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They say time heals all wounds.  This is both true and not true.  Scars may begin to fade, but a simple twist can reawaken the ache.  New thoughts and memories crowd one’s mind, but then one remembers, he is gone, and the pain returns.  We may seem to recover better each time, but only because new things can distract us.

In Ithilien Men found a tantalizing glade filled with clematis and even trillium, but the blooms hid the remains of orcs’ feasting, with split bones and skulls of true Men who’d been taken in the woods.

The Ring had showed Frodo this thing, trying to trick him into taking the Ring to stop it, but at the time Frodo had still been able to resist It.  But Frodo remembered one other thing—two Men had escaped, and his tale led Rangers very familiar with this portion of the forest to help them escape from the trap in which the orcs had taken them.  They were so grateful when they found us in Minas Tirith to thank Frodo, but they still ached with the loss of their comrades, and they confessed that the fear still took them when they were in the dark.  Even twilight could awaken the terror.

Many years ago Frodo Baggins left the Shire for the final time, and although we have hope he is healed, still the pain he knew then haunts us.  I glance into his study, and there is no question but that it belongs to Sam now; different tomes lie about, and Frodo’s theses are replaced by letters to family and village heads.  Sam’s always simple wisdom is now tempered by what Frodo and Bilbo taught him, and he is proved the Mayor our land required for the final healings.  But it was Frodo that started the process, teasing out the lies and tricks used by Lotho and his toadies to take almost all of any value from our land, our people. 

We still grieve his absence, but rejoice for the time we were given with him.