Message in a Bottle

A Lord of the Rings oneshot
by ImDreamingTheDream

Character Tags: Frodo, Pippin
Genre: Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Setting: Post-Quest, beginning right after Frodo leaves Middle-earth, formally bookverse but mostly my-own-head-verse

"25 September 1421

Dear Cousin Frodo,

I am feeling altogether a child again, one very small and in need of much comfort. I have not felt this poorly for a long time, not even on my anniversaries have I felt so miserable, for my heart is wrought with grief. Perhaps that is why I am writing this letter. I know you are gone, cousin, and that I shall never see you again, nor hear from you, but I think when I am finished writing this I shall slip out of the house and ride to the sea. I'll not wake Merry; he's sleeping tonight and it's the first night since you left that he's slept at all without being disturbed by evil dreams. Then I shall roll this letter and put it into an empty beer-bottle, and cast it out.

Is it childish of me?

Perhaps I am just wasting my time. It's a long ride to the sea, and I've not been myself. But I'm still a lad, it's what you were always telling me, cousin, before you left, and in my own childish way I shall pretend this letter will reach you, though I know of course it shan't.

Three days it has been since you left us, and they have not been eas - [smeared, indecipherable inkblots] – been trying ever so hard to keep on living but it is not that simple. I know I shall heal a little, in time. Enough to live at any rate. But you were always the one who told me the heart never forgets, and ever I shall miss you, my favourite cousin. I wonder, too, how good old Sam is faring. He at least has Rosie, and little Elanor; but I've got Merry.

I wonder how long it shall be until you reach Valinor?

These past few days have been such a blur. I feel as though I walk more through a dream state than I do in the real world, and I know Merry must feel much the same way. We have not said much to each other yet. Mostly I find myself sitting and thinking a lot or I catch myself thinking when I do - [smeared, indecipherable inkblots] - or if not doing things then dragging myself through the procedure of – [smeared inkblots, trailing down the page]

I think about you, that is to say; I am trying so hard to preserve every single memory I have of you, my dearest cousin Frodo, so that I shall never, ever forget. I want to tell my children about you one day, and not just those fireside stories of all your remarkable feats and your journey to Mordor and all. I want them to know what their Uncle Frodo would have been like, had ever they met him. So I've been trying very – [handwriting suddenly appears a little shaky, indecipherable for a couple more words. Smeared inkblots.] – recall everything about you.

I've been remembering all the visits to Bag End when I was still a little lad, and how Sam, while he would always be thrilled to do your bidding or aid you in whatever way he could even where aid was not necessary, would forbid you from using the stove ever since that one time you nearly burned the kitchen down trying to roast tomatoes. I've been remembering how I used to like to crawl into bed with you long after I was supposed to already be asleep and rest my head in the crook of your shoulder. I would snuggle up against you with that old bear of mine you hated so much and even if I was holding the old thing you would always stroke my curls and sing to me softly until I fell asleep.

Do you remember that old bear? I wonder what happened to it.

I've been remembering all the times you took Merry and I berry-picking, and all the times you caught me in the middle of mischief, and all the times the three of us got into mischief together tramping about the Shire. I've been remembering how you used to shut yourself up in old Uncle Bilbo's study and look at old maps and old books, sometimes for days on end, and how you used to make me practise my letters and numbers when I was very, very small, before allowing me to go out and play. I've been remembering all the times the three of us – Merry, you and me – would go to The Green Dragon and drink enough ale to make ourselves ill, and how Sam used to brew us all manner of broths to cure our pounding headaches the morning after, shaking his head and clucking his tongue.

I remember all these little things so vividly now. I'm so afraid they'll slip away from me.

I think I shall go now. I'll leave a note for Merry and return as quickly as possible. If you get this, cousin, then know I miss you, and will love you always.

-Your Pippin"

"6 March 1422

Dear Cousin Frodo,

This is a day that shall ever be branded into my memory. I don't know if I ever told you I had "anniversaries" for the day I looked into the Palantir, but I have. I believe I only ever told Merry. I don't know.

