Disclaimer: None of this is mine, of course.
Author's note: I tried to write this in a style resembling Tolkien's as closely as possible. I don't think I quite succeeded, but I am not the genius he was...

Chapter I: The Last Ship

He is not half through yet, and to what he will come in the end not even Elrond can foretell. Not to evil, I think. He may become like a glass filled with a clear light for eyes to see that can.

~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

It was in the autumn of the year when the Fourth Age of this world was still young that the very last of the Elven-ships sailed from Mithlond in the north and passed through the grey rain of the world to the fair shores of Valinor at the dawn. In this last sailing went Celeborn Lord of Lothlórien, and with him were the brethren Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond, and Haldir and many others of the folk of Lórien and of Imladris who had not yet taken ship, and with them also went Samwise Gamgee, last of the Ring-bearers.

So it was that Sam stood at the Havens and heard again the sigh and the murmur of the waves upon the shores of Middle-earth. His daughter Elanor stood beside him, and tears were on her face, but she smiled. ‘You told me long ago that this day would come, Sam-dad,’ she said. ‘And I promised to go with you, and not watch my treasure sail away like you did all those years ago. But now I can’t. Still, you go on, Sam-dad. I think may be I was meant to stay here, and I’ve Fastred and the children to mind. But I don’t think you were really meant to be parted from him, at least not for ever.’

‘Thank you, Elanorellë,’ said Sam. ‘But I’ve something to give you, before I go. Same as he gave to me, but there’s fewer pages left now, if you understand me. Still I think you’ll find some room, for the story’s not ended, not yet.’ Then he drew from his jacket the Red Book which Frodo had given to him, and he placed it in her hands and said, ‘Farewell, Elanorellë. I go to find my treasure, but I leave many behind me as well. But you have much to do here, and you will keep alive the memory of the great deeds and of those who are gone.’

Then as Sam stepped upon the quay there came a great clatter up the road, and Merry and Pippin rode up in great haste. They were weeping, but they smiled amid their tears, and Pippin bore in one hand a small bundle tied with cord, while Merry had a covered basket slung over his arm.

‘Well Sam,’ he said as he and Pippin leapt down and stood upon the quayside, ‘you tried to give us the slip, just as Frodo did all those years ago. But this time it was your own Goldilocks who gave you away.’ Sam stood silent, watching them, and there were tears in his eyes as well.

‘We’ve brought a few things,’ said Pippin then, sounding rather hesitant. ‘For Frodo…’ Then Merry handed his basket to Sam, who smiled when he caught the scent rising from it, and Pippin gave his bundle into Sam’s keeping. His eyes were very bright, but he said no word.

Then Sam bid farewell to his friends, and last of all Elanor, and he kissed her white brow, and the sails were drawn up, and the Lord Celeborn called to him, and he went aboard. And the Star of the Dúnedain, which the King Elessar had given into his keeping, glimmered on his brow. Then as Elanor stood watching upon the haven, the great ship like a swan slipped away down the long grey firth, and disappeared into darkness. But it seemed to her that she saw afar off a faint light, and heard a fair song that came over the waters. Though she had never heard that song in waking memory, and she knew the keen voice that sang it only from her dreams, her heart was pierced with the joy of it.

But to Sam aboard the ship the night seemed to grow less, and the stars ever brighter, until at last he beheld, just as Frodo had done, the grey rain curtain all rolled back and turned to silver glass, and he heard the sound of fair voices as they sang across the water. And it seemed to him that he heard above them all a clear joyful voice singing in welcome, though he could not understand the words. Then the bent world fell away beneath him, and beyond the veil he glimpsed the white shores and far green woods and fields of the Blessed Land. And with the rising of the Sun the ship lay docked upon the last shore.

Then as the day broadened behind him, Sam saw a great press of people gathered about the haven, and he saw also, to his never-ending joy, that he was awaited. There upon the quayside were gathered Gandalf and Galadriel and Elrond with Celebrían his wife, and many other fair folk besides, but Sam saw none of them. For there also was Frodo. He gave a glad shout and sprang away down the gang-plank, crying aloud, ‘Mr. Frodo, Mr. Frodo! It’s your Sam! I’ve come at last!’ Then Frodo laughed aloud for joy, and Sam thought how very long it had been since last he heard that sound, most blessed of all sounds in the world to him. And it seemed to him that he beheld his master for the first time. For Frodo was changed, and yet not so. He seemed old, old and beautiful, like unto the Elves with whom he dwelt, Sam thought. And a great light was revealed in him, that had before been only glimpsed in fleeting moments, and the light of the new-risen sun seemed to shine round and through him as though through glass, or like the light of Eärendil’s star caught in the waters of the Lady’s phial. His face now was filled with peace, but in his eyes there was a deep wisdom and a bright joy beyond knowing, and he laughed often.

And Sam saw all of these things, yet he did not think of them in this way; his thoughts were turned instead to that far off time in the glades of Ithilien, and to the light that had seemed to shine through his master’s features in sleep. And he said to himself, ‘Yes, he’s like that, and it does shine through. But I love him still, whether or no.’

Then as he stood there watching his master, Frodo laughed suddenly, and crying out, ‘My dear Sam!’ threw his arms about him. And Gandalf and all the Elves that were gathered there laughed also, for they knew that now the Ring-bearers would be fully healed.

~*~*~*~

For a time as the ship was unloaded and all put in order Frodo and Sam spoke quietly, standing together upon the last shore. Frodo asked about the Shire, and about Sam’s voyage, and they talked of simple things and old memories. Then of a sudden Sam cried out, ‘Why, I am a ninnyhammer. Here we stand a-talking about the Shire, Mr. Frodo, and I’d nearly forgot.’

‘Forgotten what, Sam?’ asked Frodo.

‘Well, Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin’s gifts, sir. They found me out, you know, just like they did you all those years ago, though it weren’t old Gandalf that told them, but my own Goldilocks. And they came as fast as ever they could and just managed to catch me; and they sent gifts for you, sir. I’ve not looked at them, but I can guess what Mr. Merry’s is, at any rate.’ Then he handed Frodo the basket, and the little packet from Pippin.

