Disclaimer: Some things never change. I still don't own anything.

Author's Note: For those few who are reading, we're almost at the end. Just two more chapters after this one, and then you can tell me how much the whole thing sucked. ;)

Chapter 11: The Breaking of the Fellowship

One week before the fixed date of the Fellowship's departure, I went into the presence of the King; though my decision was made, I was still troubled. I explained to him Frodo's plea as I knelt before him.

"I would comply with his wish, though to do so I must quit the City. But know that is not for contempt of this land that I depart. With your leave, my Lord, I wish accompany him to the Shire, though I shall settle in Bree. If there is some other reason why I must stay and serve the City instead, then so be it."

"No," the King replied. "If you have resolved so strongly to accompany the Ring-bearer to his homeland, then I grant you this wish. Not because I think of you as incapable of rendering service to this land, for I have heard of your service to Denethor the Steward. Yet so great a favor have you performed for this City and all of Middle-earth, that I have not the authority to deny your simple supplications."

So, we departed on our fixed date, and our company was far larger than I had surmised. All of the Fellowship, including the King, rode out from Minas Tirith, and Faramir as well; the Lords of Rivendell and Lothlórien, and the Rohirrim, the funeral escort to the late King Théoden. As we journeyed, little by little, smaller groups took leave of the large one, till at last there was no large group left. With me, there was only Gandalf and the four Hobbits.

Long we had traveled through mountain and valley, over river and stream, and so we came to rest a while in Rivendell. Lofty scenes of woods and waterfalls were copious here in the home of the Elves, and even from my chamber window, I could see a clear green wood. How different this was, I remarked, from my dear home in Minas Tirith, where once could see carved white stone each and every way one looked, save for Mindolluin's majesty to the South and the Pelennor fields to the North. In noting these differences, I thought constantly of my home and became often melancholy, taking often to my bed but not closing my eyes in rest.

It was on one such evening, after the Sun had ceased to illuminate my chamber from my West-facing window, that I stood out of doors on the common balcony, feeling as if I would not be able to get a moment of repose. Quite suddenly, I heard movements behind me that turned my thoughts away from my introspection. Startled, I turned swiftly around and was overjoyed to see that both Frodo and Sam stood there. I smiled broadly as the two approached; the former was the first to address me.

"Tallah! What is the meaning of your distress? It seems of late that you do not close an eye in repose."

"You guess rightly," I sighed. "Still I think of Minas Tirith. I even partly rue my decision to leave it. It may have seemed at first a hostile place, yet gradually its citizens learned to love me as I earned their respect. Never before had I felt so accepted. And now all that remains of my life there are memories, and even those fade. It is hard to picture its stone walls among these trees and flowers that surround us."

Frodo studied me a moment, and, upon deciding that he had no word of consolation to offer, kept silent, and bent his head towards the earth. But Sam, who had always been best at looking at the good in things, spoke promptly

"Maybe you'll go back someday, when good old Strider is still King. And you'll sure be welcomed back, with a hero's welcome most likely. In the meantime, you'll be close to Mr. Frodo, and me, and the Shire."

"Dear Sam," I said. "For that very reason I left my City; both of you are dearer to me than ever anyone has been. You are right. Instead of being melancholy, I ought to smile at hope of the future."

For this, I was in higher spirits when we set out Westward from Rivendell. But it did not escape my notice that Frodo felt a certain pain, and I could but wish that I had not hurt him in some way by expressing how much I missed my old home. I tried to speak to him, but it was as if he did not hear me; for an uneasy length, I felt as if I had lost my dearest friend. But as time progressed, I saw that he hung back and spoke only briefly to Gandalf. It was not only I whom he shunned. Sam, as of habit, stayed close to his master, who at this point seemed ill, and the occasion did not arise for me to ask him what ailed him ere the next day, which dawned bright and clear. By then, Frodo had retuned to himself, and beamed and laughed as though he had never before known illness. Loth was I to ask him as to the cause of his reticence the previous day, for I did not want to banish that lovely smile from his face. Yet, as he and I were riding side by side and, as silence fell between us, curiosity overcame my good sense, and then I did not see it fit to withhold my questions longer.

"I noticed that you were downhearted yesterday, and hesitant to speak. What ailed you? Are you entirely better now?"

