A/N: I felt like a continuation. Therefore:
We're home now, Sam. Home. In the Shire.
It doesn't feel like home anymore.
You'll be marrying Rosie soon. Rosie's good for you, you know. She'd do anything she could to make you happy. I wish I could say the same.
I'm jealous. Jealous of Rosie, because she's the one that gets to hold you in her arms for the rest of your life. Jealous of you, because you've found love and you get to keep it. I found love, alright, but my love will never know.
You'll never know. I can never tell you.
I suppose I'll go back to Crickhollow for a while and try to live there. I don't know if I can do it, though. I don't know if I can be near you and not tell you. It would hurt your marriage, if I told you, and I'm not willing to do that. I'm not willing to ruin our friendship either. I know that sooner or later, I'll have to get away. Leave the Shire entirely. That's going to hurt something terrible, because once I leave, I'm never coming back. I think I'll go to Rivendell, and from there. . . who knows. I don't.
I don't know much at all, when I think about it. Except, of course, that I love you more than I've loved anything in my life. Nothing else could compare to you.
When we left the Fellowship at the Rapids, I said that we'd probably never see them again. You told me, "We may yet, Master Frodo. We may yet." That cheered me so much, and you were right: we did see them again. But when I leave the Shire, and say goodbye for the last time, you will never see me again. I will never see your face again, never go for a drink at the inn with you again, never be near you again. There will be no return.
All because I never told you any of this so long ago, and I cannot now.
We're home now, Sam. Home. In the Shire.
It doesn't feel like home anymore.
You'll be marrying Rosie soon. Rosie's good for you, you know. She'd do anything she could to make you happy. I wish I could say the same.
I'm jealous. Jealous of Rosie, because she's the one that gets to hold you in her arms for the rest of your life. Jealous of you, because you've found love and you get to keep it. I found love, alright, but my love will never know.
You'll never know. I can never tell you.
I suppose I'll go back to Crickhollow for a while and try to live there. I don't know if I can do it, though. I don't know if I can be near you and not tell you. It would hurt your marriage, if I told you, and I'm not willing to do that. I'm not willing to ruin our friendship either. I know that sooner or later, I'll have to get away. Leave the Shire entirely. That's going to hurt something terrible, because once I leave, I'm never coming back. I think I'll go to Rivendell, and from there. . . who knows. I don't.
I don't know much at all, when I think about it. Except, of course, that I love you more than I've loved anything in my life. Nothing else could compare to you.
When we left the Fellowship at the Rapids, I said that we'd probably never see them again. You told me, "We may yet, Master Frodo. We may yet." That cheered me so much, and you were right: we did see them again. But when I leave the Shire, and say goodbye for the last time, you will never see me again. I will never see your face again, never go for a drink at the inn with you again, never be near you again. There will be no return.
All because I never told you any of this so long ago, and I cannot now.