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For Antane, I o r h a e l, and Xhebepiv's birthdays. A true drabble.
Frodo prepares to leave Bag End for the last time.
In Readiness for Departure.
“I’m ready to leave,” Frodo said simply.
“But aren’t you goin’ t’wear your sword?” asked Rosie.
“Why should I?”
“You’re a-goin’ out into the wild,” she said. “There might still be some of them ruffians about.”
Sam added, “We may need to protect ourselves, Master.”
Frodo shook his head, his expression closed. “I gave Sting to you, Sam. As I said before, I shall not raise a sword again.”
“Not even if’n you’re in danger?” Sam persisted.
“Especially not then.” His eyes softened. “It was you who fought the spider, Sam. In this, you follow Bilbo.”
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