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My dear Sam,
I do not know what date today is in the Shire Reckoning. I do not even know the day. I have passed many, many years in which all the days are equally merry and peaceful, that I am afraid I have lost count.
But let us be a little adventurous here and call today Day 1, AS. AS will stand for After Samwise. How do you like that?
I was asleep yesterday, Sam, in front of my mural. I have taken up painting for about ten years or so, and though I do not seem to get any better at it, at least I enjoy it. And for the last few months, I have been trying to paint the merry halls where I spent my childhood in Buckland. But I suppose it comes with age, the visions were vague and fleeting now, not as vivid as they used to be, and I have grown a habit of sleeping when I have no idea of how to paint something, because sometimes I can still see it in my dreams. Or maybe, like Bilbo, I have grown so old that I need more sleep anyway. Although, I must admit that for a 114 year-old hobbit, I feel very well indeed.
Well, except, that is, for the ghost of twinges that I still feel in October and March (I know it is October and March because of them, so they are some kind of calendar for me; funny, isn't it?). Very slight and easy the pains are now, that I can always brush them off and go on with my day as usual without any help from Lord Elrond. He was right, Sam. The healing came from within me. It began when I decided that I could choose between good memories and dreams, and evil ones. And from then on it was only a matter of discipline. I came to Eressea still occasionally dreaming of Mordor. But of late my dreams were mainly of the Shire before the Ring, of you, my friends and Bilbo.
I did not really keep track of my age, Sam. It is the Elves who keep having birthday parties for me. I had thought that after Bilbo passed away, I did not wish to have anymore birthday parties. But the Elves would not hear of it. You should have been here when I turned 100. The Elves made such a glorious party that went for days; three days before my birthday and three days afterward, to be exact! They, the Elves, had such a grand celebration over a hobbit turning 100, while they have lived thousands upon thousands of years! I was touched, Sam.
But even that party seems pale now compared with yesterday. As I told you, I was asleep in my chair in front of my unfinished mural. Then Gandalf woke me up. He said:
"Wake up, Frodo. There is someone to see you."
And I yawned and moaned and complained, "Can't it wait, Gandalf?"
Gandalf was smiling and he said, "I am afraid not, Frodo."
And he stood aside. Behind him there stood an old hobbit, all silver curls and wrinkled face. But he was a hobbit! And before I quite overcame my astonishment, he ran over to me, took my hand and kissed it, ran his hand over my face, held me close and started to weep! And it was only then, Sam, that I knew it was you.
"I am Sam, Mr Frodo, your own Sam," you said between sobs. "You said that Ring-bearers should go together, so I have come. I have come, Mr Frodo!"
And, bless me, Sam, I could not hold back my own tears! And there we were, in front of the sorry, unfinished mural; two grey, ancient hobbits, weeping in each other's arms.
What tales you have for me, Sam! Thirteen children! Young Pippin became the Took and Thain, and Merry became the Master of Buckland! A rough voyage by the Sea (poor Sam, you did not even enjoy the short trip by Anduin from Lothlorien). Seven times elected as Mayor! Oh, Sam! I felt awful to see you serve my tea yesterday. I am not your master anymore, Sam, will you listen? You have become Mayor seven times! How proud I am of you.
Oh, there… I hear you call me. Is it time for elevenses already? Dear Sam, I cannot tell you how happy I am that you are here. I cannot thank the Elves enough for keeping me company all these years. But to have another hobbit of the Shire beside me, one as good, and loyal, and brave as you, my dearest, dearest Sam, will make my days in Eressea even more beautiful, even more blessed.
Frodo Baggins
The End