Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with LOTR.
Summery: The last day in Frodo's life. Frodo's POV
Rating: PG
 
 
 

  The wind blew on the sturdy walls of my greenhouse. It's strange, I hadn't even wanted a greenhouse, but Legolas insisted that I let he and Gimli build me one. He never had explained to me why. Perhaps he just needed to give me one last gift before he set sail again. In the years after our great adventure together, Legolas had become quite the expert seaman. It amazed me how well the elf could learn things so quickly. Ofcourse, he never had a wizard breathing down his back.
  Gandalf the Gray, my old friend. I do miss him so. If there was anything in the world I could wish it would be to have the good wizard here with me. To have all the Company here with me. Most have passed on; the Men first, of course. Aragorn died very long after our adventure, leaving his throne to his heir. I miss his swordsmanship, even though I have not needed it since my return to the Shire. Nor did I ever need Legolas's aim, straight and true. Still, I long have wished to need them again. To have one last adventure with my dear friends.
  It seems time was against me getting caught into another adventure. It has drifted by me far too fast for my liking. I had not noticed how fast time had gotten from me until I stood with the remaining Company at dear Sam's funeral. It had been two weeks after my 102nd birthday. Sam had passed quietly, or so his daughter would tell me. He would be followed the year after by Pippin and three years after by Merry. I am the last hobbit of the fearless Company left.
  Three of us all together remain: myself, Legolas, and Gimli. If it had not been for Gandalf being 'sure' he would return from Mordor twenty years after the end of the Ring, he would still be alive. I wish I had been there. I wish I may have gotten the chance to say good bye. Legolas had told me about Gandalf and I hated him for it. Gimli had been the one to tell me about Aragorn, I hated him for that. They had allowed me to cry on their shoulders and I loved them because of it.
  Now my own days dwindle down to a remaining few. For I have no ring to prolong my life as Bilbo did. Of course, he has been dead for many years now. Word had come from Rivendell, from Elrond to be more precise, of his passing. I held that letter for many nights and wondered what went through my dear uncle's mind before he was called upon by the angels. I do not believe it was fear, for he would be glad to see his friends again. As will I.
  They wait for me, I hope, and I shall not make them wait for much longer. Legolas may, but I desire to visit with them again. My feet are tired and my heart aches as I remember the friendship we forged and the evil we destroyed. Outside the greenhouse built against my will, the dark of night creeps upon my sadness. It is time to go inside the warmth of my home and rest my tired soul.
  Last I spoke to Legolas he seemed to know I was going to perish, and was not afraid. There was only a few scarce times I had seen the archer afraid. He had no fear of death and much good reason for it; he was immortal. I, on the other side, am not. He has sent me a letter that will not arrive for a few days too late. It tells me a good bye that I will never read. Legolas can see much behind hidden lies.
  The wind flicks my white hair in many a direction as I step out the door of my indoor garden. I hold an old lantern that Sam gave me just in case we decided to have another trip round Middle Earth. The light within burns low as it tends to do when it needs more fuel. I guess it will have to wait for my dear Legolas and Gimli to refuel it. I regret that that was not one thing I would like to accomplish in the hour of my death. There was nothing really that I need to do, I feel as though I have done all.
  My friends on the other side call for me, I hear them in my mind. Inside my home I feel their presence, beckoning me. I tell them to be patient. The time draws near. I wish I could have said farewell to my remaining Company, to Elrond, and to my children. Somehow I believe they know, they have known for sometime, perhaps even before me. I have been ill many times over in my life, but this will be the last illness I suffer.
  My bed is warm and inviting, the sheets pull round me in comfort. A single tear slips calmly down from my eye onto my bed top. I have waited for this moment since Gandalf had not returned from the still fiery gates of Mordor. Flashes of my life past come before me: my parents, Bilbo, the Company; their deaths. I am ready. A last breath escapes my lips and the final beat of my heart pounds. The darkness closes round for a moment before light reaches.
  At the end of this light dutifully await my friends and family. I have kept them long enough and I begin to run. Gandalf stoops down and opens his long arms to receive my joy. The others crowed round me in welcoming. I have missed them so. The Company, they soon realize, is still not yet complete. There are two more we must wait for.
  "Needn't worry, dear Frodo, our good elf and loyal dwarf will be here soon enough," Gandalf says standing up again. We sit ourselves on the cool ground as the light begins to fade, being replaced by familiar surroundings: Bag End. We would sit and wait for our other dear friends for a long while, but to have the Company back it is worth every moment. I just wish they will come by soon to say hello.
 
 

The End