Author's note: Hey guys, I know I shouldn't post a new fanfic before I finish the other ones but I couldn't help it. So here you go guys, this one shouldn't be too long, a little quickie really. The plot bunnies weren't tended to snd so they just kept multiplying. I've hit writers block with my other fanfics but I promise I will update them. BTW I just thought I'd let you guys know I'm taking requests now. Send me your idea and I'll see what I can do (I do not do any slash, profanity, sex ext...) So here you go, enjoy,

XXOXX Miss AudreyBear

These Are Your Pages.

The red book, Frodo's red book, sat on his shelf for forty three years, nine months, and twelve days, and Sam knew because he had kept track. He counted every day now, so that they wouldn't blend together like they used to. Back when he had been younger but lost and scared, surrounded by fire and ash. Forty three years, nine months and twelve days since the wind has blown in from the East and carried his master away.

He had stumbled home, tears blurring his vision and a strange small smile planted on his face, because Frodo hasn't smiled in years but he wanted Sam to. So Sam did because Frodo wanted him to and because he loved Frodo. He had whispered "Well, I'm back." To his wife and kids and gone inside and closed the door. The red book had been set on a shelf to collect dust, to not be opened; because every time he opened it he was hit with a wave of memories strong enough to knock him off his feet and drive the breath from his lungs in a great whoosh. So the book stayed on the shelf and Sam pushed the memories down deep, where no one, let alone he could find them. Until...

He had never know that footsteps could be so loud. They bounced around echoing off tge walls as he paced around his home. He supposed they has always been that loud, but the sounds of his children and his wife must have covered them up, but not anymore.

He was used to the children being gone. His youngest had moved out a few years ago and it had just been him and his wife...but now...

He eases his aching body into the armchair by the fire and rests his head in his hands. The silence is absolutely oppressive.

He misses Frodo.

It hits him like an arrow, like a ton of bricks. He misses Frodo. Misses him so badly it feels as if there's a knife lodged into his heart. He misses Rosie too, and his kids, Aragorn and Gimli, Legolas and Gandalf and Gimli. He misses them so badly. His old, weary, tear filled eyes land upon the red book, the book that Frodo left for him. These last pages are for you Sam

He heaves himself to his feet and stumbles across the room, the book is dusty, heavy, filled with all of their adventures, all of Frodo's pain. He flips it open and sees first Bilbo's neat print, and then his masters flowing script. At the back of the book are several blank pages, pages for Sam to fill up. But what would I write about Sam wonders what does a simple hobbit like myself have to say. Quite a lot actually.

He finds a quill under a pile of sympathy cards and a bottle of ink under the sofa. He sits at his desk and opens the book, dips the quill in the ink and stares at the page. Then he begins to write.

Day one: the wind was blowing gently, as it does in the Shire, and the weight of the pain that was yet to come had not yet sunk in. For us it was an exciting adventure to Rivendell, and for me especially it was a chance to see the elves. It was lovely weather out and it felt a bit like a holiday. Even with Gandalf's solemn words echoing in our ears Frodo and I were smiling ear to ear. Frodo's smiles being one of my favorite sights in the whole of Middle Earth. His smiles lit up his whole face and seemed to make the sun come out. I liked them even better when they were directed towards me.

Week two: though we had been on the road for over two weeks we were still having a rather enjoyable time. We were dirtier admittedly, and I had assumed that I had become good deal smellier though dear never mentioned anything. He still smelled like his regular self, books and flowers and rain. A smell I knew from occasionally helping him with the laundry. The weather had continued to be fair much to our enjoyment. A few nights in to the second week and I had come across some wood elves departing to the Gray Havens. For some strange reason it had made me sad and now I wonder if it was because even then I had know how painful it would be to be left behind, I know now.

Week three: we had been joined at this point by Merry and Pippin. We're staying at the prancing pony for the night. I don't like this place. I don't like big folk and this place is filled with them. I don't like the way they look at us, dark narrow distrustful eyes. I especially don't like the way they look at Mister Frodo. I think it's the ring, it seems to draw nasty things to it, like those black riders, and these men. One of them gives him a shove on his way back from the bar. He lands hard on his tush and winces. I stand, fury in my eyes, but one look from Frodo has me back in my seat.

