Dearest Sam and Rose,

For one who is most comfortable with pen and ink in hand rather than sword or spade, I suddenly find myself at a loss for words. It is not due to lack of things to say, but rather, due to a surplus of emotions. I cannot put to paper what fills my heart to overflowing, knowing that this is the last thing I will ever say to you both.

Alas, my seemingly endless wellspring of words has dried up. Yet nothing of consequence has been said. Actions do speak louder than words, and now I must go. Would that I could stay and speak to you through the years of things well-known and things forever unknowable. Of poems and songs and tales. Of the wisdom of children and the foolishness of men. Of my own great shortcomings and sadness at having to leave you. For you are my most precious possession, in so much that one person can possess another. A possession of the heart. Of love. Of forever, my lovers and friends.

Would that I could be here to witness your joy and happiness. Rose, the wholeness and love you bring to our Samwise cannot be measured in gold or mithril or jewels. It is worth more to me than my own life. Thank you for being there for him, and for finding enough love in your generous heart to encompass me as well. The fruits of our love (all our love; yours, Sam’s, mine) lie in your children. You will nourish them in their youth, and they will nourish you in your seniority. What better life is there?

And would that I could be here to see you grow in wisdom and compassion, Samwise, my dearest friend and soul mate. You deserve to be made whole again. And if anyone in Middle Earth deserves the happiness of wife and family, you do. The Valar have blessed you to be a role-model for the Shire. Know that I leave you so that you will fulfill your great and mighty destiny. Not all Kings wear a crown. And not all Sages study the stars. Elected offices and the good earth are enough for us, dearest. You are the King and Sage of the Shire, my most beloved Sam.

Of late I find myself receiving visions most peculiar. You know that the gift of insight was somehow bestowed upon me during my time of the Quest. How and why, I cannot tell. But the visions started when I first gazed into the Mirror of Galadriel in Lothlorien. I never shared my visions with anyone, save the great Lady of the Golden Woods herself, because of their disturbing nature. Sam can tell you, Rose dearest, of his own visions when gazing into the Mirror. Time and actions in the present, the past, and even different shades of the future are all visible in that Mirror. Bearing the Ring to its place of creation may have contributed to more visions for me. However, of this I cannot be certain. What I do know is that I continue to have these visions even now; even here at Bag End. Whenever I look into a mirror or a still body of water, the reflection which should be mine is of others. Other people. Other events. Other times. Sometimes I recognize the people in my visions. Sometimes I do not. But time and time again these visions turn to you and your children.

I have tried to avoid mirrors and bowls of water in an effort to stop the visions and regain some normalcy in my shattered mind. But they persist. Galadriel will soon be with me, and she can help me understand. But until then, I must rely upon my own interpretations and let my heart guide my actions.

For reality and visions are becoming increasingly blurred to me, and I am afraid of what I might do or fail to do, because I cannot tell the difference between the here and now, what was, and what is to come. This, and the recurring pain of my wounds, have caused me to seek the healing of the Elves in Tol Eressea. I fear that if I stay here where my heart desires, I will drown in unreality and poison. Do not be sad at my leaving. I do so of my own free choosing. A path which is difficult for me, as well as for you, oh my lovers and friends. But a path I must take for the sake of your children.

Even as I write these lines I can hear little baby Elanor crying for her MaMa. Oh, golden child full of smiles and sunshine. A visible testament to the love you to share for each other, and a blessing to me in my solitude. She is my anchor in this sea of half-truths and eternal regrets. I love to hold her. To kiss her golden curls. To sing her lullabies in ancient and modern tongues of Men and Elves. I am amazed that you let me, considering that you know of my illnesses. With all my heart, thank you.

I shall miss her and her many brothers and sisters most of all. But I hope I will not be completely absent from their lives. I bequeath them parting gifts, so they may remember their “Uncle Frodo” long after I have passed over the Sea. Please tell them about me, and how much I love them and their father and mother. The items mentioned with each letter are, for the most part, to be found in the trunk at the foot of my bed. Sam, dearest, I leave it up to you as to when you present each child with his or her gift.

I love you all too dearly to remain and slowly die from the poison and confusion. Perhaps the Elves will be able to cure me once we have reached Tol Eressea. And perhaps we shall met again after this life’s adventure is finished. Beyond the paths of Moon and Sun; beyond the Sundering Seas.

Until we meet again,
Frodo Baggins

The children sat in silence as Elanor folded the letter and placed it back inside its envelop.

“What visions did Daddy see?” Daisy asked.

“Uncle Frodo wrote down some of them in the ‘Red Book,’” Ruby said. “Not all of them, but a few. I remember one was of the Shire burning. Of the Water being polluted by Big Folk factories. And Dad’s Gaffer being turned out from his home.”

“Were they true?” Tom quietly asked.

Frodo nodded. “Yes. It did happen, Tommy. When I was growing up, Hobbiton and Bag End didn’t have any large trees. They had all been chopped down and burned while Dad and Uncle Frodo were away on the Quest. Even the Party Tree had been chopped down. The Shire was overrun by some evil Big Folk for a few months, and they built polluting factories and destroyed most of Bag Shot Row, just like in Dad’s vision. Even the Gaffer lost his home. So yes, Tommy, Dad’s visions were true.”

“Well, we don’t know for sure that those ‘visions’ were actual in fact, now do we?” Faramir said. “I mean, Frodo Baggins didn’t write the book until after all that happened. He could have made up all that talk about the Elf Queen’s magic mirror and then wrote it so that it seemed to be a prophecy.”

“Are you calling my Father a liar?” Primrose asked. All eyes, including that of his wife’s, were directed at the interloper.

“No!” Faramir backpedaled. “I would never say anything against Mayor Gamgee. I’m just saying that maybe these ‘visions’ came into being after the fact. That’s all.” Hamfast crossed his arms in disgust. “Oh, never mind,” Faramir said. “Forget it.”

“The proof will be in the other letters,” Rose quietly said. “Whose is next?”

“My own,” Elanor said.