Frodo frowned once again, as he had done the previous day, and immediately I wished that I had not so foolishly and impulsively spoken. But it had already passed, and he responded, as I had not fully expected him to.

"A year ago from yesterday, I was stabbed on Weathertop by a Morgul blade." He rubbed his left shoulder. "I am injured by knife and sting, and I know I shall never fully heal. I fear that I shall not find rest on this Middle-earth." He took to silence once again, and moved to finger the necklace that still hung around his neck. But at this juncture, I refrained from questions.

And still, we proceeded towards Bree, at a leisurely pace, as there was no urgent matter pressing our time. Sam and Frodo and I spoke often, even if our speech was mere idle talk, for we knew that our time of departure was close at hand. Though my words were many, I chose them with caution and did not give a single thought to any subject that might cause Frodo to frown. To my delight, he did not show one sign of despair until Weathertop came into our sight. This, he said, he would evade, and he would be all the merrier as soon as it was hidden beneath the horizon. Thus, we walked toward it and past without cease. Once the foreboding hill was behind us and we walked no more in its shadow, he was content, and held his head high as we rode.

My heart became heavier as we neared the town of Bree, and it was not only because I would soon be parted with the dear Hobbits. We reached the interior of the Bree-land, and old memories surged to the forefront of my mind as I remarked how bleak the land looked, and gloomier still as it was approaching winter and nightfall. I shuddered as I rode through and proceeded increasingly slower. This was the Bree I remembered, in all respects, save for that now it appeared to me twice as cheerless as ever before.

It was Frodo who took note of my distress first. He brought his pony to the back of the line, where I was, and continued riding alongside me. "Why do you frown? Is it because we shall so soon be parted? Do not worry. You and I will meet again, many times as I hope."

I looked at him and smiled gratefully. Strangely, it was as he said his words that I realized just how much I would miss his company, his gentle words, and his merry laugh. "I hope it as much as you do, Frodo. But not only thoughts of our parting sadden my spirits now. This land is bleaker, far bleaker than my memory of it. How much has changed in five and thirty years since I last saw this place!"

Frodo moved his pony closer to mine and reached out to console me momentarily. "All the more do I hope that you visit the Shire often. I shall send you invitations every chance I get." And as he said this, I became calmer.

The town of Bree was bleaker still, and I wondered that it was possible. Not a soul was on the streets, and I had seen them before when they were crowded even at the most unearthly hours of the night. Hardly did the gatekeeper permit us passage into the town; there had been news of killings in Staddle, most notably, killings of Hobbits. As this reached my ears, I became filled with alarm, and briefly I asked myself why I had not remained behind the safety of stone walls governed by a peaceful King. And I fell into a state of unease. What did the trouble in this region signify? Why was the town as good as deserted? Even the Prancing Pony, which I remembered as being the most popular inn in town, was vacant save for a mere handful of guests. And though I stayed the night within the comfortable walls of the inn, yet I did not close an eye in sleep, but rather paced about the room in a state of incurable anxiety.

But the next morning, the inn was alive with business again. Apparently, news had gotten out that the Ring-bearer had arrived to the humble town of Bree, and its inhabitants' curiosity overcame their fears. Still, I was no less uneasy until Gandalf took me aside to speak to me.

"Have courage, young one. Do not let your mind be troubled. The unease in this region shall be short-lived. It is caused by mere petty mischief, the type at which one who has braved the fires of the Enemy's land can afford to laugh. Perhaps it has crossed your mind to visit with Frodo in the Shire now, but I am afraid that land will be no refuge. Mischief of the same type is at work there, and its forces must first be banished from the land before you can visit it and look upon it in its natural, fair state."

"I will take your counsel, most venerable Gandalf," I said, inclining my head to him. "One can not travel alongside you for more than one week and not know better than to accept your wise words as truth."

Those words, however, were far easier to heed than to accept. I wept as the Hobbits prepared to take leave of me, but in secret; I did not want Frodo or Sam to see the tears in my eyes. Yet, as I saw them off, I felt a stronger grief than I had ever known. The only hope I had, the only fond prospect I had for the future, was that I would soon visit the Shire. And that was to be at least a few months, judging from Gandalf's words. I stared into the distance, watching the five ride off. Frodo looked back briefly and smiled at me, and I promptly reciprocated it, though inwardly I wept. Even afterwards, I gazed at the receding figures, long after they had vanished into the horizon.