Suddenly Frodo laughed aloud; from the basket in his hand, the scent of mushrooms was rising. ‘Why Sam!’ he said, ‘these smell every bit as good as old Farmer Maggot’s best! But of course they can’t be,’ he added, a bit wistfully.

‘Well, they are and they ain’t, sir, if you follow me,’ said Sam. ‘Leastways they’re not the Farmer Maggot’s you knew, but they are his grandson’s, and one of his finest crops, if I may make so bold. Though of course I’ve not been trying any of yours, Mr. Frodo,’ he said quickly.

‘Of course not, Sam,’ said Frodo, and he laughed again. ‘But now you are here, you shall have as many as you like. I insist.’ Sam began to protest, but Frodo spoke over him and said, ‘Now what’s this from Pippin?’ Sam shook his head, and so Frodo took the packet and carefully pulled loose the string that bound it and drew away the wrappings.

Within were several letters, each addressed in flowing script ‘to Mr. Frodo Baggins, Valinor, Across the Sea’ and sealed with the devices of Brandybuck, Took, and another that Frodo did not recognise, a rose held within a star. ‘That’s the Gamgee seal, that my Elanor made when she was still a lass,’ said Sam quietly, ‘the rose for her mum and me, and the star for you, Mr. Frodo. And that’s her handwriting, too, though I surely didn’t know she’d done any such letter as this. Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin had a right secret conspiracy, seemingly.’

Frodo said nothing, but slowly opened each letter and read them over carefully several times. They spoke of the quiet, simple life in the Shire, and all that had happened since the Ring-bearers sailed from the Havens at the end of the Third Age. There were letters from Merry, and Pippin, and Elanor, and, to Sam’s great surprise, there was one from Rose as well. When Frodo had read through them several times, he read them aloud to Sam, and they wept together, for sorrow and for joy, and the Elves spoke no word, but honoured the Ring-bearers and left them their peace.

When all was at last brought ashore and the glad meeting ended, Frodo took Sam aside and said, ‘Well Sam! Are you ready now to explore this place with me? I have so much to show you!’

‘Why yes, Mr. Frodo,’ Sam said. ‘I’m quite ready. You can show me about now, if you’d like.’

Then Frodo took Sam by the hand and led him away over the fields. Sam did not ask where they were going; he was content simply to walk with his master. But he noted that it was the right hand that held his and that the third finger was missing; the thought of it brought tears to his cheeks.

Frodo stopped and looked at him. ‘My dear Sam,’ he said, ‘whatever is the matter?’

‘It’s your hand, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam. ‘I’d thought, somehow, I’d thought it would be healed, and the memory of all that sorrow be gone, if you understand me. It don’t seem right, somehow, for you still to have to bear it.’

Frodo smiled gently and held out his wounded hand to the sun. There was a faint radiance about it, and the skin seemed slightly translucent, so that the light flowed through it like water. Through the gap in his fingers there shone a great brilliance, and Sam had to look away. But Frodo said, ‘I have been healed, Sam. I must always bear the physical scars, and others, too, that maybe you cannot see, for that was the price. We cannot always find again everything that we have given up. The loss is real. But there is joy, too, of another sort, that comes even through loss. And there is healing. Though we cannot perhaps find what we have lost, we may find something other, and greater.’

‘I don’t know if I quite understand you, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam. ‘But I can see you’re happy, right enough. And that cheers my heart. It’s so long since I remember hearing you laugh. And you deserved to be the happiest of us all.’

Frodo laughed at that. ‘Well, Sam,’ he said, ‘whatever I deserved, I have found joy here, and healing, and you will, too. For you also were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. But come! There is much yet to see, and I would show you the gardens of Irmo!’

~*~*~*~

Now the gardens of the Vala Irmo at Lórien are the fairest of all gardens in the wide realm of Arda. They are wide and green, and in them grow all manner of fair things. And there also the mallorn-trees grow, taller and more beautiful than in all Middle-earth, and golden elanor and pale niphredil blossom at their feet. In those gardens it is always spring, and the wood is golden below and golden above, with pillars of silver. And in the midst of Lórien lies the mere of Lórellin, fairest of lakes and filled with many flowers, shaded all about by the great mellyrn, and there is the home of Estë the Gentle, she who brings healing to all wounds and release of sorrow. And it was to this fair realm that Frodo at last brought Sam, after many days wandering in joy across the fields and hills of Valinor. And many of the Elves who had but lately come from Middle-earth went with them also.

Then as they stood upon the borders of that land and gazed upon the golden mallorn-trees and the bright stars of elanor and niphredil scattered across the grass, Frodo turned and looked at Haldir. The Elf spoke no word; wonder and joy were writ across his face. For he had not thought to see the mallorn which he loved ever again beyond the shores of Middle-earth.

When they had walked some time beneath the boughs of the great trees, suddenly Sam gave a cry and pointed away to the West: ‘Why, look there Mr. Frodo!’

There in the midst of the garden was a low hill, and from it arose a mallorn of great size and majesty, but set in the hill at its roots there was a small round door painted green, and a row of cheery round windows looking out from the face of the hill. It was planted all round with flowers of every imaginable shape and colour: lovely roses and clumps of heather, saxifrage, and lobelia, primroses and lilies and fair alfirin,and the bright star-flower, elanor, and clusters of irises planted along the banks of a little stream; and there were many many more whose kinds Sam did not know.

‘It’s a proper hobbit-hole and no mistake, Mr. Frodo,’ he said, ‘and as nice a hole as I’ve ever seen, I might add. But how it got here I don’t guess I’ll ever know.’ And he scratched his head and continued to stare.

But Frodo smiled and said, ‘The Elves built it for Bilbo and me, Sam. And after he left I spent many a day getting it all ready for your coming.’

‘Was it you as planted the garden, then, Mr. Frodo?’ Sam asked.

‘I did,’ said Frodo, ‘though I know you could have done far better. But there, I’ve done the best I can. And I did want it to feel like home for you, when you came.’

‘I do feel home, Mr. Frodo. And I think it’s the most beautiful garden that ever was.’ And Sam burst into tears.

