CHAPTER 25: THE ROAD TO THE GREY HAVENS

For that evening they tried to forget the future and just enjoy being together, affirming Frodo’s fatherhood.

‘So, it would seem that all the Shire knows,’ said Frodo, dryly.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Merry, helping himself to more lamb and potato and pouring a liberal helping of gravy over it. ‘I told you that our Pip was under suspicion.’ He looked apologetically at Rosie as she gasped. ‘It was just Sandyman’s stirring, Rosie. I don’t think he’ll be giving any more trouble on that score.’

‘I think we just know you so well,’ said Pippin, reassuringly. ‘And we’re the only ones to see you with Elanor. That’s the real-give away, if you ask me. I never thought I’d see you so... well, happy and paternal, I suppose. Even when you’ve been at your most anxious, you just have to take Elanor in your arms and you’re a different hobbit.’ He grinned. ‘Elanor’s doting father, instead of Frodo Baggins of Bag End.’ He turned to Sam. ‘I was worried it might cause problems between the three of you, but I’m glad to see that’s not the case.’

Merry pointed his fork at Pippin and spluttered. ‘You... you untrustworthy Took! You asked on the way over, didn’t you? “Is everything all right between Frodo and Sam?” Why didn’t you say something? You must have guessed that’s why I came to fetch you.’

‘Well, you were enjoying your secret so much, Merry,’ said Pippin, grinning. ‘I didn’t like to spoil it for you.’ He raised his glass, amidst the laughter. ‘A toast,’ he said, ‘to the lovely Rosie Gamgee!’

‘To the lovely Rosie Gamgee,’ they chorused. Rosie blushed, and Sam pushed back his chair and went to his wife’s side. He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet and into his arms.

‘The best lass in all the Shire,’ he said, and kissed her until she was laughing and breathless.

‘Get on wi’ you, Samwise Gamgee,’ she said, but her eyes were shining.

None of them mentioned Frodo’s dilemma - to leave or not - but the knowledge that the decision was still to be made curbed their exuberance, and as the wine went down there was a tendency for them all to become maudlin. Eventually Sam extracted Frodo from the tearful embraces of his cousins and took him to bed. They did little more than cling together, but over the following weeks Frodo gradually regained his desire and potency, until one hot Forelithe night they moved together in want and longing. Frodo cried out his need, and Sam drew him close, thrusting deep. They came in unison with remembered glory and splendour, but the joy cut too deep. They collapsed together and gave their grief full rein, weeping until they lay exhausted and shivering in each other’s arms. They did not need to speak of it, but by mutual consent they both shied away from such a storm of emotion; their lovemaking became muted, little more than the touch of well-loved hand. They could not live from day to day if their grief was that raw and exposed, and so they shuttered it down, avoiding the heights in order to avoid the depths.

In this way, they found a quiet joy in each other’s company, but Sam gently chided Frodo for spending so much time writing.

‘I must finish it; you do see that, don’t you, Sam?’

‘Of course I do, my love,’ said Sam, standing behind Frodo’s chair and wrapping his arms round the front of Frodo’s chest. Frodo leant back into Sam’s embrace, tilting his head up, and Sam bent to meet him in a kiss. Frodo closed his eyes and let the rhythm flow through him, warm and arousing; he reached up, sliding his fingers into Sam’s hair and pulled him closer, deeper. Oh, Sam! I love you. Sam slid one hand up Frodo’s neck to cup his upturned chin, and Frodo hummed softly in pleasure as their lips and tongues worked together. Gradually, they eased into little nips and after-kisses, before separating to gaze into each other’s eyes.

‘It’s a lovely day,’ said Sam gently, ‘and I was wondering if you would like to come for a walk with your Sam. Don’t just sit indoors all day. It ain’t good for you, me dear.’

Frodo smiled up at him, saddened by the pain in his Sam’s eyes. ‘You sound like Bilbo,’ he said.

‘Well, there’s worse hobbits to sound like,’ answered Sam.


They went out together most days after that; mostly short walks, but there were occasional long forays into the Shire as Frodo’s strength and stamina continued to improve. To Frodo - and he suspected to Sam - the walks were very reminiscent of the time leading up to his fiftieth birthday. The only difference was that then he had wondered if he would ever see the Shire again; now he knew he would not. Whatever happened, this was the last changing of the seasons he would see in his own land.

An evening in late Afterlithe found them once more standing on the northernmost slopes of the Green Hills and looking towards the lights of Hobbiton and Bywater. The sun had not long set, but the moon would be rising in the east shortly to dim all but the brightest constellations. As before, a nightingale was singing, while in the valley a barn owl was hunting over the meadows: a silent white ghost in the starlight. Frodo sighed.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Sam softly, taking his hand as they stood together. ‘So you might as well say it.’

‘I doubt I’ll ever see this sight again,’ said Frodo quietly. ‘But it’s still very comforting to think of all those hobbits safe in their homes. I wish I knew, without a doubt, that you will be safe, Sam - after I’m gone.’ He shivered slightly, and Sam drew him into his arms. They nuzzled against each other.

‘Nîn meleth, have you decided?’ murmured Sam.

‘No, Sam. At least, it is more likely now that I will leave, but I am still not settled in my mind. I would like to believe that Elanor will understand. I see glimpses of her, here and there about the smial and garden - sometimes a small child, sometimes older - and she always seems happy. I think it will be better for you if I go.’ He pressed a kiss against the cool skin of Sam’s neck. ‘And maybe what is best for you, in the end will be best for her.’

Sam’s arms tightened around him, and his breath whispered warm in Frodo’s ear. ‘I want you to do what is best for you, dear one,’ he said.

Frodo turned in Sam’s arms to lean back against him, looking out over the valley once more. He raised one hand to Sam’s face, and felt a kiss pressed against his palm. ‘Barn owls are one of my favourite birds,’ he said, and was aware of Sam’s lips spreading in a smile against his skin.

