he opened his brother’s bedroom door quietly and peeked his head in to see if Frodo was sleeping well. Frodo was laying still on the bed, only in his nightshirt, blankets kicked off. Sam moved to close the wide open window, but the Ring-bearer’s voice stopped him.

"No, Sam, please, I’m so hot, so hot."

He sounded so weary that Sam rushed to his side and checked his forehead for fever. Frodo felt warm, but not overly so. The young hobbit noticed that his nightshirt was soaked through.

"What’s wrong, dear? Why are you feeling so hot? You shouldn’t be having the windows open in this weather. You’ll catch a terrible chill."

"No, please leave them open. It’s the flames, the burning river. I’m drowning in it."

Sam suddenly realized the date. It was the 25^th , the anniversary of the Ring’s destruction, the day of the fire. He pulled out a clean nightshirt from a drawer and then got a wet cloth. Frodo didn’t resist when Sam removed the sweat-soaked garment and began to gently wipe him down.

"When will I ever stop burning?" he murmured as Sam dressed him in a dry shirt. "The flames, the flames. They are burning me, always burning. I’m so thirsty. So thirsty. It’s gone. I’ll never have it again. It’s gone."

"Yes, it’s gone, dear," Sam said as he laid his brother back down. "Lost in the fire."

"I miss it. I miss it so much."

Sam looked at Frodo startled, but knew with a heart that had not ceased to grieve, that when Frodo got into one of his states, he was more delirious than anything else. "I’m going to get you a glass of water, dear," he said. "That should make feel better. All right?"

The Ring-bearer tossed his head. "Miss it so much. It’s gone forever. Why couldn’t I have gone with it? Why?!"

The last came out as a cry. Frodo appeared to look directly at Sam, but his eyes were not focused and he soon sank back into his murmurings. Sam bit back tears as he left to fetch the water. When he returned, he sat next to his brother and pulled him up against his chest and raised the cup to Frodo’s lips.

"Drink this down, dear," he said. "You won’t feel so thirsty and maybe then you can cool down some."

Frodo obediently drank the whole cup so greedily that some of it dripped down his chin. Sam took the glass away and wiped at his beloved, broken brother’s mouth.

"Feel any better, dear?" he asked.

Frodo looked at his dearest friend with bleary eyes. "It’s all over, Sam," he said. "All over. There’s no going back and I can’t go forward. There’s no end to this pain. No end."

Sam took his beloved brother into his arms and began to rock him gently. "Of course, there’ll be end, dear, of course there will be. We just have to get through the darkness first."

Frodo leaned his head wearily against his guardian’s shoulder. "I can’t see it, Sam. It’s been so long. I don’t think it will ever end."

"Then let me show you how it’s going to be."

He picked Frodo up, draped several blankets over him, picked up his own coat on its peg at the front door, then stepped outside into the chill air. He put his coat around his shoulders best as he could with one hand and the blankets around his brother. He sat down on the bench in the garden with Frodo in his lap so he wouldn’t have to sit on the cold stone. It was still night, but just barely perceptibly the dawn was coming. He made sure that Frodo could see that.

"See, dear, as the light comes, the darkness flies away, not all at once, but gradually. So it’s going to be with you. The dawn will come and it will be so bright."

They watched the light begin to spread throughout the sky. Frodo’s head was laid against Sam’s chest, the younger hobbit holding onto his brother as Frodo’s arms held him around the waist. "So bright," the Ring-bearer murmured, "so bright. I do see it, Sam. I do, rising in the West."

Sam did not understand until much later what his brother meant by that. At the time, he merely thought it was more of Frodo’s delirium and took it as such, heart breaking a little more. But Frodo seemed more peaceful and calm after he had said that and actually fell back asleep, safe in his guardian’s arms. Sam brought him back in, laid him back down in bed, closed the window most of the way, then with a kiss to his head and a murmured, "Sleep well, dear. I love you," left him.

Frodo slept most of the morning away, then with an apology for missing first breakfast, had a brief, late second one with Sam and Rosie, dressed only in shirt and breeches and not the several layers of clothing he always needed even in the summer at times. Then he excused himself and disappeared into the study and closed the door. Rosie, in the very early stages of labor, was not so distracted that she didn’t noticed that Frodo’s attire was different.

"I’m so glad he’s finally getting over the chills," she said.

"I don’t know if it’s that, my Rose dear," Sam said with an anxious glance out the room. "Tomorrow will tell. Tomorrow will tell."

Rose looked up at her husband. Sam was staring at the room, but she knew somehow he was something else entirely different, something he and Mr. Frodo had shared in the past, another secret horror of their journey they wished to protect her from.

"Let’s..." She stopped suddenly as a pain rippled through her. She grasped Sam’s hand painfully until the contraction passed, then smiled bravely at her worried husband.

"The babe is coming," she said.

Sam’s eyes widened. "Now?! But’s that’s a week early!" He stood up and swept his wife up into his arms. "I’ll hurry to get Mrs. Gorch once I get you back to bed."

Rosie swatted at his arms. "I can walk, my Sam. I’m with child, not some invalid. The midwife can wait a bit. It’s still early."

Sam would brook no argument. His arms tightened around his wife and child. "I carried Frodo and I’m going to carry you."

Rosie looked into her husband’s eyes. They were marked by another painful memory, but love overflowed as always from there. She smiled at it and saw him smile back through his worry. She laid her head against his chest. "It’ll be all right, my Sam," she said. "You’ll see."

Sam laid her down, made sure she was as comfortable as possible, then kissed her brow quickly. Rose smiled at him and clutched his hand and they beamed at each other, then Sam left. When he came into the study to check on Frodo and to tell him he was going to fetch the midwife, he found the windows wide open and the fire he had carefully made to keep his brother warm was completely out.

"What are you doing with the windows open, dear?" he asked "Are you still so hot?"

He moved to close the windows, but Frodo’s voice stopped him. "Yes, Sam. Leave them open. Please. I’m so hot I can barely breathe."

Sam turned and moved to his brother’s side and touched his forehead, fearful again Frodo had caught a fever, but though Frodo was sweating badly, he did not feel all that warm.

"I’m so thirsty, Sam, could you please get me something to drink?"

"Of course."

Sam was back with a large glass of water which Frodo downed as though in one gulp and Sam left to return again with another glass which Frodo drank greedily also. "Thank you, Sam." He looked up at his friend. "When is this all going to end, all these illnesses?"

Sam looked at him sorrowfully, tears burning his eyes. "I don’t know, dear."

Rose called to him then from the other room. "Mrs. Groch!" he exclaimed, having clean forgotten that he was going to get the midwife.

"What about her?" Frodo asked. "Is Rose at her time now already? Oh, Sam, what a ninnyhammer I am to not even notice! I’ll go fetch her, you go to Rose. She needs you now and I need to get outside. Maybe a good walk will help me cool off."

He shrugged into his coat, but left it open, even that was too warm for him and Sam knew he was only wearing it at all so Sam wouldn’t worry. The younger hobbit loved his brother more than ever for his offer to help, but feared to have him go out alone in his state. The look in his eyes broke Sam’s heart, pleading for understanding and permission and relief. Sam couldn’t say no to that, though all his sense was telling him he should.

"You can’t go out half-dressed, dear," he said with a sigh.

Frodo stood still and suffered his friend to bundle him up in hat and mittens. He smiled as Sam was careful to close his cloak up to his neck so the scarf he wrapped around him wouldn’t scratch his skin. Sam looked up and was surprised to see that soft, loving smile.

"Thank you, my Sam. I’ll send Lidia right to you."

"Thank you, dear. I wish I could go with you."

"No, Sam, you’ve got to stay here. Rosie’s more important than me. She’s your future, Sam."

The gardener smiled. "So are you, dear. You’ll be an uncle before the day is out. That’ll be Elanor’s first birthday gift to you. You can remember this day as one of joy, instead of lingering pain."

Frodo smile widened a little. "That would be wonderful, Sam," he said softly.

Sam hugged his brother quickly and kissed his head, then watched him go out into swirling snow, feet leaving marks down the path. He watched until Frodo passed the gate, began down the road and then disappeared from sight. Sam knew, just knew, that his dearest friend would be taking off her hat and gloves and probably coat as soon as Sam couldn’t see he anymore, but at least Sam had done what he could. With a sigh, he turned back to his wife and soon-to-be born daughter.

Mrs. Groch came but a half hour later, but Frodo was gone for three more after that. Sam kept watching out for him when he wasn’t at Rose’s side. Just when the young gardener was beside myself with worry over the long, painful labor and his brother’s protracted absence and he was cursing himself for being the worst ninnyhammer ever born to let Frodo out alone in his condition, the elder hobbit returned. His hair was wet and his clothes were damp. It was as though he had laid down in the snow in just his shirt and breeches, trying to cool the fire that burned in him. Sam could tell from the look in his eyes it hadn’t helped. He didn’t say anything, just brought out dry clothes.

"Thank you, Sam. I’m sorry I was out so long. I just couldn’t cool off and I stayed out hoping I would. Has Rosie birthed yet?"

"No, not yet, but I hope she’s getting close. Mrs. Gorch says so. I can’t stand to see her in this much pain."

Frodo smiled and touched his friend’s shoulder. "The reward will be great though, my Sam. Greater than you can possibly conceive. Think of that. I’m sure she is. And Lidia Gorch is the best midwife there is. Never fear."

Sam smiled bravely. He watched his brother disappear back into the study and then returned to his wife’s side. When an hour later, Sam came to check on Frodo, the elder hobbit sat still in the same damp clothes with the window wide open again. Sam felt his brother’s eyes follow him as he went to close the window, but Frodo didn’t say anything. He didn’t resist when he was taken by the hand and led to his bedroom and changed into a nightshirt as though he were a child unable to do it for himself. Frodo sought his Sam’s arms then and Sam held him. Frodo’s breath came in hitches and Sam know he were trying so hard not to cry, but wanting to so badly, needing to.

The younger hobbit brushed at his brother’s curls. "It’s all right, love," he said softly. "It’s all right to cry."

And at last Frodo did and Sam’s heart broke at how long and hard he did, then he laid him asleep. "Rest, dear."

Frodo tried to get up, but fell back against the covers. "I should be helping you, Sam. I’m so sorry I can’t. I’m ruining your wonderful day."

"Of course you aren’t, dear. It’s still wonderful, because you are here, Rosie and so is Elanor."

Sam kissed his head. "Sleep well now. I love you."

"I love you, too, Sam. Thank you."

When Sam came to Frodo two hours later, to share his joy that Elanor had been born, his brother was sleeping so peacefully and looking so beautiful that Sam’s breath caught. He couldn’t disturb such deserved rest. He didn’t even rouse him for the late dinner they had.

The next day, the only time Frodo didn’t shiver was when he held Elanor and the tears in his eyes then were of love and joy. They matched Sam’s own that were as much for the light shining from Frodo as they were for Elanor.

A/N: The quote about light coming gradually is from the 4^th century saint, Isadore. 

Chapter 10: Possible Dreams

Sam laughed when Elanor’s pudgy little hands reached up to touch Frodo’s face a few weeks after she was born. Frodo looked up from the baby in his arms and laughed with him and Sam’s heart shouted with joy. Elanor had immediately wrapped her arms around Frodo’s heart and soothed it in a way no one else could. He could spend the whole morning writing, emerge looking exhausted and haunted, but then pick up Elanor and she’d coo for him and all the weariness and pain would slip away and peace would come. His brightness always flared when he was with his honorary niece and she was perfectly content to be with him. Sam wished he could have caught it all in his hand and preserved it forever.

“I did for you, darling,” Frodo would murmur to her as he stroked her curls and rocked her to sleep in the chair he had brought for her parent’s wedding. “I did it for you.”

Many a night he sang to her in Sindarin and Sam would stand there and listen to his loving, beautiful voice. Frodo never sang anymore, except to her. Sometimes the songs were haunting and sad, but soothing even then because of the way he sang them. Sometimes that would be only she would calm, especially after she started teething. Rose was very glad he did that and would often stop to listen herself, though she always stood behind him because many of his songs and the simple sight of them together often brought her to tears. Sam never missed it and Rose would often see him with a proud, loving smile as he watched his brother and daughter.

A few months after Elanor was born, Sam started her along with him on his picnics with Frodo and sat back content to watch his brother hold her and play with her, smiling and laughing and for a little while, forgetting how badly he was hurt. Sam imagined that when she was older, she would toddle over to Frodo and he would scoop her up and twirl her around or walk with her, hand-in-hand, and how he would do that with all the children and how vital a part he would be in their lives. Such dreams were possible in the bright sunlight.

* * *

Sam watched his beloved brother sit in the bright summer sun on the bench in the garden. A book was open on his lap, but Frodo was looking off into the distance somewhere, trembling even in the warmth of the day. Sam shook his head sadly as he approached and put a blanket around his friend’s shoulders.

Frodo clasped it tightly around him and looked up at Sam with a wan smile. “Thank you, Sam.”

The young gardener smiled back sadly at Frodo’s pale face. “It’s not getting better, is it?” he asked. “You seemed so happy when Elanor was born.”

“I was, Sam, truly, but no, it’s not. I’m sorry.”

Sam sat down next to his brother and put his arm around Frodo’s shoulders. Frodo leaned his head against his guardian’s shoulder.

“That’s it, my dear,” Sam encouraged. “Lean on your Sam. Get warm. And stop this thinking that you have to apologize.”

Frodo smiled. “Yes, Sam,” he said meekly.

They sat silently there for a few moments more. Sam could feel Frodo tremble and rubbed his arm to try to warm him.

“I used to love the spring and summer,” Frodo said quietly. “All the life coming back from the dead of winter. I wish I could do that, too. But the winter remains in me. I am nothing but a frost-blasted landscape.”

“No, dear, no,” Sam soothed, “you are nothing like that. You are hurting, but you will come back. You can’t give up hope.”

“It hurts so much to keep hoping, Sam, and have so little to show for it.”

“You have to keep doing it though, dear. Remember that tree in Gondor that Mr. Pippin showed us? It hadn’t bloomed in who knows how long, but it was still guarded vigilantly, hopefully, for the day that it would. That was a dying hope too, but it never completely withered and the people were rewarded in the end. We saw the first flowers ourselves, didn’t we? So don’t let me hear any of this giving up hope for yourself. If you don’t have any left, then take some of mine.”

Deeply moved by his friend’s words, Frodo slipped his arms around Sam’s, burrowed his head into his chest and listened to that beloved heartbeat. “Oh, my dearest Sam, every dream seems possible when you are near, even the impossible ones,” he murmured. “How would I ever live without you?”

Sam kissed his head. “You will never find out because I am never going to leave you.”

But I may have to leave you, my friend, my brother, Frodo thought miserably. Oh, my Sam, how can I do that?

“I’m so tired, Sam,” he said. “Tired of everything.”

“Then take your rest right here, my dear,” Sam said. He brought his brother’s head down into his lap and stroked his curls gently. “You aren’t going to get better if you are always exhausted.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Frodo said, then he closed his eyes. Sam felt him relax and his breathing even out as sleep claimed him and at last he stopped shaking.

Rose entered the garden then, holding Elanor. Sam looked up at his beloved wife and child and smiled, then looked down at Frodo again. “He’s hurting so badly, Rose. I don’t know what else to do.”

Rose watched as her husband continued to stroke Frodo’s curls and back gently. “You’re doing it,” she said. “You’re loving him.”

“I’ve loved him even before I met him, but I wonder if it’s enough anymore. The Ring did terrible things to him, such terrible things.”

Tears grew bright in Rosie’s eyes as she heard how haunted her Sam’s voice was. She wanted just to hold him and take him away from whatever he was remembering, but she bit her lip against asking what those memories were. She knew he wouldn’t tell her so she just ached silently for him and for Frodo. She looked at the latter’s face, relaxed now in sleep, under the care of a beloved one’s touch. “He’s so peaceful looking now,” she said. “So beautiful.”

“Yes, even now. But he’s hurting, Rose, still hurting so much. It’s not fair. The Ring is gone. Why isn’t his pain?”

Rose leaned down to kiss her husband’s head. “He’s not hurting now. You just keep loving him, my Sam. That’s what he needs.”

Sam looked up at her and squeezed her hand. He smiled at the vast pools of love he saw in her eyes and she smiled back, gazing into the same love in his, directed all at her. How did she get so lucky? She remembered wondering that aloud once when Frodo was nearby and the elder hobbit had laughed softly and shook his head and then admitted he had been trying to figure that out for years. “He’s love, Rose,” he had told her. “That’s all he is. Just pure, deep, ever abiding love. And we are just lucky enough to have him spoil us terribly with it.” Rose’s smile deepened at the happy memory. She squeezed her husband’s hand back and then disappeared back into their home.

Chapter 11:  Baptism

Sam was very glad to see Gandalf make one of his visits to Bag End that autumn. The colors were changing and the entire Shire looked so beautiful in the gold, red and oranges that bedecked the trees and covered the ground. Frodo was glad too. Relieved was more like, the gardener thought, and wondered what that meant. But he was relieved too as he knew that his brother received solace from the wizard that no one else was able to give.

Gandalf looked over now at the stricken hobbit who stared down at the ground as they walked along. His feet were nearly buried in the fallen leaves, but the wizard didn’t think Frodo saw any of that. "The burden has not eased any," the Maia observed with an ache in his heart that had been only growing greater.

Frodo sighed. "No, not really. Sam has been a marvel, but too much has happened. I’m still sick on the 6^th and 13^th. I fear so much that I will never get better. Sam still has hope and I think I would die if he didn’t, but I feel as though I am merely existing, not truly living. I’m tired, Gandalf, I’m so very tired."

"Would you like to scream?" he asked.

"Yes," came the soft, immediate answer, "very much."

They stopped. Gandalf knelt and gently took his friend into his arms. Frodo placed his hands on the wizard’s shoulders and threw his head back and screamed until he was nearly hoarse, then he buried his face in the wizard’s robes. Gandalf held him for a long time, murmuring comforts and prayers and blessings. He felt the power of Iluvatar cover them both and finally Frodo calmed some and they were able to continue on their walk, the Ring-bearer’s maimed hand held in the Maia’s.

"I’m sorry, Frodo," the wizard said. "I knew when you accepted the Ring, it would not be easy for you."

Frodo’s eyes flared suddenly and he withdrew his hand from his friend’s grasp. "You knew this would destroy me, but you still let me take it? Do you have any idea what it’s been like all this time? To have to do this twice? It has not ceased to twist, torment, taunt and torture me since you first told me I had to take it out of the Shire. I’ve lost myself in it. It’s gone, but it’s still in me! And you already knew it would be this way?"

Gandalf absorbed Frodo’s anger calmly. "You already knew some of what it was capable of too, before you accepted the burden. But you still came forward and you came forward out of love and goodness, accepting Iluvatar’s will for you as I did. That is why I admire you so much, my friend. You said yes. And, I will say my heart did break for you, but I knew Eru did not choose unwisely."

Frodo was not mollified. "Did it continue to break as mine did nearly every step of the way as I was torn apart? Is it still breaking as mine is? All this time, Gandalf, I have felt myself dying inside. The violation in the fire was so horrible I wished I would die and I felt that twice! I failed twice. And it’s not over - it’s still hurting me and I still want it after all it’s done and is still doing to me! If you knew all this would happen, why didn’t you stop it?"

"I had no right to stop it. If I had, I would be betraying the One Who sent me. You knew what was at stake as well as I did. Do you now wish you had said no?"

Frodo was silent for a long time. "No," he said very softly. "That is the one thing I am grateful for out of all this, that my friends were spared. I just wish it didn’t hurt so much. I wish I could have just thrown it in and that would have been the end of it."

"So do we all, dear boy, but there is a plan and purpose for everything. We may not see it at once or maybe not even until we pass from this life, but there is a reason all happens as it does. And to answer your earlier question, yes, my heart still breaks for you. I dare say even the heart of Iluvatar Himself breaks for you, but He chose you, out of all His children, to be the last Ring-bearer, to do what He had created you to do. We had no hope in anyone else. And while I feared greatly for you, I also knew hobbits to be full of surprises, you not the least. You were gentle and loving and full of light. I knew the Ring would find the least amount of purchase in you or Sam because of that and it was made clear to me, and to you, if I’m not mistaken, that you were meant to be the one. It is not your fault that you could not endure the last assault at the end."

Gandalf stopped, placed his hands on Frodo’s shoulders and waited until the tormented hobbit looked up at him. "Understand this, Frodo, no one could withstood that. I’ve told you that before. You need to believe that if you don’t believe anything else. You think it’s some great personal failure of yours, but, my dear hobbit, it is not. You actually succeeded far more than anyone could have."

Frodo looked up, then away. "I don’t know if I can believe that. I wanted to succeed, but I don’t think I did. It was an accident that the Ring got destroyed, not anything I did. I didn’t even want it destroyed in the end."

"But still you went on and got it to the place where it could be. None of this was an accident, Frodo. You were given the strength and grace to endure for a specific task set out only for you to accomplish from the very beginning of the Song. Sam was given different strengths and graces to be beside you, to love, shelter and guide you. Do you think your friendship was mere chance? No, Iluvatar had plans for the both of you from the very beginning. He even used Smeagol’s lust for the Ring to accomplish His ends. Sometimes the innocent and good are hurt very badly by evil and even the One grieves that it so, but He has always been there to help you carry your burden, Frodo. He has been with you every step of your journey and is still with you. You could not have survived it otherwise and you thought you were stubborn!"

