All Shall Fade

A Companion to Home is Behind, The World Ahead

It started out as a feeling, which then grew into a hope

Which then grew into a quiet thought which then grew into a quiet word

And then that word grew louder and louder, till it was a battle cry

I'll come back, when you call me. No need to say goodbye…

Just because everything's changing doesn't mean it's never been this way before

All you can do is try to know who your friends are, as you head off to the war

Pick a star on the dark horizon and follow the light

You'll come back, when it's over, no need to say goodbye

Now we're back to the beginning, it's just a feeling and no one knows yet

But just because they can't feel it too doesn't mean that you have to forget

Let your memories grow stronger and stronger till they're before your eyes

You'll come back, when they call you

No need to say goodbye

-Lyrics from "The Call," by Regina Spektor

9 April 0006, of the Fourth Age

"Woah there—WOAH!" I called, pulling firmly on the reins. The two ponies harnessed in front of me—whose long reins I now held in my fists—zigzagged and sidestepped, slowly faltering but not stopping politely like I asked. The cart I sat in rattled, set off-balance by my fumbling commands.

Laughter erupted behind me, and I turned, irritated, to the hobbit lad leaning against the fence. His curly blond hair was drooping in his eyes. "Just face it, Mandy," he grinned, pipe in hand. "You'll never be a great driver."

I frowned. "You'll see, Meriadoc. Just give me some time to practice…I've almost got them stopped now…" I squeezed firmly on the reins, pulling back the slightest bit, remembering to keep my arms still rather than jerking my elbows and shoulders back. The horses halted, stamping and chewing their bits. I smiled at Merry and raised my brows. "See?"

He laughed. "Oh well, in that case, you've certainly proved me wrong…but just this once!" He waved goodbye and walked off down the road, just under the hill where Frodo Baggins used to live.

I shook my head. "Of course, just this once," I sighed, jumping down from the carriage and stroking the ponies' noses. Minas, my own light brown pony, blew softly into my face, and I patted his cheek, combing my fingers into his thick white mane. Faramir was Pippin's mount, and he had allowed me to use him to practice driving. I kissed Faramir's velvety nose and unharnessed both ponies, leading them down the road to the fields so they could turn out and eat. Before I closed the gate, Minas turned back to look at me, his ears pricked.

"Silly boy," I smiled. "You've done enough work for today." I gave his withers a pat and sent him on his way.

Truthfully, I was far from becoming a good driver, but I was certainly making progress. As far as I knew, I was probably the only hobbit lass in all the Shire interested in driving ponies—or even riding them, but considering the travels I expected to have in my life, I figured it'd be a useful skill for getting back and forth from the farther countries, mainly Bree. It wasn't uncommon that the lads and I would head off to Bree's village for some groceries or news from the outside. Big people didn't come to the Shire, so we had to make do. And considering the travels we had already partaken in, it was a relief to the rest of the Shirefolk when we stayed close to home.

I heard whispers often that they thought we had all changed (cracked, really) when we had adventures—strictly speaking, 'twas the reason hobbits never should go on adventures. And it was also the reason they were often glad we didn't go farther than Bree.

"They'll grow out of it," I heard Mr. Proudfoot belch one night at the Green Dragon. "Mark my words, they'll forget about adventuring and remember what's important: relatives, their homeland, and some farming to keep 'em busy."

Of course, Mr. Proudfoot had been drunk then, so he didn't realize that he was speaking in front of me, since I was waiting his table.

"It's good for them to be with their own kind," Tom Cotton added.

I shook my head in annoyance, my eyes rolling.

.:*:.

Six years previously, it had not been the fourth age.

Six years previously, our world of Middle Earth had been on the brink of extinction, but the realm of the Shire, though I loved it dearly, was completely closed-off from all the rest of the world, and so ignorant to the danger. But I could not say that the people of the Shire were ignorant without including myself and my dearest friends in that number. Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry, and I were the exception to all the hobbits in all the farthings of the Shire. Gandalf the Grey, the great wizard of our age (who was well-reknowned in the Shire for having sent Frodo's cousin Bilbo off on a grand adventure) made it known to us that a great threat was in our midst: a weapon of the enemy, and something that He sought dearly. We did not know it then, but Bilbo's golden ring, seen as a trinket by most others, would turn out to be the most important object and most sought thing in all the world. It was critical that it be destroyed, or risk the Dark Lord Sauron-his spirit formed into an eye of fire-rising once more to conquer the free people of Middle Earth.