‘Along with the swifts screeching round the smial in summer,’ said Sam. ‘And the skeins of geese arriving in winter, and the pretty goldfinches and long-tailed tits, and...’

‘Well, all right. Point taken. I do have a lot of favourites.’ Frodo was tempted to add “Think of me when you see them”, but that was to imply that Sam would forget him, would need to be reminded of him. He raised his other hand to wipe his face. The owl glided across the grassland and then flapped its long wings to gain height; there was not even the whisper of sound for a hobbit to hear. ‘How do you think they manage to make no noise?’ he asked, and was glad to hear his voice sounded steady.

‘One of life’s mysteries,’ said Sam, and briefly loosened his hold on Frodo to wipe his face against his sleeve. They stood watching the owl until it flew away to the west, and then they stirred. Frodo turned to face Sam again, and they kissed with great tenderness. The song inside Frodo was a sad lament; his mouth and hands carried the slow refrain, and he felt it echoed in Sam’s movements. As they parted, they both shivered at the same moment.

‘Time we were walking on,’ said Sam, rubbing Frodo’s arms to warm him. ‘We’ve stood still too long.’ Frodo nodded. They turned for home as the moon rose above the horizon. The brisk walk warmed them, and any residual chill was banished as they curled together in bed.


Now that Elanor was waking less to disturb Rosie’s sleep, Sam was spending more and more nights with Frodo, but there were still some times that Frodo slept alone. Lying awake a few nights later, and wishing there was more than the lingering scent of Sam in his bed, he was no nearer making a final decision. The year had moved into Wedmath, and by the next month he must decide.

‘Frodo?’

‘Yes, Gandalf?’

‘You are still troubled about this decision, are you not?’

‘Yes. Yes, I am. You said I would see my way, but I simply can’t do so.’

‘We have been thinking long and hard, Frodo. We want what is best for you. We believe that you can find healing over the sea, and we wish that for our Ringbearer with all our hearts. We have been saddened more than you know by your illness, and gladdened by Sam’s care of you. We are troubled by your grief at leaving him.’

‘I do understand that it would never have been the right course to take Sam with me, Gandalf, even if you allowed it. Even if he was not married, and even if I were not relying on him to be a father to my child.’

‘We have come to the conclusion that you are right. It is not possible for Sam to go into the West - yet.’

Frodo lay very still, even the rise and fall of his chest halting as he forgot to breathe.

‘Yet?’ In thought it was possible to speak quietly, and this was the merest whisper.

‘Sam needs the Shire, as the Shire needs Sam, but we believe that there will come a time when that is no longer true, a time when he will be ready to follow you. He will be older - old for your kind, maybe - but I do not think that will worry you. It will seem a longer wait for Sam, but he is patient. He too has been a Ringbearer, but it is for your sake that this will be allowed.’

‘I will see Sam again?’

‘We can make no guarantees, Frodo. There are many perils in the world. But if he seeks the way, I can promise you, he will be granted passage.’

Frodo took a great shuddering breath and pulled Sam’s pillow towards himself, hugging it close and burying his face in the depression left by Sam.

‘Frodo?’

‘I... yes, I’m still here. I just...I’m... ’

‘In that case, I will talk to you again tomorrow. Would you like some help to sleep?’

‘NO! I mean... no, thank you.’

‘Goodnight, Frodo.’

‘Gandalf, thank you!’

Frodo had no wish to sleep. His tears were soaking into Sam’s pillow, but he had no wish to stop. All he wanted to do was treasure the image of Sam restored to him.

The latch of his door clicked, and Sam slipped into his bed and wrapped him around with his love and concern.

‘Hush, Frodo, me dear, hush now. Your Sam’s here. Why didn’t you tell your Sam you needed him to stay? Hush now.’

‘Oh, Sam. I’ve made your pillow all wet.’

‘Don’t you worrit yourself over a little thing like that. I’ve turned it over for now, and I’ll dry it off in the morning.’

‘I’ve decided, Sam. I’m leaving.’

Sam gave a sob and tightened his arms around Frodo. ‘Hush, me dear,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Don’t cry.’ There was relief in his voice. ‘It’s better that than you staying. I couldn’t have borne the thought of burying you.’ He tried to kiss Frodo, but they were both weeping too much. They settled for holding each other tight until their breathing came easier, and they drifted into sleep. Still wrapped together, they slept until morning, when they greeted each other with a rich mix of kisses. Light kisses, ranging over face and neck, turned to fleeting catches of lip between lips, before mouths sealed together. They each took what the other had to give, and as the intensity built there was a hint of desperation in the way they gave and received every moment of enjoyment, pressing their bodies close. The desperation passed, though, and gradually they relaxed into an acceptance of what was to be. Their movement slowed again, gentled and became a means of comfort. They parted and rested forehead to forehead.

‘When will you leave?’ whispered Sam, fresh tears spilling.

‘Not before I have to,’ answered Frodo. ‘We have a few more weeks together.’


They were weeks of quiet companionship. Frodo spent much of his time writing, shutting himself away in the study. Sam came and sat with him whenever he had a free moment, smoking a pipe or drinking a mug of ale, but not speaking to distract him. He didn’t ask to see what Frodo was writing, but was just there, filling Frodo with a sense of peace. If Frodo laid aside a quill, Sam would quietly pick it up and take out his knife, whittle it into shape again, and place it ready to hand for when it was needed. He made sure Frodo stopped for meals, but made no complaint if Frodo wanted to write on far into the evening.

Frodo devoted some part of each day to Elanor. She was sleeping less as the weeks passed, and he took her from Rosie and entertained her while Rosie worked. She could hold her head up now, and Rosie often worked one-handed with Elanor perched on her hip. When Frodo appeared, Elanor reached out to him with her small hands, opening and closing her fingers and leaning towards him.

