29th September, 1422 SR
Dear Sam,
A year ago I left you, Merry and Pippin, in the Grey Haven. It seems so long ago. Much has happened here, as, I am sure, does in The Shire. There was a party last week, a really big one, to celebrate Bilbo's birthday and mine. He is now 132 years old, very healthy, but sleeps more often and becoming even more forgetful, except about mealtimes. It seems to me that he wakes up only to have meals now.
He was, however, very excited about his birthday. For months he had prepared the presents he wished to give the Elves, or to be precise, he told me what he wanted to have, and I prepared it for him. Of course the Elves need nothing. So Bilbo and I made up poetry, songs and tales about each particular Elf, some humorous, some ridiculous and a very few were plain serious. So on our birthday, between meals, I sang these songs, and the Elves were happy to receive their gifts. They knew nothing about the song-presents. Bilbo was very satisfied.
I wonder, Sam, if you ever question my decision to leave the Shire. I have told you why before we parted, but it was not the whole of it. Yes, I know and believe that you will have a far larger role in the Shire and you did not need me to hinder you. But to be completely honest, Sam, I have never felt the same about the Shire after we returned. It seemed distant to me, strange, and different. I have seen darkness and terror and evil and I could not shake them from my mind.
I have never told you this, but there is a reason why I stayed away from much of the goings-on in the Shire after I resigned my job as Deputy Mayor. Sometimes when we had parties, and the other hobbits were laughing and singing, suddenly all I could think of was the Orcs jeering at me, pawing at me with their filthy claws, whipping me, their stink suffocating me, and I could not breathe. Or I would walk to the hills and all around me were spring flowers, but all I could see was that mountain, Mount Doom, looming over me. And the air was so hot and choking and foul with ashes. And I would feel weak all over again, as though the Eye was still upon me, bending me to Its will. Sometimes I wanted to shout to all those merrymakers, because life is full of pain and fear and despair. But then I realised I got it wrong. A grim Shire is not the Shire at all. But I also felt so out of place in the happy and peaceful Shire. I could not walk through shadows and terror and return to the Shire unscathed. I have not your strength, Sam. So I had to leave.
I hope you can understand it now. I hope you can forgive my leaving you while you had never failed nor deserted me before.
Frodo Baggins