Frodo and Sam left at once with Gandalf, with Merry, Pippin and I following in confusion. We stumbled upon them by happy chance and made our way to Bree so that we might assist Frodo in his quest to meet Gandalf-but instead found ourselves with the ranger Strider instead, who led us to Rivendell, the second safe-place we needed to get the ring to. The agents of the enemy, the terrifying Black Riders, quested after us and suceeded in stabbing Frodo, a wound he carried for the rest of his days. Only by the healing powers of the elves was Frodo spared. We met him there, in Rivendell, after an elf took Frodo on her swift horse and we followed along with Strider. In Rivendell a secret council was held, which would hold the fate of our world: the only solution, we overheard, was to destroy the Ring and therefore evil altogether. There was some question as to who would be appointed this dangerous task-the Ring had the powers to corrupt. It would do anything to tempt its bearer to place it on his finger, and draw the enemy close. It wanted Sauron to take it back, and to be reunited and restored with its dark Master. These were politics I knew not then, as I was young and only cared that Frodo was alive, and that I wanted to stay by his side. Frodo, in order to keep the men of the council at peace, offered himself as a Ringbearer, still ignorant of the suffering he would endure by the end. By the end, we'd all realized the pain that we could never have known when we made our decision to go on the quest.

Ten companions joined together and were named the Fellowship of the Ring- friends and protectors of the Ringbearer. I was among these, as were Merry, Pippin, and Sam, Frodo, Strider (who was revealed as Aragorn, the lost heir to the King of Gondor), Boromir, Gimli (a dwarf), and Legolas (an elf). And of course, there was Gandalf. Together we trekked over the snowy Misty Mountains and steered our course beneath the mountain into the Mines of Moria- here, Gandalf fell to his doom battling an ancient demon, and we continued on to the Woods of Lothlorien. We parted ways here and recieved gifts from the Lady of the Wood, the ancient elf Galadriel. We rode the Great River Anduin to the Falls of Rauros and then fell into battle against a pack of Uruk-kai sent from Isengard. Saruman, the original White Wizard, turned to darkness and to Mordor as he schemed alongside the Eye. Boromir died protecting Merry, Pippin, and I, after we had distracted the pack so Frodo could escape undetected. He had to go unto his task himself, so we stayed behind. As Boromir fell, we were captured by the beasts and carried across the plains and treated very cruelly. We made a narrow escape, which was good for us, for we would have been brought into the black tower of Isengard and tortured. We found ourselves in the Fangorn Forest and awoke the Ents, the tree-guardians who were not easily roused, but once angered, could create terrible devastation: and so with the Ents we destroyed the black pits of Isengard where Saruman was creating forges and an army of Uruk-kai. There, we were reunited with our Fellowship, Saruman was killed, and we rode for the capital of the Horse-Realm Rohan: Edoras.

One cheerful night was displaced by horror, as Pippin took a glimpse into a seeing-stone called the Palantir, which had originally been Saruman's, and since he had been using it to communicate with Sauron, Pippin too found himself face-to-face with our Enemy. Gandalf took the both of us with him to the White City, Minas Tirith, which Pippin had seen under siege- this was the enemy's plan. There, we met the Steward Denethor, Boromir's father, distraught and half-mad, and Pippin made us his servants, as Boromir had died to save us. Despite Denethor's opposition, Pippin and I climbed to the highest tower of the city and lit the beacons, signaling Rohan to come and aid us in battle. Mordor's beasts were already on their way, laying siege and utterly destroying the neighboring city of Osgiliath. Pippin and I, while Denethor's son battled in Osgiliath, served his table and sang for him. The orcs utterly destroyed every man in Osgiliath and Faramir returned half-dead. Denethor, in his madness, believed his sons both dead while orcs began the siege of Minas Tirith. Ignoring his orders to flee, Gandalf organized the soldiers and fought back. Pippin and I ran to his aid, but Gandalf sent Pippin back, for Pippin was too dazed to fight. He kept me by his side, however, carrying the standard so the soldiers would have hope. Pippin and I helped save Faramir from his father's madness-and Denethor met his end. Rohan finally arrived, and the battle continued, until it seemed all would be lost. Then, Aragorn and an army of ghost soldiers arrived to cleanse the city of the orcs and to repay their oath to an ancient king when they had fled from battle.