‘Here’s your Dada, sweetheart,’ said Rosie as Frodo gathered their daughter into his arms.

‘Goo goo goo,’ said Elanor happily. She smiled at him and grabbed his hair.

‘When do they first say “dada”?’ asked Frodo, uncurling her fingers.

‘Not ‘til they’re seven months at the earliest, so maybe end of Win’filth, or Blotmath,’ said Rosie, without thinking. Frodo let his face become a mask to hide his distress, and Rosie gave a cry. ‘Oh, Frodo! I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking.’

‘It’s all right, Rosie. It was foolish of me to want it.’

‘Some are more forward, my dear, but they usually manage the mama sound first.’

Frodo nodded and carried Elanor out into the garden in search of Sam. Sam stopped working when he saw them, as he always did, and Elanor bounced happily in Frodo’s arms.

‘Here’s your Sam-dada,’ said Frodo, as he and Sam embraced around the child they shared as their own.

‘Ga ga ga,’ said Elanor.

They sat together on the ground, and Frodo laid Elanor on her back in the shade. Sam produced a smooth block of wood from his pocket, and gave it to her. She chewed on it, kicking her legs and gurgling on in baby talk to her admiring audience. Sam slipped his arm around Frodo; they leaned together and kissed before returning their gaze to the entertainment before them.

‘She still seems so small, but when I held her in my lap yesterday, I realised how much she’s grown,’ said Frodo in wonder.

‘Look at that, now,’ said Sam. Elanor had dropped her wooden block and was trying to roll over to get it. One arm was caught under her body, and she couldn’t quite manage to manoeuvre over it. Frodo helped her over, and she raised her head to look around, bobbing slightly with the effort.

‘She’ll be doing that on her own, soon,’ said Sam, but Elanor had decided that, having arrived on her front, she was not where she wanted to be. She made little mewling noises, and Frodo knew their meaning well: “Ignore me and I’m going to cry”. He picked her up again and settled her on his lap, supporting her under her arms. Sam held the block out for her; she smiled and chewed on it with her gums, happy again.

Frodo was looking rather pensive, and Sam touched his cheek. ‘I will look after her, Frodo,’ he said.

Frodo smiled sadly at him. ‘I know, Sam,’ he said. ‘I’m lucky to have this much. When she’s older, and you tell her, you will tell her that I love her, won’t you?’

Sam nodded. ‘Of course I’ll tell her,’ he said, wiping the corners of his eyes, ‘but have you thought of leaving her a letter, or something?’

Frodo leaned in and kissed him. ‘It’s already written, Sam,’ he said.


In addition to times spent together in the day, Frodo and Sam were always together at night now. Sam apologised to Rosie for this. ‘I’m sorry, lass,’ he said, taking her hand as he wished her goodnight. ‘It’s hard on you. But the time’s so short, I grudge every moment away from him. You do understand, don’t you?’

Rosie hugged him and nodded. She looked tired and pale, and her eyes were overly bright. Sam felt torn, but there was no doubt in his mind as to where his priority lay.

Merry and Pippin came more frequently than ever, and the four Travellers smoked a pipe together in the garden as the year moved through Halimath. Frodo and Sam were sitting on the bench, twined together, wanting more and more contact as the end drew nearer.

‘We must go tomorrow, Frodo,’ said Merry, ‘but we’ll be back for your birthday.’

‘I do not know the exact day I will leave,’ said Frodo quietly, ‘but I may not be here for my birthday.’ Sam’s arms tightened around him, then released him as his cousins reached out to him in tears.

‘Frodo. Oh, Frodo!’ cried Merry. ‘You will tell us, you will let us know when you go!’

‘I don’t know, Merry. It may be a message will come too late. I would rather... rather we said our goodbyes here at Bag End. It is almost too hard to bear, anyway.’ He bowed his head against Merry’s shoulder and wept, and Merry held him close.

‘Frodo, I love you,’ he whispered.

‘Oh, Merry. I love you, too. And you, Pippin.’ He turned into Pippin’s waiting arms. ‘You have been such friends to me.’ They all wept together, but as the evening deepened to night, and they returned to the smial, they turned to reminiscence. Rosie sat quietly in the corner, her eyes red, and listened as they told stories about each other.


It was a few days later that Frodo called Sam into his study. ‘It will be Bilbo’s birthday very soon,’ he said, as he held the door open.

Sam looked at him in surprise. ‘Well, yes, of course,’ he said. ‘And yours, my love.’ Frodo shut the door, but showed no sign of sitting. Sam shifted his weight uneasily; he had been waiting day by day for Frodo to announce his departure, and he was getting anxious. Frodo fidgeted with a pen on his desk, and then met Sam’s gaze.

‘He will pass the Old Took: he will be a hundred and thirty-one,’ he said quietly.

‘So he will!’ exclaimed Sam. ‘What with everything else, I’d forgotten. He’s a marvel! It’s a pity we can’t be with him.’

‘Well, Sam,’ said Frodo carefully, as though he were holding himself in check. He paused, and Sam’s chest tightened in anticipation of what was coming. This was surely it. Frodo cleared his throat, and his next words confirmed Sam’s suspicions. ‘Will you ask Rosie if she can spare you?’ he said. ‘So that you can come with me part of the way? I’m not going to ask you to go far,’ he hurried on, as though Sam were going to object, ‘or be away for a long time, and it’s not necessary that you should. Tell Rosie you won’t be away more than a fortnight; and that you’ll come back here quite safe.’

Now Sam understood Frodo’s hesitation, understood why Frodo appeared to be waiting for some outburst. Well, he wasn’t about to disappoint. ‘But that’s not long enough!’ he exclaimed in distress. He gripped Frodo’s shoulders and searched his eyes. ‘That’s not long enough to see you safe to your journey’s end, and... and... why, I’ll be back by the sixth of Win’filth! That ain’t right! I’m not doing any such a thing. Rosie will have to spare me for as long as it takes!’

