Frodo was tired. The exhaustion was forever in his bones, ailing him whenever he stepped out of bed, stood up from his chair, walked about in the familiar fields and on the familiar roads, as he had done in his tweens with his cousins. Memories of his quest were forever on the edges of his forethought and even the happiness of Sam's wedding could not take the sting away. Truly, he was happy for his friend, but something much deeper had a hold of him. How did you pick up an old life when you know somewhere deep within you that it can never be the same?
Frodo wandered about Bag End, looking over old maps, glancing through his journals of his memories of the quest, and he found he had to sit down on one of the chairs in the kitchen before he could go further. The weight of the Ring was no longer on his shoulders, but his heart was empty without it. He was glad it was gone and the world was free and that Elessar was on the throne, but the simple hobbit life was too simple. He was no longer apart of it. Sam had slid into his role as husband and father with great ease and it did Frodo well to see him so happy with the hobbit-lass of his dreams.
The former Ringbearer smiled as he recalled the words Sam had spoken before the eagles had saved them. He looked at the calendar on the wall and knew his place was no longer on Middle Earth.
The Road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the road has gone
And I will follow if I can.