Frodo smiled faintly. "Maybe He has some Baggins blood in Him."

Gandalf laughed. "No, my dear boy, it is you that carry His life within your blood. He gave you your stubbornness, your beauty, your love for life and the woods and clean air and green grass and all you hold in you for your friends and family. He gave you reasons to fight for each breath as you made it to the one place with the one thing only you could have carried. He knew it would tear you apart before the end, but He had His other children beside you so they could aid you. When you could no longer stand, He bore you in His arms. Sam was not the only one who carried you up that mountain. There’s no way he could have done that. And Eru continues to hold you. You have never been alone in this struggle."

"I know, but sometimes I feel like I am." Frodo looked up at his dear friend. "Why was I chosen, Gandalf? If He gave me so much strength, why couldn’t He give me the strength to throw it in myself? I don’t think Sam would have failed. I can’t imagine Pippin being vanquished or Merry."

Gandalf looked straight into those tormented eyes. "You know very well that you can imagine that. That’s what some of your nightmares have been about, haven’t they?"

Frodo looked stunned. "How do you know that? I haven’t told anyone that."

Gandalf smiled gently. "My dearest hobbit, I know your heart. And Iluvatar knows it even better. He gave you the strength that was needed for your task. Just as he gave Sam what he needed and Aragorn and Merry and Pippin and myself and everyone else for tasks we were all set to do. But he also gave you freedom. You didn’t have to say yes to Him, but you did. There were times, too, you said ‘no’, but many thousands more when you continued to say ‘yes’. Each step you took was another one. When you said ‘no’ at the Fire, while the Ring was at the zenith of its power and you at your nadir, Eru still allowed a ‘yes’ to be said, saying it for you through Smeagol, since you were no longer able to say it yourself."

Frodo was silent for a while. "I wish I could have said it myself. I wish I didn’t desire it still. This is no end to this pain, Gandalf, no end. I am lost in the dark. There is nothing here but the Ring of fire. That is all I see. I don’t know how to find my way back. I don’t even know if there is a way back. I’m not the person I used to be and I miss him."

"We all do, dear boy, but no living person is a static being. Change is inevitable and sometimes it is very painful, but do not look to those changes in fear, rather look at them with full hope that, as they arise, you will be delivered out of them and become the glorious being you were made to be. I don’t know why Iluvatar chose you, that is in His mind alone, but He did not choose you, then leave you to be broken without a chance to live with joy again. He has given you a choice. You may go West and search for the peace you cannot find here. He does not wish you to remain shattered."

Frodo absorbed these words as they slowly started back on their way again, his hand once again in his friend’s. He looked down at the ground. "I am humbled He would give me such a gift, but how can I leave Sam? Or Merry or Pippin or Bilbo? Or Elanor? I did this all for them. Sam has been at my side for more than thirty years, Merry even longer and Pippin is not even of age yet. How can I leave any of them, when they’ve done nothing but help me and love me?"

Gandalf did not answer, just looked at his friend and waited for him to continue. This could only be Frodo’s own decision. If talking it out would help, the wizard was happy to listen.

"But I also don’t see how I can stay," the hobbit continued. "I know it’s very selfish of me, but I am so tired of hurting and battling. I want rest, Gandalf, peace. I haven’t found it here, but in snatches. I want more, I need more, but how can I leave those I love the most, just on the hope of finding peace. What if I can’t even there?"

"If it can be found anywhere, it will be there, Frodo. And where have you gotten the idea that wanting to heal is selfish? That’s what we all want for you. If that means leaving, then they will grieve, but they will accept and they will be happy again one day. And you will grieve and then accept and be happy again if that is the path you choose. But you would not be leaving everyone. This offer extends to all Ring-bearers, not just you and I will be with you as well if you take the ship."

Frodo looked up at his friend, hope in his eyes and stirring in his heart. "Then Bilbo would come? And Sam?"

"Yes, but not necessarily at once. Bilbo yes, because he needs to heal and his time is too near here for him to stay within the Circles of the World much longer."

Frodo hung his head. "I feared it was so when I lost saw him. But Sam would come too?"

"After his time here is finished. It may not be for a long time, but he would be given the grace to join you as I know would be his dearest wish."

Frodo looked forward, seeing the beauty of the day for the first day and part of his burden lifted. "Then maybe I could find the strength to leave, if it comes to that, but still how could I leave my cousins?"

"Have you told them or Sam what is most tormenting you?" the wizard asked. "You don’t need to battle this alone. The struggle, and the decision to stay or not, would be easier if you had someone fighting with you."

The Ring-bearer lowered his head again. "Of course not, how can I tell them that their brother and cousin is actually some sort of twisted creature that still longs for the most terrible thing ever made? They are still so pure, Gandalf, especially Sam, so innocent. He is nothing but love. He is everything I used to be. They all went through so much, but are still light and love. I can’t ruin that." Frodo hung his head. "I just wish I wasn’t ruined," he finished softly.

Gandalf looked at his tormented friend. "You aren’t an evil person, Frodo, just because you long for something evil. You don’t want to long for it, do you?"

"No, of course not."

"You are still fighting it, aren’t you?"

"Yes, every day in every way I can, but it’s so hard and I’m getting so tired." He looked up at the wizard. "Shouldn’t it be getting easier?"

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "My dear hobbit, who said it would be or should be easy? This is a warfare you are engaged in, Frodo, and that you are fighting so strongly is very encouraging, but this is not a battlefield you can leave while you are in this life."

Frodo groaned.

Gandalf placed his hands on the Ring-bearer’s shoulders and smiled when Frodo looked up. "I do not say that to discourage you, dearest hobbit, or cause you to despair, but to strengthen you. Every being has this struggle. You are not unique to it, though the burden of a Ring-bearer is the heaviest of any mortal being. Do not double the weight of it by trying to carry it alone."

"I’m too ashamed to tell them. I’m too afraid. It would kill me if I lost Sam’s love or my cousins’."

"You were terrified of the Ring, too, but you accepted the burden anyway. Sam helped you with that. He can help you with this also, but you have to reach out for that help. You have to take the first step. You didn’t let fear stop you before. Or is it pride that is stopping you this time?"

Frodo looked at his friend sharply as they continued on.

Gandalf smiled gently and squeezed his friend’s hand. "I hate to be the one to break this to you, but Frodo Baggins, you are not perfect. I know you think Sam and your cousins think you are and understandably adore you as much as you adore them, but you have failings and faults like anyone else. Sam especially knows that and wonder of wonders, he is loving you more all the time, isn’t he?"

A flicker of a smile teased the edges of Frodo’s mouth before disappearing. "Yes, I have yet to figure that out, but probably because he doesn’t know the worst."

"He has always seen you with the eyes of his heart.  True love is not blind.  It sees more, not less and because it sees more, it's willing to see less.  Don't fear you will ever lose his love or that of your cousins. You didn’t hesitate to tell me what was tormenting you. Obviously you didn’t worry about losing the love I have for you."

Frodo’s features twitched and a ghost of a smile appeared again. "I suppose not."

Gandalf placed his hand on the tormented hobbit’s shoulder and waited until Frodo looked up at him. "Then why be afraid of losing anyone else’s? Trust your friends more than you do. Their hearts are so wide and open and have been yours since they first met you. They won’t take them back now. I have been very grateful for the inbred Baggins’ stubbornness on many occasions, but now is not the time, dear boy. Believe in your own goodness..." Here Frodo opened his mouth to protest, but the wizard held up his finger. "Don’t you dare interrupt me and give me some nonsense that you have none left." Frodo closed his mouth again. "And then believe in them and their love and that of everyone else who cares about you. Iluvatar knows all your failings and still loves you more dearly than any other being possibly could. If you cannot hold onto anyone else through this, hold fast to His hand. He will lead you safely through all things. Either He will shield you from suffering or He will give you the strength to bear it. Be at peace and put aside all these anxious thoughts and imaginings."

The tortured Ring-bearer sighed. "You make it sound so easy."

Gandalf smiled. "It is, but only afterwards. Actually doing it is very hard. But so was going all the way to Mordor and you did that. You have to swallow all that pride the Ring infused in you and become a humble hobbit again. You have to let go of the fear or it will always be your master."

* * *

Sam took one look at his brother when he and the wizard returned shortly before dinner and knew that Frodo’s throat was bothering him. Without asking why, he made a mug of raspberry leaf tea with a healthy dollop of honey to help soothe it and then asked Gandalf if he could stay for dinner. Frodo looked a little guilty as he accepted the drink with soft thanks. 

"I’d be delighted," Gandalf said. Then he leaned down to gaze at Elanor in her highchair. "Ah, the fair Elanor," he said with a warm smile.

Elanor cooed and pulled at the wizard’s beard. Sam and Rosie looked rather scandalized, but Frodo smiled and the wizard laughed. Seeing that, Sam decided that his daughter could pull at it all night if it made his brother smile.

Dinner was one of cheer due to the instant connection wizard and child made. Frodo smiled more than once during the meal, fondly looking on those so dear to him.

When the meal was over, he retired to the parlor with his half-finished tea, while the other hobbits all helped clean up the kitchen and dining room. Gandalf watched Frodo thoughtfully. Once the Ring-bearer was left alone, he retreated back into himself, into the pain. Upon leaving the kitchen, Sam took the wizard aside and silently motioned him to come into the parlor. Frodo was staring into space, lost to all around him. The tea was already forgotten on the side table.

"He’s been doing that a lot," Sam said quietly to the wizard. "Either here or in the study. I’ll come in and see him like that. I wonder what he’s looking at. Sometimes his lips will be moving without saying anything out loud or he’ll be talking to himself. I find if I just sit with him that it seems to calm him and he’ll come back to himself. Sometimes I hold his hand and it’s so cold. I don’t know what else to do. I wish I could go with him to wherever he goes when he gets like this. Maybe I could help him more."

Frodo’s lips began to move and Sam strained to hear his beloved friend’s voice. "The Sea, the Sea, over the Sea...." the elder hobbit began to repeat over and over again, clutching the gem Arwen had given him so tightly his knuckles were nearly white.

"What does he mean?" Sam asked the wizard. "I’m so worried about him. I hate to see him suffering like this."

Gandalf took a long draw on his pipe. "The Ring scars all its bearers, Sam, some more than others. Frodo took upon himself a great burden, twice. There was no way he could escape unscathed from it. He is referring to the Elves leaving Middle-earth. They pass over the Sea."

That frightened the young hobbit for some reason. "I just wish things could go back as they were. That Frodo could go back to how he was."

"He can’t," Gandalf said. "Who he was was totally burned away. He has to learn to live with what he has endured, but that is a difficult task." He looked at Sam and smiled. "He is very lucky to have you at his side to help him."

Sam sighed. "I wish I could do more. I don’t think I am doing enough."

"You are already doing all you can," Gandalf assured the anxious hobbit. "Just continue to be his friend. The rest has to come from him."

"But he’s just not right, if you get my meaning. I keep hoping he’ll get better, but I am afraid he’s only getting worse and there’s nothing I can do but watch it happen. I don’t even know if Queen Arwen’s gift is working anymore. The whole thing is just so horrible."

Gandalf put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and Sam looked up at him, his eyes filled with tears. "Isn’t there anything that can be done for him?" he pleaded, heartbroken but still hoping.

The wizard looked at him, eyes warm with sympathy and understanding. "I know how you feel, my dear boy. I feel the same myself. The greatest suffering here on earth is to see people we love suffer and not to be able to do anything about it. I know, though, that Frodo greatly appreciates your friendship and love and support."

Sam smiled a little at that and wiped at his tears with the edge of his sleeve. "He’s got that, he’s always had it and he always will."

Gandalf smiled. "I know, Samwise. Thank you."

Sam smiled bravely back.

That night as he looked into at his brother to make sure he was sleeping, he saw that Frodo had one hand out from under the covers as though clasped around something. He was softly shining and looked beautiful and peaceful. Sam smiled. He smiled even more when Frodo was still sleeping the next morning and the water he always had beside him hadn’t been touched.

* * *

"It’s raining, Sam!" Frodo cried happily a few days later.

The gardener looked out the window and the rain streaming down the panes, then at his brother who looked as excited as a child. He started at that beaming face for a long moment.

"I’m going out in it," the elder hobbit announced.

"It’s pouring, dear!" Sam said, looking and sounding scandalized. "That’s fit for the flowers, not for hobbits. You’ll be soaked the moment you step out the door."

Frodo grinned. "Yes, dearheart, I know, in water! Please? I’ll just stay in the garden."

Sam laughed and shook his head. "You don’t need my permission, dear."

Frodo beamed. Sam watched him leave and shook his head again. Rose came up behind him. "He shouldn’t be out in all that, Sam dear."

The gardener turned and face his wife with a smile. "I’d not argue with you, my Rose. But did you see his face? Lit up like a child at Yule. Like it always used to be. It’s a warm rain and if getting a little wet is going to make him happy, then I’m not going to stop him."

Rose chuckled. They walked to the window that overlooked the garden and Sam looked out at his brother. Frodo held out his arms and tilted his head back as he spun around slowly and the water splashed onto his head and face and soaked the rest of him. He had the most beatific smile on his face and his light shined brighter than ever. He laughed aloud.

Sam smiled. "It was so long that we had want of water," he murmured softly, as though to himself. "So long."

Rose’s heart ached to find another of the past horrors her husband and friend had endured. She knew they would not consciously speak of any of them to her, so she gleaned all she could from whispers and shouts during nightmares or like now, when one or other would speak, awash in memories and forgetful of any around them. She waited to see if Sam would speak further, afraid but wanting to know, but he didn’t. He continued to stare out the window with a soft, tender smile, mesmerized by his brother’s joy that both had so longed for.

When Frodo came back in, Sam met him at the door. The elder hobbit’s hair was plastered to his head, his clothes to his skin and he was making a huge, dripping mess on the floor. The gardener didn’t even notice that latter. His brother was shining. There was nothing but brightness in his face and eyes and entire being. Sam’s heart seized at seeing such beauty.  He embraced his brother then tightly and didn’t care in the least that his clothes got nearly as wet as the soaked Ring-bearer’s. Frodo held on tightly for a long time and knew he was not holding only his human guardian, but the One who had just blessed him with the outpouring of water onto his body and soul.

"Thank you," he murmured to them both and Sam rejoiced to hear no pain in that voice, but an overwhelming gratitude and joy.

A/N: Gandalf’s advice about not fearing change, holding onto God’s hand and being held in His arms, being shielded from suffering or given the strength to bear it and to not worry is all from St. Francis de Sales. The quote about the greatest suffering on earth is from St. Therese of Lisieux. The one about love not being blind is from a rabbi whose name, unfortunately, escapes me at the moment.

Chapter Twelve: A Terrible Secret

Frodo sat in his study, writing or trying to write. The room was dimly lit, his posture hunched over the table where he had for been trying for so long to exorcize his demons by committing them to paper. But the worst of them still tormented him. He couldn’t write of that. He had to keep it inside where it continued to lacerate his soul. He shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. He was always so cold these days. It never left him. He would pile on the blankets each night and still tremble with the cold that filled him, even on the warmest night. Strange that the Ring was destroyed in a place that burned, that it had burned his neck as he carried it, but now it left him with nothing but this terrible cold. And the need. The horrible need. How could he write of that? He couldn’t.

He clutched at the gem that Arwen had given him in a white-knuckled grip as if the tighter he held it, the more it could help him and heal him. Or was it the Ring he still reached for? He couldn’t tell anymore. He increasingly feared that healing through Arwen’s gift was a false hope as much as the one he harbored that he would one day be whole again, not always staring into a gaping darkness where his heart and soul had been, darkness that clawed at him continually, dragging him down. He fought it so hard, and so had Sam as far as Frodo had allowed his brother to help shoulder his burden and they had succeeded for a while. But now...

Frodo wept softly in his pain, glad he had closed the door so Sam and Rosie wouldn’t hear. He wanted to scream, but he clenched his jaw against making a sound beyond the tears he could no longer hold back. He was afraid of the force of it each time he gave it full release. He had learned to cry with his Sam, but he hadn’t yet screamed and he was so needing to do that and so afraid to when Sam and Rose and Elanor could hear. He stopped writing. He was crying too hard to see what he was doing. His control slipped and he was too weary to get it back. He looked up when he heard the happy cries of children playing in the snow, the sun coming in and he so wanted just to lose himself there in that light, but then the sun went behind a cloud and the children moved away. He shivered, lowered his head and cried harder.

He reached out for the Light and instead of screaming to drown out the incessant whispers of the Ring, he began to softly pray. “I come sick to the Healer of life, unclean to the Fountain of mercy, blind to the radiance of eternal Light, poor and needy to the Lord of heaven and earth. I beg Thee to heal my sickness, wash away my defilement, enlighten my blindness, enrich my poverty, and clothe my nakedness. Purify me from evil ways and put an end to my evil passions. Bring me charity and patience, humility and obedience, and growth in the power to do good. Be my strong defense against all my enemies, visible and invisible, and the perfect calming of all my evil impulses, bodily and spiritual. Unite me more closely to You and lead me safely through death to everlasting happiness with You.” He repeated it over and over again. “Please help me,” he begged. He had been so hopeful that day of the rain storm three months previously when he had felt the embrace of the One and he had felt those arms around him many a time since. He felt them now. He never slept alone, either or both of his guardians were always there, but he felt more exhausted than ever by the struggle he had waged for so long.

There was a knock on the door then and Frodo abruptly stopped speaking. He raised his head and hurriedly wiped at his tears and tried to stifle more from coming. The door opened a crack and Sam stuck his head in. “Do you need anything, dear?”

“I’m all...” Frodo stopped. He couldn’t lie to Sam.

Sam stepped into the room, closed the door behind him and walked to his brother’s side. Frodo raised a tear-streaked face to him, eyes begging for solace, for relief. Sam raised him to his feet and took him into his arms and held him tightly, murmuring what comforts he could as Frodo’s tears came in great heaving sobs. Silent tears of his own ran down Sam’s cheeks as he rocked his brother. With one arm, Frodo clutched Sam, his other hand hard around Arwen’s gem. His tears came in great heaving sobs.

“It’s not working!” he cried. “Why isn’t it working?!” His wails were muffled by being buried in Sam’s chest, but they tore at Sam’s heart. At first he was afraid Frodo was referring to him, but then, “She told me I could use it if I needed it to help me with the memories, but it’s not working anymore. Why not, Sam, why not?!”

“I’m sorry, dear,” Sam said, his own voice choked with helpless tears of pain and frustration that he couldn’t help his friend more. “I don’t know.”

“I’m broken, Sam,” Frodo murmured. “I can’t be fixed.”

Sam’s heart broke to hear that torment and despair. It broke even more when he realized he had not immediately said, ‘Of course you can be fixed.’ When had he given up hope? No, he couldn’t. He thought he had more than once on the Quest, but things always turned out better. They still would. He had to believe that. He had to be his brother’s hope as he had been before.

“It’s going to be all right,” he murmured.

“No, it’s not,” Frodo said miserably. “Saruman told me I would not have health or happiness and he was right.”

“Hush about that, dear. You can’t believe everything you hear, especially from people who don’t understand or who hate you.”

“But it’s true, Sam. It’s all true.”

Sam let his beloved friend go and held his face in both his hands. Then he waited until Frodo looked up at him. “If you are going to believe what people say, then believe this. I love you, Frodo. I love you so much I think sometimes my heart is going to burst from it. There has not been one moment that I haven’t loved you. Not one moment, hear me? Now we are going to get through this. And we are going to get through it together.”

Profoundly moved, Frodo stared into that bottomless ocean of love that was Sam’s eyes. He saw the reflection of the Light there shining forth and he so wanted just to drown there, to believe that somehow they really were going to get through, but he couldn’t tell Sam that he still wanted and needed the Ring and that he was never going to heal until he could rid himself of that and he had no idea if that could even be done. Smeagol had coveted it until his death and Bilbo still did as far as Frodo knew. How could he tell Sam, who was goodness and light itself, that he still desired such a loathsome, evil thing? He was horribly ashamed and so very afraid that the ocean he now stared into would dry up and he couldn’t bear to lose that. It would be worse than losing the Ring and that loss of that was already unbearable. He couldn’t stand to lose both. Gandalf had given him some hope that he could free if he left, but how could he live without Sam? But he would have to. Or confess his shame and hope for some reprieve that way. Either way seemed impossibly hard.

“Oh, Sam!” Frodo cried. He threw himself back into his beloved guardian’s arms while he still could and burst into fresh tears. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, “so sorry.”

Sam held his brother tightly and began to rock him gently. “Hush, love,” he murmured. “Whatever do you have to be sorry for?”

“Everything. I’ve tried so hard to get well, but I can’t. I can’t....I know this isn’t how you would have wanted to spend your life.”

Sam looked into his friend’s eyes with deep compassion. He touched one cheek gently. “You’re wrong, my dear. I am spending my life as I always wanted to. I have my Rose and I have you. It hurts that much that you haven’t healed yet and I know you feel like it’s never going to end, but it will, it will. Listen to your Sam.”

Frodo wanted to so badly to believe that, but...I have to leave. He looked into his friend’s eyes.Oh, my Sam, how am I ever going to be able to do that? But I have to. I don’t have any hope left here.

“I’m so tired, Sam,” he said.

“Then let’s get you to bed. A good rest can do wonders.”

