Frodo stood silently by the open window, watching Sam, Rosie, and baby Elanor play in the garden beyond. Love and loss filled him.
Even though Sam and Rosie had been exceptionally attentive, this day - of all days - he yearned to see Bilbo once more. Would the time ever come? A pain filled him, and he reached up for the wounded shoulder, to realize that the shoulder was not the source. It was his heart. Although not wounded by knife, it sliced through him just the same.
"I want to go home," he whispered against the wind blowing upon his face