Chapter Six: A Brief Departure
"A few days passed, and my grandmother's condition became no better or worse. She remained in her right mind, though she was still too weak to leave her bed. Seeing as she was stable, it was decided that Déagol could return home for a couple of days to see his family.
"'It will be good to see them again,' he said, folding a pair of breeches. I was in his room as he packed his suitcase. 'Especially Pearl.'
"'Is that your sister?' I asked.
"He looked up at me and smiled the smile that was uniquely his, soft and kind. 'Yes. My youngest sister.' From a pocket in his suitcase he took out a miniature portrait and handed it to me.
"The hobbit-girl in the picture was much like Déagol, except that he face lacked his weariness and instead maintained a youthful freshness. The curls in her hair were loose, unlike her brother's well-defined ones. Her eyes were very round and brown, and her expression was inquisitive. The color of her dress was a cloudy blue that balanced the striking contrast of her dark hair against pale skin.
"'She's beautiful,' I said.
"'She was three years old when this picture was painted,' said Déagol, sitting down on the bed beside me. He traced her cheek with one finger. 'Now she is five. My father painted this picture days before he died.' He sighed and bit his lip. I almost reached out to touch him but something stopped me.
"'I'd better finish packing,' he said, standing up and suddenly abrupt.
"'Who will be bringing you home?' I asked.
"'No one. I am going alone.'
"'Alone?'
"'It is only ten miles away.' He placed one more shirt in the suitcase and closed it.
"'I could go with you,' I said. 'If you do not want to make the journey alone.'
"'Ah, but then who would care for your grandmother? She needs you more than I do.'
"Suddenly it occurred to me that I would miss him. It was a new feeling to me; I was used to being on my own, under the waters, submerged in a world away from others. For the first time, I had had a companions, someone who had seen the places where I dwelled. I felt like I barely knew Déagol; yet his absence would be a marked difference in my life.
"'I am glad you will only be gone two days,' I said.
"He rested one hand on my shoulder and grasped, then picked up his suitcase and was gone.
"That night I thought for a long time, contemplating how I could feel sorrow at the departure of a person I hardly knew. It made no sense to me, and I could not explain it except to say that his presence had made me feel, for the first time in my life, no longer lonely."
