Rosemary for Remembrance 4: The Gift
Near Hobbiton September 20, 1421
In a secluded glade of trees near Hobbiton, Rosemary sat on a bed of bright green moss that was soft as velvet or, as she thought to herself, as soft as Frodo's hair. She finished weaving her blanket long ago but wanted to save it for this farewell. The thought of his leaving made her sight go dim and her hands start to tremble.
She told herself that she should focus on being strong for one more night. She must not, could not beg him to stay. She knew he could not, had known it from the first time she saw him make his faltering way up the stairs of Bag End. She thought back to the summer of 1420 and how her dream that it could go on forever came crashing down in the autumn and fell to the ground like so many crimson leaves. She remembered the worry on Sam's face when he came to tell her Frodo was ill again. Frodo had been so pale and thin. The color and weight he gained that summer was a memory.
Rosemary closed her eyes and remembered how Frodo whispered to her in a weak voice, "I can't spend another year here, Rosemary."
After that summer, they still spent much time together but were careful and no one but Sam and Rosemary's mother, Autumn, knew just how often they were with each other. She did not tell Frodo it was useless to protect her reputation because she would not accept another and, as cheerfully as possible, she assisted him in making arrangements to leave. It was sweet torture to look him in the eyes and smile when she wanted to scream, cry, and implore him to stay or take her with him. These were useless, childish fantasies. She was a woman grown and, knowing neither was possible, shoved such thoughts viciously out of her mind.
She normally loved the turning of the seasons but each gold, orange, or blood-red leaf sent a chill through her heart. October was approaching and this would be there last time together. So, she sat on the moss and left the bread and cheese she brought untouched and dabbed away the silent, vagrant tears that rolled down her cheeks as she waited for him. They agreed to meet in the little glade of trees turned golden by the aging year and bordered by asters and goldenrod. She heard him coming and made her face brighten before facing him and almost shattered like glass to see those blue eyes. Except for his eyes and his still-dark hair, he looked older than his years but that skin, pale and worn as parchment, was so dear to her.
She kissed his cheek and said, "Hello, Frodo. I have something for you."
She reached into her pack, brought out the blanket, and spread it on the ground. The green background and the blue forget-me-nots could barely be discerned in the light of the setting sun. It was a large, beautiful blanket and made from the finest material Rosemary had available.
He took her in his arms, his voice trembled and he said, "Oh, Rosemary. Thank you. If I thought I could stay, if there was any way...I know you and Sam, who are dearest to me, will be hurt by my leaving..."
She could not bear to hear any more and stopped his words with a kiss. They sat down on the blanket and talked of there many times together while the sun faded and the stars came out. He told her of the elves star-eyed lady Elbereth, whose name was healing.
She put her head on his shoulder and asked, "Do you remember what you said to me when my father died?"
He stroked her hair and said, "Yes. I told you that part of him would always be with you, watching you from the stars with love"
She took a deep breath, held him closer, and said, "I have another gift for you."
They kissed again and lay down on the blanket to watch the moon. She rose over the treetops and knew their secrets but sunk into the western ocean without revealing them.
Near Hobbiton September 20, 1421
In a secluded glade of trees near Hobbiton, Rosemary sat on a bed of bright green moss that was soft as velvet or, as she thought to herself, as soft as Frodo's hair. She finished weaving her blanket long ago but wanted to save it for this farewell. The thought of his leaving made her sight go dim and her hands start to tremble.
She told herself that she should focus on being strong for one more night. She must not, could not beg him to stay. She knew he could not, had known it from the first time she saw him make his faltering way up the stairs of Bag End. She thought back to the summer of 1420 and how her dream that it could go on forever came crashing down in the autumn and fell to the ground like so many crimson leaves. She remembered the worry on Sam's face when he came to tell her Frodo was ill again. Frodo had been so pale and thin. The color and weight he gained that summer was a memory.
Rosemary closed her eyes and remembered how Frodo whispered to her in a weak voice, "I can't spend another year here, Rosemary."
After that summer, they still spent much time together but were careful and no one but Sam and Rosemary's mother, Autumn, knew just how often they were with each other. She did not tell Frodo it was useless to protect her reputation because she would not accept another and, as cheerfully as possible, she assisted him in making arrangements to leave. It was sweet torture to look him in the eyes and smile when she wanted to scream, cry, and implore him to stay or take her with him. These were useless, childish fantasies. She was a woman grown and, knowing neither was possible, shoved such thoughts viciously out of her mind.
She normally loved the turning of the seasons but each gold, orange, or blood-red leaf sent a chill through her heart. October was approaching and this would be there last time together. So, she sat on the moss and left the bread and cheese she brought untouched and dabbed away the silent, vagrant tears that rolled down her cheeks as she waited for him. They agreed to meet in the little glade of trees turned golden by the aging year and bordered by asters and goldenrod. She heard him coming and made her face brighten before facing him and almost shattered like glass to see those blue eyes. Except for his eyes and his still-dark hair, he looked older than his years but that skin, pale and worn as parchment, was so dear to her.
She kissed his cheek and said, "Hello, Frodo. I have something for you."
She reached into her pack, brought out the blanket, and spread it on the ground. The green background and the blue forget-me-nots could barely be discerned in the light of the setting sun. It was a large, beautiful blanket and made from the finest material Rosemary had available.
He took her in his arms, his voice trembled and he said, "Oh, Rosemary. Thank you. If I thought I could stay, if there was any way...I know you and Sam, who are dearest to me, will be hurt by my leaving..."
She could not bear to hear any more and stopped his words with a kiss. They sat down on the blanket and talked of there many times together while the sun faded and the stars came out. He told her of the elves star-eyed lady Elbereth, whose name was healing.
She put her head on his shoulder and asked, "Do you remember what you said to me when my father died?"
He stroked her hair and said, "Yes. I told you that part of him would always be with you, watching you from the stars with love"
She took a deep breath, held him closer, and said, "I have another gift for you."
They kissed again and lay down on the blanket to watch the moon. She rose over the treetops and knew their secrets but sunk into the western ocean without revealing them.