‘If we went all the way to Rivendell, you’d be away from Rosie and Elanor for two months, Sam.’

‘Well, they’ll just have to go to South Farm,’ said Sam, stubbornly.

‘Sam, my love, there’s no need. I promise you there is no need. The first stage of my journey will only take a week, and you will not be able - not be allowed - to come further with me. I will be in safe hands.’

‘Whose? Who can keep you safe?’ demanded Sam, wondering why he would not be allowed to go further and who would stop him.

Frodo sighed. ‘You know you cannot, my love. Not this time.’

Sam cupped Frodo's chin with his hand, sliding his other hand down to the small of Frodo's back to pull him close ‘So who can?’ he asked quietly as Frodo’s arms settled about his waist. He could feel Frodo’s tenseness, could see the frown furrowing his brow; Frodo was withholding something, or his name wasn’t Samwise Gamgee. ‘So who can?’ he asked again.

‘Elrond.’

‘Elrond! But that’s the point, Frodo. We’ll not be anywhere near Rivendell.’

‘He will meet me. The Elves will meet me.’

‘Where? When? How do you know they will?’

‘Elrond told me to look for him in the woods of the Shire in autumn. Before we left Rivendell, he told me.’

‘Frodo! That was two years ago! Two years ago.’ This all sounded like so much moonshine to Sam. ‘How can you be sure he will be there?’

‘He will be there, Sam. I told you before that if you don’t understand, I will stay, and I’ll add to that. If you don’t believe you are leaving me in safe hands, I will stay also.’

‘Oh, Frodo! I want to go all the way with you to Rivendell, and see Mr. Bilbo again,’ said Sam sadly. Frodo lowered his gaze and remained silent. ‘I want to come with you nîn meleth. I should never have married Rosie. I feel like I’m being torn in two.’ With a shaking hand he tucked Frodo’s hair back and traced the curve of his ear, unable to believe that the time was coming when he would lose this simple intimacy.

Frodo raised his eyes to Sam’s again and drew him into an embrace. They pressed together, and Sam’s tears came. ‘My poor Sam!,’ said Frodo gently. ‘It will feel like that, I am afraid. But you cannot come with me, and you will be healed. I believe that, and it makes the leaving easier. You were meant to be solid and whole, and you will be.’

‘It don’t feel possible,’ whispered Sam, hoarsely.

‘But it will happen, Sam. You will laugh again, and take joy in your family and home. I have seen glimpses, so think of me smiling on you when you laugh. Never feel you are wronging my memory by finding happiness in your life without me. It is my dearest wish for you to be happy, Sam. Always remember that.’

‘I love you so much, Frodo.’

Frodo blinked back his tears. ‘Feel my love every day of your life, Sam. My love will be with you always.’

‘Will I ever see you again?’

‘There is a chance, Sam. Oh, my Sam! There is a chance of that.’ They clung to each other and held to this small comfort, even as they wept together.


In the next day or two, Frodo went through his papers and his writings with Sam, and he handed over his keys. ‘My will is here, Sam. As you can see, it also applies if I leave the Shire. If any of my distant relations give you any trouble, then you can call upon the Thain, the Master and the Mayor, as well as Merry. They will make sure you keep Bag End and all my money and possessions. I cannot dictate what provisions you make in your will, but I would wish that you treat Elanor as you would if she were your own. I hope your eldest son will inherit, but I will leave that to your judgement, and I know that Elanor will be well provided for.’

Sam nodded numbly. He could see that the will was full of so much wind and verbiage such as hobbits delighted in - taking ten words to say what one word could have done, and none of them saying the truth: money and possessions were no more than dust and ashes in his mouth, and all he wanted was Frodo in his arms. He was nonetheless grateful to Frodo. He would be surrounded with the memories of his love in every waking hour; that was what he valued, not being Master of Bag End with a long purse.

Frodo picked up the big book with plain red leather covers that was so familiar to Sam, and handed it over. Sam flipped through it; its tall pages were now almost filled. At the beginning there were many leaves covered with Bilbo’s thin wandering hand, but most of it was written in Frodo’s firm flowing script that Sam delighted in. It was divided into chapters, but the last chapter was unfinished, and after that were some blank pages. Sam read a few pages at random, and looked at Frodo with an eyebrow raised in question.

‘You’ve missed a lot out, then,’ he said dryly.

‘Well, what would you have me do, Sam?’ Frodo answered. ‘This is a record for the Shire as a whole. I do not want to make difficulties for you and Rosie, or for Elanor. Our love is there for eyes to see who will, and those we hold dear know of it. You will tell Elanor when she is old enough to understand. I think it is better as it is.’

‘But you make very light of all your illness, as well,’ protested Sam.

Frodo turned the pages back to the front, where there were many titles in Bilbo’s hand, all crossed out. Sam read what Frodo had written below:

THE DOWNFALL
OF THE
LORD OF THE RINGS
AND THE
RETURN OF THE KING

‘That is the story, Sam. That is what the Shire needs to know and understand. It is not the tale of how Frodo Baggins came to love Samwise Gamgee, above all things. Nor is it the tale of how we had to part. Those things belong in our hearts, not on the page for the likes of Sandyman to read.’

‘I suppose you’re right. I wasn’t thinking of it as a record for the Shire. It’s just hard, is all.’

Frodo smiled at him and took the book; he turned the pages, and then held it out again for Sam to read. Sam read for a few moments, and then he looked at Frodo. He smiled and ran his finger back under the words. ‘Aye,’ he said,‘ “I love him, whether or no” - for eyes to see who can.’ He sighed and then smiled again. ‘Turned out there wasn’t any “no” about it, eh, my love?’

