The Evenstar Pays us a Visit, and My Songs Prove Correct

23 November 0001, of the Fourth Age

1 Afteryule 1421, Shire-Reckoning Time...

After that night, Pippin began to show evident and rapid signs of recovery, and he was stronger than ever before. Like I'd promised him years ago, I continued to read Frodo's documented story to him. My own story was still a work in progress. The Lord of the Rings part was finished, but what had happened afterwards; Frodo's leaving and Pippin's illness wasn't quite there. But, I read every day, one chapter, from each of our stories, as I said I would, and Pippin anxiously waited for that, pulling his covers around himself and smiling every time I opened the Book, and he would peer at the penmanship as well as listen to everything that had happened, learning about Frodo's journey for the first time, and hearing Frodo interpretation of when we had begun the road together.

And at the end of the chapter about Lothlórien, Pippin begged me to sing him a song, one of my very own. So, I made up a lullaby, just for him.

"Sleep, now, lay down in my arms

Night is falling, love, rest on me

I imagine you're already sleeping

I hold you closer, and whisper to your dreams

Sleep, now, lay down your head

Larks are calling, love, rest and see

You're weary but you'll soon be strong

Close your eyes, wait for sleep to take you home..."

It was true, too. Since Pippin grew ill I grew accustomed to sleeping in his bed, our arms tight around each other, his head resting on my chest sometimes, my head sometimes on him.

"Peregrin Took. My hero. My prince," I'd murmur. It warmed his heart.

Pippin was dozing on his pillows, so I kissed his head lightly and crawled next to him. But now he was well again, and his sickness could not distract me from what was missing.

Frodo, it seemed, had crept back into my heart. Without Pippin to care for, I was fluttering back to Frodo's eyes and face, his fair face which had been away from me for far too long. At the Green Dragon, while a light snow fell outside, I sang of Frodo, though discretely. It was his first Yuletide away from us, and suddenly decorating the merry pub with holly and mistletoe didn't seem as enjoyable.

Pippin, who knew all and understood all (since when had he become so wise?) slyly told me I was in love and might as well admit it.

"Go back to your drawing," I scolded, mending one of Merry's vests, while Pippin had picked up my drawing book and was sketching a picture of him and me in Minas Tirith.

"I wish I could get out of this bed," he sighed instead, looking longingly out the window, and with a little toss of his head, looking back at his sketch.

"That's good Pippin," I said, bending over it.

"Thanks," he smiled.

The words pricked at my memory and my smile faded a bit.

"That's good, Pippin," Merry called.

Pippin's concentration lessened as he turned towards Merry. "Thanks," he replied happily, swinging his sword toward Boromir again.

"Alright, let me try," I said confidently, and took Pippin's place.

I followed his lead and stared out the window, thinking of Frodo, running away and leaving us forever, his very dearest friends, just to escape pain. "We have baggage too!" I sighed, shaking my head, and staring absentmindedly down. "Goodbye," I whispered, to a listening Pippin. "I never said…'goodbye'…"

Whether or not Pippin knew what I was saying, it didn't bother me. I had to get up, to walk around, to get out…

Merry stopped me on my way out. "Just trying to say goodbye," I said, handing him his yellow vest.

"What?" Merry was worried now. "What do you mean? You're not leaving…"

"For a little while," I said, shaking my head clear of everything. I wanted to scream, no matter how happy I was in the Shire, no matter what I was doing, there was something nagging. The memories shot me like a dart, and I sank against a tree, thinking hard. No matter what, I was constantly in a daze, even when I felt that everything was as normal as it could possibly be.

"You know, Mandy," Merry's words had echoed in my head when I left Bag End a few moments before. "I wouldn't say it was Frodo you were yearning for. It isn't Frodo you're in love with at all, is it?"

I stood up, looking at Bag End, taking deep breaths and calming myself, thinking in agitation at how long I'd denied that I was thinking of Frodo as someone more than a good friend. Merry and Pippin were just my brothers, Sam was my in-law, and Frodo was just…I shut my eyes and smiled, and then realized how impossible it was.

I imitated stabbing myself and sagged to the ground, holding my chin in my hands. "Well," I told myself sarcastically, "if ever there was someone who made the worst judgments in all Hobbiton, it'd be you Mandy. You can't go off adventuring, you can't settle down to pick a suitable boy, and you definitely can't fall in love with someone who's now halfway around Middle Earth, never to be seen again. And now you're trying to listen to a once-petty-criminal's advice on love. What does he know that I feel, anyway?"

Miserably, I picked up a rock and threw it.

"Ow," a familiar voice cried.

