Chapter One: Farewell

"I’m going, my boy," Uncle Bilbo told me. "Right after our party tomorrow. I’m not getting younger and you are now old enough to be on your own. It’s time for another adventure."

I thought I would be prepared when he told me he was going to leave, but I wasn’t. He’s talked about for so long, but nothing happened that I comforted myself with the thought he would never leave, or that he would take me with him and we’d go on many adventures together. When he first adopted me, I remember all the times I had dreams about him leaving me all alone and how I’d wake crying out and he’d come running to me, in that long nightshirt and cap of his, holding a wavering candle in his hand, so frightened for me. Those dreams were like the ones I had had after my parents were drowned and I was so fearful of again being alone. I remember how he’d hold me and rock me and comfort me and tell me that he wasn’t leaving, not yet, and that he would always tell me when he was, that he’d never just leave and not tell me. As the years passed and he didn’t leave, the dreams ceased and the fears retreated to a deep, dark part of my mind, but that night they re-appeared with tremendous force

My heart was wide open and it bled when his words pierced it. I know he didn’t do it to cause me pain. I could see tears form in his eyes, I could feel them fall into my curls as we held each other so tight, so long. I wept long and hard into his chest, begging to be taken along, but knowing he was going to leave me behind. I tried so hard to concentrate on his voice comforting me, telling me how much he loved me, how proud he was of me and how much he would miss me and how he hoped I would indeed follow him one day. I sought to remember how it felt for him to hold me and stroke my curls and kiss my head. I wanted to remember everything.

He let me go when he felt I was strong enough to be released and he smiled at me through his own tears and wiped the last of mine. He offered me his handkerchief and I blew into it and tried to smile back. He and I looked at each other for a long time, memorizing everything, then he hugged me once more and kissed my brow. I didn’t want to let him go, but I did.

He and I prepared dinner together. We had done it so many times before, we didn’t need to talk to know what the other needed. It was seamless, elegant, almost a dance in the way we moved around the kitchen and each other and then brought the plates, bowls and cups to the dining room table. Uncle was humming and softly singing as he usually did, something Elvish that I was able to understand most but not all of. Usually I would sing along with him, but I couldn’t that night, not even to hear his praise at how much my Sindarin was improving. I found him often looking at me with such love and pride, it looked like his heart would burst from it and my heart felt the same way in the many glances I gave to him. How could he leave? How could this be our last dinner together, just the two of us? I don’t remember tasting anything.

He came to my bedroom to tuck me in, something he hadn’t done in years and now never would again. How many more things was I going to miss now? Waking in the morning to the smell of a mushroom omelette or pancakes with jam? Who would teach me more Sindarin? We had hardly even begun my Quenya lessons. No more walks in the moonlight, just he and me, telling me tales and introducing me to his Elvish friends. No more quiet evenings in the study by the fire, reading and simply enjoying each other’s company.

He looked at me, tears bright once more in both our eyes. "Would you like to sleep with me tonight, Frodo lad?"

"Yes, Uncle," I said. I got out of bed and padded to his bedroom.

I curled up against him, my head on his chest where I could hear his heart, my hand touching his shoulder. Through my nightshirt, I felt the Ring between us, held in a pocket. I felt Uncle’s arms around me, his kiss goodnight and heard him tell me that he loved me more than anything in the world. I murmured the same thing and held him tight. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to stay up and just listen to his heart, feel his arms around me, listen to the lullaby he softly sang to me. But that soothing beat and voice did its job all too well. I was asleep almost before I knew it. The following nights I wasn’t so sure I could sleep so well. Oh, Sam, why couldn’t everything had stayed the way it always was? But it couldn’t, I know. We barely left the Shire in time as we did, but still I wish...

When I woke to the smell of mushroom omelettes and strawberry jam and saw the huge breakfast Bilbo had made for the two of us, with all my favorites, I felt happy, overwhelmed and sad all at the same time. Uncle was smiling widely at me, held out the chair for me and put the feast in front of me. I tried hard to enjoy it, holding his hand in one of mine and eating with the other. You were there right in the beginning and that helped too. Bilbo rubbed his thumb along my hand and I knew he was concentrating more on looking at me than he was on eating. It was as though he was memorizing everything, to take with him. I knew I would be doing the same at the party. I’ve been doing the same with you and Merry and Pippin each time I see you.

