Chapter Sixty-Three: Gifts

We were happy in Minas Tirith, city of so many wonders, though that time seems but a dream to me that has faded. The Shadow was gone or so we thought. All life seemed new again and there was so much to see and do. The only thing lacking was Bilbo. How wonderful it would have been to have him there with us. How he would have loved to have seen Aragorn’s wedding and yours, the greatest reward for all your labors.

But the Shadow did not depart or it grew again, there in my heart where it had gnawed for so many months and as ripped apart from the Ring as I felt at the Fire, all the roots hadn’t been torn away, there were still some left and they grew again in the soil that was left. I wonder that you can hold so many broken pieces of my heart that you have since the journey began. Piece by piece you gathered them as bit by bit they were torn away and you held each piece close to you, hiding them in your own heart, the safest place for them, even though their jagged edges cut your heart. Still you would have them in no other place and nor would I, though I grieve for the pain they cause you, but as long as they remain there and the other pieces in the custody of my brother-cousins then part of me will always be here, with you, in the Shire we love and labored so long to save. And I will keep the pieces you three gave to me so very long ago and perhaps then I will be able to repair the damage done and become whole again and so will the three of you.

I will also be taking the Queen’s gift to me for I cannot bear to be without it since I must soon be without the greater comfort of your arms and beautiful eyes and voice. She recognized the darkness that still lingered even before I did. What a tremendous boon she gave me, what a help it has been. I finger it for the solace it provides and I try so hard, so very hard not to wish it was the Ring instead that I caress. I cry hard at night because I fail in that and do so wish. How many times I have lain awake at night with nothing but my tears and longing for company after you leave. I stare at the ceiling, watching the shadows pass as clouds flit across the moon and the endless night slowly passes. I wonder sometimes what stars I will see in the West. I hope the nights will be kinder there. There have been times when I wish it had not been Smeagol who fell into the fire, but myself; times when I wished you didn’t love me so much that I wanted instead to live; times when I wished I didn’t love you so much that I knew I couldn’t hurt you by letting go.

Each night, the cry from my heart goes out to you before I can stop it and I wouldn’t even if I could, because I need you with me and that shames me that I am so selfish that I would deprive you of sleep and your Rose. You come and hold me, stroke my curls, wipe my tears and tell me as you rock me that it will be all right. I marvel that you can still believe that and I marvel even more that I can believe it myself but you said so and you would not lie. But most times, I feel I am a terrible burden to you, that you still must come to me nearly every night and more often than not have to listen to my tears. How many times I have apologized to you as I have held you so tight and sobbed as I haven’t since my parents and your mum have died. And I don’t even know this time why I am grieving. Why should I mourn the loss of such a despicable thing? Why do you have to see and hear that torment? But you will not stay away. Your heart cannot. You just hold me tighter and tell me I have nothing to be sorry for and you say instead that you are sorry that I am still in such pain.

Oh, my Sam, you have no idea how much I have to be sorry for! I wish you could hold me forever, against all my terrors and torments. But soon my heart will cry to you and your heart will answer, but you will not be able to pad across the hall and reach me. I will be beyond the reach of your arms, but I don’t believe, or I hope for it not to be true, that I will be beyond the reach of your heart. Only in my darkest despair, do I give the voice any credence that tells me that I will reach out for your hand and not be able to somehow feel it, even though all the Sea is between us. I wonder if you have heard the same voice because you have told me more than once that you will never leave me or have I spoken in my sleep? I wonder what else you have heard. Still there is no condemnation, no judgement, no ‘why, how, can you long for such a thing’ so mayhap you do not know or you love me despite it. You have loved me through so much, so very much, my best heart. You will love me through this parting also or so I tell myself. I would go mad otherwise. What a gift you have been to me, my Sam. What a tremendous gift.

* * *

I’m glad you had the gem Queen Arwen gave you around your neck instead of that confounded Ring. Instead of watching your face contort with strain of will, your features relaxed into peace when you clutched it and I breathed a little easier. I thanked the Queen silently every day that she gifted you with that. I still do. I didn’t understand all that was still happening to you, but as I still have nightmares myself about our times, I certainly understood why you would have yours and I mourned that the pain we thought we had left behind at the Fire was still with us. She saw your hurt even more than I did at first, for it had retreated far from your eyes and your heart and I would have thought it gone for good but she saw it and Mr. Gandalf must have also for he told me to still watch over you, that you would still need me. I told him, of course I would, that he needn’t tell me that. His eyes and his voice were very grave and it took me a while to understand why. I started to on the way home, when you were ill when we were near Weathertop and the Ford and then again the next October. I understood even more on the way to the Havens. I didn’t pay it much mind when you said Rivendell had everything but the Sea, but I remembered it after you left, as the three of us stood there in the gloom and the dark of the world and our hearts.

I watched you sleep so many times, your fingers wrapped around that gem, just like they used to be wrapped around the Ring. I saw your lips moving soundlessly and I wondered what you were saying. I came to you then, brushed your curls and kissed your head and told you how much I loved you and you always calmed then, your grip lessening and your lips falling silent, though at times I heard you murmur that you loved me too. It was that hard in the beginning after you left, not to be able to still do that each night, to wake you each morning with the same caress and kiss, to have others do the caring for you that I have since I was nine and, if I am so blessed, will be doing at 109.

It’s been so long now that you’ve been gone, my dearest dear, but you are still so fresh in my mind, so bright. I still long for the touch of your hand and the sound of your voice like I did when I was searching for you in the tower and no one can gainsay me that I don’t feel and hear you at times. You are glowing ever brighter, my love. In the beginning, I saw the gem around your neck shining with you, but now you shine just on your own and I can’t wait, I just can’t wait until I can hold you and get lost in that light that has guided me through the darkness of first losing my mum and then on the Quest and then having to watch you leave and return home without you. And I know it will be guiding me on the greatest journey of all, on my way to my new home. It’s strange to think of a Hobbit of the Shire being at home in a Elven land, but you will be there, and that will mean home, just as much as this one you have gifted to me. And even dearer is the gift you have given me of yourself, my love, that most tremendous gift of all.