*******

Chapter One: Samwise

Sam got up from the chair with a sigh. It was late. Elanor was fast asleep on his arms and all the house was quiet. Silently, the hobbit carried her to her room and laid her down under the blanket. Tucking his daughter in and giving her a light kiss on the forehead, Sam departed.

He stood for a while in the corridor, not really thinking anything. He walked slowly down to the front door and drew the latch home. He turned back and gazed into the darkness.

"...I'll always be in the dark now."

He shuddered at the memory and cast it from his thoughts. Frodo was free now. From pain of wounds and mind. Shouldn't he be grateful for that? Sam approached the door at the far end of the hall. He let his fingers brush the wood gently. Then, with a deep breath, he pushed down the handle and entered the room beyond. It was like walking into a tomb. Everything cold and lifeless. Even the air itself felt dead on his skin. He stared round. It seemed to him that the very room had changed. Devoid of light or cheer. Just a shadowy chasm gasping before him, still, empty.

Sam crossed over to the desk. The Red Book was there, lying open, a few last inky words at the corner of the page.

"The rest is for you."

Frodo's words seemed to echo all around at that moment. Sam stifled a sob. He sat down before the desk and reached for the quill, sitting forlornly to one side. But as he did so, in the moon's faltering beams, he saw something lying beneath the feathers. He drew it out and examined it. It was a wad of papers folded up. On the front was marked simply- "Sam."

With shaking hands, he uncreased the pages and let his eyes drift over the words.

'Dearest Sam,

I know that when I am gone, I shall grieve for you. I will weep for your presence. And I know that you will weep in turn for mine. But no answers will come in tears, Sam. Both of us must remember that. To find peace, I have to leave you and you always understood that. Maybe I will be able to come back sometime- see the Shire again. See the Fellowship again. I wonder what it will be like in the Undying Lands. Many changes? Or will things remain the same?

I'm sorry, Sam. I cannot think what else I can say to you. Just that I know you will understand better than anyone. My best friend.

Love, Frodo.'

Sam hiccuped as a sob caught in his throat. He wiped a hand over his eyes and then drew out the other papers. There were letters, notes, farewells, poems and a hundred other things. All written for Frodo's friends and family. The hobbit did not read the other letters, feeling that whatever Frodo said to others was not for him to know. But he pored over the Elvish phrases, the maps and essays of the things Frodo had seen. At the corner of one of these, Sam found a small drawing. Of a Ring. He tore the paper in half and let it flutter to the ground. It was that cursed Ring that had crushed his master. Even after Its destruction did It toy with his mind. And Sam despised It above all other things. It was because of the Ring that Sam had failed Frodo. And Frodo had had to go as far as leaving everything behind to find healing.

"Come back," Sam murmured, "You don't have to go. I don't want to understand. Come back, Mister Frodo!"

The words died at his lips and a cold silence fell once more. And it sank into Sam's heart that his master was not coming back. Frodo had gone. He was not in pain any more. He was with Gandalf and the Lady Galadriel. He was safe. ...But he was gone.

"Frodo..." Sam whispered. Then he dissolved into tears.

--

"Sam? Sam, love?" Rosie called, wandering out from her room. She checked on Elanor. Sam was not there either. Abruptly, she stopped in her tracks. She turned back into the corridor.

Rosie quietly opened the door to Frodo's room and peered inside. Sam was sleeping soundly at the desk, his head resting on a pile of tear-stained papers. Next to him lay a small red book, blotched with ink. Carefully, the hobbit-wife lifted it up and read the first line.

'Dear Frodo...'