A/N: A twist on how things might have gone after the Quest. It's different, but filled with the usual: a good amount of angst, a lot of love and no slash.

Frodo Baggins was dying. Sam had known it since spring turned to summer that second year they had returned from the Quest that had saved Middle-earth, but destroyed his beloved master and the brother of his heart. Frodo did not seem to be aware of it himself, for which Sam was very grateful. He feared that if his dear one did know, he would leave him all that much sooner and that he was leaving at all was already too much to bear. He grieved privately with Rosie. Many a night she held her husband as he cried, then when he finally fell asleep, she shed her own tears.

As the air turned crisper with coming autumn, Sam worried all the more about his brother’s deteriorating condition. Frodo had never truly recovered from his last illness in Rethe and the gardener dreaded the 6^th that was rapidly approaching. In his nightmares, he imagined Frodo growing thinner and thinner, more translucent and ethereal until he vanished all together and Sam would be left alone. He’d wake in a sweat, his fist already crammed in his mouth to keep from screaming. Then he began to see the same thing with his waking eyes.

Throughout the summer, Sam, Merry and Pippin had watched helplessly as Frodo’s physical and mental condition deteriorated before their eyes. The Ring-bearer alternately burned and froze, shivering even in the heat of summer. He began to sleepwalk. Sometimes just pacing the floors of Bag End until he collapsed, muttering words that none of them understood. One or the other of them would come then and embrace him and get him to stop, tuck him back into bed with a kiss to his brow, only to find him up again an hour later pacing once more. Sometimes, he wouldn’t be in the smial at all but curled up in the garden. Other times, he frantically searched through the hole, crying out for the Ring or dug up the garden with his bare hands, seeking it. Sam, Merry or Pippin always got him away, back down to bed and then cried out their grief that their brother was still so troubled and only getting worse. When their fathers called the two younger hobbits back home, it was with a heavy heart they left and a great fear they may never see their cousin again, but they had already ignored two such calls already and could no longer.

Many a night Sam stayed awake all night, just watching to make sure Frodo slept, holding his hand, stroking his curls, talking and singing to him. It seemed to calm the Ring-bearer sometimes, but other times, he didn’t think Frodo was even aware he was there as he called out for the Ring, defied the Black Riders or screamed out for Sam, not knowing his Sam was right there in the room with him.

“Where do you go, dear?” the gardener asked one night after a particularly bad spell that had woken the broken hobbit screaming. “Where do you go without your Sam?”

“Many places,” Frodo said in a distant, dream-like voice. “To the fire and to the Sea. I burn and I drown in the deep. I see beauty and darkness. I see places as fragile as a dream and sharp enough to cut your soul. I go to so many places...”

Sam held his brother in his arms. “Take me with you,” he begged. “Don’t go anywhere your Sam can’t follow. It’s too much for you to go on alone.”

“Yes, too much,” Frodo agreed in the same distant voice.

Then after a long while, he looked into Sam’s eyes with eyes clear of the encroaching madness.

The younger hobbit’s breath hitched to see it. "Frodo?" Sam asked in a small, trembling voice, afraid that as he spoke his master would slip away again. But he did not. He put his arms around Sam and held him tightly.

"Will you sing something, Sam?" Frodo asked. "You have such a lovely voice."

Sam smiled and began to sing softly.

"Sleep now,

And fear not the darkness.

There's nothing can harm you,

Let go all your fear.

Sleep now,

Rest safe till the morning,

And when you awaken, I'll be here."

It was a song which he had often sung in the dark times. Silent tears coursed slowly down his cheeks and fell onto Frodo's curls as he thought of all the times he had sung those words to drive back the shadows that never truly faded. But he did not stop singing or even allow his voice to quaver.

"Sam. Dearest Sam," Frodo murmured, the voice, the look and tone truly his own.

For a long moment Sam could not resume his song; he was crying too hard. At first Frodo was not aware of it, but when he felt Sam's shoulder quiver, he raised his head and looked into his guardian's face with eyes full of concern. "Sam? What's the matter? Why are you crying?" He reached up and gently wiped the tears away as fast as they fell.

