Frodo and Sam || the journey continues
The full moon slipped beneath a lining of silvery clouds as crystalline drops of rain slowly pattered to the soft grass. Once Frodo and Sam stretched a long woolen blanket from limb to limb, Frodo sat down to strike up a fire with the two dry sticks his companion kept in his handy knapsack (bless the practical lad). And then, as the two sat side by side, the Ringbearer released a soft sigh. He could almost imagine he was back in the Shire, serene and quiet, serenaded by the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops outside his study windowsill. It felt wonderful to indulge in the warm glow of heat within the midst of the cold. The Winter months on the North-South road were terribly frigid. Alas, it seemed only yesterday the two Hobbits had woefully departed the beauty of Rivendell to walk the pathway of trial through endless miles of barren wasteland. First over the great snowy mountains of Caradhras, then through the dark caves of Moria, and across the wide River of Anduin. Tonight though, as the full moon cast a white glow across the forest, Frodo could feel a pang of relief from the uncertainty without and within. He and Sam were here together; safe and warm, in spite of everything they had endured since they left the sunny Shire. As the fire crackled over the embers the Hobbit closed his eyes and slowly leaned against a crooked tree, a small smile passing across his lips. "I can see Hobbiton in the Autumn, Sam," he said, recalling the many nights that he, Sam, Merry, and Pippin would sit about the fire, singing, drinking and laughing to bygone days as lads. "I should love to sing a song with you while the fire is still warm."
