A THREE HOUR CRUISE (written in 2006 for Claudia's birthday)

As they approached the Grey Havens, Sam could stand the silence no longer.

“Please, Mr. Frodo, why are you doing this?”

“The Shire has been saved, Sam... but not for me,” Frodo said softly.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but that really doesn’t make much sense.”

“Oh.” Frodo thought for a moment. “Once bitten, twice shy, then.”

“Pardon?”

“No man is an island?”

“You’re a hobbit, sir.” Sam peered at his master critically, starting to smell a rat. “What’s really going on?”

Frodo sighed; it was so difficult keeping a secret from Sam. The group, including Elrond, Galadriel, Bilbo, and many noble Elves, rode up to the ornate gates where Gandalf stood waiting.

“It is time, Frodo,” Gandalf said gravely. “Did you pack the suntan oil?”

“What is he...” As they rode through the gates, Sam halted, and gasped in amazement at the sight before them. His stared not at the Sea, but...

There, breathtaking in its loveliness, was moored the beloved white ship of the Elves, “The Quenya Queen”. Lively singing and splashing could faintly be heard from various hot tubs on the deck, and a sign on the dock advertised that the Dorwinion Duo would be entertaining the passengers in the Caradhras Club that evening.

“We’re coming too!” came a sudden cry. Merry and Pippin came galloping up on their ponies, tickets in hand.

“And here’s yours, Sam,” Frodo laughed, waving a first-class ticket enticingly at his friend. “Care to join us for a little cruise?”

“I don’t do well on boats, Mr. Frodo,” Sam reminded him, eyeing the ticket longingly.

“The Sea is as smooth as glass this time of year,” Frodo cajoled.

“Ah, hello, Rosie!” Gandalf called out. “It’s good to see you again.”

“R… Rosie?” Sam dismounted and gazed raptly at the vision before them.

“You must be Samwise Gamgee,” the adorable hobbit lass said to him, checking the names on her clipboard. “I’m Rose Cotton, the Activities Director. May I show you around the ship... Sam?”

“Yes, please,” Sam murmured.

Bilbo pulled out his pocketwatch and peered at it.

“It’s nearly time for luncheon!” the old hobbit cried in alarm. “Come, Gandalf, help an old hobbit up the ramp. Tuesday is ‘all you can eat steak-and-lobster day’, as I recall.”

“Steak?” Pippin asked, mouth watering.

“Lobster?” Merry sprinted for the ship. “Last one on board is an orc!”

“I hope the chefs have prepared for hobbit appetites,” Elrond said worriedly.

“Fear not,” Galadriel assured him. “I foresaw in my Mirror that that ship would have some unusual guests this trip, and sent messages ahead.”

“Good,” Frodo said, pulling out his sunglasses. “Let’s--”

“Elendil!” came a sudden, triumphant cry from somewhere on deck.

“Is that—” Frodo gasped.

“Ah,” Gandalf chuckled. “He must have made a good shot. You may not know this, Frodo, but Aragorn has been Middle-earth shuffleboard champion three years’ running.”

“Does he always yell like that?” Frodo winced.

“You get used to it,” Elrond sighed.