Sam drew a deep breath and, with an effort, recovered himself. "Nothing, dear. It's nothing. It's all right. Now just lay your head down and I'll finish the song. All right?" He smiled bravely, and Frodo was relieved. Obediently he laid his head on Sam's shoulder again, and Sam sang the last verse with more feeling than he ever had before.

"Sleep now,

My joy, my beloved,

And know that I'll never

From you depart.

Sleep now,

And know that whatever

This life may hold,

You'll be in my heart."

Sam hummed the tune over and over until Frodo slept, and then he laid him gently back on the pillows and pulled the blankets up to his chin. He stood by the bed for a long while, watching his dearest friend and brother and silently weeping. Frodo had slipped away again, but Sam was glad for that little glimpse. Oh, my dear, I wish you could have stayed, he cried inwardly. I wish you could come back and be well. But whether you do or no, I'll love you always, all the days of your life and all the days of mine.

The days passed and Sam could only watch helpless as his brother’s mind frayed all the more and his body began to fail. When the 6^th came, Sam was so afraid he would find his master gone. He wrote to Merry and Pippin that they should come as soon as they could.

The 6^th did come and Frodo was gone, but he wasn’t. For some reason, the illness on the 6^th would cause him to revert to a child-like state and this time he did not return from it. The Ring-bearer lived no more, but an innocent and beautiful child who had no idea he was broken and had only the vaguest memories of what had hurt him so badly replaced him. The only thing the child remembered was his Sam who he always had a bright smile and hug and kiss for each morning his guardian come to wake him and his cousins who he loved to play with. It took Merry and Pippin some time to adjust to their beloved cousin’s new state as they were suddenly the elder ones, but after some private tears, they learned to rejoice in such a vibrantly alive, innocent child.

In many ways Frodo Baggins became Sam’s first child, Elanor the second and Frodo-lad the third. The talk in all Hobbiton over the next several months was how much more cracked the younger Baggins was than the elder, but Frodo was not aware of any of that. He was a very happy and loving child who thought his Sam was the best hobbit in the whole world; who loved to walk in the bright sun in the open fields holding his guardian’s hand; who laughed and ran and splashed in the water and had an overwhelming love for life. He loved his tales and dreamed of meeting Elves. He had a very active imagination that he was always using to write and draw out tales and proudly showing them to Sam who was rather startled sometimes by the things Frodo came up with and other times deeply moved. It showed that the memories of the Quest were still deeply hidden within the broken hobbit and Sam feared the day they would come out as other than a fantastical story that Frodo had no idea he had truly lived through.

There were things that puzzled the child the Ring-bearer had become. He didn’t know why he didn’t like the woods or being out at night or near fire. He didn’t know why each year, a couple weeks after his birthday, his shoulder would begin to pain him. He had strange dreams at times of pale kings and beautiful golden rings. But his Sam was always there to help him through those, hold him and sing to him until he was able to sleep again, there to bandage and kiss his hurts, listen to his stories and appreciate his art, though Frodo did wonder sometimes about the expressions on his dear friend’s face. When he’d ask about those and his dreams, all his guardian would say was that the orcs and the spiders and the Ring were gone. Frodo seemed disappointed at the latter. “It was such a pretty looking ring,” he said once, but he didn’t quibble about it, though he did like to dream about it. He also didn’t know why he wore a white gem on a chain around his neck, but he thought that was pretty too and so liked to wear it and discovered he was happier when he did. And his Sam was happier so he kept wearing it because he liked to see his Sam happy.

And Sam was happy. He could not help but to be with such a luminous, alive being in the smial. He loved to see Frodo smile and be joyous again, to receive hugs and kisses each morning and night and spontaneously throughout the day and all his varied celebrations of life. The child Frodo was an intensely curious one, like he had truly been and constantly badgered his guardian and cousins with all sorts of questions.

