Sam, Merry, and Pippin sat a table in the Green Dragon having a pint. They were travel-weary, and their hearts were still grieving; it is never easy saying goodbye. They saluted and cheered in their hearts for Gandalf, Lord Elrond, the Lady Galadriel, and Bilbo.

"I'd say the plan worked out splendidly," said Pippin cheerfully a while later.

It took a lot to dampen Pippin's spirit, and Sam was glad for it.

"Indeed," mumbled Merry through his drink. He wiped his face with his sleeve and grinned. "Don't forget, my dear Pippin, that we have Sam to thank for that."

Both of them looked at Sam, who sat across from them. "I don't know what you mean," Sam replied nonchalantly.

Pippin scoffed. "Don't you deny it, Samwise Gamgee! The party masks were all your idea."

"It added an air of mystery, it did," said Sam defensively.

"Not to mention that letter you so craftily forged and had me deliver to Arabella's room at the inn, inviting her to tea," added Merry before ordering another round for them.

Sam scowled. "Not so loudly, the both of you," he scolded. "It'd make things a proper mess if Mr. Frodo found out I'd been read'n his mail. Besides, all I did was...give him a little nudge as it were."

"You're starting to sound like Gandalf," said Merry, taking his drink from the serving girl as the others grabbed theirs.

"I'd be better for it having to deal with you two," said Sam sternly.

Pippin snorted. "Then I shall start calling you Samwise the Grey and expect you to wear a pointy hat as well!"

Ale shot out of Merry's nose, startling Sam and Pippin, but they all quickly dissolved into laughter.

A couple of hours, and many drinks later, Merry brought up something that had been on his mind since the night of the party. "Sam, what was it about Arabella that made you invite her?"

Sam looked at him, confused. "I didn't invite her, I thought one of you two did since you seemed to know her," Sam replied.

Merry and Pippin looked at each other. Sure they knew Arabella, but only in passing. They had thought Sam had invited her.

All three hobbits stared at each other, the same question burning in their minds: If they hadn't invited her, who had?

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The man crouched beneath the window outside had a rare smile on his face. Hobbits, but especially these four, had always had a special place in his heart. It gladdened him to know things had gone as he had hoped.

Upon hearing the voices he'd been waiting for, he risked a glance around the corner to get a good look. Frodo and Arabella came into view, arm in arm, laughing merrily together. The man nodded approvingly. Everything was as it should be. His job here was done for now, though he suspected he would be returning in a year or so. He still had much to do, and not much time to do it in. Standing, the man quickly blended in with the night.

Two months later.

The man held his cloak tightly around him as he walked through the waterfall and into the opening behind it. Worn away in ages past, the tunnel led to a broad valley, hidden away in the western part of the Ered Nimrais, close to the river Adorn.

As he left the darkness and stepped into the light of a chilly December afternoon, he cursed again that the waterfall was the only way into the valley. He found there was a light covering of snow on the ground, and he made his way as quickly as could be to where he hoped he would find a roaring fire and food prepared.

He neared the home where he'd spent the last two hundred years, give or take, of his life. It was a small wooden hut for one who lived a simple life, perched on the northwestern bank of the small lake that cut through the valley giving a breathtaking view of the whole valley.

The man stomped the snow off the bottom of his leather boots and entered the home, greeted by the heat of the fire in its hearth. Another man was kneeling down in front of the fire, stoking it and brazing the meat. "I trust your trip was a success?" asked the man preparing the meal, not bothering to look up.

"It was," came the reply.

The man at the fire sighed when nothing else was said. He knew what was coming. He'd sensed its approach for the last year. Still, he had hoped to escape it.

The man in the doorway walked over and spoke, his voice carrying with it the authority of his age. "It's time to return home, Boromir."

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WAIT WHAT!? yes, you read it right. Boromir is alive and well what role does he have to play? Why is having to return home? And who is the mysterious man?

This is the end of A Reason to Stay. Please comment below and let me know what you think of it, it truly helps me in my writing!

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