I watch him sleep and I want to go home.
Frodo seems to forget what home was like, but I cannot. Every morning that has me waking up to a new day farther away from the Shire brings sharp, painfully dear memories. An endless canopy of beauty stretches on and on where my heart remains. I can still imagine the tickle of grass under my feet and the smell of forget-me-nots that whispered in the wind. I remember my friends--how I long to laugh with them. Smiling faces greeted me wherever I went, and everyone knew my name. Rosie Cotton danced with ribbons in her hair, but I never had the courage to approach her. Surely I would be brave enough now, but it's far too late. The Ring came into Frodo's hands.
It tempts his dreams, even his sweetest dreams of the Shire. "Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee, don't you leave him." How could I dream of it? Frodo is my friend. Whether or not I count for much does not matter. Someone must carry him. Tell me, friend, do you love me as much as I love you?
The night sky is filled with the distant fire, and I am to lead him there, blindly. I watch his broken back, follow his tired footsteps, ready to catch him whenever he falls…and he falls too often.
What kind of world is this? There used to be innocence in Frodo's laughter and joy in his eyes. Now he can barely speak, and all that I can see in his eyes are tears. Corruption and evil is easily stumbled upon and I am unsure of what will become of my home, so terribly far away. Lives mean little and fear seems to be the only emotion we can hold on to. This is the world we fight for?
Giving up would mean losing him and never finding him again. He has sacrificed his spirit, learned how to hurt deeper than the pit of his heart, and he has come farther than anyone would imagine a little hobbit could be possible of. Without looking back, I followed him when he fell off the path, and I want to go home, but that is a wish among the stars. If I leave him now, Frodo will never find his way back.
With fear, deceit, shadow and darkness almost stronger than will, I find it hard to keep faith in hope, loyalty and fellowship. But I do. I am going home to the Shire, with my dearest friend by my side, and home is where all that I believe in does truly exist. I made a promise. I will not leave him, and there will be a journey to take us away from here. I will never leave his side, and I will only fall protecting him. I will remind him of the good worth fighting for and that the magic in Bilbo's treasured tales is real. I will not let him let go. I believe he can make it. I believe in him with enough ferocity to carry both him and his burden.
Forgive me, I want to tell him, as he stirs fitfully in his sleep and tears for him cleanse my face. Forgive me for believing in you to death.
I watch him open his eyes. I want to go home.