My mind isn't quite working right.

I am confused and frightened as ever; I miss you more than ever; I am full of pain, my head especially throbs and my mind has not given me a moment's rest since before dawn yesterday. I haven't slept, either, though I have tried. I am still a little feverish, though it's gone down since yesterday.

Merry is resting now, I finally convinced him to sleep. No use having the both of us ill, I told him, and like the anniversaries before it, it shall pass in time. He's always been there for me, you know, cousin, each year since it happened. It makes me think of your Sam. I know you had these "anniversaries" on the dates of Weathertop and the day that dreadful spider stung you. You never told us, but Merry and I know, Frodo. Sam told us.

Don't be very angry with him, please, cousin. He did it out of love, you know.

I don't know why I'm writing again. I don't know what I shall do with this letter when I am finished writing it. But I think I might hide it and ride out to sea again to cast it out like I did the last one, if only I can get away from Merry.

The fact is that I miss you, cousin Frodo. And I somehow believe you'd understand. I know I did not suffer half so much as you, but still I feel wretched and lonesome and afraid, and knowing that you endured so much more than I makes me feel cowardly and selfish and pathetic.

You were always the bravest of us four, cousin.

Love,
Your Pip"

"18 May 1429

My dear cousin,

It has been so many years since I have written you. I know it is still so silly of me, especially as I am quite of age and nearly thirty-nine now, but I had a few days to myself and took good advantage of them. These days I have been spending an awful lot of time thinking of you. So very much has changed since last I wrote you, not that I believe you received that letter, making this one a very strange letter to write, and even more so since you left Middle-earth.

But I have been thinking of you because of all that has changed. I have been thinking about how things might be were you still here, and how much I miss you. All sorts of things have happened, moments I wish desperately I could have shared with you. I didn't write you for all of them, of course, for all manner of reasons. My excuse for my foolishness is that I simply hadn't the time, but really, it's because I was trying very hard to restrain myself from writing to you. I miss you, cousin, but you are gone, and I need to learn to accept that so I can live with it. But then there are times where I don't think I really have accepted the fact you are gone, all these years later.

Yes, so much has happened these past years, and if you were here I think you would be proud of me, and of Merry, too. He is married now, you know, as of five years ago! And what's more, Merry wedded Estella Bolger. It must be strange for him to be married to the sister of one of his close friends, but I knew he was besotted with her, for every time we visited old Fatty I kept catching him staring at her.

And I am married too. I have married Diamond of Long Cleeve, and we have been married three years now. I can scarcely believe it, even now - me, married! And at the wedding, cousin, I found myself yearning for you to be there. I know you would have come for all the festivities and you would have been the one clapping the loudest. (Except perhaps for Merry. You were always much more quiet than he).

And now, after three years, Diamond is with child. The nurse told us two mornings ago, and we have been thinking of names. If it is a lad, I was thinking I might name him Frodo for you. But then I realised I would not be able to really cope with it, having a little lad named for you, for it would make the pain of your loss so much harder to bear. That, and he might be confused with Sam's own Frodo-lad. [a few drops of dampness on the parchment. Ink runs, but text is still readable.]

I am happy, happier than ever I anticipated being, especially since we returned, and yet I still feel your loss like a new wound. I miss you, cousin Frodo.

Love,
Your Pippin

16 January 1430

"Dear cousin,

I suppose you shall be altogether very happy with me. I for one am terribly surprised, and am not very sure what to think. I am excited and overwhelmed and frightened, and in truth I know not how to tell you. What I can say is that if you were here with us still, I think you would be very proud of me, and I know you would be here at the Smials for the occasion, maybe even in the next room.