Chapter III: Memory and Loss

And so Sam Gamgee came to dwell once again with his master, and they spent many happy days wandering in bliss about the gardens of Lórien and throughout the wide realm of Valinor. For in that glad place they felt neither age nor care, and they found that they did not tire easily. Occasionally Gandalf would accompany them, and sometimes Haldir or Glorfindel, or the Lady Galadriel, for all the Elves delighted to honour them, but more often they would wander alone, for they had much to tell one another.

Frodo was content for the most part to listen, for he was eager for news of the Shire, and especially of his cousins Merry and Pippin and of Sam’s family. He heard with joy of the glory of the Captains Meriadoc and Peregrin, and of their fame in the lands of Gondor and Rohan, and the joy they had in the Shire, with their wives and children and their many duties. And Sam told him of the births of his many children, and of all their doings throughout childhood, and whom they had married, and the names of their children. And he spoke of reading the Red Book aloud to the children as they gathered about the fire in Bag End, and of the little celebration that was held every year on September the twenty-second, in honor of the Ring-bearers, and of the great festival he had seen in Gondor on the twenty-fifth of March. But most of all he spoke of his dear Rose, and of Elanor left behind at the Havens.

‘Do you know, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam, ‘when she was only fifteen, and I told her how you’d sailed, she said to me, “It must have been very sad for you, Sam-dad, for your treasure went too.” She pierced me right to the heart, if you understand me, so I couldn’t help myself. I told her what you said to me, there at the Havens—so long ago it seems now!—that I could come too, may be, some day, but that I would have to be whole for many years. And I said that I could wait. But do you know what she said to me, Mr. Frodo? She said she wouldn’t be like Lady Arwen, that when I left she’d be coming with me, and we wouldn’t never be separated. But I said that she couldn’t make that choice just then. And, well, look now, Mr. Frodo. Here I am, and she all the way over there, and I’m happy for her, if you understand me, but now I won’t never see her again, nor Rose neither.’ Then Sam put his head in his hands and began to weep.

Frodo halted beside him, and tears were in his own eyes, and he looked with pity at Sam; then he reached out and with his broken hand gently raised Sam’s face to the light. ‘My dearest Sam, friend of friends, of course we shall see them again! And Merry and Pippin and Bilbo too, and so many others, beyond the circles of the world.’ And then Frodo smiled.

But Sam said, ‘Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I don’t know what you mean. Ain’t these the Undying Lands? But Rose, she’s already gone on, if you take my meaning.’

‘I do indeed, Sam,’ said Frodo softly. ‘And these are the Undying Lands, but not for us.’ Then, seeing how Sam’s face changed in fear, Frodo laughed, but his laughter was gentle, and he said, ‘Do not give up hope! It is not for us to despair, Sam Gamgee. For we have walked in the heart of the darkness, and known it to its very depths, and yet were not overcome. And that was because your heart did not quail before the Shadow, but you clung still to hope, even at the very Crack of Doom. And you saw that Shadow for what it is: only a small and passing thing. Then do not let us be overcome at this last test, for beyond the passing shadow of death lies Joy, and a merry meeting beyond the walls of the world. And death is the Gift of Ilúvatar.’

Sam stood silent for a time and gazed at the golden elanor beneath his feet. Then he smiled, and he said, ‘I’m not sure I understand all that, Mr. Frodo, but I do believe it.’ After a moment, he added, ‘Is that what you meant, then, when you said Mr. Bilbo’d gone on, on his last journey?’

‘Yes, he’s gone on, beyond the world,’ said Frodo. ‘He seemed very happy somehow, and peaceful.’

‘I’m glad of that, Mr. Frodo,’ Sam said, but he found nothing else to say.

They walked then for some time in silence, and Sam gazed ever about him in wonder, for though he had been many days in the land of the Valar, all things there are ever new. And in truth Sam could not have said how long he had dwelt there with his master beneath the mallorn of Lórien, for time seemed to have no hold upon the land, and it was utterly without stain.

And after they had gone on for some miles they came upon a circle of birch-trees, old yet hale, and very tall, in the midst of which stretched a fair green lawn. A fountain sprang up, glittering silver beneath the sun, from under the ancient bole of a mighty mallorn at the lawn’s center, and there was spread upon the grass a great array of provision as for a feast. A tall man stood beneath the tree, but they did not know him, for he was clad all in white, and his face shone so that they could not discern it. But suddenly he laughed, and the light about him seemed to be dimmed, as though a veil were cast about it, and they knew him.

‘Gandalf!’ they cried out gladly, and sprang forward. Then Gandalf welcomed them, and invited them to eat with him, and he said, ‘Well, my dear hobbits. You have dwelt now together in the Blessed Realm for nigh on three years. I asked you once before, Frodo, when first you arrived, how it seemed to you, and you replied that here at last you might find rest. And it seems to me that you have indeed, and been blessed beyond measure, and Sam also.’

Frodo did not speak, but his eyes shone, and he smiled. But Sam said, ‘Three whole years! I’d never of guessed it was beyond a few weeks! And yet, somehow, I do feel changed, if you understand me. Healed, you might say, Mr. Gandalf, though not quite the same. Almost I’d say I’m new, like being made all over again, only that don’t make no sense. Still, that’s how it feels, and I can’t explain it no other way.’

‘You’re right, Sam,’ said Frodo. ‘It does feel like that. Or like finding a home you have long known and missed, but never seen.’ Then he looked at Gandalf, and he said, ‘Nei envinyanta.’*

~*~*~

When their meal was ended, the three rose and walked at length in the soft grass near the fountain, and they wandered about the grove and wondered at its beauty. And as the Sun was sinking beneath the rim of the world, they sat once more at the foot of the great mallorn near the well-spring of the fountain, and each was silent, thinking his own thoughts and watching as the Sun dipped under the last wall of darkness, and the stars of Elbereth appeared one by one in the vault of the sky. A cool wind arose out of the Sea and blew in their hair, and the leaves of the mallorn seemed to sing above their heads, though the hobbits could not understand the song. Sam looked at the stars reflected in the waters of the fountain, and he thought of his dear Rose, and he smiled, for he knew then that he would see her again. He did not know how long he sat there thus, but of a sudden he became aware that beside him Frodo was singing in a soft clear voice, and his face had a far-away look about it, but his eyes were bright. And he sang:

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a 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
Beyond the Moon, beyond the Sun.