An almost-smile flitted around Frodo’s lips. He was again so glad he had kept the Ring away from Sam. Such purity and simple belief needed to remain unchanged forever. It was one of the things he went on the Quest for. To keep the things and people he had always known and loved safe. “Sleep won’t help,” the Ring-bearer said miserably. “It’s still in me, Sam. There’s no escape.”

But he let himself be led out of the room anyway. Rose stood there in the hallway, but Frodo didn’t seem to notice. Sam looked up at her silently, at the tears that streamed unheeded down her cheeks at seeing her husband’s and friend’s pain, then passed by to Frodo’s bedroom.

He closed the door behind them and got out his brother’s nightshirt from the drawer. “Now you just get into this, my dear, and take a nap. Things always look better when you’ve had a little rest. Do you need any help?”

Frodo took the offered shirt and tried to smile. “No, Sam, thank you. I’ll try to rest, but I don’t know what good it will do.”

The younger hobbit ached to hear such weariness and defeat in his beloved brother’s voice. He bit his lip to keep back the tears he knew were coming, but he didn’t want to cry in front of Frodo. His brother needed him to be strong.

“You need all the rest you can get,” he said in his best ‘I’m not taking no for an answer’ voice. The one Frodo knew better than try to resist, the one that made him love his friend all the more, the one that always made him smile, even when he knew he had no strength to. “I know it’s been hard,” Sam continued, “but you aren’t going to get any better, if you don’t take care of yourself or let me do it for you. Now you just ready and I’ll be right back, all right?”

“All right, Sam,” Frodo said, trying to sound brave, confident and trusting, but managing only to sound exhausted and in despair.

“All right,” Sam repeated and left the room. He met Rose outside the door and held her and they both cried together for all the pain in their friend’s heart and their own. Sam didn’t let go until he felt strengthened enough by his wife’s support to return to his brother. He made some chamomile tea, knocked once and then went back in.

Frodo was obediently in bed, piled under many blankets up to his chin. The Light was softly shining from him and he smiled bravely at his Sam. The gardener smiled back and wondered if his brother was even aware of how brightly he shone even now. The elder hobbit sat up as his guardian offered him his tea.

“What did you mean, dear, that it was still in you?” Sam asked as he watched Frodo slowly sip the drink.

Frodo did not speak for a long time. He stared down into the tea. What had ever prompted him to say those words to his beloved brother? Then he knew. “Perhaps it was an answer to prayer,” he said softly, still not looking up and suddenly a peace covered him like he had only known at many of the darkest times of his life. He took a deep breath, drawing in that peace, instead of the shame and fear that ever gnawed at him. When he expelled the breath, the peace remained with the strength and courage it brought. He felt a little like he had at the Council of Elrond when he had followed the prompting of a Voice inside him and said he would take the Ring. He followed the same prompting to speak now, again despite his fears.

“Gandalf has told me that all Ring-bearers have desired the Ring and it’s not a desire that leaves them while they live,” he began slowly. He dared not look into Sam’s eyes. He could feel his beloved friend’s shock even without doing so and he became very afraid again, certain he had gone too far, that all his fears were justified, but the Light prompted him again and still slowly, he did so. “I have been given one hope or two actually. That perhaps if I confessed that to you or to my cousins, it could be made more bearable. Or if that was something I could not do, I could leave to go over the Sea with the Elves and hope to find some peace that way. Either way seemed impossible as I was horribly ashamed of my longing and terribly afraid of losing you and Merry and Pippin. I thought I would either way and...”

“...that is what has been tearing you apart all this time,” Sam said softly, not even aware that he was interrupting.  “Oh, my Frodo. I’m so sorry, I’m so very sorry.”

Frodo lifted his eyes to Sam and saw tears streaming down those dear cheeks and so much love and sorrow and compassion in those beloved eyes, he began to cry too. “But you don’t have to hold on to it anymore,” the gardener said. “You can’t if you are already holding onto something else.” He held out his hands to his brother. “You have a choice, you can hold it or you could hold my hands. Which would you like?”

Frodo let down his tea mug on the night table and clasped both of Sam’s hands tightly. The gardener held onto them firmly and smiled and Frodo returned it.. Peace filled the Ring-bearer anew. Would it be possible? Would it truly be possible? He began to cry even harder. There had been no judgement in his Sam’s voice or eyes, only overwhelming love and sorrow for his pain. He realized that his fear was just another trick and manipulation of the Ring and he felt violated anew by such misuse of his heart.

Sam let go for a moment. The Ring taunted Frodo that his guardian’s love could not be still genuine and the tortured hobbit began to believe that, but then the gardener spoke again. “Lay you down, dear, and sleep and I’ll still be here, holding onto you. I’ll hold on as long as you need.”

Frodo smiled and did as he was told. The need was still there, but he felt so much lightened, as though perhaps the burden could be bearable, if he always had his Sam helping him carry it. “Thank you, Sam, for everything. I was so afraid...”

Sam brought the covers up to his chin, kissed his head, then sat down and took both of his brother’s hands again. Frodo closed his eyes, trustful as a child that nothing could harm him as long as his hand was held, as Sam began to sing.

“My treasure, my dear one,

I’ll love you forever,

Naught you could say, naught you could do

Could break the love binding

Our hearts together;

For I will forever love you.”

Frodo cried softly, being so moved that Sam’s love had never faltered. He felt his beloved guardian’s hand gently wipe away his tears as the song continued.

“O slumber in peace now,

Forget all your sorrow,

Lay down all your burdens till dawning of day

Though night surrounds us,

Soon comes a fair morrow,

To drive fear and shadows away.

“My treasure, my dear one,

I’ll love you forever,

Naught you could say, naught you could do

Could break the love binding

Our hearts together;

For I will forever love you.”

Just as he fell asleep, he thought of another one who had always loved him. He remembered one night in particular after a especially harrowing dream, undoubtedly induced by his begging to hear one more of his uncle’s adventures before going to sleep, that he had cried out in terror and Bilbo had come running into his room, holding an oil lamp aloft. Frodo had not even been a tween then and had been accorded the very special privilege of staying a few nights with his uncle while his parents had been away visiting a sick cousin. After staying up far too late, he had had the vague memory of being carried into one of the spare bedrooms and kissed softly on the forehead goodnight. It was not long after that the nightmare had begun and when an anxious Bilbo arrived, Frodo gave him a fearful report.

“Goblins, Uncle,” he squeaked out, clutching the covers tight against his small body. “With giant red eyes. I saw them! Could you scare them away? Please? They aren’t paying any attention to me.”

“Hmmm,” Bilbo said. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

He handed his trembling nephew his lamp to hold up high while he conducted his search. The child sat in the very center of the bed, legs tucked up under him to present the goblins the smallest and hardest target to reach. The light bobbed and wove unsteadily in his shaking hands, throwing wild shadows on the wall that would have been just as frightening if he hadn’t been watching his uncle make a most through search under the bed, behind the door, inside the closet, under the window and anywhere else he could think of to search.

“Nothing there,” Bilbo reported each time in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

When he was done, he sat down on the edge of the bed and took his nephew’s hand. “I don’t see anything, Frodo, my lad. Maybe your shout scared them away.”

Frodo clutched his uncle’s hand tightly, almost enough to hurt, but Bilbo let him hold it seeing the fear still so strong in those beautiful eyes. “You forgot the hallway.”

“Oh, of course, how silly of me.”

He began to get up. Frodo let go of his hand only reluctantly. “Don’t forget the light, Uncle,” he said, holding out the lamp to Bilbo.

Bilbo stood at the threshold and swept the hall with the light. “I don’t see anything here either, my boy. I think you really did frighten them all away.”

Frodo nearly collapsed with relief, not truly believing it until his uncle had sat down again next to him and took up his hand and held it until he feel asleep again. Then he knew he was safe.

Just as he knew he was with his Sam and his other Guardian that stood over him, sheltering him. This time he heard the “Sleep well, dear. I love you,” deep within his heart, said without words, as well as its spoken echoes, both from Sam and Bilbo’s treasured, sorely missed voice, and took all three down into sleep with him, a smile on his lips.

Sam watched that smile for a long time, storing it in his memory. He thought of a time himself when as a child he had stayed overnight at Bag End and had woken frightened from a nightmare and Frodo had come and conducted much the same search Bilbo had when Frodo had been Sam’s age. Frodo had held the lamp up above him as he reported the same negative results Bilbo had and then when the nine-year-old needed more reassuring that all was well, Frodo had sat on the edge of the bed, taken Sam into his arms and told him all the jokes he had ever heard until the child was laughing so hard he forgot to be afraid. Neither were aware of Bilbo standing in the hallway, smiling. When Sam was relaxed enough to go back to sleep, Frodo had hugged him and kissed his head and wished him a good night before leaving again. Now their positions were reversed and Sam was glad that love had once again been enough to push away fears.

A/N: Frodo’s prayer is adapted from two from St. Thomas Aquinas. It first appeared in “One Heart...” As did that lovely lullaby of Queen Galadriel’s.

Chapter Thirteen: The Thirteenth

The longing did not leave Frodo and the gardener and Ring-bearer both grieved at that, but it had not changed their relationship. If anything, Sam was even more concerned and protective and over the next couple months, he always knew when his brother needed some release from the pain. Without speaking, he would make sure Frodo was bundled up enough, then take him by the hand out into an isolated part of Hobbiton and hold him as Frodo screamed, then bury his sobs in his brother’s chest. Sam would cry himself during those times, though he hoped they went unheard. He would sing softly and then when the elder hobbit was calm again enough, they’d return home. Neither of them said anything to Rose, though she saw enough in the pain and sorrow in both their eyes to know that even now, so long after their return, there was still so much torment for her friend.

Sam came into the parlor late one night to find Frodo staring into space, the book he was writing open in front of him, but he wasn’t writing. “Time to get to bed, dear,” Sam said quietly.

Frodo didn’t look up. “I’m going to stay here a while longer, Sam,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight anyway. Tomorrow’s the....”

“Thirteenth,” Sam finished for him. “Precisely the reason you do need sleep. If you have another spell, you are going to need your strength to get through it. I’ve seen you too many times recently staying up so late, you fall asleep right here and what do you think you are doing, reading that so late!”

Frodo smiled slightly. “You never said I couldn’t read after lunch, dearest heart, just that I couldn’t write.”

Sam pursed his lips. If his brother wanted to be stubborn, he should have remembered that his Sam could be just as stubborn if not more so. “Well, I’m not going to stand for that tonight. Now are you going to come with me peaceably or am I going to have to carry you out?”

Frodo was amused and touched by Sam’s firm tone. Here was the mildest, gentlest, most loving of hobbits, standing with feet firmly planted, arms crossed and face set in an expression that wasn’t going to brook any argument. Frodo knew better than to try any harder so merely smiled. “I think to preserve my dignity I’ll go with you peaceably,” he said.

“Good.”

Sam took his brother gently by the arm. Frodo allowed himself to be led to his bedroom, the soft smile still on his face. Sam spoiled him terribly and he was determined to enjoy it.

“Now, you get yourself ready for bed,” the gardener said, “and I’ll go get your tea. No doubling back into the parlor either while I’m gone neither. I want to see you in bed by the time I’m back.”

Frodo’s smile widened as he looked at his beloved guardian. “Yes, Sam.”

When Sam returned, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Frodo had obediently gotten into his nightshirt and was sitting up in bed, piled under many covers. He accepted the mug Sam handed him with thanks as the younger hobbit moved the nightstand closer to the bed so Frodo could put the cup down whenever he wished. When Sam was younger, before the Ring had so changed his brother, he remembered that there always used to be several books stacked on that stand, adventures stories that Bilbo had told or given, stories that Frodo himself had written as a child and tween, when his head was full of the grand stories his uncle told and Frodo and Sam dreamed of adventures of their own. Sam was one of the very few Frodo had ever shared the stories he wrote. The younger hobbit had even helped write some of them and a few of the drawings he had made were in there as well. Sam sometimes wondered what happened to those stories. He hadn’t seen his brother reading anything since his return and that hurt him deeply that another thing so essential, so definitive of Frodo, was missing.

Frodo took the steaming mug from his friend’s hands and wrapped his cold hands around it. It was still almost too hot to sip, but he wished he could drink it all down right away to counter the cold that was always with him.

Sam took a seat next to the bed. “Just wait for it to cool a little and then you’ll have a better night once you’ve drunk it. I can stay with you if you’d like.”

Yes, Frodo thought, stay forever, don’t ever leave. Sam looked nearly as cheerful and filled with light as he always had and for that Frodo was very glad. The Quest had left little mark on him, but for the worry for Frodo that never really left his eyes, but was overwhelmed by the love and compassion that streamed from there. Frodo dearly wished he could have recovered so easily, but his journey had been so different than Sam’s. He could already sense the demons of the thirteenth lurking in the shadows. They wouldn’t approach while Sam was near, but they would pounce the moment he left and when they did, not even Sam would be able to beat them back until they disappeared the next night. He didn’t want to think of that now so instead looked at his friend tenderly. “Do you have any idea how much I love you, Sam?” he wondered.

The gardener smiled at his brother. “I have a pretty good idea. I’ve seen it every day in one way or another since I was a child. It’s not something you can keep inside you, you know, but I love you more.”

“How do you know that? I love you a great deal, Sam. It started when I met you.”

"But mine has been growing since even before I met you. Mr. Bilbo was always talking about you. I don’t think I ever knew him to be so excited the day he told me that you’d be coming to stay with him. I already knew I loved you and that was confirmed the moment I saw you, arriving at your new home with that terrible cold on your birthday. I felt so bad for you.”

Frodo smiled at the memory, then take an experimental sip of tea, feeling the warmth goes all away, even into the coldest parts of his soul when the pain and longing for the Ring still lingered, or maybe it was the warmth of the memories that reached there

“You helped me so much even then, Sam,” he said. “You have always watched out for me. I can never thank you enough for that.” Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Frodo held up his finger. “I know how much you don’t like being thanked, but you have to understand how much I need to do it anyway.”

Sam sighed, but accepted it. “My mum was always so pleased with how polite and courteous you were. ‘A perfect little gentlehobbit,’ she called you whenever you came to call, either to drop something off or return something she had lent or to ask if I could come for a walk with you. I’d come running out to you before her ‘yes’ was half-out her mouth and you and she would laugh and you’d hug me and take my hand and we’d be gone the whole day, you matching your steps and pace to mine, not at all minding being with someone so young when there were others of your own age. I dare say my mother was glad that she didn’t have to look after me for a spell.”

Frodo smiled as he took another sip of tea. “She was always very kind to me.”

Sam stared at that smile and thought if happier memories caused it, he would think up all he could. “Remember all the stories you’d read me from Mr. Bilbo’s books or poems you had made up yourself? Or when you’d sit back against your favorite tree with that lovely smile of yours on your face, eyes closed, listening to me read to you? Or after you had taught me how to write, I read you my own poems?”

Frodo smiled wider and then drank more of his tea. “I remember all that and much more. Which is why I think I love you more, at least I did, before you began to spoil me even more on the Quest and now.”

Sam let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not going to argue with you about it, me dear. I love you more and that’s that. You’re just going to have to accept it. Now say, ‘Yes, Sam.’”

Frodo tried very hard to look appropriately cowed, but he couldn’t help smiling widely. “Yes, Sam.”

Frodo smiled even more at Sam’s victorious grin. He put down his finished tea, leaned over to kiss Sam’s cheek, then put his arms around his waist and laid his head against his friend’s chest where he could hear his brother’s heartbeat. “You are so good to me, Sam,” he said quietly. “Thank you for taking such care of me.”

Sam kissed his head in return and held him close, rocking him gently as he continued to search through his memories. “Do you know I never shared those poems I wrote with anyone else?”

“Then I am very privileged. And I am sorry the rest of the world never heard them. They were very good. I’ve kept them all. Perhaps your children would like to read them one day.”

Sam blushed. “I don’t know how good they were. Yours were always so much better.”

“I wish for those days again, Sam,” he said thoughtfully.

“They were grand fun, weren’t they? When we weren’t reading, we’d race each other all over the Shire and you would always let me win.”

Frodo raised his head and an eyebrow. “Let you win? My dear Sam, I discovered much to my chagrin that the older I got, the slower I got and the older you got, the faster you got. Maybe in the beginning, I let you win, but you won a lot of those races fair and square, even when I was running full out.”

Sam grinned. His heart danced to see his beloved brother in such spirits. It was so rare these days. If remembering times gone by helps him, I’m going to talk myself hoarse every night. “The best part though was the birthday parties and the way you’d slip me an extra piece under the table and put your fingers up to your mouth like it was supposed to be a big secret.”

Frodo laughed and Sam’s heart soared. “But it never was,” the elder hobbit said, “because we could never keep from giggling and giving it all away. Oh, Sam, thank you so much for these memories. I loved all those times with you. It’s strange that you could be lonely in such a big place as Brandy Hall, but I was much of the time. I never was though, with just one person. Being with just Bilbo or just you or my cousins has always been my favorite part of my life instead of just being one of many, barely noticed in a Hall big enough to be a small town, instead of a home. Bag End was always much more my size where I could be more spoiled and looked after.” Frodo paused. “Terribly selfish of me, I suppose.”

Sam looked at his brother, not sure if Frodo was teasing him or not, then Frodo smiled and it reached his eyes and Sam knew there was nothing more beautiful to see than that. He had always thought so. He stared at it fascinated, wanting to capture it in his arms and his heart and never let it go.

“I think I will sleep much better tonight,” Frodo pronounced. “You don’t have to stay, Sam, really. I promise I’ll behave myself.”

Sam looked at his beloved brother and his corners of his mouth twitched in a quirky little smile. “Begging your pardon, dear, but I don’t trust you. I think I’ll stay until I know you are really asleep. There’s nothing for it. You are just going to have to put with me. And don’t try faking to be asleep just so I leave. I’ve watched you often enough to know when you are truly sleeping.”

Frodo smiled again and laid his head back on Sam’s chest.. The tea and companionship warmed him and for the first time that day, he didn’t feel so cold. He truly was terribly spoiled by his Sam and he continued in his resolution to savor every last moment of it.

“Well, good night then, Sam,” he said and closed his eyes. Sam continued to rock him and soon after listening to a cherished heartbeat and softly sung lullaby Frodo fell asleep.

Sam laid his brother down in the bed, brought the covers up to his chin, then he leaned down to kiss Frodo’s brow. “Good night, dear. Sleep well. I love you.” He stayed a while longer, just watching, then sought out his own bed, hoping against hope that the thirteenth would dawn and it would be like any other day, that at least that part of the aftermath of the Quest would be conquered. But he left the door open to Frodo’s room and his own and knew he would only doze lightly that night, just in case, he was needed.

* * *

Darkness deepened around Frodo, drawing him in, choking him. He had entered the spider’s lair fearfully but trustingly. He had forgiven the betrayal that followed, but the terror he had felt while there consumed him once more. He thrashed in his sleep, tangling himself in his covers, moaning as he sought to escape the gargantuan spider that followed so closely behind him. The sticky threads of the web wrapped around his hands and legs and mouth. He was bound. He could barely move and still it came. He would not escape this time. He thrashed all the more, tangling himself ever more. He saw the spider, but he couldn’t move. It dropped down in front of him and impaled him with its stinger. He gasped in pain as he felt the poison spreading through him once more, then he couldn’t even do that, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. But he could hear. He hear Sam come to him, hear him cry out his challenge to the beast and then his terrible fears that Frodo was dead. He wanted nothing more than to reassure his friend, but he could not and that hurt more than anything to hear Sam’s sobs and not be able to comfort him.

In his delirium, he woke in the dark tower, conscious but almost too weak to move. The orcs surrounded him again, their ungentle hands stripping him and binding his hands and feet so he couldn’t defend himself from their blows that rained down on his head, face, chest, back, everywhere. He could only cry out, tears streaming down his cheeks, burning him as they fell into cuts the orcs carved into him from sheer malice. They were looking for the Ring, Frodo knew, and part of him desperately wanted to give it to them just so they would stop beating him.

But most of him knew it was already gone and he cried from that failure to keep it safe.

Sam entered the room, hearing his brother’s cries. Frodo’s hands were raised over his head, held wrist to wrist as though they were bound, trying to block the blows that rained down on him in his mind. He was curled around himself, trying to present the smallest target possible. Tears streamed down Sam’s cheeks as he watched. It hurt him so to see his beloved friend still so tortured by the torment of the past. He didn’t even want to imagine what his brother had had to endure before he had come to rescue him. But it hurt even more that Frodo was probably not even aware that he was there, that he wasn’t alone as he had been then. Sam didn’t move, though, he knew from sad experience Frodo couldn’t be approached yet while he was still thrashing around. Three blankets had dropped to the floor, leaving the stricken hobbit tangled in just a sheet. Sam picked up the blankets and put them back on the end of the bed. He moved the nightstand away so Frodo couldn’t hurt himself if he hit it. As he watched Frodo threw his head back and Sam sucked in a breath, afraid that his brother would hit his head against the headboard, but Frodo fell against pillows. The gardener let out a loud sigh and approached the bed. He didn’t know whether his brother could hear him, but he started talking, hoping it would help.

“I’m here, me dear,” he said quietly, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. “I want nothing more than to hold you to let you know that, but I have wait until you calm. Remember what happened last time when I did it too soon and you thought I was an Orc and you struggled so bad, you hit your head and gave me such a terrible fright when I couldn’t wake you right away. I’m not going to risk that again. But as soon as I can hold you, I will and I’m not going to let you go.”