‘No, my Sam. There wasn’t any “no” at all. I loved you then, and I love you now.’

Sam turned back to the last page and studied it. ‘Why, you’ve nearly finished it!’ he said. ‘I knew you’d kept at it, but it was nowhere near this done when I last looked.’

‘I have quite finished,’ said Frodo. ‘The last pages are for you.’ He kissed Sam and took the book to lay it aside. They pressed together, unable to believe that the end was so near.


The twenty-first day of Halimath dawned, and they rose in a dream. Nothing seemed real to Sam, and he wondered if this was what it had been like for Frodo for so much of his time since their return. They breakfasted in silence while Rosie sat in the armchair, feeding Elanor. There were tears running down her face, but Frodo and Sam were dry-eyed.

Elanor finished feeding just as Sam got up to go and saddle Bill and Strider. Rosie stood as well, and Elanor leaned from her arms, holding out her hands to Frodo.

‘Da da,’ she said. ‘Da da da.’

Frodo took her in his arms and bent over her, his shoulders shaking. Sam stood at his side, and slipped his arms around them both, and kissed them in turn. ‘I’ll bring the ponies up to the gate,’ he said with a catch in his voice. ‘No need to hurry.’

Frodo swallowed and disentangled Elanor’s fingers from his hair for the last time. He kissed the tiny fist and looked at Rosie. ‘It’s hard to leave her, Rosie,’ he said, ‘but I do thank you for giving me a daughter, and for everything else you’ve done for me and Sam. You know I’ve left everything to Sam, but Sam and Elanor I leave to you. Take care of them for me.’ He shifted Elanor onto his hip, to leave an arm free to hold out to Rosie. He hugged her, and they kissed.

‘Sam has your pack and food, Frodo, but I wanted to give you this,’ said Rosie, through her tears. She handed him a leather tube, sealed at both ends. ‘It’s sealed against water, so don’t go opening it until you reach journey’s end,’ she said. ‘I hope you find healing.’

‘Thank you, Rosie,’ he said, and kissed her again. ‘I love you, my dear lass.’

‘I love you, Frodo.’

He kissed his daughter on the forehead and handed her to Rosie. Elanor reached out her hand, her fingers opening and shutting in her familiar plea for him to take her. He stood there, unable to leave.

‘Come on, little sweetheart,’ Rosie said to Elanor, her voice husky from crying. ‘We must let your dear dada go, and we must get you changed and dressed.’ She kissed Frodo on the cheek and left the room. He could hear her sobbing receding down the corridor. He took a deep breath, wiped his face and walked out of Bag End into a fair golden morning.

Sam was waiting for him at the gate. He took the tube from Frodo and strapped it on to the bedding roll, checking it couldn’t slide out to either side. There was a small crowd gathering already, drawn by the sight of the two ponies ready for a long journey, and there was some whispering as Frodo stood waiting. Sam passed him Strider’s reins, and they mounted. One of the small urchins tugged Sam’s breeches.

‘Are you going to find treasure and jools?’ he asked, his eyes as large as saucers.

Sam looked down at him. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘No, we aren’t. I’m going to lose my treasure.’ He looked at Frodo, and they nudged their ponies into a trot down the Hill and over the bridge. Frodo didn’t look back.

They rode through Bywater and then crossed the East Road, heading south across country towards the Green Hills and the Stock Road. They didn’t hurry, and made frequent stops. Sam was happy with that. He rode by Frodo’s side, and they talked of what they could see around them, not what they were feeling.

The first night, they camped in the Green Hills by a small stream. They collected firewood from a copse nestling in a fold of the hills, and Sam cooked supper. It was so like old times that he was shocked to find he was enjoying himself. They spread their bedding rolls and tangled their limbs together under the blankets. Frodo laid his head in the hollow of Sam’s neck, and Sam kissed the top of Frodo’s head, nestled under his chin. It was enough.

The unfamiliarity of sleeping rough and the rising sun woke them early, but they had no desire to hurry. As the day warmed, they rose and broke their fast, then stripped to wash in the stream. The coldness took their breath away and made them laugh at their loss of hardihood. Sam drew a towel from his pack, and they rubbed each other dry. Frodo dropped to his knees as he rubbed Sam’s thighs and between his legs, and he laid his head against the golden hair spreading down to his lover’s shaft.

‘Oh, Frodo,’ whispered Sam, his desire rising unchecked as light kisses ghosted across his skin. He pulled Frodo to his feet, and they stared into each other’s eyes.

‘There’s no hurry, Sam,’ murmured Frodo and drew him down onto the pile of blankets. Sam hardly noticed the unevenness of the ground, lying beside Frodo as they made love in slow and gentle rhythm, just using friction of body against shaft with helping hand to carry them to release. They mixed kisses with murmurings of their love as the sun climbed in the sky, until they were too far gone for such play. Together they cried out, arching their backs. Frodo thrust against Sam one last time, and then collapsed against him as they came together. They stroked each other’s faces and kissed. ‘Happy birthday, my love,’ Sam murmured. The great passion of the past had been absent, but he did not care. The loving had been sweet, and he had no wish to move.

It seemed that Frodo was in the same frame of mind: a warm glow of happiness, rather than grief of loss. They pulled the blankets over themselves, closed their eyes and slept again.

It was midday before they reluctantly rose. There was enough food that they did not need to rekindle the fire. They washed again, smiling at the waste of their earlier ablutions, and then ate, sitting quietly together.

The afternoon was wearing away as they rode gently down into the beginning of the trees. One, standing close to the road with great black roots curving up out of the grass, caught Sam’s eye. ‘Why, if that isn’t the very tree you hid behind when the Black Rider first showed up, Frodo,’ he said, pointing to the left. ‘It seems like a dream now.’

