I won't forget your smile
I will search for the tomorrow
when we can meet again…
----
Frodo awoke the next morning. He felt refreshed, bathing in the morning dew, and listening to the birdsong. He sat up and felt his head, trying to remember what had all happened. "I think I remember," he began to grin madly. "I faintly remember being safe in my own Bag End...I almost remember being put into bed and cared for."
He got up and called, "Bilbo! Bilbo, where are you? Are you outside already, writing your book?" Frodo looked wildly around, almost smiling like it was hide and seek. He danced side to side, almost drunkenly. If you looked into his eyes, you wouldn't be able to see Frodo anymore...or the colors that naturally bloomed in his eyes.
"I see," he called out. "You're off with Gandalf again! That is ok though...I hope you're journey is full of great wealth and luck! For now, I'll go see my dear Sam."
Frodo wadled, hitting almost every tree, sometimes dragging his own body. Randomly he'd lift himself back up and grin again. "I see the old Gaffer's house already!" he cried, running forward to a giant tree. The tree had a face carved by nature, a face that made it look like it had fangs and an unwelcomed personality. It's branches hung about like it was meant to be there for scaring. Frodo wrapped his arms about it tightly and cried, "Oh Samwise Gamgee, dearest of hobbits, and fairest gardener, how have you been? I've longed to know!"
Frodo smiled again, laughing in a way as though he realized the game Sam was playing. "I know what it is, old fellow! You shouldn't be frightened! It's me, Frodo, your dearest Frodo Baggins," he winked his eye, almost like he didn't mean to. In Frodo's mind, he saw and felt Sam, and couldn't even see it was a tree in a land full of despair.
"Samwise," he whispered. "I need to tell you something that I longed to have expressed way back." He could of sworn he saw Samwise turn his head at him and his expression full of concern and undivided attention. Frodo held Sam tighter, and mumbled, "Sam, I think of you, and I see you, when I don't even plan on it. My heart ties my mind to my feet, and so, when I think you, I fall. How long I have waited to say this...and now I can; I love you."
Frodo shut his eyes tight, waiting for a response. The response never came. Frodo opened his eyes slowly, and saw he was holding the tree so tight, he face rubbed against the bark.
He stood there silently. His reaction was an unexpected one, as he began to scream. Pulling out his sword, without thinking, he began stabbing the tree furiously. He stabbed until he fell to the ground, and he stabbed the tree once more, digging in as deep as his pain went. He leaned against the handle of Sting, and looked down at the ground, his tears joining the dew.
"Damn you," he pulled out of his heart. "Damn it to where all hellish things belong!"
Frodo felt like he already was in hell. He lead his hand into his shirt, and ripped the chain from his neck. He didn't stare long enough at the ring, and without thinking, he threw it against the tree. It bounced, and landed harmlessly onto the soft ground.
He bent down, and picked it up. He stared again, trying to recall why it was he threw it. He held the ring to his heart and looked about. "I still have no clue which way to go," he mumbled. He shooked his head and began walking forward, for it was the only way he knew anymore. He put the ring in his breast pocket, ensuring it wouldn't get lost again.
He walked through the forest, reaching a marsh like area...where the trees laid to the side, some against each other, and some trees that had fallen from natural causes. It seemed to Frodo like there was no hope anywhere, that hope was hopeless...that right or wrong was only a flip of a coin. He was neither right or wrong, for the matter. It seemed to him it was right to leave Sam, to know he would be safe. But it was wrong to leave him, too. What if Sam was hurt? What if Sam had died, trying to find his way back to the Shire? Frodo knew Sam wouldn't go back to the Shire, even if he did know the way.
Frodo almost laughed, thinking how silly it'd be for Sam to try climbing up rocks by himself. For some reason, it was funny to him. Maybe because it was Sam...and Sam was always the one to make Frodo laugh in an unexpected place or at an unexpected time. He wished to have Sam next to him, Sam's arm on his shoulder, Sam supporting Frodo as he walked. Sam supporting him as he beared this burden.
Frodo even tried to imagine what it'd be like to climb down a rocky slope without Sam's rope from Galadriel.