His voice faded softly into the darkness, and no one spoke for a time. Each was content simply to sit with the others in quiet joy, and to listen to the soft music of the chirping insects in the grass about their feet. The stars shown above like bright jewels, and Sam remembered the tales of Eärendil and the Silmaril that Bilbo had told him so long ago. And as he was thinking of these things, Frodo turned to him and said, ‘Do you remember, Sam, the star in the darkness of Mordor, and how it shone so beautifully above the tortured land?’

‘I do indeed, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam, ‘but I didn’t know that you’d seen it too. I thought you were asleep, so I’d sat up to watch. But when I saw that star, it put me at ease, somehow, knowing that the darkness couldn’t conquer for ever, and seeing how something so high and beautiful could be even in that terrible place.’

‘Yes,’ said Frodo, ‘I thought of it often, when the darkness came on me and I thought I was lost. I remembered what you told me, Sam, about the star of Mordor.’

Sam was quiet for a moment, and then, in a soft voice, he confessed, ‘We was right worried about you, sir, after you first left. And we didn’t like to talk about it much, ‘specially not me, because I weren’t too sure. It was Mr. Pippin who first started talking about you again. He said as how we shouldn’t forget you, especially after everything you done, and that not talking amounted to acting like you’d never been, and that cut me right to the quick. But at any rate, he said, he was always sure you’d find what you was looking for, so we didn’t have nothing to worry about.’

‘And what was I looking for, Sam?’ asked Frodo with a bemused smile.

‘Well, to find healing, of course!’ laughed Sam, but he faltered when he caught sight of his master’s face. ‘Wasn’t that it, then?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘Well no,’ said Frodo, with only a hint as it were of regret in his voice, ‘at any rate that was not the reason I left. But I am glad, all the same, that you thought so, for it may be that you were spared the greater sorrow, and I did not wish that any should mourn on my account. But Pippin knew, I think. And perhaps Merry. But they would not have told you, and your head guarded you, for your heart could not have borne it.’

Sam was looking hard at his master, and he felt suddenly a swell of uncertainty and fear, as though he stood upon some awful brink, and all was dark before him, but there across the abyss stood Frodo waiting for him, with a light like stars on his brow. But he knew not how he might cross that gap.

At length he spoke, and he heard his own voice tremble: ‘But if that weren’t it, Mr. Frodo, why was it then you had to sail? For I’m sure you did have to, though I can’t say why, if it weren’t to be healed.’

Frodo seemed to consider this for a time, and his thumb rubbed absently along the stump of his missing finger. To Sam it seemed as though the stars themselves had grown dim, but whether from sorrow or from awe he could not say. He saw that Gandalf was watching Frodo intently. At last Frodo closed his eyes, and with a soft sigh began to speak.

‘The Third Age was the age of the Rings, Sam. The Three held back the darkness and preserved for a time unstained the beauty of their realms and the courage of men. And the One, which had been lost, sought again the hand of its master. The Elves knew that, should the One be destroyed, the Three would fail, yet they were willing to risk all rather than submit to Sauron. And so were we all. Gandalf said once, Sam, that the Third Age was his age, and he was the Enemy of Sauron. I do not claim any such title for myself—I am only a simple hobbit. But by no merit of my own, as Gandalf pointed out, I was chosen to bear the Ring. I was chosen, and I chose. And when the Ring was destroyed, the Third Age was ended, the Age of the Rings and their bearers. And they could not remain when the Age had ended. That was why the wielders of the Three took ship, for their time was ended, as they had known would be, should the One be destroyed, and yet they defied Sauron. And I, though my burden was destroyed, was nevertheless a Ring-bearer. But you were granted a reprieve, I think, for you bore it only a little while.’

‘And you knew, didn’t you, sir?’ said Sam, with tears in his voice. ‘You knew ever since the Council that it would have to be that way, and you bore it anyway.’

‘Yes,’ said Frodo. His voice was very quiet, but it seemed to fill all the clearing with its hushed stillness. ‘I knew. Though I thought, rather, that it would mean my death. But Saruman was right, in a way. When we destroyed the Ring, we brought about our own end as well. But we knew that it must be so, in one way or another, for that is the price of such victories, when things are in danger. Someone has to give them up so that others may keep them, or even, it may be, find them for the first time. And though we sorrowed at all that was lost, it was not a bitter loss, but willing, and we had joy of it, too.’

‘Well, I just don’t think it’s right,’ said Sam. ‘After everything you’ve done! You ought to have been the most blessedest of all, and had great honour, and been able to enjoy the Shire and all, and you ought never to have hurt again.’ Then Sam said no more, for he was weeping.

‘My dear Sam,’ said Frodo, and he smiled amid his tears, and took Sam’s hand in his. ‘I am the most blessed of all hobbits, for I have the greatest of friends. But you needn’t worry about me, Sam. I do not hurt any more. My scars serve to remind me of that which was saved, and they bring me joy. And whatever I gave up, I did willingly, and I do not regret it. Still, I deserve no more honour than any of the others who fought in the War of the Ring. Someone had to take the burden, and someone had to lose all those things for which we fought, so that everyone else could keep them. My path was laid to Mordor, and I did no more than follow and do what I must. But I am glad that the Shire was saved, and that you were able to enjoy it, Sam. I am glad that I saved it for you. And that is my blessing, too.’

‘Oh, Mr. Frodo, I’m sorry!’ cried Sam. ‘I didn’t mean to say that it wasn’t worth everything you did! Only I don’t understand why, well, there ought to have been some other way! You didn’t ought to have suffered so much!’

Frodo smiled, and his smile was only a little wistful. ‘I daresay you suffered just as much as I did, Sam, and Gandalf too.’ Gandalf laughed at mention of his name, but he said nothing. ‘But it was not all suffering. Do you remember, Sam, when all was over and the Thing destroyed, how I said, “I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam”? If we had died that day, and never again seen the Shire, still I would have been happy, knowing that the task was done and you were with me, and that all would be well.’