Merry laughed when he got more used to the way things were going to be from now on. “Well, look at that, Pippin, someone more curious and talkative than you! I would have never imagined it.”

“Well, he is part Took, you know,” the tween said and looked proudly at Frodo who beamed happily back.

Sam sometimes laughed as well at the number of questions that Frodo rattled off. “Yes, there’s a king again.”

“The pale king?”

“No, that’s one’s gone. This is another one and there’s a queen, too and...” Here Sam leaned in conspiratorially as though to impart a great secret, “...she’s an Elf.”

Frodo’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “An Elf! Oh, Sam! Can we go and see them? Wouldn’t that be just wonderful?! Is he an Elf too?”

“No, he’s a Man.”

“Is he very big? She must be very beautiful. I wonder if they’ve ever seen a hobbit before....”

When Frodo said such things, Sam would look tenderly at his charge, so very dearly beloved, and listen as the child would prattle on. Sometimes, he’d cry and not even know whether it was from sadness or joy at the sheer innocence of the comments. Frodo would continue on, oblivious at first, then he’d notice and wipe at Sam’s tears and smile. “Why are you sad, Sam? Don’t be.”

He’d take his dearest friend into his arms and hug him and rock him and softly sing Elvish songs they had heard in the Hall of Fire. Sam was always pierced to the heart by the beauty of Frodo’s voice and loved to listen to those songs, sung so innocently and lovingly without the child having any memory of when the adult Frodo had first heard them.

When he was done, he’d beam up at his guardian and the gardener would look at the bright face and smile and his sadness would pass. It never stayed for long. Frodo was like bottled sunshine and Sam had always loved the sun. Frodo would let go then and scamper off to play or continue on with his babbling and Sam would watch and listen with a fond smile .

But still Sam wondered how long this blissful existence of theirs could last. Frodo was in actuality nearing his mid-fifties, eating very well, but he was still dying. Sam knew he was. His spirit shone so brightly it was hard to think of him ever being anything but a vibrantly healthy child. But he’s shining too brightly, the gardener thought, like a bright star that will soon vanish from the heavens, having burned itself out. Sam could not bear the thought of that. He shook his head whenever that thought came to him as he could not explain to himself or to Rose why he thought that, but the certainty remained that it was Frodo’s soul shining through his mortal flesh which he would soon shed and become solely a brilliant being of light and live no more on the earth.

Frodo showed little awareness of it himself, but Sam saw it more and more clearly as he watched his master-brother-child in a soft glow. He began silently to grieve again as Frodo grew ill again, sometimes not being able to retain his meals, as though his body knew it would soon no longer need sustenance. The child was puzzled by it all as he had always been so healthy before. Rose became concerned as well and more tears were shed.

“I dreamed about the Sea again last night, Sam,” Frodo said one day after he had thrown up each of his meals for the last two days and was weakly laying in bed. He clutched Arwen’s gem tight enough that his pale knuckles whitened even further. “I’d like to see it before...before...” He looked up at his beloved friend and guardian. “Do you think we could?”

Sam looked up at his Rosie, pregnant with their first child. She regarded her husband with frightened eyes, then he looked down at his dearly loved friend. “Of course, we can, dear,” the gardener said. “But you’ve got to get better first.”

Frodo’s eyes lit up like a child at Yule. “I will, Sam, I promise!”

When he was ready to sleep, Sam and Rosie listened as he began the prayer he always said before he closed his eyes. "I come sick to the Healer of life..." He didn't know why he said it, “but it makes me feel safe and it helps to keep the bad dreams away, just like you do,” he once told Sam.

After he finished, he opened his arms and Sam embraced him and pressed a kiss into the dark curls, now beginning to be streaked with silver. “Good night, dear,” he said. “Sleep well. I love you.”

Frodo hugged his guardian tightly and kissed him on the cheek, then lay down and Sam tucked the blankets up to his chin. “Good night, Sam. I hope you sleep well, too. I love you, too.”

