Chapter Two:  Hard to Breathe

I miss you so much, my Sam, it hurts to breathe. I miss everyone and everything else too. I keep repeating to myself over and over and over until I think I will go mad what Gandalf told me while we were on the ship here, that I wasn’t wounded in a day and I wouldn’t be healed in a day, but I am so very tired of hurting. I’m not feeling any better, in fact, I’m worse because I miss you and everyone so much. And I still hear the call of the Ring. It has been so long a part of me that I still cannot separate it from who I am. And it has followed me even here, a hated shadow, mocking my attempts to heal and be rid of it.

The only thing that has kept me from total despair is the hope that I will see you again. I have to see you again, dearheart, you must be coming. I don’t know when, but I have to hope you are, even as all my other hopes die around me. I have to believe that I will one day feel you hold me again, talk to me, sing to me and look at me with that bottomless love you have always held me for me whether I’ve deserved it or not. Every night I hold out my hand for you to hold and I do feel it - I do.

Bilbo has also taken to holding me at times so I can sleep, just like you used to so many times. He started doing that when in the middle of the first night here, I crawled into his bed. He said I must have still been asleep when I did because I didn’t respond when he called out to me, just curled up beside him. He put his arm around me and I placed my head over his heart. He said I had been shaking, but I stopped after I was next to him. I guess I just needed someone near. You’ve spoiled me too much, dearest brother mine, to being able to sleep well on my own. I still cry a lot at night and it’s just so much easier not to be alone. I love having Bilbo near, but I’m sorry I can’t get better. I know it worries him as it worries me, but he is so kind and comforting. Usually he lets go once he knows I’m asleep and then I can remain asleep, unless the nightmares come and then he holds me again until I calm again.

I don’t always remember those dreams, but I know I’ve had them. I wake in Bilbo’s arms, sweat soaked and shivering. He has been such a blessing to me here, but I know he is frightened by how much I still suffer. I can see his guilt. I hear him apologizing over and over for burdening me with the Ring and begging for my forgiveness. I hate to see him suffer like that as much as he hates watching me. I keep reassuring him that I don’t blame him, that none of this is his fault. And I think it helps him, helps us both for a little bit, then the shadows crowd in again and we have to struggle again to push them away. His love is keeping me alive as much as yours is. I have felt him stroke my curls as I’ve been held in his lap. I’ve heard him talk and softly sing and it reminds me so much of better, happier times. I am so grateful to him, I cannot even tell you. Sometimes it is the only way I can get to sleep, but he shouldn’t have to do it every night. He is so old, Sam. He doesn’t need this burden.

I think I am being protected from remembering my dreams by the One I came here to be healed by. I think if I did recall them I would probably go mad because everything is so intense here, magnified like it was at Lothlorien. Colors are more vibrant, almost alive. Sounds are crisper. Touch and smell are more distinct. Emotions are much deeper.

I know all of this is not to hurt me further, just simply the way things are here and I look forward to the day I hope is coming when my joys will be as deep as my pain is now, but it is so hard right now, my Sam, so hard.

* * *

I miss you so bad, my dear, that I can barely breathe at times. It’s been that hard since you left. I remember what I had said to you about the Ring never letting you go and you said that you couldn’t let it go. I got you to Mordor, but I could not bring you back. That hurts more than anything just realizing that anew. When you had nightmares and you were any place but in your own bed and I held you and murmured to you what comforts I could and sang to you, I always wondered what more I could do to help you. It never seemed to be enough for me, but it always seemed to be enough for you. You would always calm and you would fall back to sleep. I think you just needed to know that someone was near, that you weren’t alone. But you were in many ways that I am only now beginning to truly understand. You had always believed you would not make it back to the Shire and you didn’t, did you, my dear? Your body did and I know your heart and soul tried so hard to also, but they just couldn’t. They were still there in the fire, as though at a grave of a loved one. Was that it? Did you love the Ring more than the Shire, more than us? I remember how terrified I was that you were going to let go of that ledge. I remember the look in your eyes, begging me for permission to do just that. Did you feel then what I and Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin are feeling now? That with the thing you loved most lost, there was no point in going on?

Oh, I can’t believe I just wrote that. Forgive me, my dear. Please. I know very well you loved us more. I watched helplessly for months as that despicable Ring twisted you inside out, but you kept going and it was love that gave you the strength to take another step, another breath, love for all of Middle-earth. I thought I understood what you were feeling, what you were going through, but after reading what you wrote... You said you had written what was in your heart. Oh, my dear, my dear. Your pain ran much deeper than I knew. How you stood it, I don’t know. Then I realize you couldn’t. That enrages me and sets me to sobbing so hard I’m sure Rose thinks I’ll have a fit and die right then and there. Sometimes I wish I could because I don’t know how I am going to go on without you. I know you want me to be happy, and Rose and Elanor and Frodo-lad, even though he’s not even born yet, do give me joy, but sometimes I just get that mad at the unfairness that you gave everything to keep the Shire and everyone safe and you had everything taken from you as a result. We had everything taken too for you meant everything to us, to me, to Mr. Merry, to Mr. Pippin. We’ve been walking around like the dead these past few months. We don’t know what to do with ourselves. You were our life, our heart, our soul and now you’re gone.

Now, here I go again...if I keep crying, I am going to smear all the ink in your book and wouldn’t that be a sight. Maybe I’ll just pause a little, close my eyes and the book, let the tears run out and then I’ll be able to write again.