The Straight Road
by Arien

Disclaimer: These beautiful people and places came from the imagination of J.R.R. Tolkien.

Author's Notes: As always, no slash is intended or implied. It is best if you have read my previous stories "The Way to Healing" and "The Bridge" before reading this one.


1.

Frodo was having a restless night. He usually slept deeply and peacefully, but tonight he could not seem to get past an uneasy doze. He tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in, shifting his pillows and sheets constantly, until he finally sighed in exasperation and lay on his back, trying to relax. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply and evenly for a few minutes. A thousand thoughts seemed to be running through his head at the same time, each flying away before he could grasp them like leaves in the autumn wind.

After opening his eyes and examining the ceiling for a few moments, he threw off the covers and sat up in bed. "This is useless," he muttered. It was like his body and mind did not want to stay still. He felt like getting up and running a mile through the streets of Avallone. He had a feeling inside that he had not had for quite a long time -- nervousness and excitement were entwined inside of him, like he was a young hobbit heading off to a birthday party in the morning. For the first time in years he longed for his pipe and a bit of Old Toby to calm him down.

Frodo considered getting dressed and going back to the hall where most of the Elves spent the nights telling stories, dancing, and singing. If he could not sleep, it would certainly be nice to have company, and they would welcome him. He could hear the murmur of their joyous and sweet music in his room. He was about to get up when a chill wind blew in through his open windows, the air smelling slightly of flowers instead of salt. Frodo shivered, pulling the light blankets closer. He thought about closing the windows, but he was used to sleeping with them open and he felt stuffy whenever they were closed. He lay back down, settling down on his side with a deep sigh. The wind blew in stronger and he curled up tighter, enjoying the warmth that his blankets and body heat made. 'Perhaps this is what I need to fall asleep,' he thought as he snuggled against the pillows. He felt very comfortable and finally had begun to relax. Frodo closed his eyes and breathed deeply as his mind cleared and a sudden peaceful feeling fell over him. Within a few moments he was fast asleep.



He was back in the Shire again. It was even more beautiful now than he had remembered it to be: the trees that had been just sprouting when he left were now full grown, and flowers bloomed in fields surrounded by rich green grass. The air still smelled of new growth and life that had not faded away in the least with the passage of time. The feeling was familiar to him, as Eressea had the same sense of life within it.

Frodo stood, looking around him at the landscape when he felt himself being pulled toward something and followed without hesitation. He was led to a quiet patch in the well-kept Hobbiton cemetery, underneath a towering oak tree that had stood there for generations, even surviving the invasion of Sharkey's men. There were neat, even rows of grave markers around him. Just off to his left side, directly underneath the oak tree, an elderly hobbit was bent over one of them. He had a bundle of sweet pink roses in his hand; they were exceptionally beautiful and Frodo knew a skilled hand had grown them. As Frodo watched, the old hobbit placed the bundle tenderly on the marker and wiped away some leaves that had fallen on it. A slight smile touched the old hobbit's face: a look of great love and shared memories. He sat for a few moments, running his hands across the marker, the soft smile still on his face.

Then, the old hobbit stood up. Despite his age, he moved nimbly and seemed very energetic. He stood straight, his broad shoulders still squared and his aged body remarkably strong. He wore beautiful clothing: his waistcoat was embroidered with leaves and had fine brass buttons, his shirt was starched white, and his coat and trousers were made of fine velvet dyed a rich dark green. Frodo walked closer until he stood next to the old hobbit, and it was then that he recognized him. It was Sam, though he was much older than he had been when Frodo had last seen him. His face had lines and wrinkles, but they were more from laughter than from care. His hair was grey but still curled tightly about his head, and his eyes were warm and bright, and sparkled with mirth even in this somber place. Frodo's eyes filled with tears as he gazed upon his old friend, and a deeply-set ache throbbed in his chest. He longed with every ounce of strength he had to touch Sam, but somehow he restrained himself.

Sam stood at the grave for a few moments, his head bowed, but no tears came to his eyes. "Goodbye, my Rose," he whispered. He raised his head, taking one last look around him, his head turning next to where Frodo was standing. Sam looked down at the grass for a moment, then raised his head and looked directly at Frodo. Frodo's heart skipped a beat and he let in a shocked gasp. A slight smile touched Sam's face, nearly the same one he had when he had been saying goodbye to Rose. Then he turned away and walked with surprising swiftness over the grass. Frodo's eyes followed him, and a few tears spilled over onto his cheeks, but he had a bright smile on his face.

Then, he saw Bag End, looking just as beautiful as the day he left, none the worse for wear after having Sam's large family dwelling in it. Below the hole, in the Party Field, the Gardener family was gathered, along with some of Sam's dearest friends, including Merry and Pippin. Frodo was amazed at how many people there were, and how large Sam's family actually was. He walked onto the Field and into the heart of the gathering like a phantom, silently watching all of them, recognizing each as easily as if they had all been his own.

Frodo Gardener, Sam's eldest son, looked almost exactly like Sam had looked in his youth, with the same carefree smile and jolly laugh. His son Holfast was already a tween, but he hugged his grandfather with such force that he nearly knocked Sam over. Then there was Ruby, Sam's youngest daughter, who wore red ribbons and who carried a healthy son in her arms as her husband sat beside her, nuzzling his face in her hair. Robin had freckles and a jolly smile, and he sat with his wife scolding their two young children, who were continuously poking each other. Tolman, the youngest of Sam's children, sat on the grass playing with some of the children while his wife looked at him with slight disapproval. Rose was the second-eldest of Sam's children in attendance. She had fine brown hair, bright eyes, and a warm smile that revealed dimples on each of her cheeks. She held a newborn daughter, bouncing her on her knee as the baby laughed. Her sweet-faced sister Daisy sat beside her. Sam's sons Merry and Pippin sat together at the same table, drinking ale and laughing at their own private jokes, best friends just as their namesakes were. Frodo followed Sam as he said his goodbyes to each of them. The Gardeners were an utterly beautiful family; each of them kind and strong and fair just as their parents had been.

Sam said his farewells to his son Bilbo and his family. Bilbo's daughter seemed a bit shy, she hid behind her mother's skirts until Sam opened his arms and coaxed her out. "Will you say hullo to Frodo for me?" the girl asked quietly. "Of course!" Sam said, kissing her on her cheek. "I'm going to tell him all about you when I see him." She broke out in a smile as lovely as summer and hugged her grandfather close. Goldilocks, true to her name, had golden hair like Elanor's and danced along the grass as gracefully as a hobbit maid half her age. With her was Pippin's son Faramir, her husband. Primrose was very pregnant and after Sam kissed her he lay his hands on her stomach. "Feels like a boy, this one," he said, and she laughed. "We hope so." She patted her father's cheek. "You take care of yourself now, Sam-dad," she said, and Sam nodded.

Last of all came Merry and Pippin. The three friends stood and spoke together on the grass. Frodo stood apart, quietly watching them. He realized how much he had missed all of them at that moment, as if the long years they had spent apart finally came down on him. But instead of sadness, Frodo's heart swelled with pride and love for his friends. All of them had truly become everything they deserved to be, and the Shire had loved them and healed them.

Then Pippin leaned forward and embraced Sam, and Merry joined in, and the three of them held each other for a while. Then they pulled apart and Sam walked toward the lane where a pony was waiting for him, led by his son Hamfast. Sam embraced him for a few moments, then was interrupted when a tiny hobbit lad ran towards him. "You nearly forgot about me!" the boy cried, and Sam laughed merrily and swooped him up into his arms. "Well, so I did!" They kissed each other and murmured goodbyes, then the lad ran back into the crowd that stood at the edge of the field.

Finally Sam mounted his pony and set off, waving to his children, grandchildren, and many friends. There were no tears for him: this was a happy parting, old Master Samwise's long-awaited and much-earned last adventure. Frodo's eyes followed him as he rode slowly down the lane and onto the Road, heading west.


Next Frodo saw Sam riding down a roughly-paved road into a small town with houses and buildings made of stone. The sun was setting but hobbits were still about, and they greeted Sam respectfully as he rode through. Beyond that was hilly farmland and forests that still showed their wildness by stretching into the road at times. This was Westmarch, the newest province of the Shire, further west than the Four Farthings. It reminded Frodo of his childhood home in Buckland and he laughed to himself, remembering how queer his Buckland upbringing had seemed to the folk in Hobbiton when he first arrived. Over the years he could never quite decide if either the folk in Buckland were too forward, or the folk in Hobbiton were too backward, but it gave Frodo a bit of pride to see that there were more hobbits who didn't consider the Bucklanders' way of life that foreign.

He rode straight on until he reached the Tower Hills and Elanor and Fastred's home at Undertowers. The lovely house was made of wood, stone, and mortar, and Elanor and Fastred had a nice stretch of farmland along with a few golden-haired children to work it. They looked very happy with their busy life -- Elanor was no spoiled hobbit lass but a hardworking farm wife and mother. Her golden hair was pulled into braids that framed her beautiful face. A few laugh lines had appeared by her eyes and mouth, but she was as lovely as ever. She ran to her father and greeted him joyfully, and after Fastred and the children joined her, the family ushered him inside.