The ‘elder’ hobbit watched Frodo sleep for a long while. The child’s face was perfectly serene, a slight smile gracing it.

He was in bed one day more, but he kept down what he ate and was soon running around again.

He was sick one night at supper a week later, but he was all right the next morning and so it went on and off for some weeks until close to his birthday, he seemed much stronger, but Sam saw his light ever clearer and feared it was not long until the end.

One morning Frodo appeared in the kitchen for breakfast, bursting with childlike eagerness to tell his guardian about the delightful dream he had had.. “I dreamed about Elves, Sam!” he exclaimed. Sam filled a plate for him and listened with a smile as he held forth about those beautiful beings, far-away places and a grand adventure.

“Can we go to the Sea, Sam?” Frodo asked then. “I haven’t been sick for a week and I do so want to see some Elves for myself before...”

Sam and Rosie’s breath both caught when the child trailed off. Rosie look at her husband with frightened and he returned her gaze sympathetically and was pained to have to deny the plea he saw in her eyes.

“All right, dear,” he said to Frodo. “We can leave tomorrow morning if you’d like.”

Frodo’s eyes lit up. “Oh, could we, Sam? That would be wonderful! Thank you! You are always so good to me.” He reached up from his chair and hugged his friend. “I would love to see the king and queen, too, but they’re so far away. We’d never make it.”

Sam and Rose exchanged another look, wondering again if Frodo knew what was happening to him, but he sounded and looked just as happy as before. Sam hugged him tightly back. “You’re welcome, dear,” he said softly. “Maybe you’ll see the king another day.”

He looked back up at Rose who gave her husband and her friend one last look and left the room. Sam kissed Frodo’s head softly and let him go. The child did not notice the tears in his beloved guardian’s eyes as he turned to leave.

Sam found his wife in their bedroom, smoothing the bedsheets a little too vigorously. The gardener knew that mood from his mild, loving wife and waited for the storm to break over him. She turned on him just as he entered the room. “How could you say yes?!” she hissed. “You told me it was an eight day trip to the Havens. You know he’s in no state to survive that!”

Tears streaked down Sam’s cheeks. “I know that all too well, my Rose. But it’s...it’s his last wish, love. How can I deny him that?”

Rose stepped closer and wiped at her husband’s tears as he wiped at hers. They embraced each other tightly. Rose rocked him gently as they sobbed together. “You can’t,” she said.

That night, Sam stood for a long time at the threshold of Frodo’s bedroom and just watched him sleep. His long, dark lashes rested on his pale cheeks, the covers pulled up to his chin. There was a smile on his lips. He looked as beautiful as he always had, so innocent and peaceful. But it was the light shining from him that held Sam mesmerized, shining ever brighter, even brighter than before the Shadow came to steal so much away. He came in and kissed that beloved brow softly goodnight. “I love you, dear. I love you that much.”

“Love you, too, Sam,” Frodo murmured softly. “So much, so very, very much.”

Sam brushed at his curls, then left before Frodo could hear his sobs or the touch of his tears.

The next morning, Frodo was awake with the dawn. His eyes were bright when Sam came to check on him and found him already dressed. “I’m so excited, Sam!” he said. “I can’t wait to get there! Thank you for taking me.”

He clutched the gem with his maimed hand and Sam thought if he just ignored that, he could so easily believe he was just going on another walking trip with his best friend and brother and all was well with the world. “You’re welcome, my dear,” he said with a smile. “We’ll start right after we eat some breakfast, all right?”

“All right, Sam,” Frodo said happily, not noticing the tears bright in his friend’s eyes.

Sam blinked back his tears, concentrating on the joy and light streaming from his beloved brother. Frodo followed him into the breakfast room and ate everything put before him. His stomach had taken a long time to recover from his and Sam’s near starvation, but neither of the other two hobbits would have known that from the way and amount Frodo ate so eagerly.