"Are you alright Frodo?" I ask. He nods and smiles slightly.

"Sam, don't worry, Gandalf will come," he assures me softly. I try to look like I'm comforted but I must have failed because the worry line between Frodo's eyebrows becomes more prominent.

There's a dark fella in the corner I don't like the look of at all. He's been watching mister Frodo all evening. Frodo doesn't seem to notice but I sure do. Frodo seems a little distracted but I think that's just because he's thinking about Gandalf and what not.

"That fellow's done nothing but stare at since we've arrived" I say to Frodo. Frodo glances at said fellow and pales just slightly.

"Excuse me," Frodo says softly stopping the bar tender. "That man in the corner, who is he?"

I don't pay attention to what the man says but my ears do pick out 'ranger', 'dangerous', and 'Strider'.

I glare at Strider.

got his eyes closed like he's thinking real hard and he's breaking out in sweat like he's hot. I'm just starting to get worried when my attention is drawn somewhere else.

"Baggins? Sure I know a Baggins! Frodo Baggins!"

Frodo and I whip around at the same time, my mouth opening in surprise. Before I can say anything though Frodo leaps out of his chair and rushes at that fool of a Took Pippin. I see him grab Pippin's arm, see him slip, see him disappear.

My heart drops down into my toes. I jump up from the table and start looking around frantically for Frodo. The men are now looking angry and slightly scared of us, looking around in surprise. 'Where is he? Oh where's he gone?' I think to myself as I search for him. Gandalf said not to loose him and I promised I wouldn't and now he's gone and lost himself right under my very nose.

I glance back at the corner and that Strider fellow is gone. I feel real cold all the sudden. I hear the thud of two sets of footsteps on the stairs and I think I know where Frodo's gone.

"Sam! Have you found you know who?" Merry asks rushing up to me. Pippin's trailing behind him lookin' real guilty. I'm glad he knows the trouble he's caused.

"I think that Striders got him," I hiss. "Come on!"

I'm real mad so I ain't thinking quite straight. If I had been I would have grabbed something to fight him with. I'm not though, so I go charging into that room with my fists and nothing else.

"Let him go, or I'll 'ave you for the shanks!" I cry. Striders got his swords drawn, but as soon as he sees it's me he puts it away. Frodo looks shaken but unhurt, good thing too or someone would be in big trouble.

"You have a stout heart little hobbit," he says and I glare because I am not little. I am of perfectly normal size and it's not my adult the big folk are just so big! "But that will not save you, they're coming."

I have no idea who's coming but I don't think they're nice people. Frodo glances at me with scared eyes then looks back at Strider.

"What must I do?"

"Come with me, I'll keep you safe."

Frodo glances back at me and I realize he's watching to see if I'm okay with this. Me Samwise Gamgee, simple gardener.

I try and smile a little bit. Frodo cringes, it must not look very convincing. Strider gestures for us to follow him and we grudgingly do. Down the stairs and back outside. It's still raining, and Frodo gives a violent shudder. I can practically feel the fear radiating off him. Strider leads us to another inn, one very close to the Prancing Pony. This inn however, makes the Prancing Pony feel almost as comfortable as the Green Dragon. Strider puts a hand on Frodo's shoulder and guides him to a room upstairs. We follow silently behind him.

That night I'm woken by the sound of otherworldly screeching. I sit bolt right up as do Merry and Pippin. Frodo I see isn't sleeping, he's sitting at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed. Strider sits on a chair in the corner. He's staring out the window with a strange expression on his face.

"What are they?" Frodo whispers. Strider glances at him and raises an eyebrow.

"They were once Men. Great kings of Men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them Nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question. One by one, falling into darkness. They are the Nazgûl. Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the ring, they are drawn to it and they will never stop hunting you.

And they never did. Even when the ring was destroyed and Sauron with it the ringwraiths still haunted him. At night when he was alone in his bed. Sometimes I could hear him screamin' and it broke my heart because even when I'd wake him I could see in his eye's that even though he said he was alright, he wasn't. How could he be, when he had that burden resting on his mind.

Too great a burden to bear for so long.

Which is why I guess he had to leave.