Sam spent the night at the house, rising early in the morning and talking with Elanor. "This is yours," he said, taking the Red Book out of one of his bags and handing it to her. "It's your job now to keep these stories alive. My part in it is ended, just like Mr. Frodo's was."

She smiled. "We'll keep it safe for you; don't you worry about these stories fading away." She sighed. "Are you sure about going by yourself? Fastred or I could come with you, just to make sure you're safe."

Sam reached out his hand to stroke Elanor's cheek. "I'll be fine, my flower. Besides, you have too much to do here, with the house and the children. Autumn's coming in and you have to prepare for the winter. There's no need to put yourselves behind on my account."

"I wish I could go with you, to meet Frodo and see the Elves." A bit of sadness touched her features, but Sam chuckled softly. "I asked the same thing of Mr. Frodo when he left, and you know what he told me. I didn't wholly understand it then, but I understand it now. There comes a time when all of us have to leave what we love. Time catches up with us, and so we pass away and leave all we have to be taken care of by others. Your place is here, Elanor. You have to take care of those things now, along with all your brothers and sisters."

She nodded. "I know. It doesn't make my heart ache any less, though."

Sam smiled sadly and fastened his beautifully woven Lorien cloak around his shoulders, still clasped together by its leaf brooch. He put his arms on Elanor's shoulders. "Don't let your heart ache for the things you want. Let it be happy for all the wonderful things you have." Then they embraced for a long time, and after saying his goodbyes to the rest of the family, Sam headed out past the Towers and towards the Havens.


The afternoon was deepening toward evening when he reached the Havens. Sam rode past the docks to the shipyard, where some of the Elves were still working in the lowering light, hammering away at the wooden skeletons of the magnificent swan-bowed ships. One of the ships was nearing completion, and Sam rode towards it and dismounted off his pony. An Elf saw him and smiled gently, then disappeared inside the hold. A few moments later, Cirdan, Master of the Havens, emerged and walked towards Sam. "Good evening, Master Hobbit!" he greeted with a soft smile.

"Greetings, Master Cirdan," Sam said with a bow. "I'm not sure if you remember me, though I'm sure you remember many things. My name is Samwise Gamgee. My friend Frodo Baggins -- he was the Ringbearer, sir -- departed West from here with Gandalf and Lord Elrond and the Lady Galadriel."

Cirdan nodded kindly, his eyes bright. "I remember him, and you, Master Gamgee."

Sam nodded and lowered his head for a moment, then went on. "Thank you, sir. I've come this way to ask something very important, and I much appreciate your obliging me some of your time." Sam smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes -- he looked a little scared. "Well, Mr. Frodo told me before he left that I might have a chance to go West on one of your ships, when the time was right. And as you can see, I'm getting on in years, and now that my children are grown and my work's done, I've been feeling the call to come here more and more. Forgive me for overstepping my station, sir, but I would dearly like to see my friend again, if it's at all possible. It's all I really want, more than any riches or comforts; but if I am not allowed I understand why." Now he looked even more nervous, and his eyes were large with worry and anticipation.

But Cirdan smiled and put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "We have been expecting you. Gandalf told me before he departed that if you came seeking passage West, the Valar permitted me to give it to you, just as it was given to the other Ringbearers. There is nothing to fear; you are welcomed aboard our ships, and your journey will be a safe one."

"Oh, bless you, sir!" Sam said joyously. "Why, that's a weight off my shoulders!" He smiled widely and then a few tears he hadn't been aware he was holding in fell onto his cheeks. Cirdan summoned another Elf who led Sam and his pony towards the city of the Havens. Frodo watched them leave, a small smile on his face. Then he turned back around and Sam stood there again, but this time on a dock, at the end of which a ship waited. It was sunset and around him the Elves were preparing for their journey, but Sam stood still, his eyes on the ship looming in front of him. Slowly, he walked to the end of the dock and stopped in front of the quay that led aboard. He fidgeted nervously, his hands balled at his sides. Frodo walked up beside him, longing to place his arms around his friend and help him to make those final steps, but he could not. "Don't be afraid, Sam," Frodo whispered, but Sam did not respond. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and trudged forward with his head held high. Frodo broke out into a huge grin and then laughed.

Frodo stayed there at the end of the dock and saw Sam being led below deck. Then the ropes were drawn up and the ship slowly moved away and deeper into the clear blue-green water. As Frodo watched, the ship sailed off into the sunset, the sky glowing in vibrant peaches and oranges and pinks. Then his vision dissipated, and Frodo opened his eyes and was back in his familiar room again. He could hear the gentle music of the Sea in the distance, and the early morning sunlight was beginning to peek though the windows. He stretched and turned over onto his back, smiling softly, and then grinned and laughed loudly as he realized that Sam was coming -- that he would arrive today! His stomach felt a bit light and fluttery, and his body tingled with excitement. "Thank you, Lorien, thank you," he whispered.

Then Frodo sat bolt upright. Most ships bound from Middle-earth arrived at sunrise, and judging by the light shining in through Frodo's windows, the ship carrying Sam was already arriving. He still had to make his way down to the docks, and he didn't want Sam to panic if he was late. He tossed off the covers and raced out of bed, putting on his clothes as fast as he could and hurrying to find an Elf with a swift horse.



Underneath the clear blue morning sky, the Elven ship rocked upon the Western Sea. Old Samwise Gamgee was dreadfully frightened of the water, but in his great wonder and excitement, he could not divert his eyes. He had never truly conquered his fear of boats, even though he had learned to tolerate the water when he and the Fellowship traveled over the Anduin, all those years ago. He had stayed below deck for most of the thankfully short voyage, not daring to look at the calm water and imagine what sort of perils lay underneath. The Elves he traveled with had a great love for the Sea, as most Elves did; Sam's fear of it was not something they understood. "How could you bear to stay below, Master Gamgee?" they asked. "The music of the Sea is fair, is it not?"

"It is very fair. I’ve heard it in my heart for years, ever since Mr. Frodo went away. But just because I like the sound of it doesn’t mean I’m not scared of it!" They laughed, the sound of their joy overcoming all fear and finally persuading him to come outside his cabin. "Mr. Frodo, only for you I would do something like this," he muttered as he reached the deck and the water came into view.

The shores of Eressea, the Lonely Isle, gleamed white before him. He could see the island now: there was a tall white tower with a pinnacle made of polished pearl that gleamed in the early morning sunlight. Many white buildings sat beneath it, and the forest was vast and rich around it. Alongside the shore of the white beach were high cliffs and green hills that sat underneath a thin layer of fog. Gulls flew into the air, whirling in circles and calling each other wildly. He stood for a few moments with a bright smile on his face, admiring the beauty of the country before him. The Sun was rising and it filled his vision with warm golden light. Around him the Elves sang in their fair voices, welcoming the Sun and the shores in front of them. His heart leapt with their song, though he knew only a little of the language that they sang in.

He patted his coat pocket, making sure his gift for Frodo was still inside. Sam had had quite a time thinking of something to give him; he was sure that Frodo could have had whatever he possibly desired from the Elves. But a few days before his departure, Sam's daughter Daisy had come into the study at Bag End with a small bundle in her hands. "This is a gift for Frodo, when you see him," she had said, handing him the bundle.

The bundle contained several envelopes; when he'd opened them he'd found letters from Merry and Pippin and each of Sam's children. "It was Uncle Merry's idea," she said. "He figured Frodo would like hearing about the Shire and about what we've been doing, since he's so far away from us. And Frodo's always seemed like part of our family, even though we never knew him."

"This is wonderful!" Sam had exclaimed. "Mr. Frodo will love them, I'm sure. Remind me to thank Merry next time I run into him." Daisy had tied the envelopes together firmly with ribbon and Sam had carried the bundle with him in his coat pocket to keep it safe. He hadn't read the letters -- they were for Frodo, after all, and Sam felt fairly certain that Frodo would read them to him anyway. Frodo had never been the type to keep something good all to himself.

He felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. A male Elf stood next to him, and he silently pointed down into the water. Sam was afraid to look at first, but the Elf smiled at him and lay a comforting hand on his back. Gripping onto the wooden railing for dear life, Sam leaned forward, looking into the clear blue-green water of the Sea. He saw shapes underneath the water that surged forward, and then broke the waves. They had exquisitely curved fins, and when their faces came up they almost seemed to be smiling, their long noses showing small white teeth. "They look like they're playing," he asked the Elf, filled with awe. "What are they?"

"Dolphins," the Elf replied. "They swim alongside the ships where the water is warm. I saw them when I sailed to the bays in the south, back when our relations with Men were closer."

"Dolphins," Sam whispered. "They're beautiful." He watched the sleek figures as they danced in the blue-green water until they swam out of his vision and toward the bow of the ship. "Thank you," he said, turning to the Elf, who nodded and smiled at him. He led Sam away from the railing and found a proper spot for him deeper on the deck where he could see the island, then joined the Elves in their exquisite song.

