Frodo Gamgee sat at the top of a hill,
leaning against a lush, neatly trimmed, hedge. A sandy, red, road ran
before his furry, hobbit feet, down past Bag-End and to the mountains
beyond. “The road goes ever on, and on…” he murmured to the darkening
He could still remember clearly how his pa,
Samwise Gamgee, would sing him that poem every night after he read a
chapter out of the Red Book. “Some day, Frodo lad, I’m gonna follow
that road after my master. Some day I’ll sail from the havens with the
elves.” Pa used to say before kissing young Frodo’s forehead and
adding, “But not today my boy, not today.” But, sooner than Frodo could
ever have imagined, the day came.
The image was still etched on the inside of
Frodo’s eyelids, every time he closed his eyes he saw his pa, walking
toward the distant towers. The tears began to pour down Frodo’s face,
his pa was gone. Forever.
As he lay there weeping Frodo felt a gentle
breeze ruffle his golden hair. He looked up and saw a beam of setting
sun pour forth from a gap in the hills, illuminating a large, falling
leaf. A mallorn leaf, riding the breeze, heading for the distant
havens. As Frodo’s gaze followed the tumbling leaf toward the setting
sun he seemed to hear elvish words ringing in his ears, words that took
form in his mind.
“I’ve never left, my boy. I still linger
here, in the flowers, the trees, my memory remains, even hidden in the
soil. Remember the elves, remember the lady’s box, and remember me,
your pa.” And Frodo remembered.
As he contemplated those words a young voice
slipped into his consciousness. “Pa!” Frodo turned, grinning, and held
out his arms. “Samwise, my boy!” He gathered his son to his chest. “Pa,
I was afraid you left.” Sam murmured, staring up into Frodo’s eyes.
Frodo smiled gently down at him. “Pa never left Sam…
‘Pa never left.”