Chapter Three-Letters to Sam

For the next three days Gandalf stayed with Frodo as much as possible, leaving him alone only at night, when Shadowfax would stay outside the door and sleep in a patch of moss growing just under the window.

Frodo, for the most part, seemed very subdued and rarely spoke to anyone except Bilbo. He tried steering clear from conversations with Gandalf and Galadriel and only said what was necessary to his healer, Feredir.

Gandalf watched the hobbit with increasing unrest until one morning when he came to visit and found Frodo asleep with his head on his desk a letter on the floor beside him. The wizard reached down, picked it up and began reading.

     Dear Sam, I know you’ll probably never read

     this unless I decide to send it with Cirdan

     next time he comes by. I can’t tell you how

     much I miss you, Sam. I feel lost, and I know

     I can’t come home. I have found no relief

     here, though Lady Galadriel and Gandalf

     believe it will come. But it hasn’t come soon

     enough. I realized how much I depended on

     you to keep me anchored. If I didn’t have

     you and Rosie to worry about, I may have

     died in Minas Tirith. If only that were

     true! It may hurt you to hear me say that

     Sam, but how can anything go back to the

     way it was now? That’s all I wanted from

     the start and because of that horrid Thing,

     I’ve been denied the only thing I ever truly

     wanted. And I know I don’t deserve it because

     I betrayed Middle Earth, and I betrayed you

     by claiming it. I’m sorry Sam. I am truly

     Sorry. Frodo B.

Gandalf sighed and placed the letter on the desk. Then he gently shook Frodo awake and said, “Wake up, lad. Time for breakfast.”

Frodo rubbed his eyes sleepily, then quickly shoved the letter into a fold of the book he was reading. “I’m not hungry, Gandalf,” he said, getting up from the chair and flopping down on the bed.

“Not hungry?” Gandalf asked. “I thought I’d rejoice the day I heard a hobbit say that, but I’m not so sure now,” he responded.

“You’d rejoice if Pippin said that,” Frodo said softly, staring up at the ceiling. He was quiet a moment as Gandalf considered this, then he continued. “I can’t do this Gandalf.” He ran his hands through his hair and looked up at the wizard. “You read that letter, I know you did.”

Gandalf nodded. “Sam will be coming Frodo. You don’t want to disappoint him by not being here when he comes, do you?”

Frodo was about to reply, but Gandalf continued. “He needs you as much as you need him. You should keep writing him, but don’t send the letters.”

Frodo stared at the wizard strangely for a moment.

“Now, you’re coming to breakfast whether you want to or not,” Gandalf ordered.

***

Sam sat alone in the study at Bag End in the midst of an immense pile of paperwork. Suddenly he found himself thinking of Frodo, as he did often. He looked down and realized that at the bottom of a yearly letter (telling the Thain in so many words that he would be delighted to attend his birthday party) he had written:

     Don’t lose hope Frodo. I’m coming after you.

He sat for a moment, thinking about the implications of such statements, but was brought out of his thoughts by his now one year old daughter Elanor teetering in on her short pudgy baby legs to bring him to dinner. He tossed the paper, and set a fresh sheet on the desk to return to later.