The shore became clearer, and Sam could see that the white city was quite large, larger than he had expected, and very beautiful. A pang of excitement twitched deep inside of him -- he tried to remember when he'd last felt this way and remembered the day of his wedding to Rose, when Frodo had spent most of the morning attempting to calm him down. He laughed blissfully at the memory, and some of the Elves turned around and smiled at him, glad that he was sharing in their joy.

It seemed like years before the ship finally came within sight of the docks. There was a small crowd of Elves waiting to greet the ship, but Sam did not see a smaller shape among them. He stood watching the land expectantly, trying to calm his shaky knees and nervous fingers. Finally the ship lurched to a stop, and the Elves began tying it down. The others on board went below and started to walk towards the place where a quay was being lowered to let them ashore. After a reluctant look back at the beach, Sam followed. He was one of the last to leave.

As he walked onto the dock his heart was throbbing loudly in his ears, while his stomach felt like it was somewhere around his knees. There was a croud of Elves walking slowly towards the shore, talking in their fair voices, and Sam followed near the end of them, trying to keep his head held high. As he drew closer, tears began to sting at his eyes. Where was Frodo? Did he even know he was coming? He felt so shaky...

Then someone called his name, and he turned his head, looking for the speaker. "Sam!" they yelled again, louder. A small figure broke through the crowd, running across the dock. "Frodo!" Sam yelled. He began to weep as he walked forward as fast as he could on trembling legs. Before he knew it, Frodo's arms were wrapped around him, hugging him tightly, and Sam gripped Frodo back with all his strength. He was alive, he was safe, he was real...in all of his life, Sam had never known such complete and utter joy. Every bone in his body ached with it -- he could have reached up and touched the stars at that moment. He breathed in Frodo's scent, and it was the same smells of ink and linen mixed in with something new, something earthy and Elvish. Sam was sobbing, and he heard Frodo in his ear, crying and whispering his name.

They embraced close for a long while, laughing and weeping on each other's shoulders. Then they pulled apart and studied each other's faces. Frodo cradled Sam's cheeks and Sam stroked Frodo's face with his nimble fingers, a bit softer now than his work-hardened hands had been in his youth. Frodo was familiar to Sam, and yet not; all the sorrow and regret that he carried at their last meeting was long gone. Sam knew that Frodo was well over a hundred, but he did not look more than eighty and his face had gentle laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. His hair was as soft and fine as it had always been, despite the fact that it had much more grey. His clothing was of fine Elvish make, the fabric wrapping around his frame, which looked fit and healthy, a far cry from the sickly thinness that had troubled him so many years before. Sam barely noticed these things, however: his attention was focused on Frodo's bright eyes, his wide smile, and his laughter. "Oh, Mr. Frodo, I'd forgotten how beautiful you are," he said.

Frodo smiled and wiped away Sam's tears with his fingers, and Sam grasped his hands, placing them together and kissing them as he had done so often when trying to comfort him. He saw that Frodo's finger was still missing and cradled his right hand, kissing it and pressing it to his cheek. Frodo laughed through his own tears, then kissed Sam's forehead and pulled him close again in an embrace. "Oh Sam...my Sam..." he said as he held Sam tightly.

"I could stand here forever with you," Sam whispered. His joy seemed endless; for the time he had stood on the dock with Frodo, the rest of the world had been utterly forgotten. Frodo's breath hitched and he cried harder. "I could, too, Sam." They held each other for a few long minutes, still laughing and weeping, until they pulled apart again and clasped each other's hands, Frodo's maimed right hand in Sam's left one. "Come with me, Sam," Frodo said quietly. They walked towards the end of the dock, then onto a high green hill with soft grass.

On top of the hill, a dark-haired Elf stood next to his horse, stroking the animal's shining coat. As Frodo and Sam approached, he smiled brightly at them. "Greetings, Master Gamgee!"

Sam was still crying a bit, but he bowed low. "Greetings, Master Elf." Frodo spoke up beside him. "Sam, this is Halior. He dwelt with Lord Elrond in Rivendell...he is a good friend of mine."

"I am glad to finally meet the faithful companion of the Ringbearer, whom our songs speak of." Sam lowered his head humbly, and Frodo smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "My friend Frodo has always spoken highly of you. I know he has awaited this day for quite a long time." Halior's smile became brighter. "He came to me in a panic this morning, insisting that you were coming and we had to come to the port as soon as possible. We raced here and Frodo nearly broke his neck jumping off my horse in his haste. I am glad to see that haste was well rewarded, though."

Sam looked a bit shocked, but Frodo smiled. "I slept longer this morning than I should have," he said. "I'm sorry if you were distressed because you didn't see me right away."

Sam smiled. "I was for a bit, but that doesn't matter much now." Frodo laughed, and then Halior spoke again. "Now, Master Gamgee, I am sure you did not come here empty-handed...where are your bags?"

"Oh, I have some things on the ship," Sam said, blushing. "It's a good thing you mentioned them; I'd plain forgotten! I just brought a few bags with me with some clothes and things I couldn't bear to part with. They shouldn't be too heavy, I can carry them."

The Elf laughed merrily and shook his head. "Do not worry about carrying them; I shall take them to Frodo's dwelling myself. Are you going to stay here a while, Frodo?" Frodo nodded and thanked him, and then Halior walked down the hill toward the docks.

Sam was surprised to find he was still crying, and Frodo's cheeks were wet with tears as well. He pulled Frodo close to him and embraced him fiercely. "I have to keep holding you, Mr. Frodo...I can scarcely believe you're real."

Frodo laughed quietly. "Me too, Sam. It's hard to tell dream from waking here sometimes, but I know this is real. And I'm so glad for it." He pulled away and looked at Sam teasingly. "But Sam dear, you don’t have to call me ‘Mr. Frodo’ anymore."

"Oh, I'm sorry, but it just wouldn’t seem right to me not to, after a lifetime of calling you that." Sam shrugged. "Perhaps someday I'll find it in me to stop. Old habits are hard to break, but I think I have some strength in me yet." They both laughed and sat down on the hill together, still holding hands.



More Elves came to the shore as word was sent into the city about who had just arrived. There were many happy reunions going around Frodo and Sam, and for a while they were content to sit next to each other and watch as they talked. They sat on the soft grass above the shoreline, gazing out at the rippling waters of the Sea and watching the Elves at the docks. To Sam's surprise, he saw that the grass bloomed with golden elanor, just like the grass of Lothlorien. He gently picked a single flower from the grass, twirling it between his fingers and then cradling it in his palm. "I never thought I would see this flower again," he said with a chuckle. "I did manage to take Elanor to Lothlorien for a short time, once when we were visiting Strider and Queen Arwen in Gondor. Oh, how she loved it! She said that she wanted to build a house there in the trees like the Elves, and she didn't care if she was afraid of the height or not. 'I'll get used to it,' she said, and we believed her."

Frodo laughed. "Is she doing well?"

"Oh, well isn't the word," Sam replied. "She's so happy she must be blessed. And she is beautiful, Mr. Frodo...like a rose in spring. Somehow all my little ones turned out that way...they all took after Rose more than me. You kncan believe that. And three great-grandchildren!"

"Thirteen children?" Frodo said in astonishment, though he already knew. "You were certainly busy, in more ways than one."

Sam grinned. "That's true, Mr. Frodo. We always had a house full of little ones and plenty to feed them and take care of them with. I ended up being Mayor, just like you said I would be, though it was the furthest thing from my mind when Wil Whitfoot retired and asked me to run. But I was quite happy doing it for a while -- I always had time to spend with the little ones and work in my garden." He paused for a moment. "Rose died, you know, this past summer. She was ninety-eight. The years didn't treat her as well as they treated me, poor lass, but she was happy right until the end."

Frodo nodded. "I'm sorry, Sam. You don't have to talk about her if you don't want to." But Sam smiled. "Oh, but I want to. I loved her dearly. I'm not sad about her death anymore, if that's what you're worried about. She was weary and glad to go when the end came. She said that she felt something deep inside of her was telling her she'd gone on too long and it was time for a rest."

"That sounds like what Bilbo told me," Frodo said quietly, but he said nothing more, and Sam did not press the issue. He noticed then the silver chain around Frodo's neck, and on the end of it the beautiful white gem, still gleaming brightly. "That's the stone that Queen Arwen gave to you! You still wear it!"

Frodo smiled. "Yes, I still wear it, though I don't need its comfort as much as I used to."

"Oh, she would have been glad to know it helped you so much," Sam said. "Though I daresay she knew it would help or else she wouldn't have given it to you. She was a good Queen and Strider was a good King; they had three children when I last saw them. Oh, there's so much to tell you!" He paused, then chuckled softly. "I remember I used to dream of this sometimes, thinking about how I would feel when I saw you again. I figured I wouldn't be able to say anything for days, and here I am talking your ear off! I'm sorry."

