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The rain pattered on the bedroom windows. So once again the gaffer’s old bones had been proven right, Sam thought drowsily. Autumn had arrived early this year. He shifted in the sheets and felt Rosie's leg tangled amongst his, taking care not to wake her he turned on his back. What was there more comfortable than heavy raindrops on a window when one was under several soft, warm blankets, he thought, sleep creeping back from the darkness of the room to take him away.
Sam felt an emptiness next to him. He slid his hand out over the sheet to find it a little tangled where the mattress still was pressed in, he thought he could feel a fleeting bit of left warmth. Sam opened his eyes, sleep had gone. He saw stars, standing up quickly. His knees soft and wobbly, he made his way to the front hall. Bag End was quiet. 'A mite clumsy you're bein' again, Samwise' he whispered to himself. But he had not woken anybody, he thought.
A single ray of light illuminated the hall of Bag End. It fell across Bilbo’s map of his favourite hikes, across the coat hangers, newly full again from when the change in the weather had forced them to take out the heavy cloaks, scarves and hats. Finally, the light pooled at the floor, next to the backpack. It had been sitting there for almost a month, since the Letter had come. The Letter was sitting on top of the pack.
The wind-light outside Bag End that was shining through the slightly cracked door flickered, and Sam could hear a small whimper. So that was why Elanor had not been the one to wake him, but the rain. He pushed the door open another bit and leaned into the cool autumn night. Nestled into a nook sheltered from rain, between the door and one of Sam’s wild rose bushes, were two of his dearest hobbits in all of the Shire. His heart ached softly, seeing them by the flickering wind-light. Frodo was whisper-singing a lullaby to baby Elanor, who was swaddled in several blankets, so only a button nose and a copper lock of hair stuck out into the cool air.
'Did she wake you up?'
Frodo stopped singing, an elven song it sounded like - from the bits and pieces Sam had managed to learn - and looked up at Sam. His bright kind eyes had sunk in deeper and deeper shadows ever since the quest, but tonight the dark rings were especially pronounced. He smiled.
'No, no. I had woken up from a dream and was not able to go to sleep again, and I heard wee Elanor get restless as well, so I thought some fresh air might do the trick to calm us.'
Sam nodded 'You are right, my gaffer did tell me so himself that I was alike as a small'un. What song did you sing her? A beautiful one, but very sad too.'
'Yes, it is a very elvish song that way.' Frodo's smile curled into an expression Sam found hard to read.
'It is called "The Nightingale's Lament", I found it in Bilbo's study once. Whenever he was in Rivendell, he wrote down the songs and poems. This one just has been speaking to me lately. It is full of sadness, but also hope, and it ends well. Many elvish songs do not go that way. Elanor doesn't seem to mind, anyway.'
The babe blinked at them and slowly lifted an arm to grab at Sam’s night shirt, with the other keeping an iron grip on a lock of Frodo's hair, that now had grown a little past his shoulders. Sam leaned down and kissed his daughter’s forehead.
'Do you want to take her?' Frodo asked.
'No, you keep her for a while, she looks very happy. Also, I think she might take your hair with her in one bit if I try to take her from your arms.'
'Oh well, Rosie has made her opinions about the current state of my hair very clear, maybe she has set up Elanor to take care of it.' Frodo suggested with a smirk and Sam chuckled. He pulled Frodo and Elanor into his arms, wrapping them into the fluffy sleeves of his night shirt, and buried his nose in Frodo’s long dark curls.
‘I like it like this’, Sam whispered. He felt the wind pull on the shirt on his back and drops of rain soaking through it. Frodo was cold as the night.
‘Are you not freezing?’
‘I woke up cold, I think walking around a bit has helped’
‘Nightmares again, then?’, Sam asked.
‘Strange dreams. A storm, wind on waves and water cascading to the sky. Flowers of foam blooming and floating off into the darkness.’
‘Strange, really. Maybe it was the storm outside, or the many thoughts always whirling through your head, or both.’ Sam murmured. He put on what Frodo called his ‘Sam-Dad voice’:
‘But now you must hurry back to bed, young Master Frodo, it is way past yours and little Elanor’s bedtime.’
Frodo groaned and dragged his feet the whole way back, but Sam manoeuvred both of his dearest hobbits back to the bedroom, placing the now fast asleep Elanor in her crib and Frodo between himself and Rosie, with a good supply of blankets. Together they would warm him up.
Elanor woke them up a few hours later, loudly and abruptly. While Rosie was taking care of that matter, Sam made his way to the kitchen to kindle a fire and get some hot water going. In the hall he was met with Frodo standing there, already all dressed in his best clothes, the Letter in hand. Next to him leaning on the wall were the backpack and a pair of very nice hobbit-sized boots, a gift from Bilbo they had always suspected to be a quite direct regifting from a stay in Rivendell. Frodo had taken to them though.
Frodo met Sam’s gaze. He had a vacant look to him.
‘Will you not take breakfast with us before you go?’ Sam asked, to break the pregnant silence. He felt tears coming to his eyes but did his best to blink them away.
‘Are you going to paddle away over Bywater pool now? First off, my swimming has gotten much better this summer, and second, it is already quite cold and I’d rather not have to jump in it, thank you very much.'
'What is this shouting so early in the morning?' Rosie leaned in the frame of the door, Elanor in one arm and a bag of tea leaves in the other, hair still tousled and with a confused look on her face. Her eyes wandered over the scene, and her face fell a little.
