His hair shone in the lamplight, thick and soft on my fingers. Even so, I could easily trace the scar that parted the locks, that could have split his skull. He stirred in my arms as I ran my fingers along his brow, where another scar like a starburst lay half beneath his hairline, and down along the column of his neck. I thought on how I'll never know all the stories of these scars, though Mr. Frodo told me a few when he wasn't listening. I did know, and I do, that Sam is home now, home with me.