Frodo lay awake in his bed staring up at the ceiling. This was his home; Bag End, on Bagshot Row. He had been raised here, made friends here, had first found out about the Ring here.

And now he was leaving. Forever.

Frodo sighed. 'Forever' was starting to seem longer and longer in his mind. Tomorrow, he would be leaving Bag End, never to return. Bilbo was going with him, of course…but it was still an overwhelming fact.

Six of them were going to the boat: Frodo, Bilbo, Sam, Merry, Gandalf, and Pippin. Three of them were getting on the boat. Three would have to go back home.

As he kept thinking of the day to come, Frodo swallowed and shut his eyes. Merry, Pippin, and Sam had no idea that Frodo was leaving them for the white shores of Aman. They didn't know that Gandalf was sailing, either, but Frodo felt horrible for leaving his three hobbit friends.

The thought was starting to make him sick.

He closed his eyes, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind.

-x-X-x-

Frodo's eyes fluttered open. He sat up in his bed, propping himself up on his arms.

"Today's the day," he muttered aloud. He let out a sigh, his stomach turning slightly as he slipped out of bed. He dressed quickly and walked out of his room.

"Uncle Bilbo!" he called, with no answer. Startled by the silence, he searched all of Bag End. However, he couldn't find the old hobbit anywhere. Surprised, but not too concerned, Frodo walked outside and took a deep breath of air.

"Mr. Baggins!"

Frodo spun around sharply. The voice had been high and raspy. Rosie, Sam's wife, was stumbling up the path. Her face was red and tear streaked, her eyes puffy, her hair mussed. As she reached Frodo, she collapsed. Frodo quickly caught her.

"Rosie? What's wrong?" he asked, immediately worried.

"The Water," she stuttered, her breath coming in gasps. "Go d-down to the…Water." With that, she fainted in his arms.

Frodo ran inside, laying Rosie in a chair. He scratched out a note to her and left it on the table beside her; "Down at the river. Make yourself at home."

He sped down the path to the river Rosie had named. He glanced around, looking through the trees. Suddenly, he spotted three pieces of parchment. They were nailed to a tree, one on top of the other. Frodo looked at the one closest to the ground.

"I heard that you were leaving. Why didn't you tell us? Oh well…I think I'll go for a swim." Underneath the message was written, in messy penmanship, "Peregrin."

Frodo lifted an eyebrow. "Pippin can't swim," he muttered, rolling his eyes. He glanced at the next one.

"I was going to polish my sword when I heard that you were leaving. Why didn't you tell us?" It was signed, "Meriadoc."

Breathing fast, Frodo let his eyes lift to the last letter.

"I heard that you were leaving while sharpening some of the kitchen knives. Why didn't you tell us?" The last letter was signed, "Samwise."

"W-what?" Frodo stuttered. He walked around the tree and found himself in a clearing. In the middle of the clearing, he saw a figure, motionless.

"No…" He approached cautiously. It was a hobbit, his neck marred by a newly acquired cut. Blood surrounded his head, dirtying his blond hair. A knife was clutched in his hand. "NO!"

Frodo's head swiveled, and he spotted another hobbit, laying near a tree. He was dead, gripping a sword that was plunged in his middle.

"No!" Frodo shrieked out, feeling helpless. His breath was coming in short gasps. He staggered towards the body, picking it up and moving it so that the two dead hobbits laid next to each other. Barely thinking of what he was doing, he made his way to the edge of the river, washing blood off his hands. He glanced up the river. What looked like a pile of cloth was laying on the riverbank.

Frodo made his way over to the pile. He turned it over.

"No!"

It was another hobbit, much younger than the others, his wet, golden curls plastered to his head.

Frodo laid the third body in the grass. He pressed his ear to each chest, but it was too late for all of them. He stood, and walked backwards, staring at the dead hobbits.

Sam, Merry, and Pippin.

"No, no, NO!" Frodo wailed to the sky, dropping on his knees. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please, please…no!"

"Frodo…"

Someone was shaking him, pulling him away from his dead friends. Frodo swatted the hand away. "No! Leave me be!" He looked back down at the hobbits. "I should've told you…I should've told you!"

"Frodo…"

The hand came back, pulling him away. "No! Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Pippin…Merry…Sam!"

"FRODO!"

-x-X-x-

Frodo shot up in his bed. He was soaked in sweat, his hands gripping the bed sheets. Bilbo was standing next to the bad.

"Frodo, it's just me. It's time to go."

Frodo swallowed and nodded.

-x-X-x-

When Frodo saw the three hobbits, he embraced each one before they even got onto the wagon. They were a little startled.

"Why, exactly?" Merry asked after he'd been hugged.

"I just…I don't know," Frodo said. "I'm just grateful that all of you are safe."