Frodo heard the orcs talk to him but he could not understand them and they beat him even worse because he didn’t respond. They forced his mouth open and with filthy fingers groped around. Frodo gagged and would have spit had he any saliva left.

“Wat...” he croaked.

Sam left for a moment, then returned with a cup of water. When he raised it to Frodo’s lips, the dazed hobbit saw only the orc who had stood over him in the tower and laughed as he poured a much fouler liquid in. As soon as it had passed his lips, Frodo tried to close his mouth and turn his head away, but his jaw was held firmly open and his head in place by another laughing orc. He coughed and gagged, trying not to let any of the terrible liquid go down his throat. Some of it did though, burning as it went. He retched and the remains of Rosie’s delicious dinner came up, soiling his nightshirt and blankets.

Sam jumped back slightly. “Now, what did you do that for, dear?” he chided gently. “I thought you wanted a drink.”

He reached for the chamber pot under the bed and held it close in case anything more came up. A little bile did and Sam held the pot under his brother’s chin and caught it, then wiped at the edges of Frodo’s mouth and chin to clear off the last. The tormented Ring-bearer lay back in a tight curled ball, shivering. Sam put aside the pot and stripped the soiled bedding, for the moment putting it on the floor to be cleaned later. He set out clean sheets and blankets at the base of the bed, then got out another nightshirt and approached his brother again.

Frodo remained in a ball, his arms tight against his chest, his fists curled his shirt, his eyes open and staring into what horrors, Sam did not even want to contemplate. Blinking away tears, he reached for his beloved friend’s arms to pull them away so he could change his soiled night wear. Frodo resisted, his eyes widening in horror. He tried to twist away, holding his arms even tighter against himself. “No!” he cried out.

Sam held back for a moment. “I know what you’re thinking I’m trying to do,” he said with a hitch in his voice. “And I can’t stand that I am causing you more pain, but you need to be clean, dear. You can’t go laying around in your own waste. That’s not going to help you.”

He tried again. Frodo continued to stubbornly resist. Sam at first gently, then more forcefully pulled his brother’s arms away so he could remove the shirt. When it was finally done and tears were in both their eyes, Sam added it to the pile of bedding to clean. Frodo looked at him in unseeing horror, then reverted back into the defensive ball, shivering even harder.

Sam brought the clean shirt and anticipated the same battle. “I’m so sorry, dear,” he said with tears in his voice. “Just one more thing. I need to get you into this new shirt. You don’t want to catch a chill. Maybe you will recognize it’s me and not some orc. What one of them would do this?”

It was nearly enough to break Sam’s heart how much Frodo struggled, so caught in his delirium, that he did not understand what his friend was trying to do. He resisted even stronger as Sam once again had to pry his brother’s arms away from his chest and put them through the sleeves of the shirt. Frodo seemed quite confused at that, but settled down when it was through.

“There now, my dear,” Sam said softly, bringing up the clean bedding to Frodo’s throat, to try to still the tremors that shook his brother. “You look - and smell - much better.” He reached up to stroke Frodo’s forehead. The elder hobbit flinched at the touch and Sam winced. He continued to stroke though and Frodo eventually calmed. “I’m so sorry that you have to go through this. It’s not fair, but I’m here. I’m here. Just let it pass. You know it will.” He began to sing as he continued to stroke.

“Softly are the shadows creeping,

All around us night is deep.

But lie you still now, hush your weeping,

Sleep, my loved one, sleep.

“Night has fallen, day is dying,

The sun has set in the west.

Close your eyes and cease your crying,

Rest, my loved one, rest.

“Slumber now until the morning,

Sleep and may your dreams be blest.

I'll be here till day is dawning.

Rest, my loved one, rest.

“All the long night I'll be near ye,

Ever wakeful, watch to keep.

Rest and have no fear, my dearling,

Sleep, my loved one, sleep.”

Frodo didn’t hear him. He was thrown aside by the orcs and cried out when his head struck a wall. It hurt a moment, then consciousness fled and he could only be grateful. He passed the rest of the night in and out of dark dreams, pummeled awake every hour for apparently no reason but that the orcs didn’t find what they were looking for and were none too happy about it. During those brutal sessions and the pain that surrounded him, Frodo clung to what sanity he had left, trying to keep one part of his mind safe and secure, that no one but he could reach, that he could escape to, but it was so hard.

The dawn came outside Frodo’s window but inside he writhed in the darkness of his mind. Rose stood at the threshold of his bedroom and Sam looked at her tear-streaked face. Wordlessly, she picked up the soiled bedding and clothing and Sam smiled, kissed her quickly on the check in gratitude, wiped at her tears, then turned his face back to Frodo’s, his own tears falling.

“Sam,” Frodo whimpered, laying still as the orcs left him again.

“I’m here, dear, I’m here,” came a very distant voice, a dream-voice, no more. But he held onto it, tried to follow it.

Arms encircled him then and he wanted to fight, but he had no strength left. Slowly he became aware of another heart beating besides his own pounding one. A gentle, steady beat that had always soothed him in the past. And he smelled the soft, fresh earth of the Shire instead of the filth and decay of the orcs.

“It’s going to be all right, me Frodo, it’s going to be all right,” Sam murmured over and over again, trying to break through, trying to believe it himself. He never knew what had happened to his brother that terrible day they were separated, but he would never forget the look in Frodo’s eyes and would have given his life to have his friend spared from it, not just once, but twice, and now each year as if it were happening all over again.

“Sam?” Frodo croaked. He opened his eyes, but had trouble focusing. “You’ve come...”

“Yes, my dear, I’m here. Your Sam is here.”

Frodo sighed in relief and closed his eyes. Sam stroked his brow and prayed that his beloved brother would find sleep and this spell would pass sooner than the year before, but suddenly Frodo stiffened and opened his eyes again. The wild, terrified look had returned and he began to tremble again. “They’re coming back, Sam. I’m so afraid. Please, Sam, don’t let them hurt me again.”

Sam tightened his hold on his beloved brother and kissed his head. “Shhhh, dear, shhhh. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here. I’m not going to leave you. Just lay still and let your Sam take care of you.”

But Frodo remained lost in his foul dream. At times he would cry out and try to shield himself from the blows that were all too real in his mind. “Sam! They’re hurting me! You said you’d help me. Where are you?!”

Sam held onto his brother tighter as Frodo grew increasingly frantic. “I’m right here, dear,” he said softly. “I’m holding you. Can’t you feel me?”

Frodo opened his eyes, but Sam knew they didn’t see anything but the horror of those hours in the tower. “No, Sam, no I can’t! An orc is holding me down. I can’t see you. Where are you?!”

“It’s no orc holding you. It’s me. It’s your Sam.”

“No!” Frodo cried and began to thrash in his panic. “Let me go! Let me go!”

Afraid that his brother would hurt himself in his thrashings, Sam reluctantly let go, his heart breaking a little more when he realized that Frodo had no idea he was there anymore. Frodo calmed some then until he ducked his head to avoid another blow and his whole body spasmed as the imagined, but all too real, attack came down on him. He had to hold on until Sam came, he told himself. Sam would rescue him. But then he remembered. He had sent Sam away. His friend would not be coming. Despair finally crashed down on Frodo and he began to cry again.

“Sam...” he whimpered and his whole body shook with the force of his sobs.

The twin to those tears coursed down Sam’s cheeks as well as he watched his brother. Rose came with a small meal and Sam looked at her. She cried with him and held him for a bit, then left, knowing she could do nothing more than him. She left the meal on the dresser, but knew it would probably not be touched.

Sam looked back at his brother and wondered how he could reach him again, then so slowly, tremulously at first due to his voice being choked by tears, he began to sing the same song he had sung the two times he had searched for Frodo in the tower. Slowly, the Ring-bearer calmed and softly, so softly at first, Sam wasn’t even sure he was actually hearing it, he heard his brother respond to him, his voice also raised in the same song. And that caused Sam to cry even more and attempt to embrace his beloved friend once more. Frodo did not fight him this time. He opened his eyes.

“Sam?” he breathed in wonder and relief. “You’ve finally come.”

More tears pricked at Sam’s eyes but he smiled bravely. “Yes, my dear, I’ve finally come.”

“Don’t leave me,” Frodo begged. “I don’t want to ever be alone again.”

Sam stroked his cheek. “You won’t ever be. I’ll always be with you.”

When the orcs came back again, Sam did not let go, but held and rocked his brother and sang to him, his voice lifting above the grunts of the orcs in Frodo’s mind.

“All the land in darkness deep now lies,

Moon and Sun are hidden from your eyes,

But though all round about us shadows loom,

The world is still fair beyond the gloom.

“In distant lands where still the day is fair,

The rivers run, the flowers die not there.

The sun yet shines to keep away the night,

And in the evening sky, the stars are bright.

“It may be long ere this dark night is past,

It may be long ere morning comes at last;

It may be long ere the shadows fade away,

But always after darkness comes the day.

“O rest ye now, be not afraid.

The night will end and shadows fade.

I will be with you while you sleep,

Till morning comes my watch to keep.

“Do not let go of hope, for hope remains.

The sun shines ever clearer after the rain,

And so when these dark clouds are gone away,

You’ll rise to greet a glorious fair new day.”

Sam kissed his brother’s head and rocked him gently as Frodo moaned and wept in his foul dream.

“Lie you still, safe in my arms, my dear.

Close your weary eyes and do not fear.

Rest your weary head and do not weep.

I am here to guard you while you sleep.

“Slumber now in peace, O brother mine,

Dream of lands where the sun forever shines.

Rest in quiet now, close to my heart.

And while I live I’ll never from you part.

“O hush ye now, my dear, be not afraid.

Till moon shall wax and sun and stars shall fade,

Until this earth is lost beneath the sea,

I will be with you and you with me.”

Frodo struggled to concentrate all his will on listening to that pure, soft voice when it seemed the orcs would overwhelm him again. He concentrated all the harder, holding tighter to his brother when those beasts tried to pry them apart. Sometimes it was nearly impossible to hear and to hold on and those times he feared so much that his Sam had left him again. But that beloved voice, though at times very faint, was always there and Frodo strained to follow it and to believe what it said.

“Sleep now, my dear one, held safe in my arms;

While I am by you, you need fear no harm.

Sleep, my beloved, until break of day,

And all through the night by your side I will stay.

“Fear not the shadows that round us now close.

Hush now and rest, for ’tis time for repose.

Sleep now, my dear one, till dawning of day,

When shadows and darkness will be gone away.

“Sleep now, my treasure, my bright shining star.

My love shall be with you, wherever you are;

And if we are parted, then know this, my dear,

In thought and in spirit, to you I’ll ever be near.”

Sam kept singing even after he thought he could no more.  He wanted to give his brother something else to focus on if he could other than the terrors that assailed him.

“Sleep now,

And fear not the darkness.

There's nothing can harm you,

Let go all your fear.

"Sleep now,

Rest safe till the morning,

And when you awaken, I'll be here.

“Sleep now,

And know I'll be with you

To hold and protect you

Whatever befall.

Sleep now,

For I'll e'er be nigh you

To hear you and answer when you call.

“Sleep now,

May no shadow touch you.

O close now your eyes, dear,

Lay down all your care.

Sleep now,

And know I'll be by you,

Your every joy and woe to share.

“Sleep now,

For I will not leave you.

All through the long night

Beside you I'll stay.

Sleep now,

And know that I'll love you,

Keep and defend you all my days.

“Sleep now,

My joy, my beloved,

And know that I'll never

From you depart.

"Sleep now,

And know that whatever

This life may hold, you'll be in my heart.”

When Frodo opened his eyes again hours later, they were clearer. Horrors that Sam did not even want to guess at receded back into the black depths they had come from. “Sam?”

“Welcome back, my dear,” Sam smiled through his tears.

“Is it over?”

“Yes. You’re back in your own bed.”

Frodo sagged against his brother. “I’m so tired.”

“Then sleep now. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Have you been here the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know, not all the time. I’m so sorry. It must have been horrible for you, but I heard you sing all those wonderful songs.  Thank you.  They were the only things that kept me from going completely mad. How many more times is this going to happen, Sam?”

“I don’t know, dear.”

“But you’ll be with me?”

Sam held his brother tighter and kissed his head. “I will always be with you.”

Frodo relaxed. “I know you will be, even if...even if...” He didn’t finish and Sam feared for what he didn’t say. He looked into his beloved guardian’s eyes. “It’ll be all right, Sam, no matter what happens. It’ll be all right.” He closed his eyes then and slept peacefully until the next morning, safe in his brother’s arms.

A/N: A bumper crop of loving lullabies by the queen! :)

Chapter Fourteen: The Decision is Made

When Rosie announced that summer she was pregnant again, Frodo and Sam celebrated that moment, but still the sadness remained shrouded around the Ring-bearer and Sam wished more than ever as the seasons began to change that he could do something to truly heal his brother. He noticed that Frodo’s hand often reached, almost involuntarily, up to his neck before lowering again and hoping Sam hadn’t noticed. The gardener was very glad to see Gandalf come again.

"There has to be something that can be done," the young hobbit pleaded.

Gandalf looked thoughtfully at Frodo’s back. The Ring-bearer was sitting at his desk with the open book, then he closed it and stared off into space. "There is one thing that can help him," the wizard said. He had been hoping for it wouldn’t come to that for Sam’s sake whose face brightened with hope so soon to be crushed, but Gandalf knew though that even as Sam’s heart broke, it was so full of love for Frodo, that the hope that died would be reborn into joy that his brother’s pain would be over, even if his own would continue for some time more.

"If you don’t mind, Sam, I’d like to have a word with him alone." He said it as gently and innocently as he could, but something made Sam nervous, though he didn’t say anything.

"Of course, Mr. Gandalf," he said, bowed slightly and left the room.

Gandalf waited until he heard the door close behind Sam, then he approached that hobbit’s - and his own - dearest friend. "Frodo," he said softly, placing a hand on Frodo’s shoulder.

Frodo looked up at him. "Gandalf," he said and there was great weariness but also relief in that voice.

"Do you want to go walking, my friend?" the wizard asked.

"Yes, that would be good. I need to get away."

The Maia ached for the layers of meaning in those last words. Frodo looked at him and received the compassion and love and understanding in those eyes like a balm to his still battered soul. He took the hand Gandalf offered and they left with a promise to Sam to return soon. The gardener watched the two leave sadly, but still with some hope left in his heart.

"How have you been, Frodo?"

The Ring-bearer stared down at the ground, feet shuffling instead of actually walking. "Sometimes it gets a little better and I can taste joy again, but then it all disappears and I don’t know if I am much farther along the road to being well than I was before. I can’t go on like this, Gandalf. I just can’t. It’s wearying me beyond anything I feel I can bear much longer. But I did what you said.  I’ve learned to scream and cry with Sam. I even told him about the Ring. "

The wizard looked at his friend. "And?"

A faint smile flickered around Frodo's lips. "And it was like you said it would be. It’s helped a little. He forgave me without a thought and I think we are actually closer now than ever, if that’s possible."

The wizard smiled.  They walked a little further along in silence, then,  "I’ve been blessed, Gandalf," Frodo said softly.  "I’ve been so blessed, by Iluvatar’s gifts to me and not just by having Sam with me always. They are what’s held me together this long, what gave me the strength to confess my need, but I want to feel something more than just this terrible longing, hear something else than the Ring’s voice. I do, of course, but it’s always there. I hate it so much that..." Frodo paused and squeezed his friend’s hand tighter for strength and solace. "Sometimes I want to tear into myself as though somehow I could remove it that way," he finished in a much quieter voice.

"That would not help you," the wizard said, concerned that Frodo’s condition had deteriorated that far.

"I know. But it’s so hard sometimes not to do something. Then Sam will come and hold me and while he does, it’s all bearable again. I wish I could be held forever."

"You are, dear one, and not just by Sam."

"I know and I am so grateful for that. I’d go mad if I didn’t have that to hide in when the pain is the worst." Frodo looked up at his beloved friend. "If I did decide to go West, would He be there with me?"

The Maia smiled. "Of course, my boy. He will not abandon you. He wants to heal you."

"I don’t think that can be done here." Frodo looked up beseechingly at his dear friend, tears bright in his eyes. "Oh, Gandalf, what should I do?" He looked away again, continuing on, thinking out loud. "Every time I think I can’t live like this, Iluvatar will come to bless me and I will find new strength to go on, but for how much longer can I keep doing this? I want to live again with no illnesses, no longing and I don’t think that is possible here anymore. The illnesses are just getting worse and even with Sam helping me with the desire, it won’t go away and I don’t think it ever will. I want to stay and I want to leave. But I don’t want to leave Sam or my cousins. He has been so very, very good to me. You have no idea how good. He’s made so many, many sacrifices for me to ease my pain and I know he thinks he’s not doing enough which is ridiculous. How can I just leave that?" He looked back up at the wizard. "How can I live without him?"

Gandalf looked at his beloved friend compassionately. "You will not be living without him. He will always be with you in your heart where ever you go. Both ways remain open to you, Frodo, but only you can make the decision to leave or stay. There are ways to live with chronic pain, but you have been given an almost unheard-of boon to help relieve that, if you choose that. Either path will require sacrifice on your part and on that of those you love most."

Frodo looked away again as they continued walking. "Why must I keep sacrificing, though? Why wasn’t all I did already enough? Why does Sam have to keep sacrificing also?"

"The life of any child of Eru is sacrifice, Frodo. Sometimes it is very hard, sometimes it is very easy. You know that very well already as you were willing to give up everything to save those you loved. And now you may have to give up more to save yourself. Sam was and is willing to endure anything for you. Your cousins also. Iluvatar will not have that go unrewarded. They will have peace if you do. You need to choose the path you think will be best to achieve that."

"I haven’t been able to yet. One part of me keeps thinking it’s very selfish of me to want to leave, to abandon Sam after all he’s done for me. But another part wants to be even more selfish and leave and take him with me, making him abandon his wife and children. I would never do that, but how I want to sometimes!"

"The first is not selfish, Frodo, but it’s good you recognize the second is. You need not fear that you will be separated from him forever though. He will join you when he can, when his time to leave comes, if that is the path you choose. His heart has ever been intertwined with yours just as it has been with Rose. Listen to your soul for direction, Frodo. I know the voice of the Ring is not the only Voice you hear."

"No. I’d truly be mad if it was and I thank Eru everyday that I can hear His also, but the Ring is so loud, Gandalf, so very loud at times. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on."

The Maia’s squeezed the tormented Ring-bearer’s hand. "Let Iluvatar guide you. He will not leave you without the support and love you need. The ship will be ready by your birthday, if that is what you choose. Aragorn will be there also."

Frodo looked up in surprise. "But he can’t leave!"

"He’s not. He’s accompanying Arwen there when she bids farewell to her father."

"I’d like to see him again," the hobbit said softly. "Another one I love that I would be leaving behind. Oh, Gandalf, how can I do it?!" he cried, then more softly, "But how can I not? Either choice seems evil."

"That it is one thing it is not, my dear boy. Your friends want you to heal. If that means a temporary separation, they will grieve as you will, but that doesn’t mean they won’t support you in it. You will go with their love."

"And their tears." He shook his head. "What a terrible birthday present I’d be giving them. I think I will go mad trying to decide."

"Then be silent and perhaps you will discover that you’ve already made the decision and you just need to accept it, whatever it may be."

"Perhaps."

Frodo did listen to the silence that night. He stood at his bedroom window and listened to the nightbirds as well, the sound of the wind through the trees, looked at the stars and the moonlight, smelled the air and the grass, touched the flowers that Sam had set out for him in a vase on the table near his window. He left his room then and padded noiselessly to where his Sam slept, arm around Rose and their unborn child. His brother was softly snoring and Frodo smiled as he watched him for a very long time. The child would be named after him if they were blessed with a lad or if the blessing came in the form of another lass, Frodo wondered what her name would be. His fond gaze traveled to Elanor asleep in her own little bed, then after a long while, he returned to his own bed.

Gandalf was right, he thought as he closed his eyes.  The decision had long been made. He slept more easily that night, though tears covered his pillow.

Chapter Fifteen: Meant to Be

“Frodo!” Sam called out. “Watch out!”

Rose startled awake to see her husband scramble out of bed and run down the hall, still crying out. “Frodo! Frodo!”

Frodo sat up abruptly in his bed as Sam rushed in. “The Riders, Frodo, the Riders!”

Still sleep-mazed, Frodo looked at his brother and fear gripped him. He looked around, drawn into Sam’s dream, afraid he would see wraiths reaching out for him. His shoulder and leg ached in sympathy and he had to concentrate hard on remembering that he was in his own bed and the Riders were gone.

He reached out for Sam and took him into his arms. The gardener clutched at him, looking at him blindly. Frodo’s already broken heart broke a little more to see the terror he saw through from the moonlight shining through the window. “I’ve got to get you out of here!” the younger hobbit cried and began to tug at him. “They’re coming! They’re coming!”

Frodo held onto his beloved guardian tighter and resisted Sam’s pull to get him out of bed. “No, my Sam,” he said softly. “You are having a dream, just a bad dream. The Riders are gone. Listen to my voice, dearest. It’s all right now. It’s all right. We’re safe. We’re home. You got me there.”

Rose watched from the threshold as Frodo continued to murmur comforts and reassurances, as the elder hobbit stroked Sam’s curls and rocked him gently while holding him tight. It took a long time for Sam to calm and each moment it did broke Rose’s heart a little more that her husband was still not recovered from all the traumas he and Mr. Frodo had endured. Tears streaked down her cheeks barely noticed as she watched Sam finally wake, then be softly sung back asleep in Frodo’s arms.