I jerked up immediately, and scrambled to see if it was really him. As soon as I caught sight of him dismounting his horse, I wrapped him up in my arms. "Strider!" I cried happily. "You've come!"

"I heard about Pippin, and I know about Frodo, and Sam, for that matter," he said. "How are you?"

"Fine," I said, smiling broadly. For once, it wasn't a lie. I hadn't lost Pippin, and he was all too dear to me. Taking the hand of the King of Gondor, I skipped up to Bag End, as happy as a hobbit in the Shire who wasn't off on adventures.

Arwen, now Aragorn's wife, followed, shaking her head with a smile.

"Look!" I cried to Merry, who was also grinning, like he had some secret to share. "Look who's arrived!"

Merry crossed his arms, still grinning. "Hello, Strider!" he said, and bowed to Arwen. "Hello, Lady Arwen."

I took Aragorn into Bag End and curtsied to Arwen, mouthing apologies, and running to start a pot of tea. A young hobbit interrupted my task and I was knocked off balance, confused for an instant.

"Pippin!" I cried. "You're supposed to be in bed…"

For a moment I saw blue eyes instead of green.

"Frodo…" I whispered, closing my eyes. "No. It cannot be…this must be a dream…in my head…it's not real." I pictured his face, his dark hair and blue eyes, and realized he was unfamiliar to me. He had been gone too long, and had been too missed.

And the young hobbit that really did stand in front of me enveloped me in a heartwarming embrace which lasted a few long minutes, and he kissed my forehead, so that I almost dropped the tea. I opened my eyes to Pippin, and touched my lips to his cheek quickly. "I thought Frodo was back," I stammered.

"We let Frodo go," Pippin whispered, squeezing my hand.

I'd nearly forgotten that Rosie had birthed her second child, a little boy, the day before. Sam came running to Bag End a half-hour later, after I'd served everyone tea, though I was still a bit dazed.

"You have to name the little one," he said. "This one hasn't got no golden hair neither, though. He's got darkest hair I ever saw in two golden-haired parents."

"I already know what his name should be," I said with a smile.

"Oh yes?" Sam teased. "And what is that? Pona, maybe? Or Ponto?"

"No, Sam," I said with a giggle, sipping my tea. "Frodo." I looked back into my memories, into his fading smile and big blue eyes.

"Frodo…" Sam said, shaking his head. "Of course. That makes perfect sense."

Smiling as conversations between friends resumed, I looked from my lap to Sam, who was chatting with Aragorn, to Arwen, who was laughing with Rosie, holding little Frodo Gamgee. Merry was showing Elanor a trick and Pippin was giggling, his cloak wrapped around him as he knelt on the floor, his coughs still evident but growing weaker.

Merry met my eyes, and winked. Frodo was never coming home, and I still was grieving it. But something was pressing me. Merry was very wise, and I wasn't getting his hints. Suddenly I felt very dizzy.

I excused myself for a moment, stepping out into the bright sunshine and leaning on the door. At my feet blinked a golden object, obscured by the grass. I bent down, about to take it, when I saw what it was. Flashes struck me and I recoiled. It came back to me like flashes of a sword's blade: The snow. The Package. The coffee mug. The pre-book. The brooch. Falling from my stoop. The memories had left my mind as quickly as they had entered it, and I could not determine what they were or where they'd come from. But I somehow understood that I was to make a choice. My hand still poised over the leaping-horse brooch, I smiled to myself, looking down at my tea and at all the Shire. Merry was right, I thought. You don't know unless you make the journey. Shaking my head at the leaping horse figure, set there by some force, I chose my own destiny and my own future. I got to my feet and turned my back on the brooch forever, opening the door to Bag End where Merry was ready to open it himself.

"Come on in," he said with a grin. "Join us."

I walked back with Merry's arm around my shoulders, where everyone was gathered still, around Frodo's fire. I shook Merry's arm from my shoulders playfully and beamed, sinking back into my chair. Merry winked again, his words rushing back so fast I felt frightened. It isn't Frodo you're in love with at all, is it? I pictured Frodo there with us, he shaking his head as Aragorn laughed at a joke Sam had told. My mind clicked together. How blind I'd been!

Pippin, kneeling beside Elanor, rolled her a toy and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, coughing a few times. Rosie, busy chatting with Arwen, handed him little Frodo and he stood up next to the fire and rocked the baby, who was looking at me with his big eyes. Pippin's gaze met mine as he saw where little Frodo was looking and he smiled, turning back to the baby, singing quietly and beautifully a very familiar lullaby.

The End of the Fellowship & The Door is Closed for Good