I will not say the Day is done - english version

The Gaffer

'I'm going to heal you,' said Sam as tears were streaming down his cheeks again. 'Let me take you with me.'

As he lifted Frodo from the ground, he was horrified to find him almost as light as a child. Frodo protested weakly and wiggled in Sam's arms. Sam hugged him a little tighter.

'I'm sorry, I'm so ashamed... I should have...'

He interrupted himself. This was no time to think about what he should have done three years earlier.

'It's going to be all right, Mr. Frodo,' Sam whispered, 'I'm going to get you back on your feet. Come on.'

And pushing the door, he covered more of Frodo's face to protect him from the curious looks Olo and the others gave him.

'Sam,' Violet asked, 'where are you going with the patient?'

'You're out of your mind!' exclaimed the Shirrif, 'He's our prisoner!'

'You called me and I came to help you. I'll take care of him. That's all you need to know.'

And without another word, Sam left the Shirrif's office. Against him, Frodo lay very still. Sam could feel his breath in his neck. He could not help but smile with emotion. Frodo was there, alive, in his arms... He felt terrible for not recognising him right away, but how could he have imagined he was alive? How could he have believed that this weak and sick creature was his Mr. Frodo?

But it was only a matter of time before he was himself again, Sam would make sure of it.

His footsteps led him faster than he would have thought to the gate of number 3, New Row. On the little bench near the gate, Hamfast Gamgee was sitting and smoking his pipe. When he saw his son come up the row, his face and eyes turned red with crying and effort, he stood up, looking worried.

'Sam! What's the matter, boy?'

Then, noticing the package in Sam's arms:

'Is anyone hurt?'

'Please let me in, I'll explain.'

Without hesitation, the old Hobbit opened the small round door and let his son and his strange burden enter the hole. Sam did not hesitate and took the direction of the parlour. There he carefully placed Frodo in his father's armchair, the most comfortable in the house and closest to the fire. Frodo lay back, his eyes closed and head heavy.

'Sam,' began Hamfast, who had followed him inside. 'Who is this poor fellow? Why do you bring him here?'

'Pa, you must swear not to tell anyone.'

'But...'

'Swear it!'

'First you will explain this to me, son.'

Hamfast folded his arms on his chest. It was as if both Gamgees refused to be the less stubborn. Sam finally gave in, too upset to be more headstrong than his father.

'He's come back,' he said as the sobs rose in his voice again. 'I know you don't recognise him, but that's him. Frodo.'

'What do you mean? Him? Frodo? Come on, Sam, you can't be serious...'

'Da, you gotta believe me. I know it's crazy, I don't understand it myself, but...'

As he spoke, Hamfast approached Frodo with cautious steps. Slowly, very slowly, he pushed away the dirty locks that were falling on his face. Frodo opened his eyes, and Hamfast laid a wrinkled, calloused hand on his pale cheek. He plunged his gaze into the patient's and the two stared at each other for a long time.