"You're not talking my ear off," Frodo said with a laugh and a pat on Sam's hand. "I'm thinking about all the things that I must show you here; there's so much I want you to see. This place..." -- he looked off into the city for a moment -- "...is remarkable. It's like an entire Elf kingdom by itself. The beauty of it never fades after the Sun sets: it stays just as alive in the starlight." He fell silent for a few moments, and Sam raised his head and looked around. Every color was incredibly vibrant and rich, as if Sam had not seen real color in years, and the very air seemed to carry a sense of renewal and rebirth. The land in the distance was filled with green hills and forests, and the beach spread as far as he could see in either direction. A cool, light wind blew in from the Sea, bringing with it the scent of salt, and the waves below were capped with white foam. The gardener in him was wide awake, and he took in every flower and tree he could set his eyes on, naming them in his head as easily as he could remember the names of his children. "Mr. Frodo? Are there mallorns here?" he asked with a glint in his eye.

Frodo grinned and nodded. "There's every kind of plant and tree you could ever wish for, all growing here on the same island." He pointed off into the distance, a bit to the right of the city. "There's a large grove of mallorns somewhere around there; it's a bit hard to tell from this distance. They're always in full bloom, and when you walk through the grove it smells so wonderful that you can scarcely believe it."

"I can't wait to see it," Sam whispered, smiling at his old friend. Frodo's face was as beautiful as anything else -- though much of his youth had faded away, he did not strike Sam as being old. His eyes sparkled again, and he laughed and smiled in pure joy. His sadness was gone, replaced by delight and wisdom, and the light within him was brighter than ever. Sam knew that there was nothing he could be given here that would equal seeing Frodo healed and happy once more.

Suddenly Sam was weeping, and he reached over and embraced Frodo tightly again. Frodo held him close for a few moments, rubbing his hands along his friend's back and rocking him gently, letting him weep. "Sam, what's wrong?" he asked after a few long minutes, a bit of concern in his voice.

"Nothing's wrong, nothing at all," Sam whispered back. "That's why I'm crying."

2.

A short while later the hobbits rose and began walking west towards the city. The road leading from the ship havens to Avallone was well-tended, the flowers and trees fragrant and blooming. Sweet songs of birds mixed in with the slow hum of the Sea, and the white Tower of Avallone soared above, the pearl and crystal roof of it gleaming in the rising sunlight. The buildings underneath it were much clearer now, and they shone as well, the stone glinting gold and silver. "It's so beautiful," Sam whispered, his eyes wide in awe. Frodo spoke quietly beside him, a gentle, fond smile on his face. "That's Avallone, my home."

Finally the hobbits passed a filigreed silver gate under a stone archway and entered the city itself. There were many buildings and arches built of a white stone that Sam had never seen before, along with silver fountains and lamps. Flowering vines climbed up the walls onto windowsills and balconies, blooming in vivid colors. There were also many trees and shrubs, tended with care but allowed to grow freely. Sam knew, somehow, that this city was very old, older than any other city he had ever been to, but at the same time it felt young, as if he were visiting at the height of its glory. Not a single brown leaf littered the streets or hung from a branch, though the Shire had been at the beginning of a glorious autumn when Sam had left. The air had the delicious lightness of springtime, but the land looked like it was in early summer. Sam could hear many voices raised in song: though they sang different songs, there was no discord among them, and each voice seemed to weave into the others, making each song sound more beautiful. Some of the Elves passing by smiled at the pair, and Frodo smiled back and greeted them, but none interrupted the two friends as they walked.

Frodo led Sam off the main street to an archway on the right that led into a small courtyard and garden. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "It's breakfast time." Sam nodded vigorously. "Well, I say you've practically read my mind!" he said, and Frodo laughed. "Sit here for a bit, I'll be right back." Frodo smiled at him again and walked away and into a doorway at the end of the courtyard. Sam, meanwhile, settled onto the edge of a stone fountain on the side of the courtyard, watching the current of the water flow from a small waterfall above his head into the basin. The edges of the clear water were tipped with tiny rainbows in the sunlight, and the noise of the water was peaceful. He gingerly reached in and placed his fingertips in the water, smiling at the warmth of it.

Frodo returned a few minutes later, carrying a small basket. He grinned and sat down next to Sam, placing the basket between them. Inside was a small loaf of bread, still warm; white cheese, and several pieces of fruit. There was also a small water-bottle for them to share.

Sam took a careful bite into one of the apples. "Mmphf..." he murmured, closing his eyes and marvelling at the taste, soft and sweet against his tongue. "Take a sip of this," Frodo said, handing Sam the water-bottle. The drink inside was deliciously sweet and cool, tasting a bit of honey...it seemed slightly thicker than juice or wine and had a golden color. "This is better than any sweet I've eaten," he said.

"It is wonderful," Frodo said between mouthfuls. "Did you enjoy your journey?"

"To be honest, not much, Mr. Frodo. But it wasn't because of anything the Elves did as much as my own fear; I didn't like being out on the water. It was only a few days, but still, it was hard not being able to see land. I stayed below for near the whole way; I only came up this morning when we could see land." He paused, taking a vigorous bite into another apple, chewing it and savoring the taste. "There were these creatures swimming beside the ship...they weren't like any fish I've ever seen. Dolphins, they were called. Have you ever seen them?"

Frodo nodded. "I saw them when I first arrived, too. They were quite lovely. Sometimes they wander into a bay onto the western coast here, close enough so that you can touch them. The Elves love to swim with them." He smiled fondly. "But I am happy that you've made it here, Sam. I know it must have been hard for you."

Sam smiled. "Oh, Mr. Frodo, it was all worth it. Not much trouble at all, now that I stop to think about it."

After they were finished with breakfast, Frodo led him towards the house where he lived. It was much more than a simple house -- there were several stories and many rooms, halls, and staircases. Sam was surprised to find the contrast between the outside and the indoors. From the outside, Avallone gleamed like a pearl, a drop of white in the midst of the green wilderness. Inside, however, everything seemed rather earthy and comfortable, rather like Rivendell had been. 'A perfect place to sit and think and rest,' Sam remembered. It was still vibrantly beautiful, though, and possessed a strong sense of Elvishness unstained by time or decay. The furniture was beautiful, and many expertly woven tapestries hung on the walls, with depictions of the Sea under starlight or bright forests and gardens. They walked down several hallways until they reached a corridor of doors. One of them was wide open, and Frodo led Sam inside. "I apologize for the mess," he said. "I didn't get a chance to clean up this morning."

Frodo's room, while not overly large, was far from the little room Bilbo had been given at Rivendell. Sam was delighted to find that all the furniture, while Elvish in design, was exactly Frodo's size. On the left side of the room was Frodo's bed and wardrobe. The bed was unmade, but Sam could see the linen on it was rich and beautifully embroidered. Halior had also dropped off Sam's bags; they lay neatly placed beside the wardrobe. On the right wall was a row of open windows made of stained glass. Frodo came forward, closing each window so that Sam could gaze at them. The sunlight that shone through made the colors come alive. A white ship with a swan-shaped bow sailed upon a blue-green sea towards a grove of trees blooming with brightly-colored flowers. The ship sailed under starlight and a crescent Moon while the grove of trees bloomed under a radiant Sun. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Frodo said. "Every room here has a different one. The larger ones tell stories, like tapestries made out of glass instead of silk."

A desk sat against the wall on the right side of the room, covered with many pages of notes in Frodo's familiar handwriting, still firm and beautiful. There were also pages in another strong and graceful handwriting that Sam dimly recalled seeing before but could not place. "I started another book for the Elves," Frodo said beside him. "They have little knowledge of hobbits, so I'm writing down our history for them, as well as some stories and songs. There's still a lot of work to be done on it." Frodo rose his head and looked at Sam. "I would appreciate your help on it, if you like. I'm sure there are many new happenings in the Shire that we need to add in."

"Many," Sam said with a smile. "It'll take me days to tell you about them all. And Merry wrote a book about herb-lore; my copy stayed at Bag End but I remember a lot of it." He reached down and took a page off the desk that was written in the other hand. "Whose handwriting is this, Mr. Frodo?" he asked. "I think I remember seeing it before, but I'm not sure."

"Olorin's," Frodo replied simply, and Sam looked at him, puzzled. Frodo broke out into a wide smile and began to laugh. "I am sorry, Sam! It has been too long. Olorin is Gandalf's name here in the West; the Elves gave it to him long ago."

"Gandalf?" Sam asked, his eyes widening. "Gandalf! Why, I should've known! How is he?"

"Well, he looks quite different, but for the most part he is still Gandalf." Frodo straightened the papers, smiling fondly. "I suspect he shall be around here again quite soon. He comes often to visit and help with the book, though I shouldn't say he just 'helps' -- he's written a great deal of it. I always suspected he knew much about hobbits, but it's amazed me how much he really does know. Some of what he's told me isn't even in the Shire's history books or records."