“Lie you still, safe in my arms, mell min.

Close your weary eyes and do not fear.

Rest your weary head and do not weep.

I am here to guard you while you sleep.

“Slumber now in peace, gwador nin,

Dream of lands where the sun forever shines.

Rest in quiet now, close to my heart.

There I will keep you, even though we part.”

Rose did not understand the last words. She figured they were some form of Elvish that Frodo liked to sing to Elanor. But they were sang very sadly and she feared their meaning. Then the Ring-bearer raised his eyes to her and Rose nearly gasped at the haunted, sorrowful look there. She wondered anew what had happened to her love and her friend. She had imagined many terrible things, but she knew that she would never have enough imagination to come close to the reality that her Sam and his, their, Mr. Frodo had endured. She didn’t ask anymore what had happened. She knew they would not tell her, but she saw enough in their eyes.

“I’m sorry, Rose,” Frodo said quietly. He looked down at Sam. “He shouldn’t still be burdened with these trails. He shouldn’t have burdened at all.”

“He wouldn’t have been parted from you, Mr. Frodo,” Rose said just as softly.

Frodo placed a kiss on his beloved guardian’s head. “I know. I will always be grateful for that, but I grieve for it as well. We had no idea what was to come, Rose, no idea.”

Rose held her breath. Frodo had spoken in such a haunted voice. She wondered if she would hear something of their terrible journey. It frightened her, but she also very much wanted to hear, to help share the burden.

“It became so dark,” the Ring-bearer continued, almost to himself, as he continued to look down at Sam, “so very dark. He was my light in those places, but I couldn’t be his. He had to be his own and mine. Even now he has to be. I had no idea then how much that was taking from him, how much it’s still taking. We kept waiting for the dawn, but it was so long in coming. For me, it never came. But now, I think I am beginning to see it, on the horizon, rising in the West, beyond the Sea.”

He kissed him Sam’s head again softly and held him tighter. Rose didn’t think he was even aware of her anymore. Oh, my Sam, how can I leave you, when you still suffer because you would not leave me? “Forgive me,” he murmured into those dear curls, then he closed his eyes and tried to sleep once more.

Rose left in tears. It was a long time before she could sleep again.

Gandalf had heard Sam’s cry as well and roused from the one Man-sized bed Bilbo had always kept for his dear friend’s infrequent visits. He held back when he saw Frodo had the situation literally well in hand, but now he approached the sleeping pair, saw the light shining brightly from them both as they drew strength from each other’s presence. The Maia opened his own light a fraction as he placed his hand gently on the two touching heads and murmured a blessing. They slept peacefully on until morning, wrapped in Love and Light.

In the morning, Frodo woke first with Sam still slumbering in his arms, softly snoring. He smiled as he gave a brush to those dear curls and kissed the beloved head before gently untangling himself from the embrace. His brother mumbled in his sleep, then settled back into slumber.

Frodo padded his way silently out the front door, taking a heavy cloak with him to protect himself against the chill of the day just dawning. He was a little surprised to see that he was not alone. Gandalf stood outside the door, near the entrance to the garden and the hobbit watched his friend, entranced by the light that shone nearly blinding bright from the wizard. His arms were outstretched, his eyes raised heavenward and he was softly signing a hymn in Quenya. Frodo barely understand one word in four, but it soothed his soul. Still he turned back though before it was over, because he did not want to intrude.

“Now, Frodo, stay, my boy,” came the wizard’s soft voice as he dropped his arms and the light faded a little from him, held within the mortal flesh once more, though the Ring-bearer as he now approached him, saw that light still a bright, warm fire in his friend’s eyes.

“I’ve decided that to stay is the one thing I cannot do,” he said softly, sadly.

Gandalf looked at his friend with deep compassion and not a little sadness, but relief also. He knelt on the grass and opened his arms. Frodo came into them and buried his head and his new tears in the wizard’s robes. “Have I chosen right, Gandalf? I thought I did, but then Sam had a nightmare last night. How can I leave him when he’s still suffering because he never left me?”

The ancient Maia stroked his dear friend’s curls. “The easiest decisions are not the ones worth making, that really shape us into who are meant to be,” he said softly. “It’s the hard ones, that have us stepping out into a world we know nothing about, that define us. You’ve chosen right, Frodo. Sam will not be abandoned in his suffering. Iluvatar will keep watch over him just as He will you.”

The hobbit raised his eyes hopefully. “Truly?”

Gandalf smiled. “Truly, my dear boy.”

Frodo sighed heavily in relief. “Then I will be able to leave. I don’t want to have another illness here. Merry and Pippin will be here for my birthday and if we leave in time to make it to the Havens by the 5^th, then that’ll give me a few more days with them and Sam.”

“Enjoy the time you have left here. The ship will be ready to leave when you are. Indeed, the 5^th was the time they were also thinking of leaving.”

“Then it was all meant to be this way,” the Ring-bearer said and he sounded relieved.

“Yes, it was all meant to be,” Gandalf said. “Life is sacrifice, but sacrifices beget rewards.”

A/N: Of course, that song is from Galadriel with a little bit of modification of my own.

Chapter Sixteen: The Announcement

The next morning none of them spoke of the night before. Sam was his normal cheerful self, though his eyes were a little more haunted and at the same time more tender as he watched his brother. Frodo watched him as well with a fond smile. To Rose, it seemed as though the master of Bag End was looking at his friend to store each beloved feature into his memory, but she tried to tell herself that was only her imagination. But Frodo looked at her once and nodded and she nodded back in silent understanding and then she knew with sickening certainty her worst fears were coming true. She could barely kept back the tears as she set the breakfast table with Frodo’s help. Neither of them spoke of the secret they now shared between them. Even as her heart broke for Mr. Frodo and more for her Sam, she knew some peace and happiness also that maybe her dear friend would be healed. That hope gave them both the strength to smile for Sam and enjoy the breakfast together, but she could but wonder how many more they would share.

Merry and Pippin came later that afternoon to celebrate Frodo’s 55th birthday. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, hugging them both long and tight. The two returned it in the full measure, then shooed their cousin out of his own kitchen, saying they had something special planned, and asked that Sam take their elder out for a walk.

“Just as long as there’s something left in the larder when we come back,” Frodo admonished with a pointed look at the youngest, and hungriest, hobbit.

Pippin looked mock-offended, then grinned. “Well, maybe just a little,” he said.

“All right then. Have fun.”

Rose watched her husband and friend leave. The secret she shared with Frodo was already nearly killing her to keep. She hoped she wouldn’t have to keep it much longer, though she grieved to think of what the news would do to her Sam.

Frodo took Sam’s hand as they walked through meadows and fields silently, not really having any destination in mind, just enjoying the sunlight. The elder hobbit raised his head several times to that light, closed his eyes and just soaked it in. His free hand brushed against tree branch and gatepost as they walked along. He breathed in deeply and stopped to smell flowers. His eyes seemed to want to gather everything in. Sometimes he’d stand unmoving for some minutes in the center of a glade and just let the peace and beauty of the place reach deep within him. Then he’d close his eyes and just listen to the sounds around him. His features twitched between sadness, joy, peace and love. Sam watched him concerned. His brother was acting like he had the summer before they left on the Quest, when the knowledge Frodo thought known only to him weighed him down and he wondered if he’d ever return. The gardener didn’t say anything, but a fear rose again in his heart that he couldn’t quiet.

They started back to return before dusk. Frodo’s hand hadn’t left his Sam’s, had only gently tightened. There was a soft, wistful smile on his face. They hadn’t spoke at all, but they had passed beyond the need to. There was a tension warring with a new, fragile peace and hope within the elder hobbit and he seemed to be glowing just a little brighter. Growing more beautiful and Elf-like all the time, the younger thought, torn by the fear of what that might mean and the joy of seeing it.

They entered to hear Pippin’s voice raised in joyful, robust song, reaching from further inside the smial.

“The evening is before us!

Draw your chairs near

And sing a merry chorus!

“Gather round the table!

We'll talk and laugh and eat and drink

As much as we are able.

“We'll sing old songs and tell old tales

Of things that we have done,

Right up ’til the rising of the Sun!

“Heed no care or sorrow!

Let the cares care for themselves,

Leave sadness till tomorrow!

“O fall ye, fall ye, bitter rain!

And cold ye winds may blow,

Safe inside we'll sit and let our troubles go!

Ho!”

Frodo stood listening to that beloved, sweet voice, so glad to hear it raised in such joyful abandon. It would probably be the last time he would and while the tears threatened at that, he decided to take the song to heart and to leave sadness for the morrow. He turned to Sam with a brave, genuine smile. “I believe, my Sam, that we are being called to dinner.”

The gardener laughed softly. He hadn’t missed the emotions crossing his brother’s face as they had listened to the song, but he took his cue from it as well. “I believe we are, dear,” he agreed.

Frodo squeezed his hand, then let go and applauded the performance. The tween appeared to take a bow and gave his cousin a wide grin.

The conversation at dinner was animated with the additional company, but Frodo did not participate in it much. He was too busy savoring all his favorite foods that Rose and his cousins had made for him. Soon, he’d had nothing but memories of what Shire food tasted like, though he hoped there would be Elvish equivalents that Bilbo and he could occasionally indulge themselves in once in a while. The lands of Rivendell and Lothlorien had eased all his pains before. He imagined it would be the same where he was going. Maybe he’d even take up the pipe again. He finished his second helping of everything, then sat back with a contented sigh.

“That was most delicious, Rose and my dear cousins. You have really outdone yourselves.”

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo,” Rose said softly. She sounded sad and Sam wondered why. He was most glad, as was everyone, that his brother had eaten so well. That was so rare anymore.

“Well, it’s not everyday that you turn 55,” the tween remarked.

Frodo smiled fondly and saluted him with his glass of Old Winyards and savored the company and the taste of the wine, the last he’d enjoy of it.

Sam watched him, still torn by the soft, sad smile on his brother’s face as Frodo watched his cousins and Elanor, and when he thought Sam wasn’t looking, looked at him. At the time, the eldest hobbit’s wistful, fond gaze was settled on Elanor in her high chair as she played with little morsels of food that Rose tried to feed her without much success. He seemed oblivious to all else, a state made obvious to everyone else when Pippin asked him to pass the salt. When that was not heeded, nor a second request, the tween reached in front of cousin which startled Frodo out of his daydream.

“Pippin, you know better than that!” he scolded. “Ask next time.”

All conversation ceased as everyone looked at Frodo. “He did ask, dear,” Sam said quietly.

“Twice,” the tween added.

Frodo colored slightly. “I’m sorry, Pip. I’m rather distracted tonight, I guess.”

“Not to worry, cousin,” Pippin assured, but he shared a concerned look with Merry and Sam.

Frodo made a visible effort to be more present at the table and after he had finished his meal, he offered to feed Elanor.

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo,” Rose said. “Maybe you can get her to eat.”

Frodo smiled at her as she handed him the spoon of pureed carrots and peas that the child had so far shown little interest in and was turning rather fussy. He sat down by her chair, took her into his arms and began to sing to her in Sindarin. It was not a lullaby, but something he had heard in the Halls of Fire that he thought would relax the babe enough for her to eat. He brought the spoon to her mouth and fed her slowly until the small jar was nearly empty.

Sam and Rose watched him tenderly as he spoke and sang and gently cajoled his ‘niece’ to eat. He laughed when she made a face at the last spoonful.

“Come on, love,” he encouraged, “just one more bite and then we’ll be all done. I know it’s doesn’t look very good. I hated peas too, when I was your age, but they are good for you. Truly. Can you do just a bite more for your Uncle Frodo?”

Elanor grimaced again as he put the spoon up to her lips, but she finished, though most of it went down her chin and bib. The Ring-bearer laughed again as he wiped at her mouth. “Well, I guess that’s enough for tonight. That was a lot of icky stuff to get down, wasn’t it,” he sympathized, “but you did so well.”

The child smiled and giggled. Frodo smiled at her and kissed her head. “That’s my lass,” he said softly and held her to him for a long moment.

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo,” Rose said. “She always responds so well to you.”

Frodo looked down at her with fond love and stroked the fine, golden curls on her head. “I respond so well to her,” he said. He caressed a smooth, chubby cheek. “She’s going to be so very beautiful.”

The four other hobbits looked at their friend and cousin at the wistfulness in his tone and voice and shared another concerned glance at each other.

“Well,” Pippin said a little louder than necessary, “there’s still the cake.” He looked at Frodo. “Best keep your fork, cousin dear, for the best is yet to come.”

“And did you lick the spoon this time, ’squeak dear?” the elder hobbit asked with a fond smile.

“Of course.”

“You may find some sticky fingerprints around the pantry too,” Merry said.

“It’s not my fault that I couldn’t find everything I was looking for right away,” the tween said with an injured look and tone.

“I barely kept him from sampling a piece himself,” Merry continued.

“Well, it should have been tested first, you know. I want nothing but the best for my favorite cousin.”

Frodo smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s wonderful, dearest.”

It was. And so were the thoughtfully considered presents the Ring-bearer gave out to his beloved family. No one but Rose knew it would be the last they would receive and she could barely keep from crying. Merry and Pippin both got new pipes and a pouch of Longbottom Leaf. Sam received a new cloak of Elven design with Sindarin words stitched on it.

“Thank you, dear,” the gardener said, a little awed. “What does it say?”

Frodo smiled mysteriously. “That’s for you to figure out, my dearest Sam.”

Rose received a blanket in her favorite color and Elanor tossed about in her little hands several baubles that came from the dwarves. Then they retired to the parlor and talked some more. Merry and Pippin were anxious to try their new pipes, but deferred because they knew that their cousin could not abide the smell or look of smoke anymore.

The Ring-bearer listened to the conversation, let the beloved voices wash over him and through him. He held a soft smile on his face the entire time as he watched each of them. He was distracted enough to have to be addressed more than once if someone directed a comment or question to him, and then he’d answer in one or two words, then return to his dreamworld where he set to memorizing everything about his beloved family so he could recall it at will for all the years he would be without them. He watched Sam try to decipher the words written on his cloak, saw the moment he did and hold the cloak tight against him and the tears that suddenly sprang to his eyes.

Merry and Pippin had left by that time to help Rose with cleaning the dishes so he was alone with his brother for a moment. Sam looked up to him with tear-bright eyes.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you? With the Elves, never to return.”

Frodo had wanted to find a way to soften the blow and thought having the words hannon le and im mil le gwador nin stitched into the cloak might give his beloved brother some comfort in the coming months and years, though he doubted anything would be able to soothe him in the beginning, just as doubted anything would help him until the pain abated enough for both of them.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said softly, unable to meet his dearest one’s eyes. “I want to go back to Buckland one last time, visit my parents graves and say goodbye to those at the Hall.” He paused to take a breath and gather the strength to continue on. “I need to be at the Havens by the 5^th. Gandalf is meeting us back here in five days to take me there and I hope you all will be coming with me. I’m...I’m going to need you all.”

“Of course we’ll come. It’s the Ring, isn’t it? It still has never left you go.”

“Or I never let it go,” Frodo said softly, his voiced full of self-loathing and shame. “I still want it, Sam After all I’ve done to fight it and all you’ve done to help me, I still want it. I have never stopped wanting it. I can still hear its voice. It is never silent, never. It is the last thing I think of at night and the first thing in the morning. There are days I can think of nothing else. Gandalf told me I would have to wrestle with that desire as long as I was in Middle-earth. I can’t do that anymore, Sam. I just can’t. It’s worn me out. I fear I may go mad if I’m never free of it. I needed to make this decision now, while I still could, while I still had some hope.”

He paused to gather his courage to go on. He still wasn’t strong enough to meet his brother’s eyes, but he felt the love so strong there, like the living thing it had always been, reaching out to embrace him. “I need to leave before even that is taken from me,” he finished softly.

Frodo looked up now at his brother, fearful for any condemnation, but hopeful for understanding and support. He was not disappointed. Tears streamed down Sam’s cheeks and the elder hobbit grieved that he had yet again hurt his brother, but then he realized they were for him, not his own pain. Sam gathered him into his arms and gently laid his head against his shoulder. “Oh, my poor Frodo,” he murmured. “My poor, poor dear.”

Frodo held on tightly as Sam stroked his curls and rocked him gently. “I hate it, Sam. I hate it so much, more than ever, more than I have ever hated anything, more than I even hate myself for still wanting it. I hate what it did to me, what it’s still doing to me, and I hate most of all, what’s it’s done to you, that you’ve had to watch me suffer.” Buried sobs issued from deep against the gardener’s chest. “I’ve tried to make it stop. I’ve tried so hard.”

“I know you have, dear,” Sam soothed. “I know you have.”

They stood there tightly clutched together, oblivious to Merry and Pippin’s return. The two stopped at the threshold, seeing how upset their cousin was and left the room quietly. They would provide their own comforts later.

When Frodo was temporarily cried out, Sam spoke again, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more, dear.”

Frodo raised his head and looked into his beloved guardian’s eyes. “No, my Sam, none of this is your fault. Do not blame yourself. Please. I beg you. You have done so much. I can never repay you. No hobbit has ever been better taken care of or loved than I have been. But I’ve come to the painful truth that this hurt is beyond anything or anyone here. I’m so sorry, Sam, that I’ve hurt you again.”

Sam clutched at his brother. “No, dear. You never have. It’s always been that despicable Ring. How I wish it had never been created! Or that Mr. Bilbo had never found it.”

“It all happened for a reason, Sam,” Frodo said softly, laying his head back on his brother’s shoulder. “Once that evil was created, it had to be destroyed and I’m glad I helped in that for what little I did. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone to bear the burden I did. But perhaps soon I will finally be able to put it down.”

“Let me go with you,” Sam begged.

Frodo winced at the pleading in that beloved voice. He felt he would be leaving part of his own soul behind when he left Sam, but he had also left part of it behind in the fire. He could no longer go on like that. He needed to be whole again, though he knew that would not happen until not only the hole that been left by the Ring’s destruction was filled, but he was reunited with his brother. They had long shared the same heart and soul, but Sam’s had remained pure while Frodo’s had been blackened. It would be long, the Ring-bearer feared, before they would be together again.

“Only to the Havens for now, dearheart,” he said. “You can’t go any further yet.”

Sam’s heart jolted at that last word. It was like the star he had seen in Mordor. When things had seemed bleakest and even he had been tempted to despair, hope had shone again then as it did now.

“Gandalf has told me,” his beloved brother continued, “that since you were a Ring-bearer also, you have the same choice I do, to come West if you want. But you have so much else to do, my Sam, so much living to do here still - to be a husband, to be a father, to embrace everything that means and more. But I hope, more than anything I’ve ever hoped for in my life, that once you have lived your own life here, that you will come.”

Sam held his brother tighter. “I will come, dear, of course I will come, even if I have to swim there myself.”

Frodo gave a soft laugh and the gardener’s heart nearly danced in its joy, even as it grieved. “My dear Sam,” the elder hobbit sighed, “my dear, dear Sam. Thank you. That will make it more bearable, I hope, for both of us. Until then I will wait and pray and live for that day.”

Sam kissed his head. “So will I. But who’s going to take care of you until I do though, dear, or protect you from your nightmares?”

Frodo held him tighter. “Bilbo will be there and Gandalf. I hope that I won’t be plagued by the dark dreams there, but if I am, I will hold out my hand and I will pretend that you are holding it or holding me. And somehow, I know you will be, dearheart. And then I’ll be able to sleep again.”

They held each other for a long time more. Grief for Sam’s pain and his own and hope for recovery warring in Frodo’s heart for domination. Sam clutched at him as though he would never let go until they were both temporarily cried out, then led Frodo to his bed and laid him down for the night with a kiss to the brow. ““I love you, dear,” he said.

“I love you, too, Sam.”

The Ring-bearer closed his eyes and Sam listened as he said his nightly prayer, then watched him for a long time afterwards. The light continue to grow in him. I always knew you were going to be here just a little bit, the younger hobbit thought. You were too beautiful not to belong someplace else, but I’m glad you came, my lovely Elven hobbit. I’m so glad you came.

He closed his eyes against fresh tears as he closed the door partway and then added his own fervent prayer. Help him, oh, please help him. And help us all. What are we going to do without him?

* * *

Frodo awoke in Merry’s arms at dawn. He must have had another nightmare or perhaps Merry somehow knew that this was his cousin’s last day at Bag End or maybe he just wanted to be near. Frodo smiled and ran his hand gently through his cousin’s curls, wondering how Sam had been convinced to give up his spot. He saw his brother and Pippin were asleep on mattresses and bedding they had pulled from the spare bedroom and had arranged on the floor of Frodo’s bedroom. Sam was softly snoring next to Frodo’s bed and Pippin, by chance or design, was blocking the exit.

Frodo looked at three of his closest family fondly, his smile widening as he fought to retain the strength to follow through on his decision. He had long feared the day as much as the night, but this day was not filled with dread of wondering how he was going to get through it with all the pain that consumed him. It had a dread all its own, but there was a soft joy to it too. So even as the Ring’s voice sounded in his ears, he heard Pippin’s voice from his memory of last night. And even as the wheel of fire filled his mind and tried to reach his heart, it could not while he stared at his beloved cousins and dearer brother. He thought if he could do just that he could survive and not have to leave, but he was all to aware that he couldn’t do that. He had to leave. Not because he wanted to. Because he needed to. There was nothing for it.