Merry was found among the injured, and taken to the Houses of the Healing while the others planned a way to distract Sauron from Frodo's task. The idea was simply to enrage him and to stop him from suspecting that the hobbit so close to destroying him even existed. We left Minas Tirith and journeyed to the Black Gate, the entrance to Mordor, where another great battle was fought. Aragorn led us, and we fought simply for Frodo, and to give him a chance. As we battled numberless orcs and trolls, we suddenly discovered something was happening-the great Eye was falling, his tower blasted into many pieces, and the mountain of Doom, where the Ring was destroyed, exploded. Thinking Frodo dead, we wept. I was injured, and was unable to stay conscious. When I awoke, I was able to look upon Sam and Frodo again, who I had not seen since leaving them at Amon Hen. Aragorn was had his coronation at last, named as King of Gondor. We left with our ponies, a gift from the great king, and finally turned our sights upon the Shire.

These were the events I lived in mind. The fourth age began, after the destruction of Sauron, and the great journey that my friends and I had taken would always stay with me. Throughout the time I was back in the Shire, even years later, I still felt like I was torn in two- first, I was a hobbit of the Shire, and second, a great warrior in the rest of the world. Hobbits, by nature, prefer to stay home and disapprove of anything unexpected, particularly adventures. Anything unusual or uncomfortable meant that it would be seen as "indecent." As a girl, I was subject to many more insults and jabs than the others, but I took them with a head held high. I knew, in my heart, that despite all that happened, I would not regret my decision to go. In my mind, I was free-I had freed myself, and though it was frowned upon, I thought I was better off than the hobbits who would never see anything outside their own doorstep.

There was nothing shameful to me about taking steps into a new world.

I knew my friends felt the same as me-we all lived together in Bag End for the first year or so, until Sam was married to his long-love, Rosie, and a good friend of mine. She tried often to remind me of being "hobbitish," and I did my best to politely rebuff her. Merry, Pippin, and I would sword-fight together, or ride horses, while the rest of the Shire wagged their fingers and heads at us, for we should have been out farming and drinking merrily (in the boys' case) or doing housework and gossiping (in my case). But we couldn't live in the world of normal hobbits anymore-we had been changed, despite efforts to change us back.

Rosie bore two children to Sam during that year we were finally home, and Bilbo was asked to board a ship that would leave Middle-Earth for good...it was considered a high honor, the honor that Ringbearers and elves were bestowed. Unbeknown to the rest of us, Sam and Merry and Pippin and I, Frodo too was asked to accompany the ship...and he accepted. The Shire could no longer be his home; he had suffered too much during the journey. He would never lead a normal life, though the rest of us still had a chance...

Bag End was left empty and cold. Pippin and Merry stayed, for a time, but after Pippin's near-fatal fever, and Aragorn's single visit, the boys returned to their own homes. Sam inherited Bag End from Frodo, and finally found the courage to move into the exquisite hobbit-hole with Rosie and their children. They had four, now, and a fifth was on the way- Elanor was the eldest girl, followed by Frodo, Rose, and Merry. Merry was barely a few weeks old. I lived with the Gamgees as well, since I was originally to be adopted by Bilbo, but he was gone. I had lived with the Cottons for a time following my father's death, and so I was welcome in the Gamgee household. It was a merry place, and always bustling, as would be expected with four little children who were loud and constantly needed something. If anything, the couple was happy for the extra pair of hands, and while I was surely old enough to care for myself, it was unseemly for an unmarried young lass to live alone and support herself. And so, I stayed, for the time being.

.:*:.

It was April 9, 0006 of the fourth age.

The sun was shining forth, and I watched the two ponies kick up their hooves and trot the field. Minas dropped his head to snort, and I was reminded instantly of the afternoon Merry, Pippin, and I stole into a farmer's field and rode his ponies, before escaping into the vegetable patch and gathering spoils to bring to Bilbo's great eleventy-first birthday, the very night he disappeared and all our adventures began.

I sighed, letting the breeze blow my auburn curls into my face. I knew my face was terribly freckled. It was unfashionably so. I leaned against the fence of the pasture, my chin in my hands and my legs crossed. I was wearing one of Frodo's old white shirts, suspenders and brown pants that reached halfway down my calves. I had given up gowns after I had dressed in Gondor's armor-pants left me free to run, climb, and ride horses astride. Gowns might have been beautiful...but. There was no need for me to look beautiful when I already had a reputation that proceeded me.

I sighed once more, letting my thoughts once again drift into that golden afternoon with Merry and Pippin, that carefree afternoon and that splendid party, and everything that came after... the memories flooded my eyes and I was overcome with sorrow. I could not stop the tears from falling, for everything that happened and those the journey allowed me to meet.

It was like this, most days. I felt like this.