I told you in my last letter that Diamond, my wife, was with child. Perhaps you can guess by the date, then, that our son has been born. He was born three days ago, and in a way I feel very guilty for not having written you before, though of course I don't really think you will ever get this letter. But things have been so very busy here at the Smials, with nurses all over the place and relatives to talk to, and naturally I want to spend every moment I have to spare with our son. In recent days I've not really had the time to do so because everyone expects me to be tending to matters with relatives. Diamond has been resting and has had our son all to herself. I do believe the lasses have it lucky, you know. The birth is painful and difficult but then afterwards, they are free to spend every spare moment with their child - in fact, expected to - and we fathers are asked to deal with all the visiting relatives.

But we have called him Faramir. Diamond was very sceptical, because it's not a hobbit-like name at all, but I think she knows how much Faramir meant to me, and why I want to name our son for him. At last she agreed, with the conclusion that if it wasn't a hobbit-like name it was a very nice one.

I remember when we finally gave everyone permission to come and hold him. Merry was the first on my side of the family, of course, and he cradled Faramir and I think he will be as fine an uncle as any young lad could dream of. And then of course my sisters held him, and Mother, and Father, and Sam, but the whole time I was wishing you were there, too. Do you remember when Sam's wee Elanor was born? You were the first one he permitted to hold her, and you did so with such care and gentleness, and it made me think that you would have made a fine father. These past days I have been thinking it more than ever.

I am bursting with love already, for this wee lad named for a Gondorian knight. It is truly overwhelming. I just wish you were here to share it all with me.

- Your Pippin"

12 February 1434

"My dear Cousin Frodo,

Two days ago, Father died. He took ill a week before that, and when he was on his deathbed I was so confused and frightened I didn't even think about what it would mean for me beyond the fact that I would lose him. I was regretting that I was not as close to him as I could have been, and how distant we were with each other more or less as soon as I entered my tweens, and only more so when I returned from the Quest. He would not speak with me for months after that. But my sisters and I were al there, and distant or no, I know he loved me immensely, and I [the word did, crossed out, replaced by do] him.

But after he passed I realised it meant I had inhereted the Thainship.

It is so frightening, this responsibility, and I don't half know what to do. Whenever Father reminded me I would be Thain one day I never liked to listen. As a young lad you know I was much happier tramping about the Shire - with you, might I add, Frodo - and then when I began to grow up I laughed at the idea of all that responsibility. I did not care for being Thain, and I can't help but think I was not made for this sort of life. I still do not want it, not least because to have such a title is frightening and because I know it means I've less time to spend with Diamond and Faramir and Merry and his daughters, but because it does not feel right to have anyone but Father in my position. I grew up knowing this day would come, but I hardly spared it a moment's thought, you know.

I just wish I could turn back the clock. Not just back to when Father was Thain, but to when you were here.

Love,
Your Pip-lad
or
[crossed out - Thain Peregrin I]"

25 May 1437

[in shaky hand. In one corner of the paper, making the date hard to read, an enormous splashed ink stain]

"Dear cousin,

It has been many days, and only now have I come up with the strength - or the will - to get up and write this letter. Mostly my days have been blurred by the soulless, bland trial of memorials and only a small handful of truly caring relatives. The only ones I've truly been able to sit in the presence of have been Merry, Sam, and to some degree my sisters. Mother died last Yule, else she would have been here too, naturally. And Faramir, of course.

Diamond found herself to be with child seven months ago, and we were both delighted. I wanted another lad to name Boromir or perhaps Beregond, and I still have such a vivid memory of her swatting me over the head with a dishtowel and telling me, "Pippin, if you're to have another son, then he's to have a sensible hobbit name and that's that. You got your wish already with the first one, and what's more, your heir. Imagine a Thain with a name like that." She was only teasing at the end of course. So I told her that whether this next one was to be lad or lass, she could name the child, with a good and solid hobbit-name.

The baby came six weeks early, a lass. She was so [tearstains, smudging the letters but they are still readable] tiny and weak when she was born. Diamond died a few hours after birthing her, and when I let go of her cold hand I went over to our daughter and I named her Begonia, as sensible a name as any for a lass. She died just a few hours later. She was sickly and not ready for this world.