Frodo smiled even more as he unconsciously echoed one of Sam’s favorite sayings, then frowned. Oh, how I am going to miss you, my Merry, my Pipsqueak, my Sam! How will I live without you? But he retained his joy at being with them now. Having Sam close had from his tweens become as natural as breathing and after the Quest, as necessary, but Frodo knew he couldn’t waver. He would find some way to go on. He knew this was the only path he could take, the one hope for healing that not even Sam or Merry or Pippin, bless their great and beloved hearts, could provide. He already knew his brother forgave him. He hoped his cousins could as well.

He gave one fond stroke to Merry’s cheek in gratitude for all he had done, then gently disengaged himself from that loved embrace and stood up. He clutched Arwen’s gem under his nightshirt for a moment, then got dressed as the others still slumbered.

Very carefully, he stepped over Pippin and gently edged him out of the way so he could open the door. “You can’t leave, cousin,” the tween murmured.

Frodo knelt down to brush at his curls. “I’m going to make some breakfast, dearest, is that all right?”

“Well, in that case...”

The elder hobbit smiled, kissed his head and then slipped out. He padded to the kitchen and started making an elaborate breakfast, the last he would make or have here. He’d be staying at an inn on his way back through Hobbiton from Buckland. He wouldn’t be able to bear leaving a third time. Two times was already two times too many. Why had he ever longed for adventures and leaving home? he wondered. He smiled faintly as he realized the answer. Because he would have been with his Uncle Bilbo that’s why or with Sam and Merry and Pippin. And they would have had so much fun and then they would have returned home, exhausted and happy and anxious to do it all over again. It had sounded so romantic and glorious the way Bilbo told his own adventures or those of the Elves from the First Age. He had been too young then, they all had been, to recognize all the tragedy in those tales or how truly dangerous they had been. ‘My own adventure turned out to be quite different’, he had told Bilbo at Rivendell the first time they had met there, but had it really? All his childhood longings had turned to nightmares and there had been many, many, days and nights he had wished only to be back in his own bed, surrounded by the sights and smells and sounds of home, not by rock and ash and fire and having memory after memory of home be stripped from him as the Ring filled him more and more. But even then he had had one part of home always with him, his cousins as long as they could and his Sam who gone all the way to the Fire with him and had very nearly died there with him. Now another adventure loomed and none of them would be going with him, and he would have quailed at it, had he not known that Bilbo would be with him to help him down the path he had chosen. ‘I spent all my childhood pretending I was off with you on one of your adventures!’ he heard himself say. Well, Uncle, I’m finally going to get my wish. And he’d carry the thousands, millions of memories of his cousins and Sam within him. As dawn come fully, he felt the peace of Another fill him as well. No, he wouldn’t be alone.

Still everything he did reminded him of the finality of his decision and if his hands began to shake slightly as he cracked the eggs, flipped the sweetcakes and poured the milk, he still did not alter his decision. He had known for a long time that he had to go. It had just taken a while for him to accept it, a long while. He had so longed to stay, but it had been nothing but a dream. A dream that had turned to ashes. He wasn’t going to get better, not here. He was only getting worse. But to never see his beloved cousins again? Could he truly pay that high a price? He forced his trembling limbs to still when he nearly dropped one of Bilbo’s favorite plates. Yes, he would have to pay that price, though he held onto hope of seeing Sam again as a drowning man would hold onto a thrown rope. He had barely stopped himself the night before from begging Sam to come with him, right then. And he would have given anything to have Merry and Pippin come too. But he knew he could not ask them. They would indeed want to follow, but they had their own lives to live here in the Shire, their own happiness to pursue. Their lives were not over yet. His was.

He set the table for five - again for the last time - and then waited for the aromas to drift into the bedroom and rouse Rose and his companions. It did not take long. Sam was rubbing sleep from his eyes and Merry and Pippin came in yawning, but the latter two greeted their cousin cheerfully enough with thanks for such a banquet. Sam gave Frodo a sad, brave smile and Frodo smiled in return. He watched his cousins dig into the breakfast with their usual zeal, just watched them, letting their chatter wash over and through him, wanting to imprint everything in his mind so he would never forget. Sam watched Frodo and did the same thing. Rose watched her husband.

Frodo barely had any taste for food himself, but he made himself concentrate on the omelette he had cooked. Would there would be mushrooms where he was going or that was going to be another sacrifice he’d have to make? How many more? he wondered, but then the Light covered him a little more and he felt more peaceful.

Sam continued to watch his brother, his own plate barely touched. When Merry and Pippin were nearly done, Frodo looked at his three friends, hoping they wouldn’t notice how tightly he clenched the table cloth.

“I have something to tell you,” he started out and Merry and Pippin abruptly cut off their chatter. Pippin’s mouth was open to take another bite of sweetcake, but his fork froze suddenly half-raised to his lips, hearing the seriousness of his cousin’s tone. Something cold curled itself around the inside of his stomach and wormed itself into Merry’s as well. Sam’s eyes, which had not left his brother’s, filled with tears. Rose looked away to hide her own tears.

“You’re leaving,” Pippin blurted out into the silence that had followed Frodo’s words.

Merry looked irritated at his younger cousin as though speaking it aloud had confirmed their fears and made them real. Frodo looked at Pippin, somewhat surprised, but he remembered the last time he had agonized over how to tell them that he had to leave them, that they had already known then as well.

He smiled faintly. “I forgot how impossible it was to keep any secrets around you three. Sam figured it out last night.”

“You must admit you were acting a little odd,” Merry said around a very dry throat.

“You mean stranger than normal?”

“A bit,” Pippin said very softly, his eyes bright with tears. He finally remembered to put his fork down. He couldn’t decide whose arms to throw himself into for comfort and reassurance that his world was not ending - Frodo’s or Merry’s. But he merely tightened his grip on his fork until his knuckles were white.

Looking at those three stricken, beloved faces, Frodo’s heart broke. He almost faltered again, but he clenched the table edge around his fingers tighter. He couldn’t weaken. His heart, his soul had been broken long before. He couldn’t live in that state anymore, even if it meant leaving nearly everyone and everything he loved behind. “An Elven ship is docked at the Grey Havens and will take me and Bilbo and Gandalf to the Undying Lands,” he said, amazed at how calm he sounded and he sent a silent thanks to Iluvatar for that. “But before then, I remember all those things you said to me when the eagles brought Sam and I back the second time.” He looked beseechingly at his beloved brothers. “Do you think we could do as many of those things as we can in the next few days? I want to spend my last days in the Shire as I have always loved to, with those I love the most.”

Pippin and Merry nodded numbly. Frodo clenched the table edge even harder. “I want to go back to the Hall and then...then...it’s is an eight day ride to the Havens. I hope you can come with me.”

Pippin sniffled and began to sob openly. Merry reached out to him and the tweenager buried himself in his cousin’s arms. Merry buried his own tears in Pippin’s bright curls and murmured what comforts his grief-blurred brain could think of. Sam’s cheeks were bright with his own freely-falling tears. He didn’t even seem to be aware of them, but he was aware of Rose’s and gathered her to him as she wept into his shoulder. Frodo was aware of them all as his own eyes burned and they all looked up to him.

“I’m so sorry I am doing this to you,” he said. “I don’t want to leave, but I’m not getting any better and I want to so badly.”

His eyes pleaded for understanding and forgiveness. Merry and Pippin reached out to him and Frodo embraced them both. He kissed their heads and murmured what comforts he could. He was moved to tears when they tried to comfort him as well. When their tears were momentarily spent, they let go, but Pippin took Frodo’s hand and wouldn’t let go.

“We were so afraid you would leave without us,” he said softly. “Just like we were when we first went on the Quest.”

Frodo squeezed his youngest cousin’s hand. His heart ached that Pippin had to grow up in a hurry, still a few months out from his coming of age, but already having endured far too much. Frodo had so looked forward to that party, and now he wouldn’t be there. “I could not bear to do that,” he said in a pained voice. “It’s horrible enough doing it this way.”

The four of them looked down their plates containing the remains of their long-forgotten breakfast. They didn’t have any appetite anymore and the three younger hobbits thought if they forced another bite down, it would come right back up, their stomach were churning so much. Frodo felt the same, but he finished what was there. He needed to. Rose did as well, more for her own Frodo’s sake, or so she hoped she carried within her, than anyone else. Sam had told her last night and she had held him as he had cried himself asleep, then she had cried, both from grief and relief she no longer had to keep that secret within her.

A/N:  Pippin's song is from Galadriel with some modification of my own. Im mil le, I have on good authority, means I love you.

Chapter Seventeen: Namarie

Frodo looked at Rose now with silent thanks, then helped her clean up the kitchen as the other three went off to get ready, then he walked slowly around his home one more time. More tears threatened as he looked around for the last time, fingering beloved objects - tables, chairs, his and Bilbo’s writing desk, books, blankets slung over the chair by the fire. He took a couple books and one of the blankets and put them in his pack with a few other possessions he had chosen to take along with notes he had written individually to his three brothers. His entire life, he mused, reduced to a simple pack. Not much, but all he needed. The rest he left to Sam - clothes, books, memories, Bag End itself. His will was waiting to be discovered on the writing desk, sitting on top of the book of the War of the Ring.

Here in the study he lingered the most where they were so many beloved memories. Here he watched his uncle write or practiced his own lessons on another stool. Here and in the parlor wrapped in a blanket with a fire before them, Bilbo had told him and Sam stories that he begged to hear over and over, never tiring of them. Here he watched Bilbo teach Sam to read. Here he taught Sam to write.

He remembered all the treats Bilbo always had ready when Merry and Pippin and Sam came and those that Frodo himself received. He breathed in deeply. Love lingered in the air more than anything. It always would as long as Sam or some member of his family occupied it. Frodo smiled. He couldn’t be leaving his home in better hands.

He turned and entered the main hall where he saw his cousins standing by the door. Pippin hummed a tune, trying to lighten the mood and shake off the grief that threatened to overwhelm him.

“That’s a lovely tune, Pip,” Frodo remarked. “I’ve never heard it before.”

"I don’t know where it came to me from, myself. It ought to have words.”

Frodo smiled. “Well, if you can think of any, you can sing it for us on the way to Buckland.”

They walked the front door. It was a bright, sunny day. Sam was outside already. It had been decided that good old Bill the pony would come along to carry the baggage so that the travellers might walk more lightly. Sam knew that they would have to carry nearly twice as many blankets as they would usually have taken for Frodo was always cold and he wasn’t about to let his brother tire himself carrying them.

Rose stood near the door and smiled bravely at her beloved friend. Frodo embraced her tightly. “Thank you for everything, Rose,” he said quietly, “but mostly for being my friend and for making Sam so happy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo,” she said softly. “Thank you for the same.”

Frodo let her go and then knelt down to Elanor and hugged her. “Namarie, my sweet flower,” he murmured. “Im mil le.”

Elanor cooed and touched his cheek, murmuring, “Fo,” which was as near as she could come to pronouncing his name.

For a long moment he gazed at her, memorizing every feature, from her rosy face and winsome smile to her soft golden curls. Then he let go and put his hand over his heart, then extended that hand to her. The child returned the gesture and Frodo kissed her forehead. He briefly touched Rose’s stomach, swelling with who could be his namesake, and repeated the gesture he had made to Elanor. Tears escaped Rose’s eyes at that. Frodo looked at her one more time and squeezed her hand, then moved away.

Sam looked up at his wife and wiped at her tears. “He’ll be all right,” he murmured. “We’ve got to believe that.” Rose embraced her husband as tightly as she could and let him cry into her shoulder, then she wiped at his tears and he kissed her head and let her go and started down the walk.

Pippin took Frodo’s hand tightly as they began to walk away. “You’ll be all right, won’t you, cousin?” he asked. His voice sounded like a small child’s instead of one who had already seen too much war and death.

“Yes, dearest, I hope so. I am going to miss you, though, miss you so very much.”

Pippin raised his head to look into his cousin’s beloved eyes. “Can’t we come with you?”

“No, I wish you could. I wish that more than anything.”

“Why can’t we?”

Frodo squeezed his cousin’s shoulders. He knew Merry was also avidly listening. “This is my path now, not yours. Your life is here. I stopped living here a long time ago. I tried to, I tried so hard, but I couldn’t.” He looked at three of them now. “I’m sorry that this is hurting you all so much.”

“We know it’s hurting you, too, Frodo,” Merry said softly. “If we can’t go with you, then our hearts and our hopes do. Don’t ever forget how much we love you. We will never forget you.”

Frodo smiled amid new tears. “I could never forget you either. I would never want to. Don’t you forget how much I love you, if you can even believe I still do, doing what I am.”

“We believe you, dear,” Sam said and his voice broke.

“Well, you said you wanted to do many of the things we used to do,” Pippin said, trying to sound cheerful. “I’d say the first thing we must do is stop for a bit of ale at the Green Dragon. I doubt they have Shire ale where you’re going and you must have some while you can. Then we’ll stop at the Ivy Bush and then...”

Frodo laughed. And the others were amazed and thrilled to hear it. “And what happens, dearest ’squeak, when I collapse insensible after too much? Would you carry me the rest of the way to Buckland?”

“Of course I would,” the tween said. “What should Sam have had all the fun?”

The eldest hobbit’s features twitched, but he was determined that his last days in the Shire, sad as they were going to be, weren’t going to be spent entirely in tears. He took his cousin’s hand and smiled bravely. “Why indeed?” he said softly.

The first stop was actually at the stables where Frodo’s pony, Strider, was housed. The hobbit gave him a sugar cube and a bit of feed, then stroked his shiny, smooth coat. “Namarie, mellon nin,” he murmured. Strider nickered mournfully as though he understood and rubbed his nose against his master. Frodo put his head against the animal and hugged him as best he could, breathing in deep that scent for the last time, smothering his tears against the warm hair. Then after a long while, he left the stable and met his brothers outside.

“I’ll take care of him good, dear,” Sam promised with a squeeze of his hand.

Frodo’s voice shook a little. “I know, Sam. Thank you.” When the gardener would have let go of his brother’s hand, Frodo’s fingers tightened around his and wouldn’t let him. Sam was just as happy that way, more so even.

The next stop was the Green Dragon. Frodo drank a half-pint of his favorite ale at his favorite inn, savoring it slowly and looking around him, absorbing all the sights and sounds and smells of the place. So much he was walking away from. So much. He remembered all the times he had come here and listened to Merry and Pippin sing with such joyous abandon, smiled at all the shy looks Sam had given to Rosie when she wasn’t looked and how furiously his brother would blush when that fair lass caught Sam’s eye and smiled at him. Frodo wished he could listen to his cousins sing now, but he had not the heart to ask them, knowing they would not have the heart to do so. And while he absorbed all he could to last him the long years he’d be away from his home, his three companions watched him, storing everything in their own memories for the time coming up far too quickly when they would have to say goodbye.

When they left the inn, Frodo did so with many backward glances, turning away only when he could no longer see it. He knew he’d be doing that a lot in the next days. He passed the Party Tree and paused, then stopped even longer at his favorite tree where he had spent many a summer’s afternoon, lost in a book. He sat down there, touched the bark, closed his eyes and just listened and felt the grass under his stroking hand. The others watched him, then after a while, he got up and with a final touch and sad smile, he walked away. Little by little he was saying goodbye and little by little so were his brothers.

When they stopped at the Ivy Bush, Frodo did not drink as much. “I’m saving myself for the Golden Perch,” he told Pippin. “Didn’t you tell me it had the best beer in all the Eastfarthing? I can’t miss that, can I? Maybe we can even take a short-cut.”

The tween smiled. “Even though short-cut cause long delays and stopping at inns make for even longer ones?”

“I wouldn’t mind a delay this time,” Frodo said softly. “Would you?”

“No,” the other three said at the time.

All that morning the travellers went at a leisurely pace, sometimes talking of pleasant things, sometimes singing familiar walking songs. They were careful never to be silent, though, for they knew that if complete silence fell, they would be overcome.

“Do you remember,” Pippin asked to save the conversation from a well of silence, “when we tried to teach the rest of the fellowship some games of the Shire in Rivendell?”

“Oh, do I!” cried Merry. “Tag and ‘I’ll-hide-and-you-seek-me’ were the best of all. Boromir was so frustrated with us because we could fit into the small crannies and...” Here he paused to give a good impression of the Man’s voice. “‘I must say, these Halflings are impossible to find!’”

Frodo laughed. “And to see Gandalf running about and playing tag! I will never remember the shocked look on Elrond’s face. I think that’s the only time I’ve seen an Elf completely speechless.”

“All that was wonderful,” Sam put in, “but the very best of all was when we tried to teach them ‘blind hobbit.’”

Everyone laughed. “Oh yes!” chortled Merry. “First it was an argument over the name of the game. It couldn’t be called ‘blind hobbit’ since all the players were not hobbits. But neither could it be called ‘blind Dwarf,’ ‘blind Man, ‘blind Elf,’ or ‘blind wizard,’ because no name was fair to everyone.”

“Oh dear, yes! I thought they would never stop!” laughed Frodo. “Then it was the matter of trying to teach them all the rules and trying to keep Aragorn from opening his eyes every minute to make sure we were all safe and weren’t playing a trick on him.”

“And to see Legolas stagger around with that blindfold on him!” added Pippin. “And remember when Elladan and Elrohir were persuaded to join us? That sight will live in my memory until my dying day! Pity we could never get Lord Elrond to join us. But wasn’t Arwen’s laughter worth it as she watched us all, then cleaned up our scraped knees and bruised heads when we kept bumping into things?”

Frodo laughed merrily. “It was very much worth it. I don’t know which was best: trying to lead them while they staggered about, or seeing them laughing so hard they couldn’t speak.”

“You know,” said Pippin, “we haven’t played those games in a long while. We ought to play them all…one more time.”

Everyone sobered. “Yes, we ought,” said Frodo.

“And we will,” said Merry. “We’ll have a picnic while we’re in Buckland. I know a perfect spot down by the river. We’ll take the entire day and do nothing but enjoy ourselves. We’ll do all the things we talked about in Ithilien.”

He didn’t speak the words aloud, but they hung in the air: one last time. Frodo felt a lump rise in his throat, and he would have liked nothing more at that moment than to be able to cry, to let out all the grief that seemed more terrible even than the voice of the Ring. But he couldn’t do that, not now. He felt two arms about his shoulders and a hand in his maimed one and looked up to see that the others felt the same. Instinctively he turned and embraced them. “It’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “It’s going to be all right.”

* * *

“I don’t know whether I want to tell the story of Frodo and the Ring after all,” Sam said as they stopped later that afternoon for a small picnic in a sun-filled meadow.

Frodo looked up. “What? Why not?”

“It doesn’t sound like it had a happy ending.”

Frodo didn’t reply right away. “Yes, it did. It just hasn’t come yet. But I can give it to you right now, ‘And he lived happily to the end of his days’.”

Sam looked at his brother. “I hope you will, me Frodo dear. That’s all I’ve wanted for you.”

Frodo stared down at the grass, his barely touched mushroom salad on a plate next to him. Did they have mushrooms in the West? “I hope so, too, Sam.”

Sam’s heart winced to hear such pain in his brother’s voice, such longing for it to be relieved.

“But I wish I could have another ending,” the younger hobbit said. “How about ‘Frodo and Sam and Rosie lived together until they all over 100 and then died the same day and were buried next to each other.’”

“I thought it was Frodo that wrote the book,” Pippin said. “You are, too, Sam?”

Frodo almost smiled, but there was a brittle edge to it, memories that could still cut. “He was one of those that gave me the idea.”

“I thought I did that.”

Frodo’s smile some of its edge, become more genuine. “You did. But Bilbo was the first one, then Sam, then you.”

“I don’t suppose I could add to that different ending of Sam’s?”

Frodo’s smile widened. “And what would that be, dearest?”

Pippin puffed out his chest importantly. Merry grinned to himself, despite the pain his heart and Sam did also. “‘The Took and Meriadoc the Magnificent also died that same day and were buried next to their beloved cousin and friend.’”

“I wish it could be that way, Pip, but it can’t be.”

“But you think the Elves can help you?” Merry asked.

“I have to believe that,” Frodo said. “Nothing can help me here.”

Sam looked at his brother silently for a long time, then gathered his courage to speak. “I don’t want you to leave, me dearest, but if that will heal you, then I’m all for it.”

“So am I,” Merry said.

“So am I,” Pippin said.

Frodo looked at his friends for a long time before answering, more moved than he could say. He knew he didn’t have to say how much he was - they already knew, but still it was important to say. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, though, we couldn’t help you more,” Merry said. “I know Sam has gone above and beyond, but I wish Pip and I were around more to help, too.”

“None of this is your fault,” Frodo assured. He looked at each of them. “I appreciate all your efforts, more than I could ever tell you, but some things are past help. I’ve been wounded more than physically and it’s become infected. I still long for what I should have never longed for in the first place. I need to overcome that and I can’t here.”

“Eat something, please, dear,” Sam said into the silence that followed. “You need your strength. You’ve lost too much weight since we came back.”

“I’ve lost so much more than that, Sam,” Frodo said softly, staring off into the distance, but then he looked down at the plate and did eat something to please Sam.

* * *

“We’d better find a spot to camp soon,” Merry said that evening as they went along. They had gone at a leisurely pace all day, often stopping that Frodo might take a last look at this stream or that tree, but now the dusk was deepening and they all wondered how that would affect Frodo who hadn’t been able to bear being out at night since being chased by the Nazgul and stabbed by their leader.

