Don’t You Worry About Me!

“Take care! I don’t care. Don’t you worry about me! I am as happy now as I have ever been, and that is saying a great deal. But the time has come. I am being swept off my feet at last.” **

The dwarves let him lead the way for a while. Away from the sounds of his party as it carried on without him. Away from his heir. Away from the old wizard. Away.

They stopped for a bite to eat, talking happily but quietly in a sheltered dell. But soon they were on the move again, single file with no words passing among them.

And he thought.

Thought of a journey long ago when he had run off much less prepared. Of climbing to the very roof of a forest and seeing large black butterflies floating in the sunlight. Of trolls and spiders. Of Beorn the Changeling. Of High Elves and of Wood Elves. Of dragon hoards. Of rings.

Of the dark places. The dank places. Of those who hid there, dwelt there, crept about there. Of riddles. Of his ring.

His hand patted his waistcoat pocket.

A habitual gesture.

It wasn’t there.

He knew where it was.

He slowed.

The dwarves behind him slowed.

He stopped.

His breath quickened. His heart raced. Sweat broke out upon his brow.

His hand still patted the pocket.

He started to turn.

“Go away and leave it behind. Stop possessing it. Give it to Frodo, and I will look after him,” ** said the strong, warm, caring voice in his mind.

He let out the breath he had been holding. He did not turn. He squared his shoulders which for the second time this night felt oddly light and unburdened.

He smiled and once again walked freely under the starry sky.

**Quotes from FOTR, "A Long Expected Party"