Chapter 25 - Choices

The river slowly widens as they draw nearer to the Bay of Belfalas the following day. The banks on either side pull farther away as the ship continues west, until at last the mouth of the Harnen lets out into the bay. The barren deserts turn to golden beaches that sparkle in the afternoon sun. Wild vegetation grows thick along the bluffs and many small settlements can be seen scattered along the coasts on both sides of the river. The bay water is clear and deep, the rich color of sapphire, and it engulfs the ship as it stretches farther west to the deeper waters of the Sundering Sea. The smell of salt and the song of the distant ocean’s great waves are sharp in the air, carried to them by brisk easterly winds.

The ship turns northward to sail in a shallow arc for the Ethir Anduin, a three day journey in calm waters. Some of the crew toss a great net into the bay to drag behind the stern. The water is so clear that they can watch as the net fills and thus can pull it up before it grows too heavy. The crew begins the laborious job of preparing the fish for dinner, tossing the viscera back into the bay for the other sea creatures to enjoy. They pile the gills into a sack to be fashioned into simple knives or scraping tools later. As they work they talk excitedly amongst themselves, anticipating what dishes the cooks might make from their catch.

Sauron watches them from his perch against the portside hull, quietly observing the crewmen’s simple merriment. Rick joins him and together they watch the men carry the fish below deck. When the crew return to their sailing duties, Rick turns around to rest his elbows on the rail and stare beyond the bay to the darker waters of the Sundering Sea on the horizon. He sighs heavily, fingering the rail and absently peeling away loose wood fibers. He tosses the fibers into the water and sighs again, more dramatically this time. Beside him, Sauron mildly raises an eyebrow in his direction.

“I’ve been cheated,” Rick finally announces, his tone conversational. He waits a few moments to make sure he has his friend’s full attention, all the while picking at the rail and squinting out over the bay. Sauron doesn’t say anything but he moves ever so slightly to face Rick more directly. Rick nods thoughtfully and continues. “I’ve been thinking it all over, and there really is no other conclusion. I’ve been cheated. Now, most people would be bothered by this and possibly even resentful, but I know you tried your hardest and as thorough as you are with your plans, even you can’t anticipate everything. I just want you to know that I understand this and I don’t hold it against you, so you can stop brooding now.”

Now it is Sauron’s turn to sigh and he looks up at the sky as though appealing for some strength of patience he does not possess. “All right, I’ll bite,” he replies at length. “How did I cheat you?”

“Well, for starters, I couldn’t help but notice that in this plan of yours, I was never going to do any fighting,” Rick begins. “You know, one of the reasons I joined up with you was to prove my worth as a warrior, seeing as I was too young to fight in the War, and yet you always somehow manage to find assignments for me where I don’t get to fight. Even when you went to Dwimoberg to get that chain, I had to stay behind in Edoras to babysit your horse.”

“Brego gets lonely,” Sauron says. 

“Brego hates me,” Rick retorts. “Second, I finally find a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman, perfect in every way, who actually seems to notice me for a change. Only, it turns out she’s not only be a spy, but a queen married to a powerful king who can grind me into the ground with his pinky. What’s worse is that you both knew how I felt and you used it. You were using me to get information on her, she was using me to get information on us.”

“I already apologized for that, but it was necessary, and I did try to tell you…” Sauron attempts to argue.

“I had my heart trampled all over and for what? For you to finally learn that I was right all along: she can be trusted and she is our ally. True, she wants you dead just as much as the others do, but you’re not dead and that’s largely because of her... and Frodo and the Khand, granted,” Rick finishes with a flippant wave of his hand.

“Are you coming around to some sort of point?” Sauron asks.

“Third,” Rick persists, “we were going to sail with the Wizards not to Gondor but to the Grey Havens. Yes, that wasn’t the original plan, but you said that’s what we were going to do, and I was looking forward to finally being able to sail the Sea, and now this is likely the closest I’ll ever get, just the smell of salt air as we putter about in the Bay of Belfalas on this little ship. You know what I was looking forward to the most? The porpoise. The mariners I’ve talked to in Gondor say that they’re intelligent sea creatures who can speak to humans and they swim in front of the ships, showing them the way to safe passage and harbor. But now I’ll never see them.”

“I could try to stir up an eel for you,” Sauron suggests. 

“An eel?”

“Some of them are said to be imbued with the power of lightning bolts that can kill a man, or at least stun him very badly,” Sauron elaborates, trying his best to make this sound like a suitable substitute.

“As I was saying,” Rick says, stubbornly refusing to be sidetracked, “I’ve been cheated. Now, I understand why you don’t want me to fight, but frankly, it's not your choice, it's mine. Don’t think for a second that you’re going to leave me out of all the excitement when we go back to Harad. You probably already have some plan to keep me tucked away safe in the Citadel, ‘gathering information’ on the Haradrim or the Black Númenóreans or what have you, but it’s not going to happen. And, yet, it’s not your fault that I fell in love with Semira. That’s something I’m just going to have work out on my own, and I appreciate that you apologized. Missing out on the Sea though is a real disappointment. You owe me a voyage and I will be expecting one when we’re finished in Harad.”

