Leavetaking

The sun went down. Bag End seemed sad and gloomy and dishevelled. Frodo wandered round the familiar rooms, and saw the light of the sunset fade on the walls, and shadows creep out of the corners. It grew slowly dark indoors. He went out, and walked down to the gate at the bottom of the path ... The sky was clear and the stars were growing bright. 'It's going to be a fine night,' he said aloud.


How sad it all looked, lonely and worn. Frodo traced a finger idly along the mantel, but there was not even dust to fall through the curtainless sunshine.

Well, memories were easy to pack, he thought shouldering his sack; though some easier to carry than others. Of course, Frodo had moved house more times already than most families did in generations. But home … home he knew was another thing altogether. He thought of Bilbo, gone on ahead, and Sam and Pippin waiting at the gate.

And it was a lovely evening! The door clicked decidedly behind him, and Frodo locked the sound away for another time.

“All right, I’m ready.”