Rose watched him, valiantly trying to keep from upsetting him by crying, but finally lost the battle and left the room. Sam watched her leave and struggled with whether to go to her or stay with Frodo. He nearly chose the former when the latter suddenly and violently lost what he had just eaten. Sam hurriedly put a bowl under his brother’s chin to catch what he could.

“Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry,” the broken Ring-bearer said. “It was such a lovely breakfast and I’ve made such a mess of it and you just cleaned my clothes and the floor yesterday.”

Sam wiped at the spittle around his beloved brother’s mouth and took his hand to guide him out of his chair and around the mess. “Don’t you fret yourself about it, dear,” he said. “Now just stand there for a moment away from it all and I’ll get you some clean clothes.”

“Yes, Sam.”

The gardener went into his master’s bedroom and chose another set of shirt and breeches and brought them to the kitchen. He cleaned Frodo’s legs and feet and then carefully removed the soiled clothing. “You just get yourself into that clean set and I’ll clean up the floor.”

“Thank you, Sam. I’m sorry.”

Sam smiled and kissed his brother’s head softly. “It’s not your fault, dear,” he said.

Frodo smiled up at him, such an innocent, loving, trusting smile. Sam could have stared at it forever and never gotten tired of it. But he turned away and set a kettle to heat for some peppermint tea. He didn’t let it warm for long for fear of Frodo burning himself. He poured it into a mug as Frodo dressed himself and then brought it to him.

“You just drink that slowly and carefully, dear,” he said as he closed Frodo’s fingers around the mug. “It’ll help settle your stomach, then we can set out when you feel ready. All right?”

That smile again. “All right, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam smiled, then turned to clean up the floor. After he was done, he made sure his brother was safe to leave alone for a few minutes, then took the soiled clothing and towels out to be washed.

Rose was crying silently in the bedroom. Sam disposed of the towels and held her for a long time, rocking and murmuring what comforts he could.

“Why are you crying, Rose?” came Frodo’s voice behind them as he stood at the threshold of the room.

Rose broke away from her husband and wiped at her tears. She smiled bravely up at her friend. “I’m sorry, Mr. Frodo. I’m just feeling a little sad today,” she said. “My mum told me these things could happen when you’re carrying a little lad or lassie.”

Frodo reached out to touch her stomach that was just beginning to swell with the life within. “I’m so sorry I won’t be here to see her,” he said in a sad, distant voice that sounded almost like the Ring-bearer had for so long. Rose’s breath hitched in a sob.

“Don’t cry, Rosie. It’s all right,” the child Frodo said and put his arms around her. “It’s all right.”

An hour later, she watched Sam hitch a cart piled with blankets to Frodo’s pony, Strider. Frodo was stroking the animal’s coat with a sweet smile on his face as he murmured to it. Rose thought the words might have been in Elvish, but she didn’t understand enough of it to know for sure. She looked up at Sam who did know enough and saw him looking at him with a soft smile.

“Do you want to sit up with me for a spell,” Sam asked as Frodo turned to him, “or back in the cart?”

The child turned innocent, shining eyes up to his guardian. “I’d like to sit up with you, Sam.”

The gardener and his wife were both relieved with that decision. Sam helped his brother-child up, wrapped in a blanket for Frodo so he wouldn’t be chilled even in the mild weather and then wrapped his maimed hand around the post to steady him. “Just hold onto that, dear, and you won’t fall off, all right? We’ll get going in a minute.”

Frodo smiled beatifically. He bounced on the seat in his excitement. “All right, Sam.”

Sam’s breath caught as it always did to see such beauty in his dear one. He watched him a moment more to make sure he was settled, then turned and gave his Rose a tight embrace. She cried a little more into his shoulder and he whispered comforts to her, but neither wanted Frodo to hear and be upset by it. “I’ll bring him home,” he murmured. She held him even tighter and he held her closer, then kissed her on the head and let go.

“Ready, dear?” he asked Frodo.

The child bounced again. “Ready, Sam!”