Sam blushed darkly in the bright light of the stars and muttered something inaudible.

‘But it is more even than that,’ Frodo said. ‘For you were right, Sam, about the star. There is light and high beauty forever unreachable by the darkness, and it shines brightest when hope is dimmest, and smites the hearts of those who walk beneath the shadow. And for my part I cannot regret having seen that high light, in spite of all our pains. Why, just think of all the joy we’ve known here in Valinor, Sam! Surely that is a very great blessing! And we have not yet even taken the Gift. What must it be like, then, beyond the circles of the world? Mustn’t the Joy be so great that it would pierce the hearts of those still within Middle-earth, who have not lived upon the heights nor known the depths?’

‘I suppose it must, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam after a time. ‘Though I’ve never thought of it that way before. I guess it’s like a song, though. In some of the most beautiful songs, all sorts of sorrowful things happen, but somehow, that’s what makes them beautiful. The people in them don’t give up, and in the end there’s joy, though may be not what you’d expect. Like, like waking up with the sun on your face, and your master beside you all healed, and hearing them sing the tale of Nine-fingered Frodo and the Ring of Doom.’ Then Sam laughed, and he brushed away the last of his tears with the sleeve of his jacket. But Frodo only smiled, and he laid his head on the soft grass beside the fountain and lay gazing up at the stars. The wind grew quiet and even the chirping of the insects ceased. Sam thought that he could hear, faint above the mists of the world, the song of the stars. After a time he looked down at his master: Frodo was asleep, his wounded hand resting upon his breast, and peace was in his face. A fair light was revealed in him, and to Sam it seemed that a living star had come down from the heavens and lay beside him.

‘He’s as merry and as bright as any Elf-lord,’ said Sam in wonder to himself. ‘And yet, he’s still my own master, after all, though may be there always was something Elvish about him, somehow.’

At his side Gandalf drew a long breath of his pipe, sending up blue and green smoke rings into the air. ‘Well, Sam Gamgee,’ he said, ‘think what you will. But he is only a hobbit after all! Though it may well be that he is among the greatest of the children of Ilúvatar. But I will say only this, that it takes light to discern light.’ And he was silent then for some time, blowing shapes in smoke towards the stars. At last Sam too fell asleep, smiling, beside his master.

~*~*~*~*~

* Quenya, ‘I am healed’ or ‘renewed’

So they passed many long and happy days, and Sam saw with wonder the vast expanse of the sea at the walls of the world, and the great peak of Taniquetil, and many other fair sights that no mortals else have seen. And he met with the great folk of tales, Eärendil the Mariner and Melian the mother of Lúthien the Blessed, and even the weeping Vala Nienna, and he was staggered when they made him bows as deep as he had given them. But after a time, how long he could not have said, Sam seemed to notice a change in himself, a sort of restlessness akin to the sea-longing he had known while still in Middle-earth. But he held his peace, for he was happy and blessed, and his master was well.

~*~*~

On a bright morn in the early days of March, though he could not have guessed the year, Sam sat contentedly blowing smoke-rings from his perch on the delicately-carved bench just below the round green door of the hobbit-hole. There was a tray filled with white bread and berries and cream beside him, and a clear pitcher filled with water, and two goblets of crystal. But he left the food be, and sat watching as Frodo knelt and pressed tiny seeds into the earth. It had taken him some time to grow used to the idea, but his master had insisted, and Sam could not deny him. And now as he watched, Frodo laid his wounded hand in the earth, and he sang a quiet song in a tongue Sam did not know. Then as he knelt there came little green shoots rising up out of the earth to twine themselves round his fingers and grow up seeking the sun, and Sam watched in wonder as a little pure white blossom like a star lifted from the soil and glimmered in the gap between his master’s fingers. ‘Like the Lady’s gift come to life, he is,’ thought Sam, and he remembered the little box she had given him, and the wonderful spring of 1420, and the mallorn blooming in the Party Field, then he looked again at Frodo surrounded by green and living things, and he wondered what it could mean.

But suddenly Frodo raised his head as though he had been called, and he said ‘What’s this, Sam? Is it time for luncheon already?’ and the moment passed. Later, when he thought of it, Sam remembered his talk with Gandalf, and he thought that he understood in part what the wizard had meant. But then he only laughed, and said simply, ‘Aye, it is, Mr. Frodo, if you’re hungry,’ and took a piece of bread for himself. It was fresh and warm, well-spread with cream, and very good. He sighed in contentment and leaned back against the bench, waiting for his master.

At last Frodo rose, and taking the pitcher and a goblet turned to face the East. Sam rose to stand silent beside him, and watched as he raised the pitcher. The clear water glimmered in the bright noontide sun and fell like a stream of light into faceted crystal. ‘Light and water,’ he thought, and remembered the boon he had asked in Mordor, and the first time he had seen his master turn to face the East in silent reverence. For such had been Frodo’s custom, from the day he had woken in Cormallen in the company of the King—always he turned to the East, for it was in Mordor that he had known Ilúvatar who had delivered him, and offered a blessing of light and water, and a standing silence, such as the men of Númenor practiced. And so he did now, and when the silence was ended murmured words in the High Elven tongue:

Átaremma i ëa han ëa, na aire esselya, aranielya na tuluva, na care indómelya cemende tambe Erumande. Ámen anta síra ilaurëa massamma, ar ámen apsene úcaremmar sív' emme apsenet tien i úcarer emmen. Álame tulya úsahtienna mal áme etelehta ulcullo. Násie.*

His voice grew still, and he drank deeply of the cup, then turned and sat beside Sam on the bench, with the tray between them. Both were silent for a time as they ate, looking out over the garden and the broader regions of the realm of Lórien beyond. Frodo seemed to be thinking deeply about some matter: he sat still with eyes that seemed to see far away and to look on some other place and time, and the fingers of his wounded hand brushed the jewel that hung like a star at his neck. Suddenly he smiled, a little sadly, and reaching into his breast pocket took out a little book bound in soft leather, which he showed to Sam. It appeared to be a reckoning of dates, with the years, the months, and the days carefully marked off from the twenty-ninth of September in 1421 by the Shire Reckoning to the twentieth of March in 1490.

