His hand twitches as he rolls onto his left side; he is careful to keep his eyes closed. I don't want them to know I have awakened again. I only wish they would leave me in peace so that I can sleep, or be left alone to examine my thoughts in private. The only chatter I want to hear is from the birds in that lovely tree. His brows furrow. King. What king is that? And where is Gandalf? I wish he'd return. He'd make them leave. Although he is eager to hear tales of how his companions have fared in the great war, he had hoped that he might first be reunited with his kin. Where are my cousins? I so want to see them again.

With his back to the Big People, he cautiously opens one eye and sees that Sam still slumbers peacefully beside him. He leans over and hesitantly touches Sam's shoulder under the lightweight covering; he is relieved to find that Sam is warm and solid beneath his trembling fingertips. You are still here. It wasn't just a dream. Would that you were awake so that I could see the joy upon your face, my dearest one. Death did come for us in the end, but once again it failed to claim us.

"The younger Halfling should be awake by now, should he not? After all, he only bore the Ring for a short time."

Fools. Don't they realize that you bore much more than the Ring itself? You bore me, my friend. Without you I would have failed long before I claimed the Ring for my own. A tear slips out of the corner of his eye and slides down to the pillow beneath his hair. A muscle twitches in his jaw as his lips turn downward in a frown. And just how do they know what you did or did not do during our travels, my Sam? He brushes Sam's shoulder with a kiss and sighs softly. It must be that slow-moving lass who gathered up my soiled bed clothing. It seems that she also did a fair bit of eavesdropping. She must have tongues wagging throughout the whole of the camp by now. I'm surprised Gandalf hasn't threatened to turn her into a spotted toad. He smiles and yawns widely. His eyelids droop and he slowly rolls onto his back; slipping one arm behind his head as he fights against the sudden weariness that presses him into the soft bedding. I'm growing sleepy again, Sam. It's like hearing Old Man Willow's song. I can't fight it any longer. Next time I awaken I hope to find you sitting up and smiling. And laughing. Your laughter reminds me of all the things I love best about the Shire. The Shire. I wonder how dear Bilbo is doing? Oh, that's right, he's in Rivendell now. My thoughts are tumbling one over the other. I am so tired, Sam.

After the curious onlookers have moved on (still discussing the hardiness of the Halflings), he hears the footfalls of yet more visitors. He peers cautiously through the lashes of his half-lowered eyelids to see an old man with white hair and a long beard, and a tall, dark-haired companion standing a few feet from his tree-shaded bed. They seem to be looking at him and Sam rather fondly as they exchange smiles through gently wafting clouds of blue-grey smoke.

"Our Samwise appears to be sleeping quite soundly. You still hold that he will awaken soon?"

"Yes, and with quite an appetite, I'll warrant."

He starts, but quickly restrains his movements so as not to give away his pretense at being asleep. Gandalf! And could it be – Strider?! He fully opens his eyes and looks up in wonder at Aragorn, who is no longer dressed in stained and crudely mended travelling clothes. He smiles faintly as he realizes that they are too deep in discussion to notice that he has awakened and is observing them intently.

"The feast has been prepared?"

Aragorn nods solemnly. "The final preparations are under way. All will be ready by the time Frodo and Samwise have arisen, been washed and clothed, and the minstrel's Lay has been sung." He draws on his pipe and blows a smoke ring into the tangled fretwork of branches above his head. "But it is quite a long Lay. That worries me."

Gandalf laughs. "You fear the wandering attention of the hobbits whose thoughts will drift to the state of their empty stomachs? I think the Lay will hold their attention, Aragorn. But tell me, are you quite certain that there will be enough food? You did not attend Bilbo's farewell birthday party. Why it–"

"Rained drink and snowed food, as the saying goes in the Shire. Gandalf, my old friend, trust me, we have enough food on hand to feed two hungry hobbits." He pauses. "Ah, but I am forgetting Merry and Pippin! I am sure they will be ravenous by the time they have been released from their duties. But yes, I am satisfied that we have enough for those two as well."

Gandalf removes his pipe from his mouth, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "That being so, will there be any food left for your other guests?"

Aragorn laughs and claps him on the back. "Perhaps we'd better have another talk with the head cooks. Our two sleeping friends have missed many meals on their arduous journey, and we don't want to be caught unprepared if they feel compelled to make up for it in one sitting!"

He watches as his two dear friends walk away. It is Strider! Oh, how wonderful! Sam, why didn't I speak up? I imagine I was too stunned at seeing him again. Strange that Gandalf didn't mention Strider being here this morning. He must have thought to surprise us both at the feast. Can you believe it, Sam? They are preparing a feast, in our honor. Oh, how I wish that Bilbo could be here. I hope he is doing all right. Though from what I remember from our stay at the House of Elrond, the Rivendell Elves are surely keeping him well-fed. Nor would they allow him to grow lonely. I do miss you, Bilbo.

He lays his head on Sam's chest. A minstrel, Sam! It seems that one of your fondest wishes is going to come true after all. If only I wasn't so tired still, I'd get up out this bed and run after them. He smiles softly and raises his bandaged hand to gently touch the side of Sam's face. But not just yet, my dearest friend. Not just yet.

He yawns, then suddenly laughs aloud. "Strider and Gandalf giving orders in a kitchen filled with men! How I wish I could see that!" He feels his eyes closing once again. But sleep does sound like a very inviting idea. We are safe at last, Sam. Never again will we have to struggle to stay awake so that we can be on guard against our enemies. Sleep well, my dear Sam. He smiles, then winces as he feels his cracked lips tear.

"It is a small price to pay for happiness, Frodo, my lad." His eyes open briefly and he looks up to see a pair of small white birds cooing softly from their perch on a leafy branch. That sounds like something Bilbo might have said. Good night, dear Bilbo. He feels a smile linger on his lips as his body relaxes into sleep and his untroubled mind quickly follows.