13. Beyond the Sunset, O Blissful Morning

The light of a summer morning lay over the garden. Frodo and Bilbo stood side by side with baskets of fresh-plucked flowers over their arms. They waded deeper into the flowers, gently plucking the bright blooms and laying them to rest in the basket, and Frodo marvelled again at how each flower, or herb, or green vine in this blessed place seemed to live and sing under his hand. He would never grow tired of that. It was almost a shame to put the lovely things in vases, but ah well. There were plenty, and to spare, and Yavanna had said the flowers truly didn't mind.

Behind them they could hear the bang and clatter of pots and pans as Sam moved to and fro in the kitchen. The good smells that drifted from the open window tickled Frodo's nose and made his stomach growl, and he absent-mindedly stuck two fingers in the pocket of his waistcoat and drew out his watch.

Bilbo saw his quick movement and chuckled. Neither he nor Frodo had needed to glance at a clock or watch for ages-they hadn't much use for time anymore-but old habits die hard. "Nearly time, then?"

Frodo chuckled, too, and put his watch away. "I think it is, thank goodness. I'm famished, and the smell of Sam's cooking is driving me mad."

Bilbo sniffed the air appreciatively. "Yes, he's certainly putting his back into it. Well, I believe we have enough of these hollyhocks. Let's go in, and perhaps Sam will take pity on us and let us have a bite or two."

They carried the baskets into the smial and set them just inside the door. Sam heard them come in and emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a cloth, his round face pink and flushed with warmth. "Is it time, Master Frodo? Bless me, but I haven't even got out the cups and plates yet."

Frodo and Bilbo smiled at each other. Dear Sam had never quite broken the habit of calling Frodo Master, though now it was no more than a pet-name. “Here, give me that cloth," Bilbo said, taking the cloth from Sam's hands and tossing it over his shoulder. "You and Frodo can nip down to the road and watch for them. I'll put these flowers into vases and set the table."

"Come on, Sam!" Frodo tugged on Sam's arm. He felt as excited as a child at Yule.

"But wouldn't you rather meet them first, Mr. Bilbo?" Sam said, frowning.

"I've waited this long, I can wait a bit longer," Bilbo said, patting his arm. "Go on with you now. I'll see them when they arrive, my lad."

"All right then," Sam said. "Seeing as how you don't mind. The kettle's on, and the lid's on the taters so they shouldn't dry out. And there's a plate of little sugared cakes if you'd like a nibble while we're gone."

"More than a nibble, I would imagine," Frodo grinned. "There'll be nothing but crumbs on the platter when we return."

Bilbo flapped his hands at them. "All the more reason for you to be off," Bilbo said. "So I may gorge myself without two pairs of sad, hungry eyes staring at my gluttony across a length of table. Shoo!"

Bilbo pretended to shove them out the round front door, and they made pretence of resistance, but they were laughing too merrily to put much effort into it.

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It was a long way from the smial to the gate set in the low, stone wall, but the air was cool and clean, and it was a pleasure to walk. Puffs of dust rose under Frodo's feet, and he found himself stamping so the sweet smell of the dry earth would rise to his nose. Sam put his hands in his pockets and started to hum Old Bilbo's walking song, and he and Frodo smiled at each other. In another time or place Sam might have made small talk about the fine weather, or the herbs growing amongst the wildflowers, but they had been a long time in this far country, and they didn't seem to need so many words anymore.

After walking awhile in a pleasant silence, they came to the bench close to the gate. Before Sam came, when had still been just Frodo and Bilbo, the two of them had often come down to the gate in the twilight, but there had been no bench then. When Sam learned that Frodo and Bilbo had often merely thrown themselves down on the grass like two empty sacks, he had set right to work building it. Taint right for gentlehobbits to have nowhere decent to sit Sam had said then, and set right to work building it. I reckon a throne wouldn't be good enough for Mr Bilbo, and you, Master dear, (And there Sam had blushed a little, all the affection of a lifetime shining in his eyes.) But since I don't have no gold nor jools, I hope this will serve. And it did serve, quite well, and over time Sam had slowly carved it with leaves and flowers and climbing vines, till Frodo had declared that even the king of Gondor's throne was never such a work of art.

Frodo and Sam sat there until they saw two figures walking down toward the gate. The hobbit on the left seemed to be somewhat weary and footsore, and perhaps a little anxious, and leaned rather heavily against his companion. Frodo squeezed Sam's shoulder.