On top of the desk lay another book with dark blue leather covers and pages trimmed in gold. Sam opened it and noted with surprise that the leaves were covered in Bilbo's thin, light hand. "Some of Mr. Bilbo's poetry?" he asked, and Frodo nodded. "Yes...the new stories he heard here inspired him. There's even some written in the Elven tongues. It's all very good; we shall have to read it together sometime." Sam absently flipped through the pages; he smiled at he realized that this book had been handled a great deal, just like his copy of the Red Book at home. It smelled slightly of sunlight and flowers, the ribbon page-marker was slightly frayed around the top, and it opened naturally to several places: Frodo's favorite poems, he guessed.

Then he suddenly gasped. "I've nearly forgotten, and after all this time! I have a gift for you, Mr. Frodo!" Smiling, he reached into his coat pocket and took out the bundle of letters. "They're letters for you, from Merry and Pippin and all of the children. You've always been part of the family to us, even though you were so far away. They figured you would enjoy knowing a bit about each of them, and what's been going on in the Shire since you left." He handed the bundle to Frodo, who grinned widely, his eyes shining. "Thank you so much! I can't wait to read them." Then his smile sunk a bit. "Oh, my dear Sam, I am so sorry! I have nothing to give you!"

"Don't worry a bit," Sam replied with a smile and a gentle touch on Frodo's shoulder. "Coming here and seeing you again was gift enough. There's nothing more I'd want in the world right now."

Frodo smiled lovingly at him, reaching for his hand and grasping it. He laid the bundle carefully on the desk. "Come on, Sam, there's more I want to show you."



Frodo led Sam down hall after hall, exploring the house where he lived with the Elves. There were many rooms to sit comfortably and read or think, and there was a large library filled with books and maps and pictures that showed the history of the Elder Days, much of which had been forgotten in Middle-earth. Frodo also showed Sam the pantries and the kitchens, which were bustling with activity. It had always been hard for Sam to imagine Elves doing mundane things like cooking, but he saw that they were delighted with it. The smells around him were intoxicating, and he stood at one of the counters, peering over it like a child to see what wonderful things they were making. A beautiful female Elf smiled at him, then handed him a raspberry pastry wrapped in paper. Sam bit into it, closing his eyes as he savored the taste. "Goodness, the food here is wonderful. I've never tasted raspberries like these before." The Elf smiled again, gently. "I am pleased you like it, Master Samwise. Do you enjoy cooking?"

"It's one of my favorite things, next to gardening," Sam said between eager bites. "I even won a few Free Fair contests when I was a lad."

"Then you can aid us here any time you like," she said. "Perhaps you can show us how to make some of your favorite meals."

"Well, I don't think anything I could show you could be as good as this," he said with a chuckle, "but I would like to help out, if I can." The Elf smiled at him again and went back to making pastries. Sam looked around and found Frodo, who was talking and laughing with another one of the Elves, and after Sam had finished his pastry, they went out to do more exploring.

In the large dining hall, there was a chair near the center of the main table with cushions on it. Sam chuckled, walking over and running his hand over the top of the chair. "Yes, that's mine," Frodo said with a warm smile. "I've grown quite used to my feet not touching the ground when I sit down."

Sam also saw the places where the Elves worked making furniture, weaving cloth, and working on pieces of art. Everything was exquisitely detailed...the furniture was carved with patterns of animals and birds and leaves, and the clothing and fabrics were skillfully woven and embroidered. He realized that much of the Elves' joy came from simply building and making beautiful things, not doing the high and lofty things he had always imagined them doing. After lunch, the hobbits walked into a large courtyard, filled with trees and bushes and flowers blooming in every color Sam could think of. The vines climbed and wrapped around the statues and fountains. They spent the rest of the afternoon there, listening to the songs of birds and admiring the beauty of the garden.

As the shadows were growing long and the city was filled with warm golden light, Frodo led Sam up a short flight of stairs and onto a balcony above the garden. They could see much of the city from where they stood -- there were the white buildings that shone golden in the bright light, and surrounding them were the green trees and mountains of Eressea. They could even see the Sea in the distance when they faced east, the water glimmering like glass. Below them, the Elves were walking out of the houses and halls and into the courtyards. Some came out and stood on the balconies, facing west to watch the sunset beyond Valinor. The whole island nearly stood still for it: the faces of the Elves were content and beautiful around him, and they stood like statues, their shadows stretching behind them.

Then he felt Frodo grasp his hand. "This is the most wonderful time of day," he whispered. "You can watch it a thousand times and never tire of it." Sam said nothing, but just smiled.

As the Sun slowly disappeared below the horizon, the sky turning brilliant peach and pink and orange in its wake, a song started among the Elves, slow and soft at first, sweet and gentle. As the Sun dipped lower and lower below the horizon, the song became louder, but lost none of its sweetness. It was like a lullabye, as if they were singing the Sun to her rest. Then the dark blue of the night sky began to appear high above the vibrant sunset, and as the Sun disappeared under the horizon, the Moon slowly rose, bringing the stars with him. The song of the Elves rose louder and higher, welcoming the starlight. This was a song of celebration and welcome and it lifted Sam's heart. The air cooled around his skin, and a gentle wind from the east ruffled his hair. Lamps around the city were being lit, and the forest was dense and dark under the cover of night. As the night sky became dark velvet the song ceased, and, laughing and singing once more, the Elves went on their business again.

"That was too beautiful for words," Sam whispered with tears in his eyes. Frodo's hand was warm in his, and his eyes were shining with joy. "I know," he said simply, and that was enough.



As they walked into the dining room, the hobbits discovered two chairs covered in cushions set out for them at the center of the table. Sam was very hungry, and was delighted with the feast that had been set out. The food was better than anything he had ever eaten -- everything had a sweet and fresh taste, and the air was filled with fragrant smells. At first the food held his attention, and he spent a long while satisfying his well-earned hunger, but eventually he raised his head above his plate and wine-glass to look around him. He could only catch snatches of conversation with the little of the Elf-tongue he'd taught himself from Bilbo's and Frodo's books. Frodo sat next to him, speaking fluently, his voice almost as musical and beautiful as those around him. Sam knew Frodo was telling the Elves about him; he could tell that much from Frodo's face and the keen eyes of the Elves that glanced at him, soft smiles touching their faces. Sam tried not to blush under their gaze, but eventually he lowered his eyes and Frodo gave him a gentle smile. Slowly Sam lifted his gaze up at them again, and they all smiled warmly at him, their faces radiant with joy.

After dinner, they all rose and proceeded to a spacious hall with many windows. The top was open to the starlight and the hall was filled with the gentle light of silver lamps and candles. There were cushions on the floor in soft velvet, silk, and brocade, and Frodo led Sam to a place and sat down. The conversation around them quieted as an Elf rose from her place on the right side of the hall. She smiled at the assembly, giving a special glance to Frodo and Sam, and then sang a beautiful song in her clear, lovely voice. Sam managed to catch a few words and realized the song was a hymn to Illuvatar. When she was finished, everyone in the hall, even Frodo, murmured a few words.

Then a dark-haired male Elf stood up from his place on the left and began singing. It was the hymn to Elbereth, the same one the Elves in Rivendell had sang, though some of the words were different. Another Elf played a harp alongside him. Then three more Elves rose from their places and sang hymns as well. Sam recognized one other as a song he had heard being sung in the Hall of Fire in Rivendell, but the other two were new to him, and very beautiful. When they were finished, there was some applause from the Elves, and then a female Elf rose from the place she had been sitting and walked through the center of the hall before stopping in front of the hobbits. As Sam looked up at her, she seemed to be crowned by stars, and the low light of the room set off fires in her dark hair. There was a light in her face and in her grey eyes that reminded Sam of the Lady Galadriel -- he knew that this Elf was very old and had seen many things, but she was filled with joy and love rather than weariness. She smiled gently at Frodo and Sam, then closed her eyes and began to sing.

Sam did not understand most of her song, but the sound of her voice enveloped him. It was as light as air at first, dancing like tree leaves in moonlight, the syllables coming in soft half-whispers. He began to smile brightly -- the song's rhythm reminded him of running over soft grassy fields after his children. The memory was so vivid that he could see the faces of his children once again, still flush and beautiful with the joy of childhood. Then the song became slower, yet the joy did not cease. She did not whisper anymore, but sang deeply in long notes, her voice rising so loud that it echoed deep in Sam's chest and made him tremble. But Sam's smile did not fade, and tears sprang to his eyes and fell softly onto his cheeks. He looked over at Frodo, and to his surprise silent tears were running down his face as well.

Her voice rose until it reached a note that she held for what seemed like forever, and Sam felt his heart would burst from the pure joy of it. He heard Frodo take in a breath beside him and hold it, and he gripped Sam's hand harder...Sam couldn't remember Frodo even grabbing it. Then the long note became softer before dying out. She sang a few more syllables in the gentle half-whisper, and then she fell silent and bowed her head. There was a moment of silence that cut like a knife, and then the assembly broke out into applause. Frodo and Sam both wiped their tears away, and Frodo started laughing quietly.

