Bag End, 20 Halimath, 1421

"Rose, may I see you a moment?"

The young mother looked up a bit surprised. She balanced her infant daughter in her arms a little more comfortably.

"Certainly, Mr. Frodo. Are you needing something?"

"I need to tell you something," the elder hobbit said and Rosie’s heart ached as it always did to hear the pain and weariness in that voice, to see it in those eyes which had been so lively.

She well knew Frodo tried to hide how much he was suffering, and though she knew little enough of its cause for both and their Sam had kept that from her as much as they could, she knew it was because of their terrible journey together. What little she did know was from what they both called out in their nightmares and only the other could comfort them.

"Yes, Mr. Frodo?"

"I wish to thank you while there is still time, for all your kindnesses to me since you and Sam have come to live here with me. I have been blessed beyond any deserving. But...I am going away soon."

"Yes, Mr. Frodo, I know. Remember you asked whether you could take Sam with you?"

"It’s more than that, Rose, though Sam does not know that yet and I beg you not to say anything. I will tell him myself, but not until we are on our way. He can’t come yet. He has so much to be and to do here and I wish I could stay and watch and rejoice in it all. But I am going, with Bilbo, across the Sundering Sea, to stay with the Elves, where I may heal...from my hurts. It’s...it’s my only hope."

Rose did not understand half of what Frodo was saying, but still tears rose in her eyes as she looked into his and saw his unspoken plea, begging for her understanding.

She felt her own grief, but she felt worse for their Sam, for truly he was theirs, not hers, not his, but theirs, that dearest of hearts embracing them both.

How could Sam bear to lose half of it though, she wondered? And how could Frodo bear to lose half of his for she knew better than anyone of the bond Sam and Frodo had always shared. She bit her lip and spoke none of this. It would not be her place to do so and she would not add to his burdens.

"I’m so sorry, Mr. Frodo," she murmured.

Elanor began to fuss and Rose sought to calm her, but nothing worked. Frodo reached out his arms to her. "Let me try, please, Rose." The young mother handed Elanor to her uncle. Frodo sat down with her in his arms in the rocking chair that had been his wedding gift to Sam and Rose and began to sing softly. Elanor calmed almost immediately as she always did when Frodo sang to her in Elvish. Rose did not understand any of the words, but she loved to listen.

"What were you singing, Mr. Frodo? You have such a beautiful voice."

"It’s a lullaby in Quenya. That’s what they speak where I am going. I thought I should learn it so I’ve been teaching myself some from a primer Bilbo made for me."

"Oh, Mr. Frodo," Rose said in tears. The words tumbled out of her before she could stop them. "I hope you don’t forget how to be a hobbit where you are going..." She stopped in horror at stepping out of her place.

"I don’t know who I am anymore, Rose," Frodo said and Rose felt a secret gate open to a place where only Frodo had trodden before, a wild and terrible place, where blood stained the sharp stones. "I am changing and I don’t know into what or who. It hurts and I am afraid. I don’t know where this Road is leading me, but I know I must follow, just as I did before."

The brutal honesty and anguish in those words tore at Rose’s heart. For all her longing to know what had happened to him and to Sam, she was suddenly frightened of knowing and now she knew or thought she could guess why they held back. The open gate beckoned to her, but Rose was afraid to enter. The raw pain of it and the revelation of it begged to be succored and honored, though, even if she felt far too little and helpless to do it. She took a couple of very tentative steps and gasped softly when she saw that some of the blood was fresh.

Further in she went, following the red footprints, deeper into this very private part of the garden that was Frodo’s heart, a part she somehow knew not even Sam had trodden, a place of unbearable pain.

That she was seeing this before Sam did not feel right at all. Still she kept walking, even as she cut herself as she walked among the sharp rocks and brambles. In the distance she thought she saw Frodo’s back, the blood dripping from his feet as he walked.

A vision then spread out before her of the garden transformed into a place of unspeakable beauty and light, and Frodo changed as well. Her breath caught in her throat as she became suddenly aware, though she could not have said how or why, that, even if Sam had not been allowed to till this place, another would and it would become hallowed and sacred. She also knew with unwavering certainty that Sam would come one day and find rest there as well.