"Reckon it's them, Master Frodo?" Sam asked. Many hobbits had travelled down this road. Some they had known well and loved, and others were strangers, but every hobbit was greeted like kin, and often they stayed a good long while as smial-guests before they went over the last hill.

Frodo stood up. "Yes, I believe it is!" There was a pitch of excitement in his voice that Sam hadn't heard for...why for an age, really, not since they were all together in that other Shire on the far side of the sunrise. "There's Merry-he's wearing his Rohan livery-and that must be Pippin, but stars, he looks so dreadfully grey and weary! Come along, Sam! Let's hurry down and meet them!"

They held hands like two children and ran down the slope. Merry was already opening the gate and Frodo nearly knocked him over with the force of his embrace. "Merry! Merry! How splendid to see you again!"

Merry laughed and used his greater height to lift Frodo off his feet. "Mercy! Mercy on an old hobbit-traveller! It's good to see you, too, cousin."

Sam wrung Merry's hand and shook his arm up and down like a pump-handle. 'You're a sight for sore eyes, Mr. Merry, and that's a fact! What I mean to say is, we had a feeling you were on the way, but whatever took you so long?"

"Well, I am sorry about that," Merry said. "But Pippin wasn't quite ready, and I couldn't go on without him, you know. I had to hang back a while."

At this they all turned together and looked at Pippin, who stood trembling like a leaf. He was still very tall and straight, though time had rounded his shoulders and stolen the red-brown colour of the curls on his head and his feet, and twisted the bones of his long hands. He was dressed very finely in a black velvet coat and silver waistcoat, and he was clinging so tightly to Merry's sleeve that his knuckles were white. Merry gently patted his hand. "All right, Pippin?"

Pippin slowly stretched out his arm and touched Frodo's face with his cool fingers. Frodo quickly clasped the trembling hand tight against his cheek and warmed it with his breath, and kissed it. "Frodo, Frodo, I can't believe it,” Pippin murmured. “Oh, I hope I'm not dreaming again! I had a dream once, in the White City, that I had grown so very old, and Merry had left me and all I wanted to do was go home, but I couldn't find my way somehow. This is like that dream, but..." Pippin's mouth fell open, and he looked all around at the trees and blue sky as if he had never seen a tree or the sky before. "But I’m not asleep now. Where am I?"

"I‘ve brought you home, Pip," Merry said. "Home at last, to stay."

"Home at last," Pippin repeated, and then he began to cry.

"No more tears, cousin," Frodo said, handing him a handkerchief, but at the same time he reached into his waistcoat and brought out another to mop his own face.

"I can't seem to help it," Pippin hiccupped, with his head on Merry's shoulder. "I don't know what I was expecting, but you're all here, and it's so good-" Here Pippin broke down, and they stood there in the sun, laughing and crying together, and Pippin's tears were like rain that washed away the lifetime of little sorrows and greater hurts that all mortals learn to bear as they walk upon the earth.

"Well, well, let's go on," Frodo said at last, giving his eyes a last swipe with his sleeve-his handkerchief was a wreck of sodden linen. "Bilbo is anxious to see you, and then they'll be expecting us at the Feast."

Pippin looked baffled all over again. "Bilbo? Feast? Great heavens, will I have to make some sort of speech?"

"Only a little one," Merry laughed. "You can take a hobbit out of the Shire, but one can never take the Shire out of the hobbit, and everyone will expect a bit of news and gossip from Over There."

"I shall do my best then," Pippin said, wiping his eyes. "How wonderful it will be to see everyone again after so long!"

"My dear 'Stell," Merry said softly, and touched Pippin's hand again. "And your Diamond, Pip. They're waiting for us."

"Diamond," Pippin sighed, but this time he smiled.

"And my Rose," Sam said. "And won't she scold me if I'm late!" But he laughed as he said it; so foolish it was to worry about early or late in this timeless place.

Pippin looked at them all with such love and happiness in his heart that he thought it would burst. He felt like laughing and singing all at once. He felt light as a feather. He felt like the young hobbit-lad he had been so long, long ago, sitting on his pack on Frodo's doorstep, with the whole, wide world ahead of him and a great adventure about to begin. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

They said no more then, but joined hands and began to walk together in the soft twilight, down the Last Road that led to the bright lights and laughter of the great Feast just over the hill, in the valley where the merriment went on forever, and summer lasted for always.

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The end

( of this, but more to come...)