The two hobbits set off down the path. Frodo turned and waved enthusiastically to Rose with a bright smile. She smiled bravely back through her tears and returned the wave. She watched until they were out of sight. She knew she’d not see Frodo alive again and she grieved for her own pain at that, but more for her Sam.

Frodo leaned against his Sam for much of the first morning’s journey and the younger hobbit was very glad for that warm, reassuring weight against him. Sometimes the broken Ring-bearer sang softly to himself, words of such haunting beauty in so innocent a voice that Sam’s face was streaked with tears. For Sam to hear him now sing the Lay of Frodo of the Nine Fingers as though it was merely another song or tale they had read and not actually lived was unsettling, but he didn’t want his brother to stop. Frodo had always had such a lovely voice.

When his voice trailed off, Sam looked over at him. “You just tell me if you get too tired, dear,” he said.

Frodo didn’t answer and Sam had a scare that his most beloved friend had already slipped away, but he saw that he was merely asleep. He tired so easily some days. Sam thought he should put him in the back of the cart so he could rest more comfortably. He stopped Strider to do that, but when he put his arms around his brother to carry him back, Frodo placed his arms around Sam’s waist and burrowed his head into his guardian’s chest. Sam stopped then just as happy to have him remain at his side a little while longer. He kissed his head and they continued on their journey.

Sam spent much of the time watching Frodo sleep, sealing each beloved feature of that dear face into his memory for he too well knew that memories were soon to be the only things he would have. But even with that grief and anguish, with his heart breaking, he was happy.

They stopped for a quick lunch and after Sam knew Frodo wouldn’t lose the meal, they started out again. His brother had fallen back asleep in his Sam’s lap and the young gardener gently placed his charge in the back of the cart among the many blankets he had brought to warm and cushion his treasure. A full water bottle he placed nearby also in case Frodo woke and was thirsty. The Ring-bearer’s fractured mind held only had the barest memory of why, but he would panic if he didn’t have it near him.

The first night they camped in an open field. Frodo woke as dark was coming and called out frightened to his Sam. The gardener turned from the small fire he had carefully banked so his brother would see as little of it as possible. Fire frightened Frodo, though he couldn’t remember why. He saw a volcano erupting in his dreams sometimes and knew it had hurt him once and since then he didn’t like the sight or sound of fire or the feel of its heat.

Sam took his brother-child into his arms and held him and softly sang until he stopped trembling. Along with everything else he couldn’t reconcile in his splintered mind, Frodo didn’t know why he was afraid of the night. Only the vaguest memories like a nightmare barely recalled told him something terrible had happened to him in the dark, but Sam had come, like he did every time Frodo had nightmares and held him and rocked him and sang to him until the child knew he was safe again. Now he looked up at the stars within the security of Sam’s arms and marveled.

“They are so beautiful,” he said. He turned his head and looked at Sam who saw the starlight reflected in those bright, luminous eyes. “I dreamed of the queen last night, Sam. I dreamed she gave me this gem and that she said I could have her place on the boat that goes to where the Elves live. Wouldn’t that be wonderful, Sam, to live there? You have to come too. I’ll find the brightest star and name it after you and then I’m going to sit under it so you’ll know where to find me.”

Sam looked into his bright, beloved eyes. “I will always know where to find you, my dear,” he said, “because you will always be in my heart.”

After dinner, Sam held his brother again and sang him to sleep. He watched him for a long time as Frodo slipped happily into slumber, his arms around his beloved Sam, a smile on his lips and his head pressed against his guardian’s heart. The gardener marveled at the light that shone from him, becoming brighter and brighter. Sam brushed at the dark, dear curls of his treasure as tears fell from his cheeks and splashed softly onto Frodo’s pale cheeks to bless him.

For a space, for but a little time more, his brother would be bound by mortal flesh, and then soon he would be gone, flown away to whatever glorious realm he had first come from. Fragile was the precious thread that now bound his soul to the earth. The mortal was fading, the immortal was shining through ever brighter. Sam could not tear his eyes away from such a sight. It broke his heart and healed it at the same time. It made him weep tears of grief and joy.

