A/N: Many thanks to GamgeeFest for helping me expand my thoughts. This story would definitely not be what it is now if not for your helpful suggestions!

Also, there are some lines taken directly from the movie, The Return of the King.

        A strange place, the sea. A place hardly known, yet strangely familiar, like an old song learned during childhood but now forgotten. A place hardly seen by anyone living in the Shire, and never mentioned by hobbits. A place so far away it almost seemed to be part of an old tale: known to exist, but never seen by the eyes of people of the present age. 

         But Samwise Gamgee saw the Sea before him and felt the warmth of the setting sun on his face as he stood beside Frodo at the Grey Havens. The Sea was a beautiful yet mysterious place. Sam deeply inhaled the salty air, suddenly feeling a sort of yearning in his heart that he could not explain. Despite his fear of water, he was not afraid of the Sea. The Sea was different, and much less dangerous than a fast-flowing river. It seemed calming, somehow…restful. He wanted to become a part of the Sea and stay there forever. Nothing frightening or painful could ever happen while Sam was by the Sea. Or so he thought. 

          For he did feel pain then, even as he stood on its peaceful shores, watching Frodo board a nearby boat. His heart wrenched with a horrible pain, a feeling of loss so dark that he would rather die than examine it closer. It intensified as the boat sailed slowly across the water toward the setting sun, away from Middle Earth. He wanted to be away, far away, never to smell the salty air again. He never again wanted to look at the clear blue water. The Sea had deceived him; it was dangerous. It had taken Mr. Frodo away from him. His master was gone. Forever. And Sam would never see him again.

            Sam hated the Sea.

            After the dreadful and dark journey home, he locked the Red Book in the desk in Frodo’s study, and then proceeded to lock the door of the study too. He didn’t want to think of the last years Frodo had spent at Bag End, locked in this room for many hours at a time. He couldn’t bear to remember Mr. Frodo there, hunched over the writing desk, his eyes darkening as he clutched his aching shoulder. He didn’t want to remember Frodo, smiling gratefully as Sam brought him a meal, but failing to eat even half of it.  Frodo, leaning against Sam after collapsing on the floor of the study, his eyes full of pain and memories of darkness. Frodo, losing interest in things he had once enjoyed. And Sam, helpless, unable to adequately comfort his master. Sam hadn’t been able to help Frodo. And his master had had to leave.

            The room held too many reminders of his master. And it had been Frodo’s room, after all. It didn’t seem right to intrude where he had spent so much of his time alone; indeed, he spent much more time in this room than any other room in the smial. As he closed the door, Sam remembered the Grey Havens, and Frodo holding the Red Book out to him. “The last pages are for you, Sam.” For a moment, Sam felt a slight sense of guilty regret, keeping the door shut. But the memories were too painful, he decided. No, it had to stay closed. He would never read the book. He never wanted to see that room again.

            Over the years, Sam and Rosie had more children. Sam was elected Mayor and was always busy throughout the day, but always came home with plenty of time to be with his family. No smile lit up his face more than the one he wore around his children, holding them and hearing their incessant chatter. No warmth in his eyes was ever so pronounced than the warmth that came when he looked at his wife. And so Sam’s life continued happily; Bag End became more crowded, the spare bedrooms soon full of children; the Red Book lay in the study forgotten.

            Then a day came when Sam was alone. The night before he had suffered terrifying nightmares of fire and darkness that threatened to swallow him whole. Just when he thought the end had come, he saw Frodo’s face before his own, his hands reaching for Sam’s. Sam reached for him, but his master’s hands slid out of reach as he disappeared into the sea. He had awakened immediately, shaking uncontrollably, the feeling of loss more pronounced that it had been in years. Rosie had awakened too and tried to comfort him. After he had confided in her, she had insisted that he remain home the next day to rest. He was working too hard—otherwise he would never have had such dreams. Sam agreed, thinking the comforting presence of his wife and children would prevent the resurfacing of more dark thoughts.  

            But Rose had gone to the market, taking the youngest children along while the older ones played in the garden. Inside, the hallways of Bag End were quiet. Only the occasional shriek of laughter was heard. Sam felt oddly detached, as if the laughter of his children was part of another world. He wandered aimlessly through the empty hallways of the smial and soon found himself staring at the closed door of the study. A familiar yet strange feeling of longing tugged at his heart, and Sam fumbled for the small key that he always kept safely in his pocket. He gazed at it as he held it in his hand. He wasn’t sure why he always had the key with him. Perhaps deep in his heart, he knew that he would carry memories of the dark always, and that they could not easily be shut away.

            He opened the door. Before he even realized what he was doing, the Red Book was out and he was reading Frodo’s words. He had felt the urge to be here, though he could not explain why. Perhaps dark memories needed to be reexamined every now and then. Maybe they would never truly disappear. Perhaps there was no point in suppressing them. Having arrived at this conclusion, there seemed no reason as to why he shouldn’t read the Red Book.

