Chapter Four: The Empty Room

I want to scream sometimes, dear. It hurts that much that you are away, a fortnight now since we returned without you. The most I usually do is cry in Rose’s arms and sometimes I’m afraid to do even that for fear I’ll never stop. Do you feel that way sometimes, too? What is your life like now? I keep wondering and I grieve that I really have no idea. It’s better than Rivendell or Lothlorien I’d guess and that was already special, but I feel that you are still grieving and that is what is hurting so much that I can’t be there to help you. Do you still have nightmares? Does Mr. Bilbo come to you when you do to hold you and comfort you? I know he must for he loves you as dearly as I do, if not more. But before he comes, when you wake, frightened and alone, do you sometimes wonder where you are?

Sometimes I have dreams we are back on our way to Mordor, trying to hide from the orcs and the Eye, so worn down by hunger and thirst and exhaustion we could barely move. It takes me a while to remember after I wake that it’s all over, that I’m safe in my own bed with Rose beside me and Elanor in her crib. The dreams are not at all pleasant, but I still hate waking from them because at least there I’m still with you and when I wake, you are gone and I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. I keep hoping I will, but oh, my dear, my dear, what if I don’t? What if I never know whether you’ll all right, that the last and greatest sacrifice you made, we all made, was worth the price? I try so hard not to listen to those whispers that come in the night that say so. Do they torment you still too? I know they did before you left. But then the morning comes and the voices fade and I know I’ll know. “Of course, you’ll see him again,” Rose says whenever I doubt. I don’t know how to knows, maybe she just hopes as much as I do or maybe it’s just plain-old hobbit sense.

Still I wish more than ever after those dreams, that you were still here. I cry that much after them. Do you have the same dreams and wake up and find yourself alone? Do you wish you were home? I know you said you were going home when you left. But this is your home, dear. You should be here in your own bed, your pillows stuffed and placed under your head just right, the blankets tucked under your chin. I should be able to walk in and just watch you sleep as I’ve loved to do since I was a child. You are so beautiful when you sleep, so very beautiful. But then you always are.

Your favorite chair is here, your walking stick, your books, your writing table. I should be able to watch you read at your favorite tree until you notice me and then leap up with greet me with that lovely smile of yours. I hope one day I will see that again, but it won’t be here, not outside of memory at least, and it should be here.

You shouldn’t have had to sacrifice everything. I keep going back to that thought. You gave so much already just to get to the Fire. You gave everything. Why did everything have to be taken away from you? That’s when I feel like screaming the most. It makes me that angry that you were so tormented and tortured, turned inside out by that despicable Ring, you who were and are the best hobbit that ever lived and least deserving of anything evil touching you. That’s when I have to get away, to go where I took you when you had to scream and then I let it out, all my grief and rage so blinding I’m frightened to death of it, then it’s gone, heard by no one by the birds and I feel better for it, until it comes again and I have to release it once more.

It was Rosie that recommended that maybe going into your bedroom would help. I’ve been avoiding doing that. Partly it not being my place to be there anymore. But mostly I think because of the memories, good and bad. Too much emptiness there now - just things, not you. A neatly made bed you will never sleep in again, clothes neatly pressed and hung that you will not wear again. Yesterday I stepped in though, closed the door and just stood there facing your empty bed. But that was hard! I started crying right then, but then the sun came in through the window and the sheets almost glowed. I remembered all the times I saw you sleeping here. Before the Ring, you always had a smile on our face when I’d come in the morning and I would wonder what you were dreaming about that made you so happy. You were so beautiful, the sun hitting you just right, adding to the light that already shone so brightly from you. I loved just standing there and watching you. Then you’d wake up and smile even larger when you saw me and I’d smile back and wonder as I did every day how I got to be so lucky to be working for you. I’d share a bit of breakfast with you, I would have already eaten but my second breakfast was your first and I loved having you all to myself before my chores began. You would ask me what I meant to do that day, would compliment me on the garden or other work I had done, and would tell me what you planned to do, all this with a large smile, love and light just flowing from you as it always did. Then after we came back from the Quest, tears and frowns replaced the smiles I had always seen but the love was still there.

When I entered your bedroom, I took a deep breath to see if there was anything of you left, but there wasn’t. I had waited too long. That was even worse than seeing your empty bed. You had made it so neatly the morning you left. I remembered all the times when you had merely tossed the sheets and blankets across the bed, so anxious you were to start your day, then later, when you didn’t care when it started. I remembered all the times I held you after one of your nightmares or nasty turns.

I don’t know where I got the audacity, but I got into your bed, pulled the sheets and blankets around me, and buried my face in your pillow, taking another deep breath and faintly, so very faintly, there was still a scent. I laughed and cried at the same time. Oh, me dear, I wish you were just out in the garden or one of your walks and you would be coming in the door any moment and I could still be taking care of you! When I turned over, I glanced at the nightstand and a book was there, the last one you had been reading, and when I picked it up, I realized it was you who was still taking care of me. It was the collection of stories you and I made up when I was a child and you barely a tween. I paged through the elegant writing of yours and my more childish scrawls and I let myself get lost in it all. Did you leave it there for me a-purpose to find, I wonder? It does me good that you were reading it the night before you left. That you remembered too how much fun we had had. I’m going to bring it with me when I see you again. I promise you that and we’ll write more stories in it. Just hold on, dear, and wait for me because I will be coming. I don’t know when, but I am coming. Just please still be there when I do. That I hope for more than anything. I must have fallen asleep reading because it was dawn when I woke again, more rested than I have been since you left and I could breathe a little easier too. Thank you.

Goodnight, dear. Sleep well. I love you so much.