‘Yes, Sam,’ said Frodo. ‘It all seems like a dream.’

It was evening, and the stars were glimmering in the eastern sky as they passed the ruined oak and turned and went on down the hill between the hazel thickets. Sam was silent, deep in his memories. Presently he became aware that Frodo was singing softly to himself, singing the old walking-song, but the words were not quite the same.

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

And as if in answer, from down below, coming up the road out of the valley, voices sang:

A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar eleneth,
Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees
The starlight on the Western Seas.

Frodo and Sam halted and sat silent in the soft shadows, until they saw a shimmer as the travellers came towards them.

There was Gildor and many fair Elven folk; and there to Sam’s wonder rode Galadriel as well as Elrond.

‘See, Sam,’ said Frodo quietly, ‘they are wearing their Elven rings openly now.’ Sam nodded; he could see the flash of blue as Elrond raised his hand, and the single white stone set in Galadriel’s ring flickering like a frosty star. ‘Vilya and Nenya,’ said Frodo. Suddenly he gave a small cry of delight. Sam followed his gaze, and there was Bilbo himself, riding slowly behind on a small grey pony; he seemed to be nodding in sleep.

Elrond greeted them gravely and graciously, and Galadriel smiled upon them. ‘Well, Master Samwise,’ she said, ‘I hear and see that you have used my gift well. The Shire shall now be more than ever blessed and beloved.’ Sam bowed, but found nothing to say. He had forgotten how beautiful the Lady was, and his mind was trying to encompass the fact that Bilbo had ridden all this way to meet Frodo, rather than await his arrival at Rivendell.

Bilbo woke up then and opened his eyes. ‘Hullo, Frodo!’ he said. ‘Happy birthday, my dear boy. Well, I have passed the Old Took today! So that’s settled. And now I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?’

‘Yes, I am coming,’ said Frodo. ‘The Ring-bearers should go together.’

‘Where are you going, Frodo?’ cried Sam in distress, as at last he understood what was happening.

‘To the Havens, Sam,’ said Frodo.

‘And I can’t come.’ It was a flat statement.

Frodo manoeuvred Strider alongside Bill and laid his hand on Sam’s arm. He held Sam’s gaze and spoke quietly. ‘No, Sam. Not yet, anyway. Not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while, and I believe your time may come. Do not be too sad, meleth anim. You cannot always be torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.’

‘But,’ whispered Sam, as the tears, that were never far away, started in his eyes, ‘I always thought you would enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all that you’ve done. Then you were so ill, and I knew you couldn’t stay, but I hoped and hoped you might return to me. But this journey... this journey has no return!’

‘No, Sam, there is no return. For a while, I thought I could enjoy the Shire, too, but I have been too deeply hurt. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, my dearest Sam. When things are in danger, someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them.’ He tightened his hand on Sam’s arm. ‘You are my heir, Sam. All that I had, and might have had, I leave to you.’

Sam turned Bill then, away from the throng of Elves. He wanted to hide his face from the High Kindred as the tears flowed freely. Frodo had to release Sam’s arm while the ponies sidled restlessly, reacting to the emotion of their riders. He nudged Strider until the ponies pressed together again, and lifted his hand to touch the tears on Sam’s face. Sam looked at him in despair.

‘Frodo, you can’t do this,’ he cried, covering Frodo’s hand with his. ‘You can’t leave me, not like this, not forever. How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?’

Frodo hung his head and remained silent. Sam could think of nothing but his own loss. Whatever he had expected, it had not been this, and the pain in his heart was threatening to choke all words from him.

‘Frodo?’

‘I’m sorry, Sam.’ Frodo lifted his head and a tear ran slowly down his face. ‘I think I’ve known this day must come, ever since we left Rivendell. I have tried to cheat fate, I have tried to stay, because there is nowhere else I would rather be than with you, my love.’

‘Then stay! Stay with me. I can’t live without you, Frodo!’ His tears were burning hot trails over his cheeks and trickling into his collar, but he paid them no heed. He couldn’t bear the pain in Frodo’s eyes.

‘I said I would not leave, if you did not understand, Sam. If that is what you want, then I will gladly stay and die.’

‘There are things worse than death, my love. If you die, I’ll not be long to follow you; I can promise you that. But if you leave with the Elves, we are parted forever. That’s how it seems to me.’

‘Listen, Sam. Gandalf gives me hope that we will be together again. He says there will come a time when it will be right for you to follow me. Hold to that, Sam.’

‘Gandalf!’ exclaimed Sam, and could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. ‘What has Gandalf done to help you! He has not been near, these two years past. He’s left you to suffer, and left us to manage as best we can. You’ve had my love, but what is that compared to what Gandalf could have done for you, or any of these great Elves come to that! They’ve just stood back and let you fall. And now they’re going to take you from me, and I’ll not know when you wake in the night, needing me.’ He bowed his head, and his voice sank to a hoarse whisper. ‘I’ll not know if you live or die.’

He felt hopelessness wash over him. He let go of Frodo and dismounted clumsily; it was either that or fall from Bill’s saddle. He glanced at the Elves and saw that they had drawn back, a shimmer in the night. He could just make out that one held the reins of Bilbo’s pony and was leaning down, talking earnestly to the old hobbit.

Sam stood by Strider, and Frodo joined him, standing on the track in the starlight. The light that shone from Frodo seemed stronger than ever, and shimmered and sparkled through Sam’s tears. Light and high beauty that had come into his life so long ago that it almost seemed he had never been without it. He shifted Strider to act as a shield and hide them from prying eyes, and drew Frodo into his arms.

“To the ends of the earth” he had told Rosie, but this was beyond the ends of the earth, and he could not follow unbidden. And he had told her that he wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave her and Elanor. Didn’t that include leaving her in death?