            The words in Frodo’s firm, flowing script conjured horrible images in Sam’s mind as he revisited the Quest in the quiet study. The Black Riders…the attack on Weathertop…the journey through the darkness of Moria…Shelob’s lair…the tower of Cirith Ungol…Mount Doom…

            Rose had returned, but Sam did not look up as she quietly opened the door, which he had left slightly ajar. Several small hobbit heads appeared from behind her knees, peering into the room to see why their father had isolated himself. Catching sight of the book and realizing what he was doing, Rose softly shooed the children away and closed the door again. Although her husband normally shared his problems with her, she knew that there were some things she wouldn’t understand. There were some things that could not be mended with a cup of tea and reassuring words. The memories of the journey he had taken so many years ago were one of them.

             Sam had reached the end of the tale. And Frodo had written of the Sea. It was something he needed desperately, he said. Something he longed for with all his heart. For he was wounded, and only the journey over the sea would bring him healing. “There are some things that time cannot mend…some hurts that go too deep…that have taken hold. I cannot stay here any longer.”

            Sam turned the last page of Chapter 81.*  Here Frodo’s writing ended and there were several blank leaves following. To his surprise, he found an envelope tucked safely between the last pages of the book. On the front it read, in the same flowing script: Samwise Gamgee. He retrieved it with trembling fingers, and though he was eager to discover the contents, he slowly opened the envelope and pulled out the carefully folded letter.

            Dearest Sam,

            I am writing this to you because I have passed over the Sea. I am sorry to leave you, but you were meant to be here, in Middle Earth. You will feel sad, for a little while, but, my dear Sam, 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. Your part in this story will go on. Record your memories—dark and otherwise—inside this book, to live on forever. You will not always be here to pass them on to others. The Book must do the job for you.

            I know it may not seem likely now, but one day you will feel the call of the Sea. It is something that cannot be suppressed. I know you will try, you will not want to leave, but one day you will come to realize that you will not be able to remain in Middle Earth. Sam, you too bore the Ring, if only for a short while, and so you too have the privilege to journey across the Sea. And it is a privilege, Sam. Gandalf says there is always peace in the Undying Lands. He says life never grows old, and there is no sadness, pain, or fear. Youth is everlasting and you are surrounded by light and joy every moment.

            The Sea is not a thing to be feared. You only think so now because you are not ready to face it. When the day comes, you will not be afraid to cross as I have now done. And happy though I’ll be across the Sea, my life there will never be complete while you are missing. Come—I’ll be waiting.

                      Your friend,                

                               Frodo

            Sam now discovered there were tears on his face and he hastily wiped them away. He felt a mixture of hopeful joy and deep sadness inside his conflicted heart. To see Mr. Frodo again would be wonderful, especially since he had thought he was gone forever. But his home was in the Shire. Here was where he belonged, in the green world amongst his family. How could he ever leave? Even if Frodo was right, why would he ever want to feel the call of the Sea? How could that happen, while his family was still here? Everything was as it should be—why would he want it any other way?

            He did not feel the gentle murmur of the Sea, and he doubted that he ever would. He sighed, folded the letter, and tucked it carefully inside the book. Shaking his head to rid his mind of these troublesome thoughts, he carefully hid the Red Book and went to help Rose in the kitchen.

            But not everything stayed as it was. One by one, his children grew and moved away to start families of their own. The happy life to which he had grown accustomed was slowly falling apart. Each time a child left to seek a life of his own, Sam felt a mixture of joy and sadness. He was happy for his children, happy that they would soon be able to start loving families just as he had. His children would always be surrounded by loving arms and light and warmth.

            But as he turned back toward the smial, he faced another room that was empty, and the realization that there was one less child to tuck safely in bed each night. There would be one less plate at the dinner table, one less voice to welcome him home in the evening. And over the years, the hallways grew quieter. His life was no longer completely happy; it was now shadowed with loss and a growing sense of restlessness. He grew bored doing daily things and even gardening was slowly losing his interest. Perhaps there was some truth in what Frodo had written. But Middle Earth was still his home—he couldn’t just leave! He couldn’t see what could happen that would cause him to leave forever. But something did. Years later, an event occurred that shattered his heart completely.

            He held her hand as she died. His Rose. Even in death, she was beautiful. Her face was serene and peaceful, her silver curls fanned out on the pillow around her head. A faint smile graced her lips, a mere shadow of the bright one she wore whenever she saw Sam. He would never see that smile again. It existed now only in memory.

            The soft September breeze tousled his own gray curls as he laid a bright bouquet of flowers on her grave. He turned, not once looking back.

            The Sea was calling.

* In the book The Return of the King, Frodo's story had 80 chapters. In the movie, Bilbo's story was included in the Red Book, making it 81 chapters.

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