“There’s a clearing up ahead,” Frodo said. “Maybe we can stop there.”

Pippin strained his eyes. “You can see that? I can’t.”

“My…my night vision is much improved,” the Ring-bearer said in a strained voice.

Pippin looked from Frodo to the ground, ashamed. Why hadn’t he remembered Weathertop? Of course Frodo would see it, after twice enduring Morgul wounds. Frodo stepped close and took Pippin’s hand, squeezing it in reassurance. He did not speak, but he smiled, and Pippin read the words in his face: It’s all right, dear ’squeak.

But he grew increasingly uneasy as darkness fell. Every now and again he slowed to look anxiously back over his shoulder, and once he stopped dead and turned pale.

Sam came to his side, handing Bill’s lead to Merry, and put an arm about him. “It’s all right, dear,” he murmured in Frodo’s ear. “There’s nothing out there. Not anymore.”

“They were here...we can’t stay here, Sam.”

“Then we won’t. Let’s go on ahead. There are other spots we can take a lay down. Or we passed a farm not far back. They may be able to put us up for the night.”

The Ring-bearer considered that for a moment and Sam silently begged for him to say ‘yes’. But the elder hobbit took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. “No,” Frodo said, “I want to remember what it used to feel like to enjoy the night.” He looked up and smiled bravely. “And I’m with you, my Sam. I know I’m perfectly safe.”

He took Sam’s hand and they continued on for another hour. Frodo was unaware that his grip on his brother’s hand grew tighter. Merry took his cousin’s other hand and by a full moon, they found a small clearing that didn’t contain any taint of the Nazgul.

After dinner, Merry and Pippin went out to search for more firewood to keep themselves warm during the night. Frodo laid his head in Sam’s lap and brushed the ground with his fingers. Sam put a blanket over his brother who even in the unseasonably warm weather, still shivered. They sat that way in companionable silence for some time. Sam looked down tenderly at his brother and stroked his curls as Frodo looked out into the night and stored every sound the night made into his mind, knowing he may never hear such like again, but even more he stored how it felt to be surrounded by such love as Sam’s. It was the only way he was able to stay out after the sun had set.

“Am I doing the right thing, Sam?” he asked into the quiet, looking into his friend’s eyes, seeing the same deep love he had seen every day since they had met over thirty years previously. How Frodo was going to be able to go on without seeing that love every day, he truly did not know. He would see much the same in his uncle’s eyes and that would help a lot, but how he was going to miss his Sam!

Sam did not hesitate to answer nor did his soothing stroking cease. “Yes, my Frodo, you are,” he said. “Much as my whole heart and strength wishes you would remain here so I could take care of you, it wishes even more for you to finally heal. And you can’t here. That breaks my heart something fierce, but there’s nothing for it. It’s right hard to let you go, but it’s also the right thing.”

“I’m going to miss you so much, Sam,” Frodo said.

“Nowhere near as much as I am going to miss you, dear, but I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“I’m already looking forward to it.”

Frodo looked away, biting his lip to keep from begging Sam to come with him right away. He hoped Sam wouldn’t see, though he knew nothing got past his vigilant guardian.

“Now, me dear, what are you trying to hide from your Sam?” he asked with a small smile.

Frodo turned his gaze back to his beloved brother. “How terribly selfish I want to be,” he said. He adjusted his position so he could hold Sam tight and his head was pillowed against Sam’s heart where he could listen to that beloved beat. “Sing to me, Sam, will you, please?”

The younger hobbit smiled faintly and put another blanket over his brother. He held him tighter for extra warmth until Merry and Pippin returned with more wood for the fire, then he began to sing.

“When you open up your eyes,

To find no sun to light your way,

Only dark and dismal skies,

Do not fear, I will be here,

As I've always been.

“When your heart has failed you, love,

And you've no strength to carry on,

Take my hand and hold it tight,

I am here, I hold you now,

And I always will.

“When we come to end of days,

And look back on all we've done,

Remember I have always been

And I am and always will

Be holding you..

“And when I see your face no more,

And cannot take your hand in mine,

Then remember this, my dear,

Soon I will be by your side,

Forever more.”

“Oh, Sam,” Frodo breathed. “My dearest Sam.”

He cried then, then Sam sang another song, watched his brother’s eyes close and his breathing even out, then wiped at his tears and kissed that beloved head. “Sleep well, dear,” he murmured. “I love you always.”

Frodo woke in the middle of the night from troubled sleep, afraid and disoriented at first when he found himself outdoors, but then he looked into Sam’s eyes, felt himself held a little closer, a word of comfort and reassurance murmured in his ear and a soft kiss brushed against his brow, and he was able to sleep again.

***

They arrived at Brandy Hall late the next afternoon. The visit to the Golden Perch had been almost disastrous as Frodo had been assaulted by the sight and smell of pipeweed that lingered thick in the air. He had turned around and left right away and waited outside for his cousins and Sam who he had insisted stay to sample the beer. They brought out a mug to him, which he had drunk and agreed it was very good and then they had set out again.

Frodo was very good to get under roof again. He hadn’t wanted to spend another night out in the open, even with Sam. He mourned for another part of his life lost that he hoped he would regain once he went West. What stars wheeled overhead there, he wondered. Would Bilbo tell him their stories just as his Papa and uncle had told him those that following their course over the Hobbiton and Buckland sky? Would he be able to sleep under them as he had once loved to do?

Saradoc and Esmeralda Brandbuck welcomed their nephew and foster son with open arms. Frodo hadn’t intended to cry, but their embrace opened the floodgates and he poured his grief and tears into their arms. His aunt stroked his curls and murmured comforts while Saradoc looked up at his son in question as to why Frodo was suddenly sobbing so hard. They had had little contact with him since they had returned and Merry had been less than forthcoming about the travails they had all endured. But they all know some terrible things had happened during that year, especially to Frodo and they ached for that.

When Esme dried the last of her nephew’s tears, she continued to hold him against her and he her. “I’m going away, Auntie,” he said softly. “I’ve come to say goodbye. But it’s hard, it’s so hard.”

Sudden tears pricked at the elder hobbit’s eyes. She continued to stroke Frodo’s curls and kept a steady, calm voice as she spoke. “Why are you leaving, dearest?”

“Because I have to. Because it hasn’t left.”

Esme raised her head to her husband and son. They didn’t speak, neither did Sam or Pippin, though the three younger hobbits plainly did know. Their tears were mute testimony to that.

“But you are staying the night at least?” she asked.

“Yes and tomorrow.” He raised his eyes to her and her heart broke to see the torment there. “Oh, Auntie, it’s so hard, how can I do it?”

Esme kissed the top of her nephew’s head. “The most important things are always the hardest to do, dear. And this is very important, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose so. It’s not something I want to do, but it’s become something I need to do.”

“Then you must do it, my sweet.”

“I love you, Auntie. Thank you.”

“I love you, too, Frodo. Always.”

* * *

Frodo woke with a start in the middle of the night and sat up quickly. He was not even sure what had wakened him from barely remembered dreams. Then it came: a loud clap of thunder that made him start. The wind howled, driving the rain against the windows in its fury. Frodo groaned inwardly. Ever since the Quest storms had made him uneasy. Why did it have to storm tonight of all nights, when he most wanted to rest? Sam stirred beside him, moaning softly in his sleep.“Light and water, that’s all we need. Light and water.”

Frodo got up and lit a lamp, then got a mug of water. He returned to his brother’s side and shook him gently. “Wake up, my Sam. I’ve got you both. Wake up now, dearest.”

The younger hobbit woke suddenly, disoriented at first to be in a strange bed. “We’re at Brandy Hall,” Frodo reminded him with a small smile and handed him the mug of water.

Sam gulped it down. “I was dreaming about walking, forever walking. And how terribly thirsty we were. I don’t know how we ever did it.”

Frodo smiled. “Because we had to, my Sam, but we weren’t doing it all on our own. We couldn’t have. We were being watched over and helped every step of the way. I am understanding that more and more. I was dreaming about much the same thing. I wonder why storms bring those on?”

Sam shrugged. “I suppose because it was cloudy and dark in Mordor.”

Frodo smiled ruefully. “It seems we all have some reason to dread storms. Pippin’s ribs begin to ache and Merry’s arm goes cold. I give them another minute before they’re in here, too.”

At that moment the door opened, and two curly heads peeped round it. “So you’re both awake, too,” whispered Pippin.

“All right, less than a minute,” said Frodo, smiling.

“Wh-what?” Merry stammered through chattering teeth.

“Nothing. Come here, Merry dear, and let me see your arm.” Frodo patted the bed as he spoke.

Merry came and lay down beside his cousin, allowing Frodo to pull the covers up to both their chins. Merry had to curl up in order to fit in the bed, but he was more than glad of Frodo’s arms about him and wished he could stay there forever, cramped or no. Frodo gently rubbed Merry’s right arm, trying to bring back the warmth. “Thank-thank you,” stammered Merry.

Pippin flopped down on the other side of the bed, hands on his rib cage. “Oh, what a miserable lot we are!” he said with a half-groan. “Up comes a little rainstorm and we’re rendered helpless.”

Sam smiled. “I think I’ll just go and get that ointment out of my pack. That should help your ribs, Mr. Pippin.” And Sam went back into his room to rummage for the small bottle of ointment which Aragorn had brought on his last visit.

“Are you all right, Frodo?” Pippin asked, suddenly aware that Frodo was shivering. He put his arms about him, briskly rubbing his back and shoulders.

“I’ll be fine,” said Frodo.

Sam returned at that moment, carrying the balm. “How’s your hand, dear?” he asked for well he knew that bad weather often brought on cramping or phantom pain.

“Pip first, Sam,” Frodo answered evasively.

But Sam saw how his brother held his hand against his chest and needed no more answer. He went first to Pippin, then to Merry, and finally he lifted the blankets and took Frodo’s right hand. Slowly, methodically he rubbed the cream into it in soothing circles, starting in the center of the palm and working outward onto the wrist and fingers. It helped as it always did as did the kiss to his hand when Sam was done. Would that be the last time Sam would do that, he wondered? As he looked into his brother’s eyes, he knew Sam was wondering the same thing.

When this was done he took another quilt from the back of a nearby chair, spread it over the bed, and perched at the foot. They were silent for a while, and then Pippin sat up, no longer troubled by sore ribs, and took up one of the many pillows that adorned the bed.

“You know,” he said with a mischievous glitter in his eyes, “we haven’t had a pillow fight in a long time…not since Rivendell, in fact.”

“Oh no!” said Merry. “We can’t be as rough tonight as we were then. Ma would kill us if we ruined her pillows.”

Frodo chuckled. “True, but then she’d get over it. I will never forget the look on Lord Elrond’s face when he found us trying to stuff the feathers back into his ruined pillows!”

That memory was all Pippin needed to get going. He expertly tossed his pillow onto Frodo and Merry, who promptly sat up and returned fire. Soon pillows and a few stray feathers were flying through the air, and the three cousins were shrieking with laughter. Sam was alarmed when Frodo let out a tremendous roar as his cousins knelt, one before and one behind him, and pummeled him with their pillows. “Sam! Help me! It’s not…not fair! I’m outnumbered! Not fair!”

Sam chuckled and joined the battle, fending off Merry’s and Pippin’s pillows with his own and trying to protect Frodo and himself. “Better now, dear?” he asked Frodo with a smile.

“Much,” gasped Frodo, trying to catch his breath and help Sam at the same time.

“Not for long, cousin!” squealed Pippin, dropping the now almost-flat pillow and throwing himself at Frodo, his groping fingers seeking out the most ticklish spots.

Frodo howled and writhed. “Aaaaah! Pip, no! Nooooooo-oooo-oooo! Nothing…was said…about a tick-tickling match! Ooooooo, st-stop..stop!”

“Never! Not until you surrender!” cried Pippin, increasing his assault.

Frodo tried to counter the attack, but was too helpless with hysterical laughter. “Help me, Sam!” he cried.

But at the same moment Pippin yelled, “Merry! Get Sam!”

Before Sam could react Merry was on top of him, tickling him unmercifully. “Oy! Oi! Stop…stop that!” roared the young gardener.

“Never!” shrieked Merry.

In the master’s spacious bedroom, Esmeralda stirred beside Saradoc in the great bed. “What is all that noise, Sara?” she whispered.

Saradoc rolled over and sat up. “Don’t know. Sounds like a couple of rowdy tweenagers. Are they daft, carrying on at this hour?”

Esmeralda got out of bed with a sigh and put on her dressing gown. “I’ll go see to them.”

She followed the sounds of laughter and screams to the door of Frodo’s room and knocked softly. The room fell silent at once. Chuckling softly, she peeped her head in. “Well, well, what have we here?” she said, pretending to be angry. “I thought I’d find four naughty lads being very noisy and rough in the middle of the night…but all I see is four very strange looking birds.”

Frodo got up hastily from under the pile of two cousins. His face was glowing. Feathers were stuck in his curls and against his cheek and hands and nightshirt. They all looked that way. “I’m sorry, Auntie,” he said, looking at the feathers scattered about the room. “It’s my fault. We got a little carried away, I guess.”

Esmeralda smiled and hugged her foster-son. “It’s all right, dearest. I’m not angry. To tell you the truth, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a sound more lovely than your row. But you look exhausted, love. They haven’t worn you out, have they?” she asked, with a meaningful glance at Merry and Pippin, who were still catching their breath.

“Oh no--we were just having fun,” Frodo reassured her. “We plan to have a picnic tomorrow, if the weather clears and have even more.”

“But you’ll need to rest up first. I’ll go and find you some more pillows.”

“I’ll do that, Ma,” Merry said and followed his mother out the room.

Esmeralda turned to her son once they were out of earshot and Merry expected to get a earful. He began to apologize, but Esme cut him off.

“Thank you for making him happy again,” she said. “I don’t understand any of this, but anything that makes him shine like that is worth it. You have nothing to be sorry for but for a few pillows that now need mending. But his heart needs mending even more and if a few split pillows help in that, then I would be more than happy to have the Hall full of feathers.”

“Thank you, Ma,” Merry said softly.

In short order the room was nearly tidy and the four hobbits were snugly tucked in. The bed was too small for them all, so they had pulled the mattresses to the floor and put the two of them hard up against each other, doubling the space and piled on the blankets. Frodo slept curled up next to Merry on one side and Pippin on another and Sam near the tween. Esmeralda had laughed softly at their sleeping arrangement, but the shine on Frodo’s face hadn’t faded so she bade them all good-night and returned to her own bed.

When she looked in an hour later, she found them asleep. She stepped nearer and gazed at Frodo for a long time. He lay at peace, his long lashes resting on his pale cheeks, a small smile gracing his serene face, his arms wrapped around Merry as she had often seen them while Frodo had lived at the Hall. You don’t know, darling, just how many love you, she thought. Then she softly kissed his forehead and crept from the room. In later years, long after his departure, when she thought of him, the clearest image she had of him was as he lay on that last night, smiling sweetly in his sleep. It must have been the moonlight, but she even thought she saw a warm glow around him.

* * *

Frodo approached his parents’ grave. They were buried in one single one as their bodies had been pulled together from the water, still intertwined. “You don’t need to stay,” Frodo said to his three companions, “if you don’t want to. I’ll meet you back at the Hall.”

It was the later afternoon. They had spent the entire day out, having their picnic and as much fun and memories as they could pack into it. Frodo shone nearly as brightly as the sun those hours and it was a joy for the other three to see it. They were all quite happily exhausted as they began to walk back to the Hall.

The three other hobbits remained outside the gates of the cemetery as Frodo walked among the closely set headstones, finding the one he sought near the center. He knelt down at it, surrounded by the dead. His three brothers watched, struck by the setting to new tears. Pippin grasped Merry’s hand. Sam’s gripped the gate until his knuckles were white. Merry seeing his distress took one of his hands with his free one. The gardener looked at him, surprised but grateful for the gesture. They all looked back at their dear one. Frodo had so long been like one whose soul had endured too much to truly be able to live again, but whose body refused to give in. Now it seemed at last that his spirit, so long hobbled by grief and pain, was slowly regaining its strength.

Frodo traced the letters on the headstone. He had so little memory of his parents anymore and he was filled with new sadness that he would now be leaving even with little he had left. He pulled up a few weeds that were growing near the grave. Who would take care of them when he was gone? He had done such a poor job of it himself. His Uncle Sara must be the one doing a much better job of it then he. He lay down on top of the grave and pressed his cheek against the cold stone, stretching out his arms as though to embrace his parents once last time.

“Please watch over me,” he murmured and then closed his eyes and just lay there for a long while, wanting to be near one last time. Tears fell down his cheeks onto the stone. Peace came to him after a while and he knew his prayer had been answered. It gave him the strength to get up.

The goodbye the next morning at the Hall to his Uncle and Aunt and myriad cousins was full of tears and well wishes. They never understood all that had changed their Frodo so much, but it had not changed their love for him or his love for them. It was late morning before they were all done and Frodo turned away from another part of his life forever.

 * * *

The trip back through Hobbiton Frodo wished alternately to hurry through so he wouldn’t give into the urge to rush back to Bag End and never leave and to take as slow as possible to memorize everything anew for he’d never see it again. He bit his lip against saying either, but his wishes seemed to be known already and the pace suited him.

They met Gandalf at the Ivy Bush with horse and cart that would take them to the Havens. All of Frodo’s doubts and fears about leaving rushed back at him as he realized the wizard’s appearance was another step along his path that he had so longed hoped he would never have to take. Gandalf smiled encouragingly at the grieving Ring-bearer and Frodo smiled faintly, but bravely back as he looked into those wonderfully deep eyes. There was sadness there, but it was overwhelmed by love and compassion. As the peace and support that radiated from the Light-filled being enveloped him, Frodo felt calmed and all his uncertainties were banished once more.

Gandalf held out his hand to his dear friend and helped him into the cart. Frodo’s hand lingered in his for a long moment for strength and comfort, then he let go. The seat in the back was truly only big enough for two, but Merry and Pippin both sat down with Frodo and none of them complained about the tight fit. Frodo took both his cousins by the hand and they held on tightly. Sam sat at his brother’s feet, one arm wrapped around his legs.

The Maia smiled, though no one could see it. Hobbits were truly amazing creatures. It was his honor to know them. He may be leaving with his two favorites, but he was going to miss the others very much, even that fool of a Took. Maybe especially him, he surprised himself by thinking. He knew that Sam would not be truly separated from his beloved master, though the physical loss of each other’s presence would be a sore trail for them both for some time. The four hobbits were thinking much the same. Listening to the horse as the miles went by, they all wanted to shout for it to slow down, but none of them did.

After a while, Pippin’s head nodded against Frodo’s and he jerked back up again, trying to stay awake. He didn’t want to waste anytime sleeping when he could be awake and his cousin would still be with him.

“Sleep now, my dearest ’squeak,” Frodo said softly. He slipped his arm around the tween’s waist. “It’s all right,” he said. “I’m tired, too. I’ll still be here when you wake.”

Thus reassured, Pippin wrapped his arm around his cousin, then rested his head against Frodo’s shoulder and closed his eyes. That didn’t stop the tears from escaping though. Frodo wiped at them, then placed his head against Pippin’s and they both slept.

* * *

They camped that night in a glade not far from the road. After a hot supper prepared by Sam, they told a few stories and sang a few songs, and then they retired to their bedrolls.

Frodo woke in the middle of the night with a start. He did not know what had wakened him, but for once it was not a nightmare. He lay in the silence for a moment, listening to the sweet sounds of the Shire night. A nightingale sang in the distance, blending its sweet voice with the crickets’ never-ceasing lullaby. This would be one of the last nights he would ever spend here, sleeping under the stars, surrounded by his dearest friends. The realization and grief washed over him like an icy flood, and he turned his face into the blankets and wept silently, hoping he wouldn’t disturb his cousins and Sam, who lay all around him, just as they had on the quest.

Seconds later, he felt three pairs of arms embracing him and two gentle kisses pressed to either cheek to stop his tears and one to his brow. The four did not try to comfort one another with words at first. They only held one another and wept into one another’s shoulders for a long time.

Pippin was the first to recover. He raised his head from Merry’s shoulder and began to sing an old Shire lullaby. His soft voice trembled a little.

“When o’er all the night is creeping,

When round us the dark is deep’ning,

When the time has come for sleeping,

I’ll be with you.”

Encouraged and touched by his younger cousin’s example, Merry took up the song:

“When down fall the shades of evening,

When the light of day is leaving,

When your heart is sad and grieving,

I’ll be with you.”

Sam joined in on the third verse:

“When down fall the shades of evening,

When the light of day is leaving,

When your heart is sad and grieving,

I’ll be with you.”

None of them wanted to sing the last verse, for it was all too true, but Frodo lifted his head, wiped his eyes, and blended his voice with the rest.

“Though by time’s swift-flowing river

We in this life may be severed,

In the spirit now and ever

I’ll be with you.”

They sang it again, their voices growing stronger at first and then breaking at the last verse. “It’s true, you know,” Frodo whispered as they again clung to one another in a four-way embrace. “No matter how far apart we are, I’ll always love you. And in that way…in that way I’ll be with you.”

They slept the rest of the night, pressed up close to each other. Pippin had his arm around Frodo’s chest and Merry slept on his other side, an arm protectively around as well. Gandalf watched them long into the night.

