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"He was happy, they all were. They hadn't let themselves hope it, so it was a surprise, but there's no doubt they were happy."
Frodo nodded, leaning back against the bark of the tree that shaded them. It was the eighth of October, and Merry had come up the path to Bag End's door just in time for afternoon tea.
"I'm glad you caught them. I didn't want them wondering, you see. I didn't want to wonder." Frodo looked down at his hands, cracking a sunset-coloured leaf into smaller and smaller fragments, the brittle texture crumbling like ash. "Bilbo wasn't, he wasn't upset, was he? Perhaps I should have gone, it would have been right for us to go together."
"Frodo," Merry said sternly as one eyebrow quirked, the movement pushing the scar on his forehead up in a second exasperated curve. "It's right that you stay here. Bilbo knew that." Merry's bemused annoyance gave way to a tender smile. "He wished you the best, he was pleased that you weren't there. Cousin, listen to me... no, don't look down at your hands, you really are the most frustrating... will you listen now, or do I have to hold your head up so you'll face me? The Lady Galadriel smiled when we said you weren't going to join them. She smiled, Frodo, they all did. Bilbo loves you enough to let you go, because he knows it's better for you."
"Is it, Merry? I had a bad turn the day before yesterday, I cursed at poor Sam and Rose. The things I said -" Frodo blinked, hard, and turned his face aware from Merry's concerned expression. "What have I doomed them to, by staying? What have I given up? What if this is the worst decision I have ever made in my ridiculous life? 'Your body might have healed, but your heart would still be here', Rosie said to me. And she's right, much as I hate to admit it." Frodo gave a small laugh, tears escaping the corners of his eyes. "Elanor's got a cough, and last night we all stayed up with her, singing lullabies and trying to make her feel better. And I was sitting in the rocking chair, watching Rosie pace back and forth on the hearth with El in her arms, and Sam came in with a drink of water for me and I thought how could I have thought that anything was worth more than this?, but how am I going to feel when March comes, or next October? I'm weary, and I won't find rest here."
"Well, with a Gamgee and a Cotton in your bed, you shouldn't expect much resting," Merry teased. "Don't dwell on it, Frodo. The choice is made, and if you want my opinion on it you chose correctly. We're all changed by what happened, and we can't ever go back to who we were before it began, but we're here and we're alive, and the seasons turn the same as they always did. Hobbits aren't meant for noble endings, we're too fond of epilogues and second helpings at supper."
Frodo nodded, then laughed to himself. "I already wrote my noble ending, as you call it, into Bilbo's book. Off over the sea, with Sam coming home to all that he deserves to have. There's a moment that comes at about nine o'clock at night, when most of the lights down in Hobbiton are out and the stars are so bright and clear in the sky, and the candle-light looks so golden and warm through the windows as you walk through the gate. The air smells like soil and wind and new bread, and Elanor's usually yelling like a demon because she doesn't want to be put to bed. I could see it as if it had happened, when I wrote the words, and I put them there together. My Sam, my Rose, my Elanor. I thought that was the most perfect ending I could give the story, and I thought if I knew it ended like that it would be easier to say goodbye to. It would have been a goodbye worth saying."
"Hello's more friendlier still to say," Merry pointed out, refraining from clipping Frodo about the ear as he might have done when they were children. "All right, maybe you've got a rocky path out ahead of you, but you've picked the road and you've put your feet on it, so stop bellyaching and march forth!"
Frodo laughed, tossing the shredded leaf-remains aside and resting his head against the sturdy tree trunk behind him. "How's Pippin? And Estella and Diamond?"
"They're all well, we're thinking of coming to stay with you lot for Yule. That is, if you don't mind having us."
"Oh, we'll manage somehow."
"Good, means we'll save a bit on accommodation. These Hobbiton inns are highway robbery, you know."
"You're welcome up at Bag End all the year round, and you know it."
"Ah," Merry gave a theatrical wink. "You might not like the noise. We don't have to take a baby into consideration on a regular basis, after all."
"No. Just two pairs of giddy children."
"I resent that on principle," Merry sniffed, grinning broadly. "After all, most children - giddy or otherwise - are not nearly so skillful in borrowing vegetables from overburdened gardens."
"My mistake," conceded Frodo. "Anyway, if you're paying so much for your rooms I should let you go get your money's worth. Thankyou for coming and telling me how things went at the Havens, Merry. I would have gone..."
"Yes, I know you would, which is why we went instead." Merry hugged Frodo for a long time. "We'll all come up to visit tomorrow, if you're well enough?"
"Don't think I'd let you stay away. Look, it's gotten dark while we've been talking out here, Rosie will have my head if I catch a chill. Come by in the morning, all right?"
"All right, Frodo. I'll see you then."
The cobblestones of the stairs were damp with evening dew, cool under Frodo's feet as he stepped up to the front door. The hinges on the front door had rusted slightly during the time they'd been away from the Shire, but since their return Sam had kept them oiled and cleaned, and there was no stick or squeak as Frodo pushed the door open. Elanor was coughing and crying, Sam's voice raised in a nursery song as he tried to soothe her.
Bell horses, bell horses,
What time of day?
One o'clock, two o'clock,
Time to away.
Bell horses, bell horses,
Long shall you roam.
Three o'clock, four o'clock,
Time to come home.
Rosie, hearing the soft click as Frodo closed the door, stuck her head out of the doorway to the kitchen and beckoned him in. There was pumpkin and carrot and garlic sausage for dinner, and cider to drink, and a vase of periwinkle and hollyhock blossoms on the crocheted cloth beside his plate. Elanor, lulled into a doze by her father's voice, was a beautiful doll of silver and gold and cream against Sam's shoulder as he came in to join them. Rosie plucked a small piece of leaf from the curl above Frodo's ear, smirking at him as she flicked it aside. Elanor murmured fretfully, lapsing back into quiet when Sam patted her back with one strong and careful hand.
"Well, here we are," said Frodo.
~
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