The Elf gave a laugh and a smile to the two hobbits, and then she knelt before Frodo and whispered something into his ear. Frodo nodded and laughed, answering her back in her own tongue. The she faced Sam, smiling at him warmly and touching his cheek with her hand. She spoke to him in a beautiful soft voice that seemed like a new song in itself. Sam knew a few of her words, but not enough to understand what she was saying. But Frodo squeezed his hand and smiled at him. "She is Nieoma of the Teleri, and she welcomes you to Eressea. She said that her heart, and the hearts of all those assembled, are glad to see that you have finally joined me here, and that they all have delighted in meeting and honoring you. She also wanted to honor your presence by singing 'Linde Muina Vanesse', as it is my favorite song." Sam's eyes widened and he gasped, and Frodo smiled wider. "She says that she hopes you enjoyed it as much as I do."

"I did enjoy it," Sam said quietly to her. "It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard. Thank you." Frodo translated Sam's words to her, and Nieoma nodded her head and gave him a radiant smile and a gentle kiss on his forehead. Then she rose and walked to the other side of the hall and sat down. The hobbits watched her leave, then turned back to each other and smiled.

The conversation among the Elves that had started during Nieoma's greeting hushed, and several more Elves rose from their places and proceeded to the front of the hall, where there were lutes, drums, cymbals, flutes, harps, and other instruments that Sam had never seen before. They all took an instrument and began playing and singing joyfully. Many of the other Elves rose and began to dance in the center of the hall, their footsteps light and their laughter lifting Sam's heart in pure joy. Next to him, Frodo's eyes were bright with happiness, and again Sam was struck by the wonderful change that had come over him. The Frodo that he had known and loved from his youth in the Shire was back again. He was not haunted any more by shadows or pain; instead, he was filled with joy and wisdom.

Sam began to relax, and sighed in contentment. He'd eaten a great deal at dinner, even for a hobbit, and was beginning to feel sleepy. As he watched the dancing his eyelids started to grow heavy, and soon he lay down on his side on the cushions and watched through half-closed eyes. He felt Frodo's hand on his shoulder, and without being aware of it, he fell into a deep sleep, and the gentle music wove itself into his dreams. He saw a field of bright flowers growing underneath a sky dotted with white clouds, and the glint of sunlight in clear stream water, the swimming fish silver streaks under the surface. Then he saw a thick forest with the Sun peeking through the dark green canopy of tree leaves above him. Then came hills of bright green grass coated lightly with grey fog, and a ribbon of white beach with bright gems mixed in with the sand. And last he saw a woman robed in green with kind, dark eyes. Her hair was dark brown, the color of soil, and at the top of her head was a crown made of leaves and flowers and twigs that fell around her face. She smiled softly at him and his dream ended. Sam opened his eyes and slowly sat up. Frodo still sat beside him, watching the dancing with a soft smile on his face.

"I had such a nice dream," Sam said quietly. "It was lovely."

"It must have been a good one, because you were snoring so loud I thought the Elves had adopted a horn player!" Frodo laughed and Sam's jaw fell open and his cheeks reddened in embarassment. "Was I really, Mr. Frodo?" Frodo shook his head and smiled, patting his shoulder. "No, Sam...I was just teasing you. I'm sorry."

Sam sighed and chuckled. "That's a relief." He watched the Elves for a few moments, focusing on the musicians in the front of the hall. "My boy Merry used to play the fiddle. When he was learning, the racket was bad enough to make you want to climb a wall, but once all the practice got to being useful, he was wonderful. He used to play at the holiday fairs with some of the other lads and lasses. And everyone would dance, just like this."

"You've spoken of Elanor and of Merry, but you said you had thirteen in all. What about the others?" Frodo smiled, remembering the happy family he'd seen in his dream. He knew all of their names, of course, but Sam found such joy when he talked about them that he didn't want to stop him. Sam's eyes would light up, and he suddenly would look very young again.

"Well, let's see," Sam said, breaking out into a bright smile. "There's Elanor, Frodo-lad, Rosie-lass, Merry, Pippin, Goldilocks (Goldy for short), Hamfast after my Gaffer, and then lovely Daisy. Then came Primrose, Bilbo, Ruby, and Robin. The little one is Tolman, Tom, after Rose's brother, though he's not so little anymore; he's past his coming-of-age. You told me most of the older ones, 'cept for the order, because Goldy came after Merry and Pippin. And the grandchildren, of course, though that list is too long to get into right now." He paused, a fond smile on his face. "I'm so proud of all my young ones, though raising them was mighty hard at times. Hamfast was the worst of 'em, but he straightened out soon as he came of age. My Rose was such a lovely mother; I couldn't have asked for better. And we never had any one of them sicker than a fever or a broken bone. We were very lucky. They're all beautiful and strong, the whole lot of them."

"I am so happy that the Shire and your family took such good care of you, Sam," Frodo said.

"Aye, that it did," Sam replied. He looked at Frodo carefully. "Did they take care of you here, Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo's smile did not fade. "They did. But that's a story for another day, because there's a lot to tell. But I'm as well now as I've ever been." He stood up, offering his hand to Sam. "Let's take a walk. The city is beautiful at night."



Like Frodo had said, Avallone was equally as beautiful under the starlight as under the sunlight; it still gleamed like pearl and many silver lamps were lit. It was a clear night, with a cool breeze that blew in from the Sea, and the stars glowed high above their heads under a shining moon. Along the walls grew vines with different colored flowers that bloomed brightly. One in particular caught his attention: a large star-shaped flower with a pearly texture. He walked up to a flower and breathed its sweet fragrance in deeply. Part of Sam felt as if he were inside some exquisite joyful dream, but the scent of the Sea in the air and the feel of the wind against his skin proved that it was real. He could hear many voices, either raised in song or in musical conversation. Their music mixed in with the distant song of the Sea and the night hum of the cicadas.

There were other Elves walking about the city under the moonlight. Some of them would nod their heads or smile in greeting to Frodo as he walked, and he would nod or smile back. Sam greeted them in what little he knew of their language, and they would laugh in delight. Frodo introduced Sam to them, sometimes in the Elven-tongues and sometimes in the Common Speech. They all knew of Sam and his deeds: apparently the story of the Ringbearer and his faithful companion was well-known among them. "Frodo has always spoken so highly of you," was said more often than not, making Sam lower his head and blush as if he were a tween again.

When they were alone again, Sam said, "That word many of them call you, 'cormacolindo'." He said it slowly, trying to wrap his clumsy tongue around the soft syllables. "It means 'Ringbearer,' doesn't it?"

Frodo smiled and nodded. "Yes! How did you know?"

"I know a small bit of Elvish, mostly what I could pick up from the books and from the King's letters; the important ones were written in it. But I remember that word especially because every year in Minas Tirith they had a festival called Cormare; Ring Day." Sam dropped his eyes slightly, a tiny smile touching his face. "It was on your birthday, Mr. Frodo. The whole festival was in honor of you, and what you did."

Frodo's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped in shock. "A festival? For me?" He straightened up, then knit his brows together and frowned. "A whole festival?"

Sam chuckled under his breath. "Aye, it was. With dancing and games and food and all sorts of things. Everyone would dress up beautifully and the minstrels would sing that song they made for you...you know, the one they sang in Cormallen. And then at the end Strider would speak to everyone, saying that even though you weren't with us any more, we should still remember you and all that you did to rid the world of the Ring. And then there was a feast at the end of the day. It was lovely; I wish you could have seen it."

"Oh, dear," Frodo said simply, lowering his eyes and pausing for a short while. "I never expected that, not at all. But they must have honored you, too, Sam, since you were there with me."

"They did." He laughed harder. "I was Mayor for nearly fifty years, and I don't remember smiling so much or shaking so many hands in one day as I did when I went to Cormare. Made me blush all the way down to my toes, it did! I tried to go whenever I was able, since it was so important to Strider and the Queen. I went" -- he paused, squinting his eyes -- "seven times in all, I think. The King and Queen lived north of the Shire for a while, so that made the trip easier.

"But it wasn't safe to take all of the little ones so far, especially when the family started getting bigger and bigger. They said, 'Sam-dad, why can't you have a holiday of your own here at home, so we can celebrate without having to go so far?' I told them that I didn't want a holiday and that Mr. Frodo was much more deserving of one, but they wouldn't have it. And so every year on my birthday they would go down to the Party Field and dance and sing all day. The mallorn would always flower then, too, and it would bloom on 'till the end of the month. I didn't know why until I asked the Queen about it, and she said I had been born on the Elves' New Year! Fancy that!"

Frodo chuckled. "I remember your birthday one year -- you were still a child then; I was young myself. Bilbo and I went to your birthday-party, and he told your Gaffer that you were especially blessed because you were born on the Elves' New Year. 'It's a magic day,' he said. 'Your boy is going to be something special, Master Hamfast.' Your Gaffer laughed, and then he said, 'Well, I hope my boy has magic enough to keep the taters and marigolds growing, at least!' It was very funny."