“Is that so?” Sauron asks.

“It is,” Rick confirms.

“Well, I hate to disappoint you further, but the Sea is nothing more than a giant mass of water surrounded by yet more water,” Sauron says. “There’s nothing to see, and these porpoise you’re so eager to catch a glimpse of don’t swim this far north this time of year anyway. Believe me, you’ve been saved from an incredibly boring journey. Besides, we’re already too close to the Sea for comfort. Frodo has a hard enough decision to make without adding the Sea-longing to it. Where is Frodo anyway?”

“Downstairs, sleeping again,” Rick answers. “Sam’s looking over my poem about our adventure in Khand. It’s a very rough draft, but it’s finished if you want to read it.”

“Maybe some other time,” Sauron says. 

“I’m hoping to read it at the feast on our return,” Rick says. “Aliesacan will be on the lips of every Gondorian in the city. They’ll be singing you praises by the end of the week.”

“Rick, I’ve already told you, that name Semira gave me wasn’t meant to be translated and used in Gondor or anywhere else,” Sauron says. “It was a joke anyway.”

“A joke. You mean a lie.”

Sauron says nothing but squints out over the water to avoid looking at Rick. 

“Maybe she did mean it that way, but it doesn’t have to stay a joke,” Rick points out. “It certainly is not a lie.”

“It’s not my name,” Sauron replies, somewhat shortly.

“Neither is ‘Sauron’. That’s just a name the Elves made up for you,” Rick says. “It’s not your original name, you’ve just been called it so long you forgot what came before. Either that, or you’re keeping it to yourself because you think you don’t deserve that name anymore. Now you’re trying to push away this name because you think you don’t deserve this one either, but you do.”

“No, I don’t,” Sauron says, meeting Rick’s eyes again. There is no pleading or anger there, just a humble acceptance of the truth, and this upsets Rick more than anything else. “Didn’t you see what happened in that fortress? The sorts of things that took place there for centuries? Haven’t you learned anything in these past two months? You say you know all the tales about who I was before, but that doesn’t mean you know me. Tales are just stories, and no matter how true or gruesome they are, they’re still just stories. The truth is if I had known you before, I would have stepped on you, broke your neck, killed you in an instant and never once thought anything of it. Either that, or I would have hauled you back to Barad-dûr to be tortured and then killed, and I still wouldn’t have thought anything of it. Why can’t you understand that?”

“You’re right,” Rick says. “I don’t know who you were before. I can’t understand the depths of guilt that you feel or how it must drag you down every moment of every day. But that’s the point of being a friend. I don’t have to understand those things, I just have to be here to help you and that’s exactly what I intend to do, whether you believe you deserve it or not. Because that’s another thing friends do for each other – we remind each other of our worth even when we can no longer see it for ourselves. 

“Didn’t you see what happened in that fortress, what took place there? Didn’t you learn anything from these last two months? You gave of yourself to someone else, someone who was crippled and dying, and you gave that person life and purpose again. You showed that person consideration and taught him to harness the power within himself so that he could heal. Now an entire nation is free and that person may have the chance to live the life he should have been living all along. Enemies have been turned into allies, one-time foes have become life-long friends, and there is hope now where there had been none before. That’s what happened in that fortress.”

“Rick, it’s not that simple,” Sauron replies softly.

“I know that. It’s never simple,” Rick says, “but you, the great Eye, fail to see what is so plainly in front of your face. The Valar had more in mind than just purging Middle-earth of evil when they sent you back here, because the truth is that there is evil in all of us and always has been, otherwise you never would have been able to turn anyone to your will, no matter how powerful you were. Likewise, you never would have turned to Melkor’s will. You blame yourself for everyone that you corrupted but you don’t extend that same blame to the one who actually started all this to begin with.”

“Rick…” Sauron attempts to protest, turning his face away from that beseeching look.

“The point is,” Rick presses on, “that you made a choice and you’re responsible for that choice, and so by extension you are responsible for the consequences of that choice, but give your followers some credit. One way or another, they made the choice to follow you, and they are just as responsible for their actions as you are. Don't take their guilt and blame onto yourself.”

“Rick…” Sauron tries again.

“Because there’s another choice you made,” Rick continues, softening his tone. “You chose to seek atonement for your misdeeds. You were sent back to undo as much of that evil as you can, but there’s a second part of this you’re not getting. 