He shook his head though...remembering why he left Sam in the first place. He felt almost certain Sam could survive. With all he had...he had his own survival skills. Why, Sam even had his pans for defense, and his garderning skills for...well, Frodo couldn't really wonder what gardening skills would do to help in the wild. Possibly help him find certain herbs, or flowers to brighten his day.
Frodo decided to rest on a group of rocks that had been on top of a hill outside the forest he was in. He couldn't even remember why he was in that forest in the first place, or how he even got there. It really didn't matter to him then, because he had been walking several hours and decided he needed a quick rest. He dug through his pack, and found the lembas the fair elves of Lothlorien gave the fellowship in their beautiful leaf wrappings. Frodo almost reluctantly opened the pack, because the package was too beautifully presented, but finally found the heart to and began to nibble slowly.
He felt refreshed. He had no water to help his thirst, but the lembas were good enough. He well enough knew he'd last another day or so.
Frodo, taking the last few bites of his lemba, smiled contently. He chuckled to himself remembering how Sam would talk about wishing for a real Shire meal. The first two breakfasts, and the tea, and the snacks, and dinners and feasts. Even Frodo missed them.
He sighed though, and leaned against the rock, and nodded off into sleep. If he had any dreams, he couldn't remember...but he could faintly recall his dream being about back at Bag End, smoking pipeweed, and watching the fire. The best dream he had had for days...
Aftering awakening, he walked on for about 4 or more leagues, and finally slowed down to a nearby stream. He bent down and washed his face with the first fresh water he had felt in weeks. He almost gasped with the pleasure of fresh water...and he filled his empty bottle to the top, overflowing.
He noticed something though, something in the water. He turned back and looked...and he saw a reflection. His own.
"That is me...isn't it." he sighed. "I had almost forgotten how I looked," he sighed again. "Almost changed..." he whispered. He looked at his reflection for a good amount of minutes, and just as he decided to turn back to what it was he was doing, the reflection changed on him.
"S...Sam," he called out. He reached his finger out and tried to touch his face, but the reflection moved as if Sam were living inside the stream. "Sam...what does this all mean?" Frodo felt almost stupid for asking, as he realized already the answer. "Sam," he choked out. "You mean to tell me..."
Sam smiled at him.
Frodo felt overcomed with sadness and the longing to hold him. He opened out his arms arms, and leaning forward, tried to hug the reflection.
The cold of the stream felt up Frodo's spine and he shivered. He swam back up and grabbed hold the muddy ground. He didn't try to pull himself up, he just laid there in thought. His arms held the ground, and he wished he were in the arms of Sam's warmth. Frodo had been regretting what he did. He wished he could go back. But he'd never find Sam now...
"I'm so confused," he cried. "I feel so horrible. I feel like my soul has been turning on me. Something has been grabbing my heart and turning it in all directions. It's telling me I've left something behind."
"I'm beginning to believe I hate myself. I hate myself, without Sam. But I still don't understand! If I go back to him, I will only leave again. I'm being toyed with!" He winced, and pulled himself out of the stream. He wanted to cry again, but he believed he had to put aside weaknesses in his heart.
He went to his bag, and looked for his cloak. "That's right...I've lost it. I almost forgot. I don't care if I get sick anymore...I just...I don't even know what it is I want!" He kicked the ground and looked up at the towering trees. He heard birds talk amongst themselves. He felt like they were saying, "Look at that poor halfling, he's crazy! He's lost it all, and he'll most likely loose all hope."
"I've already lost hope!" he yelled at the birds. "Don't you see? I almost rather not destroy the ring, so you may go through hell!"
The birds flew away, without a care for what Frodo said. "What am I saying..." he mumbled. "This isn't like me..."
"I'm going to find Sam," he said to himself. "I can't go on like this anymore. He doesn't even have any food, the poor lad."
"I'm going to find Samwise Gamgee, and I'll tell him how I feel, and what I've been through. I want to prove to him, and also explain to him why I left."
Frodo took out a spare blanket, and wrapped it around his shoulders. He still felt a knife turning in his heart, and the ring pushing him back, but he avoided the pain with what he could. "No, I won't listen to either," he whispered.
"What hurts you only makes you stronger," he said, in the spirit of Sam.