‘Is that today, then?’ said Sam quietly. ‘The twentieth of March?’

‘Yes,’ said Frodo. ‘And soon it will be the New Year, at any rate in Middle-earth. Here the days flow differently, and it is hard to keep their track. At first, Bilbo and I used to hold celebrations: on our birthday, and at Yule and Mid Year’s Day, and I have always kept the New Year. But after he left, I did not keep much record of the days, except to know the New Year. And three and a half score years have passed since I sailed from those shores. Do you miss them often still, Sam?’ he said suddenly.

‘Well, I do,’ said Sam, ‘but to tell the truth, Mr. Frodo, of late I’ve thought more of those what are beyond than of them I’ve left behind. I suppose it comes of getting old.’ And he laughed.

‘I think of them often, too,’ said Frodo. ‘But we will see them again soon, as soon as you are ready.’

‘As soon as I’m ready, sir? To take the Gift, you mean? But have you only been waiting for me, then?’

‘Of course!’ said Frodo laughing. ‘I shan’t leave you behind again, you know.’

‘Well,’ said Sam, ‘I am a ninnyhammer, and that’s the truth. I’ve been feeling a queer sort of restlessness of late, only I was waiting for—well, I don’t know what I was waiting for. But you say it’s five days till New Year in Gondor?’ Frodo nodded. ‘Well then, Mr. Frodo, I reckon that’s as good a day as any. May be the best day: since you say it’s the Gift of Ilúvatar, it seems fitting somehow.’

‘Yes, I think you’re right,’ said Frodo. And he smiled.

~*~*~*~*~

* Tolkien’s own Quenya translation of the Lord’s Prayer

On a morn bright and warm as spring days in the Shire of old, Frodo and Sam set out on their last journey together. As the Sun rose golden above the rim of the world far away to the East, the hobbits bade farewell to the little hole beneath the great mallorn, with its round green door and its wonderful gardens, and turned away into the wide realm of Lórien. They took with them no provision, but each carried some few items which he wished to give as gifts at parting.

They walked for some time in peace over the fields, and neither spoke, but they were content simply to walk with one another and to feel the sun upon their faces and smell the airs of spring in Arda Unmarred. Strange to say they felt no sorrow, but a deep peace was in their hearts, and a joy, and they gazed with new wonder on tree and stone, leaf and bud.

After a time they came to the glade in the circle of birches where they had dined with Gandalf what seemed only days ago. And to their wonder they saw that Gandalf awaited them there, and also the Lady Galadriel fair and radiant beside the fountain, and with her the Lord Celeborn and Master Elrond with Celebrían his wife. And they greeted the hobbits with fair voices touched with sorrow, for they knew all that would pass that day, and had come to bid farewell. Then lifting up her hand the Lady said, ‘The time of our parting is nearly come, that shall endure beyond the circles of the world, but ere it comes let us eat and drink together. And it may be that we shall meet again, when all the world is changed, and shall walk together in the new Spring of Arda Re-made in the willow-meads of Tasarinan. But that is long ages hence, and beyond my sight.’

Then Frodo and Sam came and sat again beside the fountain, where there was a goodly feast arrayed, and there was also a fair clear liquor that reminded the hobbits of summer sun and laughter in the days of their youth in the Shire. Frodo for the last time took his cup and turned to face the East, and what words he spoke none heard, but Sam thought that they were different than his wont, and his voice was like that of a man who rejoices to catch afar off a glimpse of the home he has not seen for a long count of years.

When the glad meal was ended the Lady Galadriel took the cup, and she said, ‘Drink now the cup of parting, and may you come beyond the walls of the world to see, it may be, the face of Ilúvatar. But the Elves shall ever remember the Ring-bearers and give them honour, while the thrones of the Valar endure.’ Then she gave the cup to Frodo, and he drank, and Sam also, and a veil came between them and the Elves gathered there, as though they looked across a very great distance and through a curtain of light.

But Frodo turned and said, ‘Fair lords and ladies, ere we depart for ever the circles of this world, some small gifts we would give you, if you will.’ Then he took a white jewel like a star that hung upon a chain about his neck, and coming to the Lady Celebrían he said, ‘This gem the Lady Arwen gave to me ere I left Minas Tirith, to be an aid to me in the memory of darkness endured. But I shall not need it more, for the place to which I depart is the home of all joy. Therefore would I gift it to thee, that it might comfort thee in the memory of Lady Arwen until you should meet again.’ Then Celebrían knelt, and Frodo placed the star on its silver chain about her neck and blessed her.

Then Sam came, and he presented to Master Elrond the Star of the Dúnedain which had been given him by the King Elessar, and which he wore upon his brow when he passed over Sea. ‘I reckon this is rightfully yours in any case,’ he muttered, ‘but I think as old Strider would like for you to have it, and may be even that’s why he gave it to me.’ Elrond smiled and thanked him graciously.

To the Lord Celeborn Frodo gave a small flute of wood carven with images of Lothlórien, which he had made in the days of his dwelling with the Elves. But to the Lady Galadriel Sam returned the little box which the Lady had given him, but he had filled it with the rich earth of his garden at Bag End, and with seeds of many kinds, in memory of the Shire renewed.

They came last of all to Gandalf, and Frodo said, ‘My dear Gandalf, wisest of counselors, I fear I have no gift to give you who are dearest to me.’

But Sam said, ‘Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I’ve something here. It’s nothing grand, nor anything like what you might deserve, Mr. Gandalf, but mayhap it’s worth something, for remembrance.’ Then he took from the pocket of his jacket two long-stemmed pipes, simply wrought in wood, with wide bowls. ‘I brought these over Sea, and a bit of the best South-farthing weed, too, though I’ve not smoked much since I came here. The one’s mine, and the other’s Mr. Frodo’s as he forgot to take with him.’

