I can't swim sir.
So how can it be, that while I stand here gazing into your eyes, I feel like I am drowning?
It feels so real, and yet I still draw breath.
Begging your pardon, sir but whilst we were on that dreadful quest I never really took the time to stand back and appreciate your beauty. I was over come wit fear and duty I suppose, but now that it's all over, now that we're back home safe and sound, I've had more time to think, about all that we've been through.
We've been through more than most, I dare say, and I don't mean to sound imposing or anything, but it's made me appreciate what I had then, and what I have now.
You, sir.
I hope you don't mind me sayin' so, and if you do, well then you have a right to. It's like the Gaffer always says, 'One of these days' he says, 'you'll talk so hard, your tongue will drop off by cause of weariness.' This is something I just have to say, but of course it's coming out all wrong. I can never get straight to the point now, can I?
Like this it is sir. I remember a time, long ago it was. Long before we started on the quest. It was probably around the time Gandalf came to the shire, when Bilbo was still around. Ah yes, it was around your birthday, I remember now. I was a shy young thing then, and you only had to mention the name 'Rosie' and I would turn a shade of scarlet somewhat darker than you've ever seen, but since we've been back, and the shire was restored, I've been able to sit down with her and have a good long talk, discussing things you see. And I realized something then that is the real reason I'm saying all this to you.
Being around Rosie now just don't give me the same butterflies as what it used to, and it wasn't until I came to work at Bag End the morning after that talk that I found out why.
You were sitting in your study as always, facing the window, though the curtains were drawn. I knocked three times and carefully opened the door whilst balancing a tray filled to the brim with bacon, eggs, toast tea and all good food fit for a king on my left hand. I walked in and set the tray at your desk and after I had opened the curtains and filled the dark room with sunlight, you looked up at me, with a grateful smile, as if I were the only one in your world. And I saw your eyes for the first time.
That was when I started drowning sir, and the butterflies came back.
All this may come as a shock to you, though I'd like to hope that it doesn't, but ever since the quest, since those years of sleeping, eating, drinking, resting, travelling, fighting and being along side you and looking after you, I grew to love everything about you.
And I don't mean to sound rude or presumptuous sir, although I'm well aware that that's how it's sounding, I'm not well-blessed at speeches as like you, but I reckon now that I know you better than any lass might ever learn.
That's all I wanted to say sir. That I love you. More than an servant should ever love his master, and if you can't understand or live with that, then I'll go sir. I'll go but I won't want to. I never want to leave you now, Mr. Frodo, but if you say the word then I will. I respect your wishes that much.
But I really need to know see, to find peace of mind, to stop wondering constantly. And so I need to know, what you want sir, because this is all about you. I only want to make you happy, and if I've jeopardised any chance of that happening then perhaps it really is best if I leave now.
So what'll it be sir? Stay,
or go?
So how can it be, that while I stand here gazing into your eyes, I feel like I am drowning?
It feels so real, and yet I still draw breath.
Begging your pardon, sir but whilst we were on that dreadful quest I never really took the time to stand back and appreciate your beauty. I was over come wit fear and duty I suppose, but now that it's all over, now that we're back home safe and sound, I've had more time to think, about all that we've been through.
We've been through more than most, I dare say, and I don't mean to sound imposing or anything, but it's made me appreciate what I had then, and what I have now.
You, sir.
I hope you don't mind me sayin' so, and if you do, well then you have a right to. It's like the Gaffer always says, 'One of these days' he says, 'you'll talk so hard, your tongue will drop off by cause of weariness.' This is something I just have to say, but of course it's coming out all wrong. I can never get straight to the point now, can I?
Like this it is sir. I remember a time, long ago it was. Long before we started on the quest. It was probably around the time Gandalf came to the shire, when Bilbo was still around. Ah yes, it was around your birthday, I remember now. I was a shy young thing then, and you only had to mention the name 'Rosie' and I would turn a shade of scarlet somewhat darker than you've ever seen, but since we've been back, and the shire was restored, I've been able to sit down with her and have a good long talk, discussing things you see. And I realized something then that is the real reason I'm saying all this to you.
Being around Rosie now just don't give me the same butterflies as what it used to, and it wasn't until I came to work at Bag End the morning after that talk that I found out why.
You were sitting in your study as always, facing the window, though the curtains were drawn. I knocked three times and carefully opened the door whilst balancing a tray filled to the brim with bacon, eggs, toast tea and all good food fit for a king on my left hand. I walked in and set the tray at your desk and after I had opened the curtains and filled the dark room with sunlight, you looked up at me, with a grateful smile, as if I were the only one in your world. And I saw your eyes for the first time.
That was when I started drowning sir, and the butterflies came back.
All this may come as a shock to you, though I'd like to hope that it doesn't, but ever since the quest, since those years of sleeping, eating, drinking, resting, travelling, fighting and being along side you and looking after you, I grew to love everything about you.
And I don't mean to sound rude or presumptuous sir, although I'm well aware that that's how it's sounding, I'm not well-blessed at speeches as like you, but I reckon now that I know you better than any lass might ever learn.
That's all I wanted to say sir. That I love you. More than an servant should ever love his master, and if you can't understand or live with that, then I'll go sir. I'll go but I won't want to. I never want to leave you now, Mr. Frodo, but if you say the word then I will. I respect your wishes that much.
But I really need to know see, to find peace of mind, to stop wondering constantly. And so I need to know, what you want sir, because this is all about you. I only want to make you happy, and if I've jeopardised any chance of that happening then perhaps it really is best if I leave now.
So what'll it be sir? Stay,
or go?