He stroked a beloved cheek. You gave of yourself, my dearest dear, without compliant, a living sacrifice for others, not caring the price and now soon, soon, you will go to your reward. I know you will, though I can’t say how I know or where you will go, but I beg you to wait for me, for I will follow. I will follow.

Then Sam felt peace come to him and surround him with love and comfort, like he had always surrounded his Frodo with. He was able to sleep then. When he woke in the morning, Frodo was still with him, still smiling, still a warm, comforting presence in Sam’s arms.

It was the third night of their travels when Frodo woke suddenly in the bright moonlight. “Oh, Sam, it’s too late!” he cried.

Sam startled awake, but Frodo said nothing else. He stared straight ahead and seemed to be reaching for something, then slumped back into Sam’s arms and fell back to sleep.

In the morning, after a breakfast Frodo lost almost immediately, he lay limply in his guardian’s arms. “Oh, Sam, I can smell the Sea,” he murmured. “I can see it. I can feel it against my feet. It is so warm and welcoming. Thank you so much for bringing me here on my birthday.”

Sam began to cry as he realized that his most beloved brother would soon be leaving him.

Frodo reached up and wiped at those tears. “Don’t cry, Sam. Please. I don’t want you to be sad. I want you to be happy. I’m going home. Don’t fear for me.”

Sam smiled faintly through his tears. “I will be happy for you, dear, but not for me. I don’t want you to go.”

“Dearest Sam, I’m so sorry, but I’ll be waiting for you when you come and then we’ll be so happy together, so very happy. Will you sing to me, please, Sam?”

“Rest, my loved one, rest,” the ‘elder’ hobbit began. His voice threatened to close the longer he went on, but he kept singing. Frodo closed his eyes and listened. The light continued to grow in him.

“Sleep and may your dreams be blest.

I'll be here till day is dawning.

Rest, my loved one, rest.

All the long night I'll be near ye,

Ever wakeful, my watch to keep.

Rest and have no fear, my dearling,

Sleep, my loved one, sleep.”

Sam’s tears were falling unchecked down his cheeks onto Frodo’s in a last blessing. He could hardly speak, but he continued. His dearest brother grew more peaceful in his arms, more bright and beautiful. The silver in his hair combined with the light to make him even more radiant.

“Sleep now, and may thy slumber peace attend,

 I'll e'er be nigh to comfort and defend;

Though I and thou by sad fate parted be,

Know this, beloved one, I'll still love thee.

“Flowers all fair may blossom in the spring,

Summer may come and with it sunshine bring,

Autumn may pass, and then the winter's chill,

But know this, my beloved one, I'll love thee still.

“Time may go on, and long may be the years,

But to my heart thou'lt evermore be near.

Sleep now, and may thy slumber blessed be,

Rest in the knowledge that I'll e'er love thee.”

Frodo opened his eyes now and Sam saw through his tears, that it was truly his brother, not the child he had become. “Oh, my Sam, dearest and most beloved brother mine, le hannon. You have always held me so safe and secure. Thank you for doing so even now.”

Sam held him ever tighter, rejoicing and grieving all the more to see his friend for the last time. “You wait for me, dear, and I will follow you. I wish I could go with you now.”

Frodo reached up to touch his cheek and wiped at his tears. “It’s not your time yet, dearlove. Live for yourself and your Rose and Elanor and Frodo-lad and Goldilocks and Rose-lass and Bilbo and Merry and Pippin and...” The Ring-bearer’s eyes focused on something past his guardian’s shoulder. “Oh Sam, I can see them all and they are so beautiful, so very beautiful.” He looked into his beloved brother’s eyes. “Don’t be sad, Sam, for I am not leaving you. Look up at the stars at night and you will find me there, watching over you.”

“I will look, my dear.”

“I love you, my Sam.”

“I love you, too, my dearest dear.”