* * *

As the trip continued, Sam become increasingly aware of things being done for the last time. Their last night before reaching the Havens, as he watched Frodo sleep, he thought that night was very likely the last time he would ever sing to his brother, at least for a long time, and when earlier he had kissed his brow and murmured, “Sleep well, my dear, I love you,” he knew that was for the last time as well. But it would not be the last time he would cry for his friend and himself, for all they should have gained through the destruction of the Ring, for all they had lost instead. No, it wouldn’t be the last time at all.

Merry, Pippin and Gandalf returned to find that last night to find Sam and Frodo asleep, safe in each other’s arms and made no move to disturb them. After setting the fire going, Pippin lay down near his cousin, close enough to touch, and Merry next to him. Merry heard Pippin’s soft, nearly inaudible sobs, and pulled him close. But instead of embracing the comfort Merry offered, Pippin siddled closer to Frodo and fell asleep there. Merry brushed at Pippn’s curls, completely understanding and wishing his older cousin had more than two sides to him, then he lay down himself at Frodo’s head, his own cheeks streaked with silent tears.

Gandalf smiled sadly at the four whose hearts were so great and so torn. touched by their devotion and sorrowing that the next evening would bring separation that none of them wanted.

* * *

Sam looked up fearfully at the ship waiting at the dock. It was elegantly, beautifully made, as all Elven things were and in any other circumstance, would have taken his breath away in awe. But he hated it now. It was going to take his beloved brother away. He saw Merry and Pippin looking at it much the same way, maybe even more intensely. Pippin’s hand was tightly curled around Frodo’s and Frodo’s around his, but Pippin could barely feel that hand in his. Then he saw how Frodo was looking at that ship and he choked back new tears. Where were they all coming from? He had cried enough in the last week to water the garden at Bag End for a month it seemed. They all had. Sam and Merry followed the youngster’s gaze and felt like crying again as well. Frodo stared longingly at the ship, his face full of hope and anticipation, glowing almost as strongly as it ever had before the Ring had claimed him. It was a very bittersweet joy for Sam, Merry and Pippin to see it. Gandalf stood near them, a tower of strength, but allowing the four hobbits to have their last moments together.

Sam turned his gaze back to his dearest friend. “Can’t I go with you?” he pleaded again.

Frodo forced his gaze off the ship and to his friend. He bit his lip so hard it nearly bled. “No, my Sam, not yet,” he said softly, sadly.

Merry and Pippin’s ears perked up at the last words. Not yet? Was there a chance then they could join their cousin at some point? Gandalf noticed this as did Frodo and Frodo looked up entreatingly at the wizard as he had not the heart or strength to tell Merry and Pippin that they would not be ever coming. Gandalf nodded almost imperceptibly and spoke softly to the distressed, but hopeful, hobbits.

“Sam was a Ringbearer briefly and it is that that will allow him passage if he chooses. I’m sorry, but you cannot go with your cousin.” He said it as gently as he could and his heart broke to see their faces fall, the sudden hope die in their eyes.

“I wish I had held the Ring then,” Pippin said very quietly.

Frodo looked horrified. He would have spoken, had not Gandalf spoke first. “No, Peregrin Took,” he corrected gently. “Don’t ever wish that. It would have broken you as it has broken Frodo and then you would not be the sweet, honest fool I have grown to love. I will watch over him in your stead, perhaps not as well, but he will not be alone. Bilbo is coming also.”

Pippin looked at Gandalf who smiled, then buried himself in the wizard’s arms and cried anew. He was going to lose the White Wizard as well? And Cousin Bilbo? Gandalf held him gently, then let him go. “You will be all right, my dear Took,” he said softly as Pippin sniffled and looked up at him. The wizard took Sam and Merry into his gaze. “You will be all all right.” Sam and Merry embraced him as well and then Gandalf gave them one last smile and stepped back.

Bilbo came up to them now, an ancient hobbit at over 130 with a unsteady walk even with his cane. “I can see that we are getting a grand send-off,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, but his voice shook some. “Even the king and queen have come. How very kind.”

Unnoticed until then, the four hobbits turned to see Aragorn and Arwen smile fondly at their dear friend, though both had eyes bright with tears.

Sam stuck out his hand to Bilbo. “It was a pleasure and honor working for you, sir,” he said.

Bilbo looked at him. “My dear boy, my garden thrived under you and your father. The pleasure is all mine. Now put your hand down and give me a hug.”

Sam blushed slightly and held his first master tightly, crying. Bilbo patted him on the back. “Thank you for taking care of the garden, but more for taking care of Frodo when I couldn’t. It’s my turn now.”

Sam blinked at his tears. “It was my pleasure to do both, Mr. Bilbo. I know I leave my Frodo in more than capable hands.”

Bilbo smiled. “I don’t know if I can do as well as you, but I am certainly going to try.”

Frodo smiled at his uncle and beloved brother. He had certainly been blessed by those who had taken such good care of him.

Bilbo looked now up at Merry and Pippin. “Goodbye, cousins. It was ever a pleasure having you at Bag End. One day I hope we can enjoy a smoke again, where ever it is that we go when we pass this life.”

The younger hobbits embraced their ancient cousin, carefully at first, then when Bilbo held them tightly, they tightened their own embrace. “Goodbye,” they said.

“Do they have Longbottom Leaf there?” Pippin wondered, smiling hopefully through his tears. Bilbo laughed. “Well, if they don’t, we’ll have to go out and get some for you, won’t we?” He wiped at Pippin’s tears and Merry’s and kissed them both.

They watched Bilbo toddle on. Elrond met him at the base of the stairs stepping up to the boat and offered his arm. The Elf nodded in farewell and the hobbits bowed. Elrond smiled faintly then with a final, long gaze at his daughter, boarded the ship with Bilbo. Frodo and the others watched until Bilbo was safely aboard then Frodo turned back to gaze at his king.

Aragorn knelt and the Ring-bearer buried himself in those beloved arms one last time. “How will I stand missing you?” Frodo murmured as he held on tight.

“I wonder how I will bear missing you, gwador nin, but I know you go where you are meant to be. I tell myself not to grieve for that, but to rejoice.”

“I tell myself the same thing, but I haven’t yet convinced myself.”

“Nor have I.”

Frodo almost laughed, but it came out more of a sob and once it started, he couldn’t stop it. Aragorn held him tight until the storm passed, then raised his head to him, to look into that beloved face once more. He wiped at his brother’s tears and kissed his head. “You will be well, tithen min. May Iluvatar continue to bless you and He and the Valar watch over you all the days of your life.”

“And you, gwador nin, my king.”

They finally let go and then Arwen knelt and Frodo embraced her as well. “Hannon le,” he whispered.

Arwen held him tightly. “It is my wish, mell min, but it was Eru who granted it. Thank Him.”

“I have, many times.”

“I know. Go with Him now and with the wishes and prayers of all those you love you. You will not stand on the Lonely Isle alone.”

“I know I won’t.”

She kissed him on the cheek, then let go. King and queen stood back then, hands tightly clasped together, tears barely noticed rolling down their cheeks, but they smiled in their love for their beloved friend, so little in stature, such a giant in heart, as he turned to his other brothers.

“Are you sure you want to leave today, dear?” Sam asked. “Tomorrow’s the 6^th. It’s...”

Frodo looked at his beloved guardian tenderly. “I know, my Sam,” he said gently.

Tears welled again in Sam’s eyes. “What if something happens again? You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I won’t be,” Frodo assured. “Gandalf and Bilbo will be with me. And maybe nothing will even happen this time. Maybe last year was the last time.”

Sam wanted so badly to believe the quiet, desperate hope in his brother’s voice, as much as Frodo himself did, but he wasn’t sure either of them truly did. He thought of other arguments he could bring to bear, but he warred within himself whether he should voice any of them. He wanted Frodo to stay, wanted that so bad his bones hurt, but even more than that he wanted his brother to be healed and it was hard, bitterly hard, to accept that meant Frodo had to leave him, perhaps forever. But he had done many things hard in his life - watching the Ring take more and more hold of his beloved brother and even after it was destroyed, not letting go. Looking into Frodo’s eyes, he knew he could do this hard thing also. The light was growing in those bright, dearly loved orbs. They were regaining their beauty and luminosity and Sam could only hope that would continue to grow. They looked at him now with such deep love that he could only return the same. All the arguments died unpoken. Sam’s heart broke, but he knew Frodo’s would be made whole again and while Sam wished with all his strength his brother could be healed here, it was with all his love, he was going to let him go where he would be healed.

Frodo gazed at his beloved brother and smiled as he saw Sam’s acceptance. He stared long into that dear face, memorizing every feature anew, as Sam was doing as well, then Frodo held him tightly, hoping to always remember how wonderful, how comforting it felt to have Sam’s arms around him. Sam smelled like the Shire they both loved, the fresh earth, the clean air after a good rain. Frodo breathed that in deeply, imprinting it as well in his memory. He closed his eyes against fresh tears. Was he doing the right thing? he wondered again, assailed by a new wave of doubts. Was he giving up everything he knew and loved, save his uncle, to go after what was only a hope for healing? But he knew he had to go. If he could have healed here, he would have been long ago. He held his guardian tighter. Sam held on as though he would never let go. But he had meant it when he had said he was for whatever would make his brother whole again. He could not ask for anything else.

Frodo squeezed him once, then loosened his embrace. He looked once more into his Sam’s eyes, and smiled, wiped at his friend’s tears and kissed his head. “The book of sorrows and victories awaits your finishing, my Sam. Write what is in your heart as I wrote what was in mine. Let no one ever forget what we fought for. Read it to your children and to anyone that will listen so they know of the terrible darkness that was so narrowly averted and let you and them be glad to live in a land and time of peace. It was dearly bought, but the price was gladly paid. Tell them, though, to be ever vigilant so that darkness can not rise again. Your life and theirs will go on here, and happily, long after I am gone.”

Sam traced his brother’s cheek and jaw line then smiled bravely. “Your life will go on happily also, dear,” he said with so much hope and confidence that Frodo had to believe it was true. The Light spoke within his heart and he knew that Iluvatar inspired Sam to have said those words.

“So much will be different,” his guardian continued, “but I packed a few things for you to remember us and the Shire by.”

Frodo opened the bag that Sam pressed into his hand and looked inside. There, carefully wrapped, was his favorite tea and mug, his inkwell and quill, a small but thick blank journal, even some pipeweed and his second best pipe (the first being lost long before) and last a familiar looking box. He smiled with fresh tears in his eyes as he saw what was inside, especially the last, and looked up at Sam who also smiled through his tears.

“Best seasoning in all the Shire, huh, Sam?” Frodo said. “Thank you.”

“I hope you can find me use for it this time than we did last time,” Sam said. “And I hope you can enjoy a pipe once in a while and remember nights spent in front of another fire.”

Frodo looked at the other gifts again, especially his writing instruments.

“Your story isn’t over yet, my dear,” Sam said quietly. “Use that ink and paper well. I want to know everything that has happened to you when we meet next.”

Frodo closed the bag and embraced his brother again. He didn’t want to let go, just wanted to stand in those arms until he was healed, but he knew he couldn’t. Healing wasn’t going to come that way, no matter how much both wanted it to. Instead he stored how it felt into his memory with every other beloved thing, to be able to draw on it at need.

“I wish you could come with me, Sam,” he murmured. He hadn’t wanted to say it; he had held it in this whole time, but it could no longer be denied.

Sam hugged him tighter. “I wish I could too, dearest,” he said softly. “Just say the word and before it’s half out your mouth, I will be there.”

“I can’t,” Frodo said. “Not now. Your place is here. But you will know when the time is right. I can’t wait.”

“Nor can I. I will come as soon as I possibly can. Just take care of yourself until I can come to do it for you.”

“I will, Sam. I will. I promise.”

Frodo smiled at his beloved guardian. The younger hobbit stared at that smile and reached out to touch the edges of it and smiled himself through his tears. “It’s so good to see you smile.”

Frodo’s smile broadened then, then he laid his head back on Sam’s shoulder and they held each other for a long time more, neither wanting to be the one to break the embrace. “This is not goodbye, Sam,” Frodo murmured. “This is just a last, long walk home.”

Sam’s arms nearly crushed his dearest friend. “And I’ll be just a few steps behind you, my dear,” he promised.

“I know, Sam. I’m counting on it.”

Frodo reluctantly broke the embrace, kissed Sam’s head once more and then looked at him for a long time more, then grasped his arm and squeezed gently. “Namarie, melannen gwador, ” he said quietly and Sam smiled through his tears to hear something from the language of his beloved Elves from his beloved Elven hobbit.

Frodo then turned to Merry. The younger hobbit had watched Sam’s struggle as the gardner had wondered whether he should continue to beg Frodo to stay. Merry now bit his lip to keep from arguing as well. He wanted his cousin to stay so bad his body ached, but more than that, he wanted Frodo to heal.  If it couldn’t be done here, it would have to be enough for him know, to hope that Frodo would be happy and learn to savor life again elsewhere.  Holding onto that hope with all his strength, Merry now poured all that same strength into embracing his cousin. They held each other for a long while, freezing that moment in time in their hearts so they would always have it, then they let go, wiped at each other’s tears and looked long into one another’s eyes, memorizing that as well. Frodo smiled, the same beautiful smile Merry had loved all his life, that was so freely given and remembered the wonderful laugh that had once bubbled up so often from his cousin’s throat and smiled back at the love in that smile and those eyes. Frodo kissed Merry’s head and handed him a folded note. Merry grasped the note tightly, then dug out something from his vest pocket.

Frodo stared down in surprise at the fork his cousin handed him. “Keep it, my Frodo,” Merry said quietly. “The best is yet to come.”

The elder hobbit looked into the younger’s tear-bright eyes and felt his own eyes sting once more. He embraced him again tightly. “Oh, Merry, my Merry, how I wish you were coming with me.”

Merry held his beloved cousin and brother nearly too tight to breathe. “I will always be with you,” he promised. He let go and placed his hand over Frodo’s heart. “I will always be there. Look for me as I will look for you.”

Frodo held Merry’s hand for a long time against his heart, then pressed his hand against his cousin’s chest. “And there you will always find me.”

He kissed his cousin’s head once more, then turned to Pippin. The tween was already crying as he clutched Frodo hard enough to hurt, but Frodo held him just as tightly and pressed his head into the sweet, beloved curls of his cousin’s and murmured what comforts he could in a voice choked with his own tears. Pippin wanted his Frodo to be healed as much as Sam and Merry did, but more than anything, he wanted him to be healed here, in Middle-earth, not somewhere he could never see him again. It was too soon for him to leave! If Pippin lived to be 100 and Frodo over 120, it would still be too soon. Don’t let him leave, he begged whatever powers were listening. Oh, please don’t let him leave. He wanted the same impossible thing Sam and Merry wanted, but he hadn’t accepted yet that it wasn’t going to happen. He railed against it, screaming in his mind at the injustice that his cousin, most gentle and loving of creatures, who had given the most had to suffer the most. Why couldn’t that beautiful soul who had always loved him so much and given him such joy return without having to go away? Why couldn’t they always be together as Pippin always imagined them to be? He could barely imagine a day without Frodo and now he had to face a life without him. His sobs increased in intensity and his small hands curled into fists that dug into Frodo’s back. It wasn’t fair!

Frodo held his youngest cousin and grieved anew that Pippin had to shoulder so much pain so early in life. He knew how anxiously his dear one had long forward for years to his coming of age party. He had made all sorts of elaborate plans and all of them had involved Frodo. Now none of them would. Why couldn’t he stay at least until that, Frodo wondered, but he knew he couldn’t.

“Can’t you stay?” Pippin begged. “Or can’t I come with you? I know you can’t and I can’t, but...”

Frodo held him tighter, trying to pour all the love and support of a lifetime into the one embrace. “I wish I could stay, dearest, or take you with me. Neither wish has been granted, but don’t think I am leaving you, never to return. I will always be with you, where I’ve always been, in your heart, where I will always keep you as well. Hold me there as I will hold you.”

Frodo waited until Pippin’s tears slowed, then slowly let go, smiled and wiped at those tears still on his cousin’s cheeks, as the tween smiled tremulously back and wiped at Frodo’s. They looked at each other for a long time, each committing to memory every feature of the other’s face. Pippin tried to absorb every bit of the love that shined from his beloved Frodo’s eyes, eyes that had begun to shine again with the light that Pippin had loved all his life and had missed so much. It was then he knew he had to let his cousin go. How could he not when he loved him with his whole heart and soul and wanted nothing for him but happiness, happiness he could not get except by going away? How could he hold Frodo back? He smiled more bravely then and Frodo seeing his acceptance, squeezed his shoulder. Frodo then kissed Pippin’s head and handed him a note like he had Merry. The youngster clutched it convulsively.

Then Frodo left to walk up the plank, his first steps to his new home, to new hope. Sam watched for a moment before turning to Gandalf who had begun to turn to board as well. “Can’t we go with him?” he pleaded and the wizard stopped and winced at all he heard in Sam’s voice. “Or can’t you at least delay leaving for a couple days. Tomorrow’s the anniversary of Weathertop and...”

Gandalf smiled gently at Sam. “I know, Sam,” he said. “Frodo chose this date to leave precisely because of that. He didn’t want any of you to worry about him or see him so ill.”

Sam deflated, his last hopes dashed, but then he rallied as he always did. “But you’ll be with him if he gets into that state again?” he asked earnestly. “I know he said you would and I believe him, he would never lie about anything, but it makes me so worried, that he’s going to suffer and I can’t, we can’t, be there to help him through it. No one knows him or loves him like we do. It would make me feel better if I knew he wasn’t going to be alone.”

“Us, too,” Merry and Pippin said.

Gandalf looked at the three anxious hobbits and smiled again. “He will not be alone,” the wizard assured. “Bilbo and I will be with him. We love him too, you know.”

Sam blushed. “Of course you do, Mr. Gandalf,” he nearly stammered. “I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t, but...”

Gandalf smiled and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “He’s going to be all right, Sam.”

The wizard turned to leave, but the gardener’s voice called him back. “But there’s a few more things you need to know.”

Gandalf turned back, his smile still there. “Yes?”

“Make sure he gets enough to eat,” Sam said. “He’s had hardly any appetite since he came back the first time and he’s gotten so awfully thin.”

“Just look at him,” Pippin added. “He’s nothing but skin and bones. It isn’t healthy. One would think he wasn’t even a hobbit anymore.”

“I will make sure he becomes one again,” Gandalf assured and Pippin smiled. The wizard started to turn again.

“And make sure he gets plenty of sunshine,” Merry said, drawing the wizard’s gaze again. “He’s awfully pale.”

“I will do that. Anything else?”

“Make sure he’s warm enough,” Sam said. “He’s always so cold even in the summer and he needs extra blankets and lots of hot tea. Chamomile is his favorite, but then there’s peppermint for his stomach and raspberry leaf for his throat.”

Gandalf looked up at Frodo who was now standing at the railing looking down at the four of them. His expression was a mixture of fear of leaving his friends behind, the pain he was still so much in and immense love. A soft smile graced his lips as he knew that Sam and his cousins were still begging to be brought along. And how much Frodo wished that could be true!

Gandalf looked back down at Sam and the other two hobbits. “I will be see to it that he is well taken care of,” he assured. “Goodbye, my dear friends.”

The three hobbits slumped their shoulders in defeat. “Goodbye,” they said in unison.

Their eyes turned to Frodo as did Aragorn’s and Arwen’s. Frodo’s smile widened a little as they looked up at him. The love in his eyes shone brighter as well as the sorrow at leaving them. He stared at them and they at him as though transfixed, even as the ship began to pulled away and a light rain began to fall. Frodo lifted his hand to his heart, then extended it to his family. I give my heart to you. He smiled when in unison they returned the gesture. Merry, Pippin, Aragorn and Arwen all knew it was the last thing they would ever share with their dear one, but it was the best thing. Sam hoped it would not be the last thing he would ever give to his brother, but he was satisfied also that it was the best thing, something all three hobbits had given Frodo long ago, and he them, and something that king and queen had also freely extended. The Ring-bearer shared one last, long look with each of them, then raised the phial of Galadriel so his friends would be able to see him and he them as the natural light began to fade and the rain come down harder.

Tears began to form anew as they drew further and further away from each other and Sam had to restrain himself from running after his brother even then. Pippin clutched his Merry’s hand in a crushing grip, but the elder hobbit didn’t even notice as he held Pippin’s nearly as tightly. The rain began to fall ever harder but none of them moved.

Bilbo called up to him from the shelter of the lower area of the ship. “Come in, my boy, you will catch cold.”

Frodo glanced at his uncle. “I will come shortly,” he said. He looked long enough to make sure Bilbo was safely back inside, then turned back to his friends. As the shore grew farther and farther away and he lost all sight of them, he still held the phial up. The three watched in amazement as the light did not grow smaller but burned just as bright. They watched that even as Frodo himself was lost to sight. Still they wouldn’t leave as long as they could see that light for it meant he was still somehow still with them.

“Follow the light,” Sam murmured to Frodo and to himself. Aragorn and Arwen smiled at that even as light faded away at last and the three hobbits, heads bowed, returned to their carriage. The king and his queen returned to theirs as well. They left at the same time, their hearts almost too heavy to bear within them.

A/N: The lullaby Sam sang was from my dear reviewer, Frodo Baggins. The song they all sang is from Galadriel who also was the one who made sure that Frodo had some fun these last days, including that pillow fight. Bless her and that dear Took for thinking of it!  Melannen means 'beloved'.  I hope I have it all right since I'm still very new to speaking  and writing Elvish!

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.