The hobbits walked through the streets and pathways to the center of the city, where the Tower of Avallone stood. There was a light at the very top that radiated out above their heads out into the darkened sky. Above the gate that opened to it was another stained-glass window, illuminated by the lamps in the courtyard around it. It was the image of an island filled with trees and green hills in the middle of a gently rippling Sea. On the right side of the window swam a great Man with a helm crested like a white wave, his body seeming to come out from the water itself. His arm was extended, and he was pointing to the left. Underneath the shore of the island swam a woman with long dark hair that flowed out behind her, mixing in with the blue-green water of the Sea. She had a sweet, gentle smile on her face. At the left side of the picture swam a bearded figure who laughed brightly like a child. Sam smiled as he looked at him.

Frodo began speaking quietly. "Back when the Elves first awoke, Orome, one of the Valar, found them by accident when he was hunting the fell creatures of the Enemy. The Valar instantly loved the Elves and wanted to protect them from evil, so this island was taken from where it had been in the Sea and brought to where they dwelt to take them West to Valinor. It was a long journey -- this was ages before the Straight Road was opened -- and there were many of them who desired to go. That's what this picture shows: the person coming out of the water is Ulmo, Lord of the Waters, and he guided Eressea to the West with his servants Osse and Uinen and others the Elves did not see. But some of the Elves grew to love this place because of the starlight and the Sea and its closeness to the light of Valinor, and they stayed here and built this city. They were allied with the Numenorians before it fell. And other Elves who came West made their homes here, and made Avallone even more beautiful." He smiled softly. "The Elves leave that light on every night, so that anyone travelling the Straight Road can find their way home."

The two hobbits stood together looking at the Tower for a few more moments before walking back through the lamplit streets to Frodo's room.



Frodo lit a single candle on a table beside the bed: its small golden glow left the room in comfortable shadow. He then opened the windows, and Sam, sitting on the edge of the bed, smiled at the stars that were visible in the night sky. Though he wasn't very cold, Frodo had pulled an extra blanket out for him, and he wrapped himself in its silky warmth.

The hobbits lay for a while in the bed listening to the murmur of the voices in the hall. It was very soothing, and Sam felt his eyelids growing heavy once more. He had extraordinary strength for a hobbit his age, but he was not accustomed to staying up so late. Frodo, however, still seemed quite alert and Sam could see little sleepiness in his eyes. But he had settled in next to Sam all the same, curling up on his side underneath the blankets.

"That song was so beautiful, Mr. Frodo," Sam finally whispered, still in awe. He could hear her voice in his head, the echo of her melody still lifting his heart long after it was over.

Frodo smiled next to him, his eyes glowing bright in the candlelight. "Do you want to know what she was singing about?" he asked.

Sam laughed. "To tell you the truth, I'm a bit afraid to find out. It was such a lovely song and I'd be mighty disappointed if it were about something simple." He paused. "But then again Elvish songs are never about simple things, are they?"

"Some of them are," Frodo replied. "Elves have lullabyes, and children's songs, and simple hymns and songs of thanks. Sometimes the most beautiful songs are about the simplest things."

"Is your song about simple things?" Sam asked.

Frodo laughed quietly, a wide smile on his face. "Yes, I suppose it is. It's about the fields and hills of Valinor. It talks about how flowers of every color stretch for miles there, and the way the sunlight looks as it shines through the tree branches. And how clear and warm the water is if you swim in it." He sighed. "I'm not sure why it touches me so. I first heard it not long after I came here, when I still used to ache inside for the Shire. Even though I didn't understand it at first, something about that song took the ache away." He paused, looking far away for a moment, then spoke again. "Are you disappointed?"

"No, not at all," Sam answered, thinking about the dream he'd had while asleep in the hall. "In fact, I think I like it even more now."

"I'm glad to hear that," Frodo said. His wide grin had been replaced with a warm content smile that crinkled up the lines around his eyes. He turned around and snuffed out the candle on the table beside the bed, then settled into the pillows once more.

They did not speak again, but lay next to each other like they had countless times before, in much more dire circumstances. Sam smiled as he listened to Frodo's even breathing, enjoying the presence of the friend he had missed for so long. He reached out, searching for Frodo's fingers, and he felt Frodo's soft warm hand grip his in the darkness. A feeling of peace came over him as he fell into a deep sleep and untroubled dreams.



He was near the end of one of those dreams when he noticed that the side of the bed next to him was cool. He opened his eyes and raised his head off his warm pillows, and through the morning light he saw Frodo moving silently about the room. "Mr. Frodo?" he called groggily. "Do you need me?"

Frodo chuckled softly, then walked back toward the bed. "Sleep, Sam," Frodo said, tucking the covers around him. "There's no need to get up." He ran his fingers through Sam's hair and then touched his shoulder and walked away. Sam closed his eyes again and was soon fast asleep.

He rose later in the morning feeling more refreshed than he had in twenty years. After he dressed and cleaned himself up, he went in search of Frodo, wandering through several hallways and rooms until he reached the garden. Frodo was sitting on a bench, reading one of the letters Sam had given him. He was laughing loudly as he read it, but turned his head toward Sam and grinned at him. "Hullo, Sam!" He patted the seat next to his, indicating for Sam to sit down.

"Hullo, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, taking the seat next to him. The sunlight was sublimely warm against his skin and the air smelled richly of blooming flowers. "I'm sorry I slept so long."

"Don't be sorry at all; I was the one who was up early. I don't need very much sleep. Four or five hours is more than enough to keep me satisfied." Indeed, Frodo looked awake and well-rested, as if he had slept a whole night and not merely half the time. "I didn't even expect you to be awake yet...I'm sorry if you had a hard time finding me."

Sam shook his head. "No, not at all." He smiled. "I heard you laughing before. Whose letter were you reading?"

"Pippin's, who else?" Frodo replied, tipping his head to the letter. "He was telling a story about how his grandson hid in a pantry closet and nearly scared the cook to death. I remember once, when he was a lad, he did that same thing at Bag End and gave Merry such a fright that we all thought he'd seen a ghost. Bilbo was so mad when he found out the truth! Pippin was a perfect little rascal."

"And his young ones followed in his footsteps," Sam said with a chuckle. "His son Faramir is married to my Goldilocks." He smiled with a bit of pride. "She's very beautiful, with golden hair like her sister Elanor. She loves dancing most of all: she's so graceful, just like her mother was. Fancy that, my grandson's in line to be the Thain! My Gaffer would never had thought that at all, given a few ages to think it over." He laughed again. "What else did Pippin say?"

"I've only read part of the letter; it's quite long. He said so much about himself and his family...I'm glad that he's happy and well. And I've read Merry's already: he told me about his family and many things that went on in Buckland. I can't believe he's married to Estella, of all people! They used to hate each other growing up; once when the Bolgers were visiting Bag End he and Fatty snuck up on her and put mud in her hair. I remember afterward, she came running up the Hill screeching and dripping in mud and Merry laughed so hard he couldn't stand up. 'I'll get you for this, Meriadoc Brandybuck!' she screamed. Oh, I'll never forget that."

"That she did," Sam said with a smile. "She did get him in the end."

Frodo sighed. "I've missed them so much. I wanted to spare them the goodbye at the last, because I wasn't sure if they would understand why I had to leave. They were so happy; I didn't want to trouble them with my grief. I never wanted to trouble anyone with it, least of all you. And I was afraid that they would try and stop me from leaving if I told them. It was hard enough to leave you and Rose and Elanor, I wasn't sure if I could leave them, too. That's why I waited so long to tell you where I was really going. But when they came at the very end, I realized I had been thinking only of myself...I wanted to say goodbye to them. Gandalf knew it. And when they came to see me off I was glad -- not only because I could have my chance to say goodbye, but because you wouldn't have to go home alone." Frodo's voice started to crack and tears sprang to his eyes. "Sam, they were okay, weren't they? They weren't...jealous of you, that you were able to come here and they had to stay behind again?" He suddenly looked very young, much like the tween neighbor Sam had known in his childhood.

He leaned forward and embraced Frodo, hot tears running down his cheeks. "They loved you so much, Mr. Frodo, more than you realized. They knew why you left, and they knew had faith that you were happy and you didn't hurt any more. They were the ones that helped me through it, if you could believe that. And no, they weren't jealous of me. They didn't really want to come West. They loved the Elves but their hearts were down south, in Gondor and Rohan. They told me before I left that they were thinking about going on one last adventure, too, to see the White City and Edoras again. They were just waiting for the right time. They're happy; don't you worry about them at all." He wiped away the tears with the back of his hands. "My, it seems we both've been crying ever since I came here! It's a good thing, I suppose."

Frodo wiped his tears away and laughed. "Yes, yes it is." He tipped his head down toward where Merry's letter sat beside him. "I had quite a shock this morning, when I was reading Merry's letter and I saw the date on it. I can't believe it's been sixty years since I left the Shire! I did not know. I mean, I know that time has passed, of course -- the Elves do keep records, and there are holidays and festivals each year. But I don't think I remember sixty years' worth. Bilbo kept a Shire calendar when he was alive, and for a while after he died I tried to keep it, but then the days started running together and I lost track of time. Eventually, I was hopelessly lost and I stopped doing it." He laughed. "I suppose when you become set in your ways, time certainly does move quickly."