‘My dear hobbit,’ said Gandalf, and his smile was like the sun as it burns away the clouds, ‘I thank you indeed. I shall smoke them and think of you until we meet again.’ As he spoke, his eyes were very bright, and Sam thought that he saw a tear unshed. But his face was glad, and he took them each by the hand and blessed them.

‘Well, my brave hobbits,’ he said, ‘now at last we must part, until the world be re-made. But you shall find Joy, and a merry meeting beyond the world, and you shall know the end of all your labours and be glad. Go now and be at peace, and do not fear the darkness, for it must pass to a bright and endless dawn.’ Then he kissed their brows and stepped back. The Elves stood still and silent, a distant sheen in the setting sun, and the last rays of light fell upon the waters of the fountain and turned them all to bright jewels and silver glass.

At last the hobbits turned and went on up the little hill that rose beyond the fountain, and they halted upon its crest where the golden elanor grew thick about their feet. To Sam it seemed that his master shone with a veiled radiance, and a light like stars was on his brow. And he knew not that to the Elves he seemed himself to be filled with light. Then he laughed aloud for the sudden joy that came on him, whence he knew not. But Frodo turned and held aloft his hand in token of farewell, and the rays of the slanting sun glinted through the gap in his fingers. Then with a smile he took Sam’s hand in his, and the two laid themselves down upon the green mound amidst elanor and niphredil and took the Gift of Ilúvatar.

~*~*~

The Elves remained long in that place, gazing upon the hill, but they would not go up on it. But Gandalf came, and looked upon the Ring-bearers Frodo and Samwise as they lay at rest, and he spoke some word, but none perceived it. Returning he bore aloft a fair glass filled with a clear light: Frodo’s phial, the gift of the Lady Galadriel. And as they stood thus gazing upon it, suddenly their hearts were filled with awe and they grew still, for they knew that the Valar were come amongst them.

Then Nienna the Lady of Sorrows went up alone onto the mound, and long she gazed upon the Ring-bearers, and hallowed the mound with her tears, but she smiled also, at which many wondered, for Frodo the halfling was very dear to her.

As she knelt there Yavanna Kementári came, and she sang a song fair with joys and sorrows, and lo! amid the grass of the mound a new flower blossomed; its shape was like a star, but its petals were of a pale blue. And the Elves name that flower Harthad Uluithiad, hope unquenchable, remembering Samwise the gardener.

Then Varda the Star-kindler came and took the glass which Gandalf held, and she said, ‘This shall be a light for all peoples until the coming of the fulfillment of the Great Music.’ The tears of Nienna hallowed the glass, and she sang, and Varda also. The voice of Elentári was like the song of waters beneath the stars when the world was young, but the song of Nienna was sorrowful and filled with the wisdom that comes of suffering. And Varda took the glass and set it in the sky, and she said, ‘Herein I set a new star, that shall be last of stars, and great shall be its light amid the darkness of Arda Marred. And its name shall be Bronwe athan Harthad, endurance beyond hope, that shall shine until the Hope of the world shall come.’

~*~*~

And far away, in the sundered lands of Middle-earth, Elanor of Westmarch walked in her garden by night and breathed the scent carried on the breeze from the far-distant sea, and she heard again the sigh and murmur of the waves on the shores of the world. Then as she stood in silence with wonder she saw a new star arise, shimmering in the high airs. In her heart, she guessed what it meant, though she could not have said how, for she was filled suddenly with a great certainty and a joy whence she knew not. She thought suddenly of her father, and of Mr. Frodo whom she remembered only in her dreams, and smiling she whispered to the sky, ‘Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielvo.’* Then with a last fleeting look at the bright star shinning high in the East, she turned and went in, and closed the round door behind her.

~*~*~*~*~

* Quenya, ‘A star shines on the hour of our meeting.’

Sam stirred, and felt the sun warm and bright upon his face. A cool air breathed upon him, and he heard the sound of singing so fair it seemed his heart must burst. He lay still and breathed deeply, then slowly he opened his eyes.

At first he saw only light, so bright it seemed he must be standing in the midst of the stars. But he was not blinded; he gazed long into that brightness and was glad. And suddenly he was aware that he lay upon the ground, and leaves whispered and shimmered in the light above his head. And his master was beside him, his broken hand in Sam’s. The light seemed to grow ever brighter, and yet with each passing moment his vision was increased. He turned and looked at his master: Frodo lay upon the grass, and all about his head bloomed violets and white lilies. His eyes were bright as stars, and his fair face was radiant with joy. Suddenly he laughed aloud and sprang to his feet, pulling Sam up beside him. And Sam laughed too, joy welling up within from some well-spring so deep it seemed it must set the whole world to laughing. But Frodo smiled, and he said, ‘This is the beginning, Sam Gamgee, and now there will be no more ends. I am glad that you are with me.’

‘And I’m glad too, Mr. Frodo,’ Sam said, ‘gladder than I can say.’ Then he burst into tears, but they were tears of delight, and in the midst of them his laughter welled up again, like the rising of the dawn. And Frodo danced upon the dewy grass and sang with a clear bright voice in a tongue he had not known. The sound of it reminded Sam of the song of the stars, that he had heard once, long ago in fair Lothlórien, and again higher and clearer in the gardens of Lórien in the land of the Valar. But now he found that he knew the tongue in which Frodo sang, and his heart understood the words: and his own voice was lifted up in song.

Then as they danced upon the cool grass, they saw that a Man was standing there, robed as with light, his face shining like the sun. And each without a word slowed his dance and grew silent with awe. Sam felt as though all the heights and the glories that he had caught only dim glances of stood now suddenly revealed before him, and he hung back trembling. But Frodo remembered dancing flames and a circle of shining gold, and he bowed his head before the One who had delivered him.

Suddenly the Man smiled, and he called to them, saying, ‘Do not be afraid, dear children, for you have done well, and there are many here who wish to greet you. Come now, and walk with me.’ And he held out his hand to them.

Then Sam gave a great shout of surprise and in tears he cried, ‘Why Lord, your hands are wounded too!’ And the hobbits saw clearly that the Man bore dreadful scars in his hands, as though he had been pierced, and the light shone through them with a brilliance that was blinding.