"Can’t I come with you, Uncle?" I asked.

Bilbo’s hand curled a little tighter around mine and mine around his. "I would love to have you, my lad, but it also comforts me that you will be here, living your life. The Shire is too wonderful a place to leave it lightly. You will have your own adventures, I’m sure. And it’s proper that there should always be a Baggins here at Bag End. I’m sure you’ll find a lovely lass - there’s certainly no shortage of them who love to dance with you at the Free Fair - and then you’ll settle down with many children. And I hope you’ll name one of them after me and tell me about each and every one of them."

"I’ll name my first one after you, Uncle," I promised.

"Providing he’s a lad. I don’t think a lass would like to have Bilbo as their name."

I laughed and that was exactly the response he wanted out of me. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad birthday after all. I had eagerly looked forward to this particular one as any lad or lass does and you know how busily Merry and I had been planning it. But last night I had begun to dread it.

We exchanged gifts before we left for the party. I gave him a book of Shire songs I had translated into Sindarin and he gave me a pipe. He looked down at that slim volume, originally done as a writing exercise, and far before I had known he would be leaving. When he looked up at me, there were tears in his eyes and I knew then that even if I couldn’t come with him, at least he’d be taking part of me with him. We held each other for a long time that evening before the party really began. He told me again he loved me and I told him that I loved him and then he kissed my head, told me I would be all right and we went out together to greet our guests. His voice was a bit wistful and I wonder if he was considering truly letting me go with him. I almost asked again, but held back.

* * *

I let myself into the smial as I did every morning before setting out for the garden. I went to your bedroom, but you weren’t there. The bedclothes were disturbed, but they didn’t look slept in. After a discreet knock at the privy received no answer, I started to look for you. You were still sleeping, curled up around Mr. Bilbo. He had woken and was just looking fondly down at you. He seemed almost to glow there with so much love coming out of him. I felt like I was intruding so I turned to leave, hoping I wasn’t noticed.

"I’m leaving tonight, Sam," Mr. Bilbo said quietly and I turned back.

"Leaving, Mr. Bilbo?"

"Yes, tonight, after the party." He looked back down at you. "You’ll look after Frodo, won’t you? He’ll need someone to help him around the place. I have extra pay set aside already for you, if you think you’ll have the time."

"You don’t have to pay me extra, Mr. Bilbo. I’d be happy to help out, but why are you leaving?"

"I have to, Sam. I’m getting too old. I know I don’t look it, but I feel it and Frodo needs to be his own master. I know he’ll feel very lonely for a while, but then he’ll begin to enjoy himself or I hope he will. One day, maybe he’ll leave too and I can see him again."

"Well, he won’t be leaving without me to look after him."

"I’m glad, Sam. He needs someone to love him as much as I do and I don’t think anyone but you could do that. Merry and Pippin adore him nearly as much and they’ll help keep him distracted too, I’m sure. He’ll be all right."

Mr. Bilbo spoke in a distant voice as though he had forgotten I was there and was only speaking to reassure himself. His eyes hadn’t left your face the entire time.

"Yes, sir, he will," I said, but my own heart broke a little to know that my dear first master was leaving.

You woke a little later, after Mr. Bilbo and I had moved into the kitchen. He had ever so gently let you go, making sure not to wake you. You seemed a little lost in such a big bed, tangled in those cream sheets you both favored. You looked sad, but beautiful. You always did, except when the Ring took you. Mr. Bilbo went about busily making all your favorites, humming a tune I couldn’t quite place. It sounded like a mix of the Shire and Elvish, just like you are. When you came into the breakfast room, your curls were still sleep-matted and one cheek was red where you had slept on it. You looked at Mr. Bilbo and then at me. And suddenly I just wanted to hold you because you looked so sad and lost. I would have too, but I held back. My Gaffer had drilled into me fine how I should regard you now that you were going to be master. You smiled at me a bit wearily and I smiled back and your smile grew a little. I didn’t think it was my place to stay and the garden awaited. But how I wanted just to hold you...