'Oh. ...Will you leave all at once?'
Frodo hesitated, then shook his head 'What proper hobbit would skip breakfast without need? And I shall explain. Believe me, I have understood the foolishness of making plans without accounting for my Sam.'
Breakfast extended itself and may well been called a second and third breakfast too, had it not been in one sitting. Frodo didn't eat very much, but helped Rosie and Sam to more and kept them in supply of hot tea while he laid out what he had been planning. The two of them were sitting very close, as if to hold on to each other for comfort.
Bag End would go to them, and Frodo would give his mayoral duties to Sam for the rest of his term. Frodo wanted to go to Rivendell to see Bilbo, and coming back, he would not return to Hobbiton, but head on straight along to the coast. The time he would take to Rivendell and back would be plenty to learn the ins and outs of the mayoral office, more than Rosie and Sam had already, often helping Frodo with letter writing and filing. Then, Frodo would be honoured if Sam and a small company would accompany him on the trip to the coast. At the havens there would be time for food and cheer, and walks at the sea - which Sam felt at a time uneasy and strangely excited about. There would the time enough for the mayor to return to Hobbiton and attend his many duties through the harvest season.
The rains had stopped, but the wind still blew strongly out of the west and chased dark clouds over the sky. Frodo had taken the longish hair around his face up, in a way Sam called "almost elvish”, but the longer hair on the back of his head got swept up in the cool gusts. Despite the noontime, it was a gloomy light. Over the hills and valleys and hills again, to Michel Delving and beyond, a couple of sunspots dotted the landscape, and the lighter horizon glowed almost like a sunset without a sun.
Only one of the trees that had stood on the hill over Bag End had somehow survived the havoc Lotho and his goons had wrought. It looked sick, and had already lost almost all of its leaves, despite the season. They had thought about taking it down, but Sam was firmly against it. He was adamant that it just needed a sunnier year again. The nut Sam had planted in the party field would take a long time to grow into something resembling the Mallorn tree the Lady Galadriel had taken it from. Not having any trees at all on the Hill would simply not do.
Frodo pondered the place he'd lived in for so long, taking it in. What a fine hobbit hole. And what good hobbits to live in it. Sam was sitting in the round frame of the door, holding little Elanor who had gone to sleep during breakfast again, Rosie behind him, absentmindedly curling his locks in her fingers. The way she was standing, Frodo could see that she was already showing a little again. He smiled. She caught his look and smiled back.
'I'm thinking about naming it Frodo. So we'll always have a bit of you with us.'
A guttural noise escaped Sam and he held his hand over his mouth and lowered his face, shaking his head.
'Sam..' both Rosie and Frodo said at the same time, trying to think of what to say or do. Sam sniffed, and tried unsuccessfully to keep down another sob. He looked up at them with watery eyes.
'I am sorr- ahhhr!’, a yelp suddenly escaped him.
They all jumped, Sam would've almost fallen out of the doorframe had Rosie not caught him. Elanor awoke in a start, making an unamused noise.
'Shhh, it is all good, all fine.. but where are you, you damned..’ With his free arm he tried to get behind his back.
'Ah, there you are!' Rosie grabbed behind his back and pulled a little white furry ball of a kitten up by his neck-fur.
'Bad Slinker', Frodo chastised the kitten, but it was hard to judge if it looked guilty or just befuddled. One sommer morning they had found the tiny kitten at the front door, meowing miserably, and then he had looked even more scraggly than he did now. In jest, Frodo had named him after that other Slinker. But it had stuck, and they had grown fond of the little creature.
He meowed and fidgeted around to try and get out of Rosie’s grip. She softly set him down on Sam’s shoulder, where he looked around, and then licked his fur, pretending nothing at all had happened. He looked at them with big innocent eyes. Sam blinked at him and then started cry-laughing, sobs and giggles mixing. He reached for his handkerchief and loudly blew his nose.
'Damn me Slinker, you do know how to appear at the best and worst times.' Elanor pushed her little hands up against her father’s chin and gurgled.
'Yes, we're all done crying now, promise' Sam sniffed and put the handkerchief away. He had a determined look in his face.
‘Have a good voyage to Rivendell then. Give our best to Bilbo, and to the Lord Elrond as well.’
‘We will see, maybe you’ll get to see them again sooner than later.’, Frodo said with a smile.
He gave Elanor a little kiss on the forehead, then gave Rosie a warm and long hug.
‘Take good care of him, will you’ he whispered. He could feel her nod, hugging him more tightly for a second, then letting go of him. Frodo gave little Slinker a pet, then he sat down on his knees and took Sam’s hand. He bent his head over it and kissed it, then held it to his chest.
‘Thank you ever, ever so much for being at my side for all of this, and I am honored you'll accompany me once again. I would never have wanted to ask so much of you, but I never had to.’ He pulled Sam down to him, holding him close. He touched his head to Sam’s feeling his warmth and his breath and again his heart ached. Frodo got to his feet again, not letting go of his hand. Tears pooled again in Sam’s eyes, but he lowered his head.
‘Before I forget it’ Frodo took out the Key to Bag End and placed it in Sam’s Hand. Sam slowly closed his hand around it, and nodded.
‘Then, till I see you again. Once again in the Woody End. I shall wait there for you.’
He struggled to say anything more, and he felt, if he didn’t go now, he never would. Frodo turned around, and walked down the Hill.