But Frodo fell at his feet and taking his hand kissed the scar and cried aloud, ‘My Lord and my God!’ And suddenly Sam remembered all his talk with Frodo, and how he had wondered that his master should bear still so many wounds and scars even in the Blessed Lands. Then at last understanding, he knelt wordless and kissed the wounded hands of Ilúvatar Himself.

~*~*~

For long they remained there unmoving as men under an enchantment who, rapt with joy, forget the passage of time. Then suddenly the Lord laughed, a sound like the flowing of many waters in the spring that bring life and renewal to the frozen land, and he took them each by the hand and raised them up, and he said, ‘Come now and walk with me, dear children, and cast aside all the troubles of your hearts. Or do you wonder still, Samwise, that your friend’s hand should be wounded?’

Sam flushed, but he said only, ‘No Lord, I don’t wonder about that any more. I suppose my Elanor was right, all those years ago, when as a lass she used to call it his “beautiful hand”, but I didn’t know what she meant by it. And, well, if it’s not too much for me to say so, I think your hands are beautiful too, Lord, so as they’re like to make me cry.’ And he dared not look up as he spoke.

Then the Lord laughed again, so that it set the hobbits’ hearts to singing, and he said, ‘You have a wise heart, Samwise Gamgee. But now there is one who has long awaited you both, and when you have met with him, then I shall lead you to the glad home-coming for which you have looked, and many merry meetings.’

But Frodo said, ‘Lord, you know all the desire of my heart, and how greatly I have desired to see again those whom I have long missed. But now it seems to me that all home-comings are a coming to you. Therefore I am content, for I have seen the Lord.’

And Sam hearing this said, ‘I was looking specially to meet my Rosie again, but I reckon now Mr. Frodo has the right of it, and we’re home already. Still,’ he added shyly, ‘that’s not to say I wouldn’t mind seeing my Rose again, and a lot of other folks besides.’

Frodo laughed at that, and he said, ‘You are right as usual, Sam. I should dearly love to see them all again.’

‘And so you shall, and soon,’ said the Lord. ‘But now here is a meeting I know you have long desired, Frodo.’ And he led them beyond a screen of trees, and there was a bright clearing beside a singing brook, and flowers of all kinds grew in the sweet-scented grass, and willows trailed their silver leaves in the water. The bright air was full of butterflies.

In the midst of the clearing stood a man, his side turned to them, his gaze cast upward in wonder to follow the dance of swans in the high airs, and he did not see them. Then the Lord went towards him, and spoke some word to him, but the hobbits could not hear what he said. And the man seemed to them then sorrowful, and he cast now his gaze ever downward, and he fiddled with his hands as though he were anxious of some great thing to befall. But at last, gathering his courage as it seemed, he turned to them, and they knew him. His hair was dark, and very keen were his grey eyes, and filled with the memory of many sorrows, but the words he spoke seemed to stumble one upon the other, and his gaze was ever downward.

‘Long have I awaited this meeting, in hope and dismay,’ he said, ‘yet now it seems my courage has deserted me. For I have much to answer for, especially to you, Ring-bearer, and much for which I would ask pardon and forgiveness, if I might.’ And having said this at last he looked up, and his glance fell upon Frodo, and it seemed that he wept.

But Frodo seemed to awake as from a spell, and he laughed with joy, and with a glad cry ran and flung his arms about the man. Then, laughing still, he said, ‘Boromir! How I have missed you! And as for whatever you might ask pardon for, it was long ago forgiven. And did we not fall prey to the same evil, and was it not the same hand that rescued us, though we knew it not?’

Then Boromir too laughed, and all his cares fell at last from him. ‘You speak truly, Frodo,’ he said. Then looking to the Lord he spoke again, saying: ‘Yours was the hand, Lord, and you have granted this joyous meeting.’

But the Lord smiled on them, and he said only, ‘All is well, and all is well, and all manner of things are well.’*

~*~*~

And when Sam also had greeted Boromir, and old hurts were laid to rest between them, then those four went on in a glad company. The Lord took each hobbit by the hand, and Boromir took Frodo’s wounded hand in his with gentle reverence, and so they passed with glad singing and much laughing on into the wide lands about them. For in that country song and laughter seemed to come easier than speech, and they found that they could read one another’s hearts.

So they passed in such fashion over many fair meads full of flowers of all kinds, to which not even Sam knew all the names, and over many dancing streams gleaming silver as they gurgled over the stones, and again over wooded hills and dells where grew all manner of trees, some tall and stately, and others small and humble, but all very fair, and each lifting its canopy of bright leaves to the sky. Frodo thought that all the trees and the many flowers of the field seemed to be singing, a song at once ancient and new, and very lovely. Then he lifted his own voice, in tune with that bright song, and soon Sam and Boromir had joined him. But at length they ceased, and Frodo turned to the Lord and asked, ‘Lord, will you not sing?’

‘Nay,’ said he, ‘for that time has not yet come. But I delight now to hear the joyful songs of my children.’ And he smiled on them.

Then as they passed over a high green hill strewn with small flowers of white and blue and gold they beheld spread out before them a great valley, more fair than any tongue can tell. And a great array of folk were there, and at their head, laughing in the light, were Rose and Bilbo and Merry and Pippin. Behind these were many others whom Frodo and Sam had long missed, parents and friends and relations various and sundry, and laughing the hobbits ran down the broad grassy slope and threw themselves upon them. Then there was a great confusion of voices as everyone spoke at once, but they found that they heard and understood each as though they had spoken in turn. And the Lord was with them and among them, and paying no heed to his great majesty he danced with them upon the sward.

And here this tale must end, for what joys and glories beyond the skill even of the Elven tongue to tell lie in that fair land beyond the circles of the world, no mortal knows of a surety, nor any of the Eldar.

~*~*~*~

*The words which Christ spoke to Julian of Norwich in one of her visions, to which Tolkien refers in one of his letters

I would like to dedicate this story to my sister, who provided the inspiration and encouragement for this fic, though may be she never knew it. She encouraged me to post it online and share it with others, and she is also a wonderful beta. :) My thanks can't really do her justice, but I hope that she has enjoyed this tale, and that all of you have as well...