Summer passed quickly on the Hill. Sam, Frodo and Pippin spent the steady, hot days constructing a new hallway tunnel connecting Bag End with Bag Shot Row #3. Sam had no trouble convincing the Took to volunteer for hard, sweaty work at Bag End instead of lounging away the summer with his parents at the Great Smials. After all, Bag End was much, much closer to Buckland and to the ever-delightful Miss Diamond Took.

Frodo was not able to help with the heavy digging due to continued shoulder pain, but he contributed by surveying and setting up wooden support beams. He and Sam completed all the paneling, ceiling work and door installation after the major bulk of the digging of the tunnel was completed. Pippin left to spend the remainder of August at Crickethollow. On August 12th, Frodo and Iris moved into their permanent residence at #3, with Frodo maintaining his study and childhood bedroom at Bag End. The Gamgees and Bagginses settled into a quiet, easy routine.

As the weather cooled off and harvest began in earnest, the urge to travel returned to Frodo. Iris watched him pace the tiny living room of their new home and said nothing. He took to watching the sky and noting the slightest change in the weather. He and Sam got into lengthy discussions about harvest and predictions for the severity of the coming winter. Each night in September Frodo took an after-dinner walk, “To keep in shape,” he jested. “Sam may look good with a few extra pounds, but I think I shall keep my weight right where it is.” Each night the walks proceeded to get longer and longer.

Sometimes Iris stayed up waiting for him by the door with a glass on wine in hand. Sometimes she went to bed early, crying into her pillow until he walked through the door one more time and she hid her tears in the darkness. Frodo never said where he went, and Iris could not bring herself to ask for fear of the answer.

Watching the leaves of the young mallorn tree in the Party Field turn a rich gold recalled to Iris’s mind the words of Lord Elrond. When September 19th dawned with frost on the red window sill chrysanthemums, he knew he had to leave. Time was running out.

Before Iris left for work, she saw Frodo returning through the connecting tunnel from Bag End. He carried an ancient brown leather satchel under his arm. She could smell the pungent odor of pipeweed. Frodo smiled tightly. “A birthday gift,” was all he said as he headed out the door and around to the barn.

Iris noted his excessive restlessness that evening as the stars brightened in the chill mists. On September 20th, he left after supper, putting on his old worn Elvish cloak. “I just need a little fresh air,” Frodo said, grabbing a sturdy walking stick by the front door. “I’ll be back in an hour or two; maybe later.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before disappearing once more into the gloaming.

Iris couldn’t take the silence anymore. She walked through the connecting hallway, lightly tapping the door leading into the Bag End kitchen. Rose opened the latch. “Iris, you know you don’t have to knock. Come in. What’s the matter?” Rose could tell the doctor was upset.

“He’s leaving, Rose,” she whispered, sitting down heavily at the cleared wooden table and staring into her empty lap. “He said he would be back tonight, but I’m afraid the next time he goes out into the night he won’t come back.”

Rose came and sat next to her, putting her arms round Iris’s shoulders. “Where would he go?” she quietly said.

“The Havens, and then…then to Sea,” Iris choked on the word. “I don’t know if he can resist the call to depart Middle Earth with the Elves. I’ve dreaded this time for over a year, and now it’s finally happening. Oh stars, Rose. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know how to look at him anymore.”

Rose stroked Iris’s hair. “If it comes down to it, would you let Frodo go?” she whispered.

“Yes, though it would break my heart,” Iris sobbed. “If he leaves Middle Earth, I shall quickly follow him, though we would travel different paths.”

“Shush Iris. How can you say such a thing?” Rose admonished.

Iris looked up with tears in her green eyes. “Rose, he carries my heart with him. I gave it to him a long time ago. How can a person live without her heart? You have little Elanor, should Sam ever go. I only have Frodo, and if he leaves, I’ll die.”

“Oh sweetheart, you have us. We are your family too.” Rose held onto the crying hobbit. “Even if he leaves, you’ll have me and Sam and Elanor and the Gaffer. But Mr. Frodo’s not going to leave. He loves you too much. You’ll see. He’ll come back. He has to.” Rose forced Iris to look into her eyes. “For you hold his heart as surely as he holds yours.”

As the sun rose over the golden hills the next day, Frodo could no longer deny the urge to travel. He caught up with Sam in the barn before Sam had gone out for the day’s harvest. “Come with me, Sam. Just a little trip. Out to the Havens.”

“But it’s your birthday tomorrow,” Sam protested, “and I know you have something planned. I’m in the middle of harvest too. Can’t it wait ‘til afterwards?”

“No, Sam. This cannot wait. I feel it in my heart. We must go now before we miss them.” Frodo was leading him towards to the ponies.

“Miss who?” Sam asked.

“Bilbo. Gandalf. The Elves. They are making their great journey now.” Frodo started to saddle up Strider. “I can tell they have reached the edge of the Shire and will be at the Grey Havens tomorrow. We must go now if we are to see them. This is my last chance to see Bilbo before he departs. And I feel in my heart that you should go with me.” Frodo retrieved an old brown satchel from behind a hay bale and tied it onto the back of the saddle.