Frodo ran his hands up over Sam’s chest and gripped his shoulders. He lifted his face to look into Sam’s eyes, and his words mirrored Sam’s thoughts. ‘Dear Sam,’ he said gently. ‘You have Rosie and Elanor, and you have always taken the hard choice to do what is right. I need you to take care of them, of Elanor especially; they need you. And there will be others. You will have your Frodo-lad, and Rosie-lass. There will be your own small Merry and Pippin, to give you as much trouble as the originals. And Goldilocks and Hamfast and Daisy, perhaps more that I cannot see.’ His gaze holding Sam’s was intense. ‘You will be blessed, Sam. I believe that, and I can bear this parting if I know you have this life that I have been denied. You will be my caretaker. You will carry my memory in the Shire, and hold my love in trust. I will never be truly gone from you, meleth anim. Not while you have a memory of me to hold to.’

Sam stared back into Frodo’s eyes in despair and shook his head. He felt numb. This could not be happening!

Frodo wiped the tears from Sam’s face with his thumbs and slid his hands into Sam’s hair, to hold him close as Sam bent his head in grief. ‘Your hands and your wits will be needed everywhere, Sam,’ he said, kissing him gently. ‘You will be the Mayor, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and I hope you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. Oh, Sam! I know it’s hard for you to believe now, but you will be as busy and as happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the story goes on.’

Frodo’s quiet voice was calming, but Sam’s throat was so tight with grief that he could not speak, he could only hold Frodo against him. Frodo wrapped his arms around Sam’s body, and they shifted their positions without thinking. How many times had they stood like this? Fitting against each other as though they were one?

‘The choice is yours, Sam,’ murmured Frodo, his lips brushing against Sam’s ear. ‘I mean that, my dear heart. I cannot go if you do not understand why I must go and you must stay.’

At last Sam found his voice, although it was a mere croak. ‘You say that I might still be allowed to follow you, sometime in the future?’

‘Gandalf promises that if you seek the way, you will be granted passage, but the seeking may not be until you have lived your life to the full in the Shire. That is for both our sakes, Sam, hard as it is to bear. It is not the season to transplant you to strange shores. You must stay and nurture the Shire that we love, and leave a lasting legacy through your children, through our children.’

They stood in silence, unaware of anything else around them. There was only the coolness of their cheeks resting together, the rise and fall of their chests and the warmth of their breath, the familiar scents, the overwhelming love.

At last Sam stirred and raised his head. ‘I still do not understand, nîn meleth.’

‘Then I will - ’

‘No, listen, my love. I do not understand, but I trust you. I will let you go.’

They drew back a little, to gaze into each other’s eyes again, and then their eyes closed as their lips met. Strider fidgeted beside them, but they took all the time that was needed to say everything that words could not.

Parting, they wiped the tears from each other’s faces and linked hands as they led their ponies down the hill to where they were awaited. Elrond stepped forward and held Frodo’s eye. He nodded and turned to Sam.

‘Samwise Gamgee, you have chosen well,’ he said, ‘and I count you blessed, because your loss you suffer of your own free will, and you might have chosen otherwise. The least reward you shall have is that the memory of your love shall remain ever clear and unstained in your heart.’ He laid a hand on Sam’s brow, and it seemed to Sam as though the pain within him eased a little. Elrond gathered his grey mantle close about him and turned to his horse. ‘Come, let us ride,’ he said.

There was a humpf from Bilbo, now standing by his pony’s head. ‘Master Elrond, a word if you please!’ he said, and his voice had the quaver of the very old, but the eyes he turned to Elrond were keen. Sam watched as they walked a little apart. Bilbo may have believed he was whispering to Elrond, but his words were quite clear.

‘Wise you may be, my friend, but it is obvious you have no real knowledge of hobbits!’

‘I am sorry, little master. I have only had you to study and have little experience of your kind. Gandalf is the one who has studied you for many years.’

‘And where has the wizard gone? We may have need of him.’

‘He had a message to deliver in Buckland, my friend. He did tell you.’

‘Humpf! That’s as may be, but if he were here he would be telling you that after a shock, hobbits need food and rest.’

‘So you are saying we should not ride on, yet?’

‘Yes, yes! That is exactly what I am saying. I may be old, and I may be a fool, but it is clear to me that young Sam is shocked and upset.’ Sam’s heart warmed at his former master’s thoughtfulness, and his mouth quirked at his old designation - not heard since Bilbo left Hobbiton. ‘And in any case,’ continued Bilbo, ‘I would welcome a rest for my weary old bones, and a chance to speak with Frodo.’

‘Then we will take our evening meal here, before riding further.’

The two figures, one straight and tall, the other small and bowed, turned back, and Frodo passed Strider’s reins to Sam and stepped forward to hug Bilbo to him.

‘Oh, Bilbo,’ he said. ‘It is good to see you.’

Bilbo patted his back. ‘Come now, come now,’ he said. ‘I need to sit down, even if you young fellows can stand around talking all night. Come and tell me all the gossip of the Shire. Gandalf seemed to think there was some news I should hear, but you know him: a lover of secrets. Sam-lad, give me your arm, if you please.’

Sam jumped to obey, and they moved out of the way of the bustle of preparations. Frodo loosened the girths of their ponies and let them graze, and then joined Sam and Bilbo, carrying blankets. He spread one on the grass, and they sat together, shadows in the dim light. The other blanket he wrapped around Bilbo’s shoulders.

‘So,’ said Bilbo, looking from Frodo to Sam and down to their clasped hands, ‘I heard Sam was married.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Sam. ‘Rosie Cotton, as was.’

‘Hmmm. And do you have a family?’

‘No and yes, Mr. Bilbo,’ said Sam, and Frodo’s thumb circled over the back of his hand.

‘And what’s that supposed to mean when it’s at home,’ said Bilbo, rather irritably. ‘Do try and talk sense, lad.’