Frodo leaned back against his friend and sighed. Sam buried his head against his brother’s heart so he could listen to it until the last. His own heart faltered and breath hitched as the dying Ring-bearer’s heartbeat slowed. “Oh, Sam, can you see it?” he murmured. “It’s so bright, so beautiful!”

Then his heart failed altogether and Sam begged that his fail too, but it did not. Instead a giant howl up went up within it as Frodo’s last breath was gently expelled and his arms loosened around him. The gardener was surprised the entire Shire did not hear that wail. He held his brother for a long, long time, still rocking, still softly signing, crying hard enough that his throat was raw. Still he wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t let go.

Finally he looked into Frodo’s still open eyes. He had never tired of staring into those blue depths since he had first fallen in love with them as a child. He had seen all his brother’s moods in them: joy, laughter, teasing, light, love, grief, shadows, shame, torment. A window to his soul those beloved eyes had always been. It was no different now. Now they showed peace. Sam stared at that for a long time, imagining to see light there still, fading but growing at the same time. He traced the dear features of his brother’s face on last time, the cheek and chin and brow.

“Thank you for everything, my dear. I love you. I always have and I always will. Happy birthday.”

Then he began to sing, his last song for his beloved brother and child.

“Sleep, my dear one, free from care.

No more suffering shall you bear.

Sorrow you no longer feel,

Sleep in peace, my dear, be healed.

”Broken, gentle, dear one mild,

Sleep the slumber of a child.

Freed from shadow, freed from grief,

In innocence you find relief.

“Fragile became the strand

Binding you to mortal land.

I knew soon you would leave,

But where did you go, to leave me to grieve?

“A vibrant spirit, shining star, but altered by so great an ill.

Still I love you, and I always will.

But naught can dim your shining soul.

Why was this your lot, I'd know?

“A final whispered word of love

Then you leave for that realm above.

But I find peace amidst the pain,

For ere you went, you came again.

“You shine as bright as day again,

Untouched by shadow, free from pain.

Goodbye, my love, but only for now.

I will join you one day, forever, not just for now.”

Sam kissed his beloved brother’s head and his maimed hand, then closed those luminous eyes and cried all the more that he would not look into them again in this life. He didn’t let go of his brother’s body until the dawn came, then gently placed it in the cart, bundled it up, though he could not bear to cover the face and began the return home. He could barely see the path for his tears, but the pony knew the way. Each night, Sam slept curled up beside his brother’s body. It comforted him to do so as he cried himself to exhausted sleep.

When he returned home at last, Rose met him at the gate and he cried anew in her arms and heard her soft murmurs and her own tears, then finally he got the strength to begin to dig a plot in the garden for his brother’s grave. He washed the body then as tenderly as he ever had and dressed it in Frodo’s favorite outfit. He held him tightly for a long time for the last time, then gave his brow a final kiss. “I will see you again,” he promised. “Under the brightest star. And we will be so happy.”

He didn’t want to let go, but then mastered his will and placed his most beloved brother, along with half his heart, into the grave. It was the hardest thing he had ever done to shovel the dirt on top of the body, to cut himself off from seeing his dear one again.

That night, he came out and looked at the stars. He stared for the longest time at one brighter than the others, twinkling above him. He slept that night under it.

During the next months and years, Sam spent many hours in the garden at his brother’s grave, sometimes just silently sitting and remembering, sometimes talking to Frodo, sometimes simply being near when he was working in the garden. He knew the return love and consolation he felt at those times was not his imagination and it gave him strength to go on another day. Each time before he left, he’d trace the inscription he had had carved out onto a simple headstone, kiss the top of it, tell his brother he loved him and leave smiling.

The inscription read:

Frodo Baggins

Ring-bearer

Hero

Savior

Friend

Brother

A/N: Queen Galadriel wrote the songs (though I altered the last one some to fit the story, so if it’s less beautiful than the others, it’s my fault, not hers), the part about the fragile thread holding Frodo to life that would soon break freeing him to leave for realms above and the immortal shining through the mortal and when Frodo become himself momentarily before and during Sam’s first song.