I wake up. There’s a blanket around my shoulders and it weren’t there when I fell asleep. I get to my feet and glance over at the bed. Merry and Pippin are still asleep, curled up, but Frodo…
Frodo isn’t there. Instantly I panic. I rush over and shake them awake. “Where’s Frodo?! Where is he?”
“Huh?” Pippin says sleepily, still curled up with Merry.
“Frodo! Frodo’s missing!”
“Missing?” Merry glances around. “Oh… that’s odd.”
“He could be hurt! Where is he? He has to be here!!!” I go into the room full of medicine and look everywhere, behind shelves, under tables. No Frodo. I’m crying now, so confused, wondering why he’d leave me, worried that he’s hurt…
He’s not in the bedroom. He’s not here. So he’s left the room.
What if an orc came and took him away? They’ll find the ring, they’ll kill him! And then i’ll be here in Mordor all alone…
I dash out the door and down the hall, crying and crying his name, desperate. Please, please, please let me find him…
I see him, at the end of the hallway, holding bags in his arms. I try to stop, but I’m flying forward, too fast, and I crash into him, knocking him over.
“Well, you don’t need sit on me,” he says, as we land in a heap. “What in the world is going on, Sam?”
“I couldn’t find you, and I thought the orcs would find you, and…” I break down, sobbing. Frodo pulls me to my knees and wraps his arms around me.
“Sam, there are no orcs. Remember? I thought you were asleep, so I went to get our bags.” He smoothes the curls off of my forehead and kisses it. “Alright? Calm down.”
“Don’t,” I say, clinging to him, “don’t ever do that again.”
He smiles sadly. “I won’t. I promise.” He looks at me for a long time, then gently reaches out his hand and places it on my cheek. “I love you, Sam,” he whispers.
“I love you too.” I gulp down my tears and smile, only now I’m angry with myself. I am supposed to be strong, for him, and here I am crying like the fool I am. I help Frodo off the floor and take one of the bags. “Let’s go, then.”
We’re at Minas Tirith now, and everyone thinks I am a hero.
Song after song they’ve sang of us, of Strider, and the war heroes who died and all. Lady Arwen has married Strider, who’s been crowned king of Gondor. Frodo has been writing a lot, keeping a record for Mr. Bilbo. He’s asleep now, tucked into my arms. I stoke his hair absently, but my mind is in the Shire. I think of Rosie, wonder where she is. Wonder if maybe she’s married someone else.
Would she do that?
If she were forced,maybe….
Well I’ll find out soon. We’re going home tomorrow, or at least starting off. We should be there in a few months…
All the conflicting emotions in me are overwhelming. I settle down into the blankets, pull Frodo close, and let my eyes shut. Tomorrow we will leave.
And soon I will be home.