He turned and placed a strong hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It is fitting that all the Ringbearers be together one last time before this age passes into twilight of forgotten memories. Get the Cottons to cover for you for a few days. I need you on this trip, dearest Sam. I need you with me to help me resist the temptation to leave.”

Sam hesitated. “But Mister Frodo, surely you don’t believe Her Ladyship and Lord Elrond and good old Gandalf would try to force you to leave, do you? I mean, you’ve been over this with them, haven’t you? You and Iris are all settled in here.”

“It is not them I worry about,” Frodo continued. “It is myself. Sam, you know I am not getting better. I fear Saruman’s last prediction will come true if I do not go with the Ringbearers into the West. But even if I went across the sea and somehow was healed of my wounds, I would not desire to stay there. The Shire is my home. Iris is my wife. You and Rose and Elanor and even the Gaffer are my family. You are all too precious to me. I just want you with me tomorrow when I say goodbye to Bilbo. To remind me of where my heart truly lies. Will you adventure with me one last time, dearest friend? On small, final adventure? Then I promise, we shall truly go there and back again.”

Sam sighed, walked over to the next stall and began to saddle up Bill. “You know I can’t refuse you when you’re set on something. I’ll go with you. We best be telling our families though, don’t you think? Might want to take some food along too.”

Iris could barely bring herself to look him in the eye as he pulled on his traveling coat. “Don’t go,” she whispered through trembling lips. “Please. Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Frodo shook his head and stroked her cheek. “Sam and I will be back next week at the latest.” He lightly kissed a lone tear which had escaped and rolled down towards her chin. He placed both hands on her shoulders. “Iris. Look at me.”

More tears followed the first as she gazed into his steady robin’s egg blue eyes.

“I am not leaving.” Each word was spoken with weight and conviction. “I will return. I swear by Elbereth I will come back.” She mutely nodded and looked down. Frodo kissed her forehead. “Here,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Keep this for me until I return.” He placed something in her hand and closed her fingers over it, kissing the white knuckles.

Frodo and Sam mounted their ponies and left; only taking their winter traveling clothes, a bedroll and provisions for two days. As they rounded the bend and headed the ponies towards the West, Iris opened her fist. Arwen’s pendant lay curled about her fingers.

Frodo led the way using back country lanes rather than the main roads, avoiding villages and communities wherever possible. After a day’s long ride they left the last settlements and were into the wild pine forests leading towards the White Towers. They made a meager camp at the base of the ancient Elf towers, sheltered from a light rain by an old whithered ash tree.

From their vantage point of the Tower Hill, Frodo and Sam could survey the entire countryside about the White Towers. The land itself has been vacant of settlements for at least an Age, but it was once a well-tended kingdom.

“The earth round here is crying out for someone to till it again,” Sam remarked. “See over there? Those faint rows of trees? That ain’t a wild wood. It used to be an orchard at some time, or maybe a tree farm. Them rows is too regular to be natural. And look over there Mr. Frodo. Those little rolling hills protect the valley from the worse of the North wind. This land is prime for settling. You could raise good crops here. Soil’s a bit sandy, but that’s best for vegetables and corn. No sheep or cows, savin’ for dairy cows. This sandy land won’t support much heavy grazing. But it’s perfect for crops and orchards and sheep.”

Frodo took out a small pad of paper and a charcoal. He made a detailed sketch of the land before the light failed. The two estimated distances and noted landmarks on the map. As the light faded and the stars come out, they ate a meager repast then settled against the ash tree for a quiet smoke. “This land is beautiful and peaceful,” Frodo said. “The earth has either never seen war, or it has been so long ago that it has forgotten the word. I would not mind moving here with Iris.”

Frodo couldn’t wait for sunrise and dragged a sleepy Sam back onto the ponies while the stars were yet in the sky. As dawn stirred the mists to rose, they mounted the crest of a bare grass hill. Sam halted, flabbergasted. “Is…is that the Sea?” he asked. He could make out a thin white and blue line on the horizon, and felt a fresh breeze toss his tangled sandy-brown curls.

“Yes,” Frodo reverently whispered, pulling up next to him. “The Sea. Look at it! Do you smell it, Sam? Smell the salt? It’s the stuff from which we are made.”

“Aye,” Sam said. “I can taste the sea in my tears. But I can’t say as I much enjoy the association.”

“It is familiar territory to me, though I have never seen it,” Frodo said. “I know why the Elves are drawn to the Sea now. I hear the song of Ulmo. They can no more resist it than we could stop breathing.” He gazed all about the grassy landscape. “I could easily live here.”

“Well I couldn’t,” Sam said. “Rose and me, well, we’d be not wanting to leave our families. And besides, Bag End is perfect for us, and for you and Iris too, if you don’t mind me voicing my opinion. I’ve had enough adventures to last a life time already and don’t want to add frontiersman to that list. I’m not keen on moving ‘round no more.”

Frodo smiled at his friend’s honesty. “When I think about it, I am not dissatisfied with the Shire, Sam. Iris would tell me I am only thinking about distancing myself from my past.” He headed his pony down the hill. “Come on Sam. Bilbo is waiting.”