"That's the truth, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied with a laugh. "Before I knew it my little ones were all grown up and getting married, and I was considered old by Shire standards. Old! Aside from a few cricks in my bones and creases in my face, I feel pretty fine. Could never get the young ones to understand that, though. They were always worrying that I would get sick if I stayed outside too late or if I worked in the garden too much. They even tried to get me to stop doing it -- my boy Robin wanted to take over! I told them I would work in my garden as long as I could get up and walk to it. 'I've been tending this garden here for well on ninety years, and I don't plan to stop now!' I said. I only gave up being Mayor because I was bored with it, not because I felt old. Too many silly banquets year after year."

Frodo responded with a jolly laugh that brought tears to his eyes. "I can just see you saying, 'Another banquet? Didn't we just have one?' They must have thought you had gone completely mad!" Then Sam started laughing, and both hobbits sat in the garden laughing until tears rolled down both their faces and their sides ached. Looking at Frodo wipe away the tears from his eyes, Sam was struck again with a wave of happiness at seeing his long-missed friend again. "You want to know something strange, Mr. Frodo?" he asked.

"I suppose so, if you're willing to tell me," Frodo said, raising his brows mischeviously. Sam smiled, then went on. "Well, after you left I always yearned for the Sea, just as the Elves do when they see it. There were times when it was stronger and other times when it was weaker, but it never truly left my heart. Rose knew it, bless her; before she passed on she told me, 'Samwise, I know the sound you hear in the quiet at night. When the time is right, you follow it and pay no matter to what anyone else says.' But after I was free to go, I wasn't sure about coming, though I'd always dreamed of it. I was scared that you might not want to see me again, or that my coming might bring up something unpleasant that you'd rather forget. I was scared, too, that you might have died and I would come here and find naught but your grave, and I don't think I could have taken that.

"But one night a few weeks ago I had a dream that I was at some sort of party -- oh, it was beautiful, like nothing I've ever seen before -- and you were with me. And you looked older than I'd remembered you to be, like you do now, but you were so happy that it brought tears to my eyes. My heart told me that nothing had ever changed between us and that I was foolish for thinking so, but I never believed it until then. Then I was on the sand, staring out at the Sea in the sunset, just like it was when you left, and I heard this voice say to me, 'He's still waiting for you. Listen to the call of the Sea. Don't be frightened.' When I woke up, I knew that you were alive and well and I decided to come here and find you. I wanted to see the Sea again so much I could nearly smell the salt in the wind when I was outside. So I packed my things, said goodbye to my family, and I came on one last adventure to find you again. And when I saw you yesterday...I've had so many happy moments in my life, but that one was the best, I think."

Frodo smiled, then reached forward and held Sam's cheeks in his hands. "It was the happiest moment of my life, too, Sam." He paused for a moment, lowering his head. "Thank you...thank you so much for coming here."

"Like I told you before, Mr. Frodo. It weren't nothing." Sam grasped his friend's hand and stroked the palm with his fingers. "I'm glad to be here."



A week later, Frodo took him on a short walk away from the city and down to the seashore on the east side of Eressea. The Sun was shining radiantly, but the wind from the Sea kept the air light and cool. The blue-green water was as clear as glass, and the soft white sand sparkled under their feet. They walked for a bit on the shore until they found a quiet spot to sit and have lunch.

Afterward, Frodo stripped off his light jacket and vest and rolled up his breeches, then walked across the sand and into the water until it reached nearly up to his waist. Sam stayed far back on the shore, just in front of the sand dunes that stretched before the green hills. Frodo was not reckless at all, but Sam watched him quite nervously, afraid that somehow the small waves would wash him away, or that he would lose his footing and sink under the water. "Don't be a old ninny, Samwise," he muttered to himself. "Mr. Frodo's got that bit of Brandybuck in him, you know how they like the water. And he's been living here more than half his life, he's used to it. There's no reason to get yourself all upset." But he still felt nervous, despite his scolding.

Eventually Frodo noticed his distress and walked back over to where he sat, smiling and then sitting down himself. The sand stuck to his wet trousers, leaving white patterns across his thighs and legs. "Are you all right? You looked a bit frightened."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, lowering his head. "I'm just scared of the water; you know how I am. A walk through a puddle was always enough of a swim for me."

"Well, it's a beautiful day and the water is wonderful," Frodo said. "Today's a good a day as any to go for your first swim."

Sam's eyes widened in shock. "A swim?" he asked in a shaky voice. Then he straightened up and tried to look calm. "Um...I'm just fine sitting here, thank you." He patted the sand and nodded. "It's not moving."

Frodo looked deep into his eyes, his face becoming serious. "I promise, nothing will happen to you. We won't go in far, and I'll hold your hand the entire time. I won't lose you."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo, but I don't think I can." Sam shook his head, looking away from Frodo's imploring eyes. He'd crack if he had to look Frodo straight in the eye. He felt Frodo's gentle touch on his shoulder. "Please? Trust me. I want you to come in with me, just for a little while."

Then Sam made his mistake: he raised his eyes and looked at his friend, and under Frodo's pleading gaze, he lost. "Oh, all right!" he said with a sigh. "I'll go in if you want me to. I've always done what you asked me to."

Frodo laughed merrily, rising and grasping Sam's hand. "Come on!" Frodo was laughing and smiling brightly, but Sam bit his lower lip, trying to hide how nervous he really was. 'You've faced worse things than this,' he said to himself, but that still didn't stop the shaking of his knees and the queasy knot in his stomach.

After Frodo helped him out of his jacket and waistcoat, he clasped his right hand tightly, and Frodo wrapped his left arm around Sam's shoulders. They walked together slowly down the stretch of beach. Frodo's arm was strong around his shoulders. "Come on, Sam," he said quietly, the sound of his voice blending in with the roar of the waves. "You can do this." Sam nodded, staring at the white sand below him.

Then they reached the water. It felt warm on his feet and the sand felt soft between his toes. White froth rushed past him and onto the shore, then receded back just as quickly. Taking slow steps, they went further from the shore and deeper into the Sea. The water was at Sam's ankles, then up to his knees, and finally heading towards his hips. Frodo clasped his hand tightly and kept a protective arm around his back, ever patient, whispering soft words of encouragement. Sam could see the waves crashing in a few feet before them, white tips blending into the blue-green water. "Are we going out that far?" he asked in a shaky voice. "No," Frodo said. "This is as far as we'll go." The waves crashed in front of them, but the water was calm where they stood waist-deep. The feel of the sand was reassuring under his feet, and he curled his toes a bit.

Then Frodo started laughing. "Look down!" he said, tipping his head. Fish were swimming underneath the water near them, the sunlight glinting on their scales and making them glow silver. Sam opened his mouth and gasped in surprise, then laughed as he watched the fish dart around them.

They stayed in a few long minutes, feeling the rhythm of the water as it rushed into the shore and back out again. Sam stared ahead, listening to the crashing sound of the waves. He'd heard the sound often since his first glimpse of the Sea at the Grey Havens, and he enjoyed being so close to it. The warm wind from the east stirred his hair, and he took in deep breaths, gathering in the scent of the water.

Frodo slowly guided Sam back to the shore, smiling the entire time. They stretched out on their backs on the blanket they had brought with them, letting the sunlight dry their clothing. "How did you like it, Sam?" Frodo asked.

"Well, it was nice, as far as swimming goes," he said, "but I'm not sure if I would be able to do it very often. I still like it here on the shore much better."

Frodo smiled and patted Sam's shoulder. "That's all right. I'm glad that you came in with me." He sat quietly for a moment, turning his head and looking at the water. "The Elves say that the Sea echoes with the voices of all those that have come before us. They also say that it's the only place where the Music that was sung before the world came to be can be heard. It's just a small part of it, but it's there, so that we never forget where we came from."

"Maybe that's why it stays with you, wherever you go," Sam said quietly. Frodo nodded, looking deep into his eyes. "Maybe," he whispered.

They headed home as the Sun was lowering before she set. Sam discovered he had been given his own room next to Frodo's, along with beautiful furnishings, new clothes, and finely made bedding from the Elves, all made specifically for him. Frodo had known the whole time, of course: it had been his job to get Sam away for the day while the room was prepared. The stained-glass window in Sam's new room had a beautiful forest with a family of deer running about in it, and fish with silver scales jumped out of a clear blue lake with gently rippling waves. "That reminds me of your song, Mr. Frodo," he said with a broad smile. "And of today."

As he lay in his bed that night, he could still feel the rhythm of the waves, rocking him slowly. It was a remarkably peaceful feeling. "Someday I'll have to go back in, if only to feel this again," he whispered. He was surprised to discover that the idea didn't scare him as much as he thought it would. "Seems like I can learn something new, after all," he murmured as he drifted off, the memory of the Sea's rhythm inside his body.

Text © Arien