The funeral was hosted three days ago.

I do not know what to tell Faramir. He is only seven and so young he barely understands. I've been letting him sleep in my bed, and he nestles into my side and cries at night, even when I stroke his curls and sing softly to him. I do not think he can understand even that he never shall see his mother again. Oh, Frodo, when I cradle him each night I can't help but feel useless. I am not fit to raise a son on my own. He does not deserve this, and needs someone else besides me. When I told Merry this he suggested he and Estella move in with us at the Smials for some time, but he knows as well as I do that that could never last for more than a couple of months. He is Master now, after all, and it wouldn't do to have him leave Brandy Hall for such a very long time. I cannot leave the Smials either.

I need more than a couple of months.

Faramir, too.

[a long trail of ink]

Another question has surfaced. I don't know if it is selfish of me or not. I don't think so but then I don't truly know. My mind is confused. I am not thinking straight. But I do not know what I shall do at my anniversaries. They still come and still they are so dreadful. Diamond knew a little of their nature, so each year she has stepped into another room on her own and stayed with Faramir while Merry would come to the Smials for me. I in turn always came for his own anniversary later in the year, for I know we both need each other's presence. I know it is almost a year away but still it is such a pressing issue in the back of my mind. For Merry I know what I can do. I can take Faramir with me to Brandy Hall and tell him we are going to visit his Uncle Merry. Certainly there are enough children at Brandy Hall to keep him occupied, and Estella too. But I could never leave Faramir alone on my anniversaries, and I don't want Merry to leave me for them to mind Faramir.

I'm afraid to face them alone. I don't think I can.

I'm afraid to face so very much alone.

- Your Pippin"

17 November 1441

"My dear cousin,

I have not written you in some years, and there was a time where I thought I had gotten over that. I think I only really wrote you when something very significant happened, I suppose because I felt the need to tell you when you were not here with me, and because I felt I needed your presence. I wrote to you when I became Thain and I wrote to you when my son was born. I wrote to you when Diamond and our daughter died. I suppose that, if you have somehow been receiving these letters, you will be very worried for me right now.

This time, you need not worry.

This time, I suppose I am writing to you because I miss you, desperately, and for no other reason.

A thought that has been going on in the back of my mind is that I am now over 50, the age that you (and Uncle Bilbo) were when you left the Shire for adventure, and out of need. I have not gone on any real adventures since the Quest, though I have had to travel to Bree a few times each year, and duty has called me once to Minas Tirith. That was before Diamond died. I do not believe that I shall go on any travels at all, for my home is here in the Shire, even if I am becoming more and more aware that I am to some degree estranged from our people. They have not seen what we four have, they have not endured such trials as we did. They are lucky, mostly. I like to think mostly of the good parts of the Quest. I remember the beauty of Rivendell and Lorien, and I remember Treebeard and the Fangorn Forest.

Did you know I saw Treebeard again? When I went to Minas Tirith, I went purposefully through Fangorn to try and find him, and I did! He offered me Ent-draughts again, you know, but I refused as politely as I could, for I told him I was already enough of a giant in my country and if I grew anymore, I believed my son would become quite afraid of me. So I did not drink or bathe in the Ent-waters, but it was good to see him again, and he carried me a distance.

Here at home, things are well. There was a long period when I did not think they could be so, but they have passed, and all is well. Merry is in good health, as is his Estella, and his wee lasses and growing into a pair of little beauties. They are absolutely inseparable.

Sam is in good health too. Of course it is he that you are concerned about. He continues to be voted in as mayor; I suppose it is because he has proven himself to be a great host of parties, and that the crops have been good and plenty for decades. (I suspect the soil of Lorien has something to do with it). Mistress Rose is lovely as ever. But do you know how many children he has?! He has thirteen. And without any twins, either. Needless to say, Merry and I are altogether very surprised. I do believe Rose is tired out from having so many, and I hope he does not have any more, for his benefit.