‘He means, Rosie has a daughter, but she’s mine,’ said Frodo. He let go of Sam’s hand and moved next to Bilbo. He hitched the blanket, where it had fallen from the old hobbit’s shoulders, and put his arm around him.

‘What’s that? You’ll have to speak more clearly. I thought you said Sam’s Rosie has a daughter and she’s yours!’ Bilbo laughed, but his laughter faded as he looked from one to the other. ‘You did say that! Oh, my dear boy. Sam! I... Oh!’

‘It’s all right, Mr. Bilbo, sir,’ said Sam hastily. ‘Righter than right. It’s not a problem, far from it. She’s the most beautiful babe a body could want, and she’s mine by adoption, as you might say, and I couldn’t be happier about that.’ Bilbo was leaning heavily on Frodo, and his breathing was rather peculiar. ‘Are you all right, sir?’ asked Sam anxiously.

Bilbo waved his hand at Sam. ‘I’m all right, lad. I’m all right. Just rather a shock.’

‘I’m sorry, Bilbo. I thought Gandalf would have told you,’ said Frodo.

Now it was Sam’s turn to be surprised. ‘Gandalf knew?’ he said. For the first time it occurred to him to wonder how Frodo had known the Elves would be on the Stock Road and when they should set out to meet them.

Bilbo was dismissive. ‘Gandalf knows everything,’ he said, before turning to Frodo again. ‘What is her name? My dear boy, what is her name?’

‘Elanor,’ said Frodo, and he looked up at the stars. Sam was at his side in an instant, and Frodo turned into his embrace to hide his tears.

Bilbo patted Frodo’s hand awkwardly. ‘Oh, my poor boy,’ he said. ‘And you’ve had to leave her! I’m so sorry, and it’s all my fault.’

‘Now Mr. Bilbo, sir,’ said Sam. ‘You know as you shouldn’t go claiming the blame, any more’n you should go claiming to have started it, and you know what Gandalf had to say about that.’

’If it was not for... everything that happened, Bilbo,’ said Frodo, lifting his head from Sam’s shoulder, ‘I might never have known Sam’s love, and Elanor would never have been born. The parting is hard, from both of them - from Sam hardest of all - but I would not wish to forego the joy they have brought me.’ He raised his hand to Sam’s face as he leant against him, and drew him into a kiss.

In any other circumstance Sam would have been reticent about this intimacy before his old master - they had been very circumspect in front of Bilbo, in Rivendell - but now the imminent loss made him grasp any opportunity. He slid his hand up Frodo’s neck and kissed him as though there would be no tomorrow. As they parted, at a cough from Bilbo, he lowered his head, keeping his eyes closed, trying to fight back his tears.

’Hmmm. Yes. Well, I see,’ said Bilbo. ‘I hear you’ve been nursing Frodo, Samwise. You must tell me what you do, in case he is taken ill on the journey.’

Sam opened his eyes to look at Bilbo. ‘I’ve always found as kissing works best,’ he answered gravely, and Frodo gave a cough of laughter.

‘Sam!’

‘The Elves have often told me I am good with my tongue, Samwise Gamgee,’ said Bilbo, shortly, ‘but I think they were referring to my linguistic abilities.’ He caught Frodo’s eye, and they both burst into laughter. Sam grinned. ‘Oh, dear,’ said Bilbo, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. ‘You haven’t changed that much, have you, Sam?’

It was what they needed. They settled into hobbit gossip as though they were seated around the kitchen table at Bag End. Food brought the tittle-tattle to an end, and afterwards Sam fetched the ponies, tightened girths and repacked the blankets. He helped Bilbo mount his fat little pony, and then held Strider steady for Frodo. Frodo leant down and took Sam’s hand.

‘Come now; ride with me, my love,’ he said. They turned their ponies and rode back the way they had come along the Stock Road. The Elves were no more than a swift shimmer under the trees as they rode Westward with the moon, and in their midst rode Frodo, Sam and Bilbo. The hobbits were filled with sadness, but Sam felt as though the sadness was yet blessed, being unstained by any bitterness.

They rode all night, through the midst of the Shire, stopping as the first light of dawn lifted over the horizon behind them. Sam spread bedding, and they fell asleep waiting for breakfast.

Later, as they broke their fast, Sam had a grumble to Frodo. ‘Day and night,’ he muttered, ‘it’s all the same to them! So why can’t we travel at civilised times? I ain’t a badger, to go trundling about all night. You look all in, and Mr. Bilbo’s far too old for these midnight capers.’

‘I think they prefer not to be seen, Sam,’ said Frodo, ‘not by the Shire folk. It’s one reason they ride the Stock Road rather than the straighter East Road. I think they want the Shire to be just for hobbits, with no outside influence, otherwise they could have come riding up to the Hill to meet us.’

‘Well, that would have caused a stir in Hobbiton, and no mistake!’ said Sam with a smile. ‘But I’d have liked to have seen Sandyman’s face with all this great company honouring you.’


It took them a week to reach the Grey Havens. Skirting around the southern edge of the White Downs, they came to the Far Downs and hence to the Towers. Halting by the Towers, they could see the sea in the distance, grey in the light of dawn. ‘It goes on forever,’ whispered Sam.

Frodo touched his arm. ‘It has been calling me for a long time, Sam. Don’t believe Shire superstition: the sea is not a token of death.’

‘And yet it will take you from me,’ said Sam, sadly.

They camped that day by the Towers, and Sam did not leave Frodo’s side. They did not speak as they curled together to sleep, Sam cradling Frodo in his arms and folding around him. He woke to find his face was wet with tears.

They would ride through the night, and then there would be no more tomorrows.



Author's notes for this chapter


Previous Chapter - Back to Chapter Listing - Next Chapter

Home

Feedback? Always welcome here