Peace came to her then and joy and she wondered how she could communicate to Frodo all she had seen for words seemed to be woefully inadequate. The vision faded and the desolate landscape came back into focus, but the peace remained. She had no worries and she joyfully anticipated the day that Frodo would see the vision himself come into reality and the day Sam would see it as well.

Perhap, it’s a little like birthing a baby, Mr. Frodo," she said, wondering if he would think her cracked for making such a comparison, but it was the closest she could come in her attempt to explain something that words simply could not.

But at least here she was on solid ground and could speak from experience. She bit her lip, then she plunged on because her mother’s heart could not bear to see someone she loved in pain. "It is very painful and a mite frightening, but at the end, you have this beautiful new being." She stopped, no longer certain she had stepped far out of her place, for now she understood that place to be exactly where she was.

Frodo looked up at Rose and wondered at the great light he saw in her face, almost as bright as the Elves, brighter than even he had seen in Sam. She saw within his pain, the tremendous beauty which had always spun the heads of all the lasses, would have spun hers as well if her heart had not already been tied to Sam. "Mayhap you are right, Rose," he said. "I hope you are."

Rose smiled and kissed the top of his head. "Just you wait, Mr. Frodo," she murmured and he held onto her words for the hope in them.

When Sam returned later that afternoon, his heart nearly stopped at the beauty of the sight he beheld in the parlour. Frodo and Elanor were both asleep in that rocking chair. The master of Sam’s heart had his arms wrapped around his beloved niece and the baby’s hand was over his heart.

"It’s just like she was protecting him there," Sam murmured when he looked up and saw his wife, "and he needs protecting sore," he continued, to himself, or so he thought. Even in sleep, Frodo’s features were drawn, but still his light shone.

"He’s very beautiful, isn’t he, all lit up like that," Rose said. "It’s no wonder all the lasses are wild about him."

"There is none more fair than he, my Rose. But he don’t know his own worth, beyond all the jools ever delved."

Rose smiled as she remembered her vision of that transformed garden and she did not fear for her husband for she knew he would one day dwell there with his, their, beloved Frodo.

She could no more share the awesome beauty of that vision that neither had yet seen with him than she had been able to with Frodo, but she knew she did not need to. Sam already knew of it.

Sam brushed his master’s brow with a soft kiss, then went in to help with dinner.

That night, Rose turned to her husband. She kept Mr. Frodo’s word not to say anything about his departure, but she couldn’t abide the thought of her Sam, their Sam, losing such a dear soul without some comfort.

"Sam dear, I think you should go to Mr. Frodo tonight. It’s his last night here and I daresay he needs some cuddling."

Sam kissed his wife and smiled. "Bless your heart, my Rose, and mine for knowing yours and yours for knowing his."

"Bless us both for knowing his," she said.

Sam’s smile grew wider.

He got up from bed and Rose smiled as she turned over.

Sam crawled into Frodo’s bed and Frodo silently, gratefully wrapped his arms around his beloved guardian. He laid his head down on Sam’s chest and listened to that treasured heartbeat that had kept him on his Road. It was then that the younger hobbit saw through the moonlight streaming in the window that there were tears on his beloved master’s face. He wiped them gently away.

"What are the tears for, dear?"

"I’m missing this place already," Frodo said. "And you and Elanor and Rose and Merry and Pippin and everyone."

"We are always going to be with you, my love," Sam said, stroking his curls gently. "And we’ll come to visit you and Mr. Bilbo whenever we can. I wish we could all come with you. And you can come and visit us. Wouldn’t you love to come back one day?"

"I would indeed love that, my Sam," Frodo said. But it cannot be.

Sam kissed his head. "Then no more tears, my dear. You will be coming home."

And though Sam did not know what he was speaking of, Frodo took those words into his heart and they comforted him in a way nothing else had been able to do.

"I’m glad you are with me, Sam."

Frodo slept peacefully that night, waking only once, to look at his Sam’s face shining in the moonlight and brushing that dear brow with the lightest of kisses and the softest breath of thanks, he fell back asleep.

The morrow would bring enormous change, but for now, he was in his own bed, in his Sam’s arms, and he would treasure that, instead of grieve. Sam slept peacefully as well as he dreamed of a garden far more beautiful than he had ever seen. At its center stood his Frodo, fairer and brighter than he had ever beheld before.