As for me, as I have said, I am well. Being Thain can be tiring work, of course, but it is not so bad. I worried for a while I would not have enough time for Faramir, but I do. I fear to say he is growing up to be much like me at his age, eleven, and moreover, he has recruited Sam's daughter Goldilocks to his cause of mischief-making. They are really the best of friends, and for that I am glad. He was so lonely for a time, cousin.

Times are well and simple. I only wish you were here to share them with us all. I wish my son could have met the uncle he has heard so many good things about.

Love,
Your Pippin"

28 July 1483

"My dear Cousin Frodo,

Again it was been so many years since I wrote you a letter. I don't know why I stopped, because I feel that writing these letters has actually helped me a good deal, in times of need. I suppose I simply needed a way to pour out all my feelings. But so many things got in the way, and I will admit I continue to feel silly for writing these letters. Were Diamond still alive, she would probably whack me over the head for wasting good parchment and ink. But she is not, and has been dead a good many years. I miss her still, and I still miss you.

A few days ago I found myself with someone else to miss.

Sam's Rosie died early in the winter, and only just recently Sam decided to leave Middle-earth. He is sailing across the sea to join you in Valinor. He and his daughter Elanor stopped by the Smials to tell me that he was leaving, and asked me please not to follow him to the harbour, where Elanor was to see him off. He stopped to say goodbye. It was all so very sudden, but I did not stop him. Sam said he had already said goodbye to Merry and I was the only one left. We bid each other farewell and that was that.

It's all very strange, knowing that Bag End is so much emptier now. It's his son Frodo, and his wife, that live there now.

I have been wondering how long it takes for the boats to arrive in the Grey Havens. Is Sam there? Are you there, Sam? If so, these next words are for you alone. If my cousin is there, I would have you look after him. Do as you did on the Quest so many years ago.

How long ago the Quest is! I was just a lad then. It seems so very long ago.

I am an old man now, cousin, and I don't know if you are still alive. But I like to think that you are, so that it means you don't have to be so alone any longer.

Love,
Your Pip-lad"

3 December 1485

[in shaky hand]

"Dear Frodo and Sam,

Hello.

I never imagined I'd write this letter, but here I am writing it. [smudged inkblots] very sudden really, but not quite a rash decision on Merry and mine's parts. Really we have been thinking about it for a very long time, he and I. It will hurt, I know, to leave Faramir and my granddaughter, especially when she is young enough she won't have very many memories of me, but I can think of no other option.

When we went on the Quest, I of course always yearned for the Shire more than anything. I got excited in some of the adventure, and I made friends that I will never forget, but in truth I mostly longed for the comforts of home. And then when I got there I felt I did not fit in anywhere, because I didn't feel like a hobbit anymore, not completely. I fell in love and had good times and drank the best ale in Middle-earth and raised a son whom I love more than anyone in my world, [several tear stains smudge ink, but it is still legible] but I never fully adjusted. I don't know if you knew that or not. But I know you must have felt the same way, cousin, because it is why you left.

[smudged inkblots] tand you all the better. But lately all this has left me feeling more out of place than ever. Age, I suppose.

I feel so big now, so big I could never fit back into the world.

[smudged inkblots, indecipherable text]

Merry and I are leaving the Shire. We will not be going to Valinor, though I am going to ride off to the harbour after I finish this before Merry comes to get me, to cast this letter out to sea. We will be going to Minas Tirith. I think it will be a good place for us, and Strider once told us he would welcome us there if ever we wanted to go. So this is me, an old man, leaving.

It is funny to think that this is the la

[rest of letter indecipherable, ink ruined by tears]

And somewhere far away, a small figure read the letter, ran his fingers over the ink-marks on the parchment, then lifted a hand to wipe away a tear.

He whispered, "Oh, Pip."