For Jeodo Brandybuck

10. Someday

Eternal summer lies sweetly over Elvenhome, but even there the day, no matter how joyful, must draw to a close. The blue twilight has fallen and two friends, having laughed and talked and wept over the joys and sorrows of sixty years apart, now sit in chairs before the fire. At Frodo's feet is a chest filled with all the affection and longing of a lifetime: Letters, faded autumn leaves, ribbons, locks of hair, Shire-earth brown and darkest gold.

Frodo holds a page in his hands and murmurs words Sam had written long ago, on the other side of the sea. "And someday, Master dear, if what I hope comes true, I'll bring all these birthday greetings to you..." Frodo can scarcely speak. This gift of kindly memory Sam has brought to him is more precious than jewels.

"Someday," Sam whispers, his face filled with growing wonder and joy, like one waking at last to find his most impossible dream come true. "Why, this is it, isn't it, Master Frodo? This is our Someday."

"It is indeed, my dear Sam," Frodo says, taking his hand, and they sit then in a deep and loving silence that needs no more words.

the end

(of this one, but more ficlets on the way...)