Chapter Fifty-Seven: Carried

Oh, Sam, dearest Sam, I woke that last day in your arms and how very good it would have been just to stay there. You had always held my hope, now you had to hold my strength and will too and screw it once more to the sticking point. Even now at times at wake with you holding me and I wish I could stay there, but there is a time coming when I will not wake in them, when there will be the Sea between us and many long years before I can feel your arms about me again. I would quail at the very thought but the pain of loss and longing for the Ring is worse than the agony of losing you and I must be free of it, I must.

You said it was easy to carry me. Is that any wonder, my beloved heart? There was so little of me left. So much has already been burned away and I wonder if it will ever return. I clutch so at Arwen’s gem and how often I wish I was clutching at the Ring instead. Will this terrible lust never leave? I don’t have the hope here that it will. Gollum was still mad with it decades after the Ring left him and Bilbo, dear Bilbo, longs for it still. I hope for his healing too where we are going. I wish that Smeagol could have come as well.

You carried me up the Mountain and you were crawling yourself with me still on your back before your will and strength gave out. How can I ever repay that? I can’t. I will never be able to. I thanked you but mere words are not sufficient. You carry me still at times, when I’ve fallen asleep in the study, back to my bed. You lay me so gently down just as you did near the Fire, and kiss my brow and wish me a peaceful sleep. Other times when the dreams become too much and I half-wake gasping and choking, thinking I am still there amidst the terrible ash and smoke, you carry me out to the air, into the garden and lay me down among the flowers and the soft soil and I can breathe easier then. You stroke my curls and murmur softly to me and I know I am back home, but not as well. Still you are with me, whether at the Fire or in the parlour, if you are there, then that is where I wish to be, with you.

When I saw his Eye and was called to put on the Ring and my will could not stir any longer any resistance to it, you kissed my hands and held them so I could not obey the summons. Oh, my Sam, what love you gave and continue every moment to still give! You had no more water to give, but still I drowned, looking in your eyes. It gave me the strength to go on, every day it is giving me the strength to go on. I think in the end it will give me the strength to leave for you have ever wanted the best for me. I open my mouth sometimes to tell you what it coming, so I can hope I can leave with your blessing and not just the tears I know we will both shed, but still I hold back. You shine with such beautiful light every time you look at me, at Rose, at Elanor. I can’t damage that, not until I absolutely must, until my cowardice is revealed at last and I say that I must leave. Greater love I know I will not find. But healing and release, I beg every night for that, for I have yet to give up the Ring. I lay on my side as the moonlight streams in and sleep is far away and I plead for the terrible night to pass, for it has not even now and it will not I fear until the light from the West dawns.

You carried me again then with all my strength was lost or so I thought. It’s terrible that it was roused again when Smeagol tried to take the Ring away from me. I had already nearly attacked you and I did attack him and that was the only thing that gave me any strength. Why couldn’t I have had it earlier so you wouldn’t have needed to carry me? No, it only came when I was in danger of losing my treasure, the same thing that I was expending, that you were expending, all strength and blood and sweat and tears to lose. That is madness. So much evil you have seen in me, Sam, but still you love. You love and you love and you love and you see no reason to stop or change or think you are wrong to do so. I am far more blessed than I ever deserve to be by that.

* * *

I didn’t know how I was going to carry you and the Ring too, but you were so light, just like you had been as a lad when I used to carry you as a lark and your laughter rang clear in the clean air as you protested and fought to get down, but I wouldn’t let you. You had no strength, no laughter left in the Fire, but still you were you, the same one I had always loved and would carry to the ends of the earth if need be. How terrible I felt for you when you said you had no memories of home left, of nothing, but the Ring. It was memories and hope that kept me on our Road, helped me keep you on it so new memories could be made, so songs could still be sung even if we couldn’t hear them ourselves. How you were able to travel with nothing inside you but it I don’t know.

I took your hands when you told me you could not stop yourself any longer from putting on the Ring and kissed them and tried to pour all my strength and love into you. I tried to do that every day until you left for you were still so sorely in need of care. I think sometimes I still saw the fire burning behind your eyes even after we got home and I wished I could have reached there and with my tears put it out.

I watched you every night until the ship bore you away and I marveled at how your light shone through, just like you belonged among the Elves and not here at all. But I don’t think I ever saw it so bright as I did at the Fire. Sometimes I dream of you like that, but instead of a wheel of fire at your breast, there is just beautiful, pure light. I think you are just as bright now and I long to stand beside that. I think it must be another of the Lady’s gifts that I can dream of you still and yet know it’s not a dream, that I’m really seeing you. Sometimes I’ve seen you look right into my eyes and smile and I nearly cry out in joy at such a sight at the love that streams out of you as it always had. Can you see me looking back at you I wonder? I still feel as though I have lost half of my heart, but your gifts, my Rose, the children, are filling me deep and wide. I know I will be leaving them behind when I came to you, but I know also they will still be with me, just as you left me behind but are still with me. Oh, my dearest dear, I hope the Lady has given you dreams as well so you can see how wonderful all your sacrifices have made things. I hope there is someone there to carry you back to bed when your head nods against a book. How light will you be when I can do that again? I think you will be made of nothing but light by then, but still I think I will feel your warm weight in my arms as well, your head against my shoulder and a smile on your face.