“By undoing the evil you have wrought on Middle-earth and the Free Peoples, you’re undoing the evil within yourself, freely and willfully. You’re shedding the last remnants of darkness that still remain within. That’s why you were sent back, because they looked inside you and knew you could be saved. They have faith in you, and so do I. You are not ‘the Abhorred’ anymore, not to me, and I refuse to call you by that name any longer, so you’re just going to have to get used it to, Aliesacan.”

Rick pats Sauron’s arm and gently turns his face until he is looking at him. There is pain within the depths of the Maia’s eyes, as steely grey as storm clouds in the night sky. Rick thinks again as he has often in the past that if Sauron will simply allow himself to feel his sorrow, the storm within his eyes might subside and clear. “You have much to atone for, no one’s denying that, but you’re doing your best and that’s all any of us can do. You need to let yourself off the hook sooner or later, sooner being preferable, otherwise you’ll end up like those fish, gasping for breath while someone cuts you open, rips out your innards and throws you on the fire to make their dinner. Is that what you want?”

The smallest hint of a smile appears on Sauron’s face. “No, I don’t want that.”

“Good. So then, no more brooding. I’m going to help with dinner.” 

“Thanks a lot, lad,” Sauron says.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Rick replies and he gives Sauron’s arm another pat before heading below deck. 

Sauron watches him go, his smile spreading into a genuine grin so that when he faces the Sea again, he is chuckling softly under his breath. Leave it to Rick to turn a poignant conversation into an absurd analogy. 

He follows the floor of the bay until he can see it no more, then looks farther to the Sea and beyond. Ever in the uttermost West there is a light that shines throughout the day and night for those to see who can and he seeks it out now as it glows brighter than the sun overhead. He watches it for a time, thinking over everything that has happened since the destruction of the Ring and his meeting with Rick. He does not turn away until Sam comes to beckon him to dinner and before he leaves the deck he whispers a simple, “Thank you.”

The isle of Tolfalas appears on the horizon of the bay early the following morning. At first a mere dot upon the sparkling water, by midday the island dominates the view to the north, its wide grassland hills climbing into the sky to dwarf even the Hills of Targost in Gondor behind them. A sheer wall on the southern side of the island curves around a white-beached cape that glints in the afternoon sun. The island sits just west of the Ethir Anduin, in full view of the delta, and splits the bay there into two channels that encircle the island. With Harandor to the east and Belfalas to the north, the island marks the southernmost point of Gondor and signals the way home to sea-weary mariners.

Though the island is occupied mostly by pigs and seabirds, the Haradrim grow quiet and edgy as the ship draws nearer to it. In the past, few men have lived there but there are rumors in Harad that the Pale King has secretly been moving small contingents of his army onto the island, living hidden within the protection of the hills. The army can easily assail any fleet that comes northward, and though they be small in number it is said they have weapons of exploding fire that can sink any ship. Fearful of attack, the captain quickly sends one of his crew up the main mast to fly the Pale King’s banner below the banner of Harad, marking them as allies. With hope and some luck, they will be able to carry their passengers to Pelargir without hindrance.

They reach the island the following day and steer the ship up the eastern channel between the island and the shores of Harandor. The breeze turns cool and crisp as they continue northward, and to the east Harandor again becomes a vast grassland, fed from the waters of the bay to the west, the Anduin to the north and the River Poros to the east. The sun shines as brightly as before, but its warmth is welcoming and invigorating rather than suppressing and draining. 

Rick stands at the bow of the ship, drinking in the air and sun and watching the seabirds bob on the water and dive for fish. Sauron is with him and he too appears to be relieved at the sight of Gondor. At the least, he has been more at ease the last couple of days, even cautioning a joke or two, much to the delight of Rick and the hobbits. For their part, the hobbits are eager to set their feet on solid land again. They have decided to visit for a short while in Minas Tirith, for it would be rude to leave too soon, but their feet itch for the road home. They have never felt so far away from the Shire as they do now. 

Frodo and Sam sit against the capstan, enjoying the weather and watching as Rick begins to  act out a scene from his poem, much to Sauron’s amusement. They can guess that Rick is reciting the part where he encountered Semira and the Haradrim below the fortress. The lad had been tempted to exaggerate Amros’s animosity but in light of his position in Harad, and his generosity in gifting Rick with one of his horses, Rick had decided in the end that an accurate portrayal of the Sultan of the House of the Sun would be more appropriate. He can’t help but playact Amros as an overbearing oaf though, and Sam laughs at the obvious jealousy that fuels it. 

Sam looks beside him to see if Frodo is enjoying the performance as much as he is only to discover that his master is once again lost in his own thoughts, giving little mind to anything around him. Sam has been patient but now he senses the time has come to speak, whether his master would have him do so or not. One of Frodo’s slender hands rests on the deck between them so Sam takes it gently and presses it, drawing his master out of his thoughts and back to the present. Frodo looks up, his wide blue eyes clouded with some worry, but when he blinks his eyes clear and the next instant he is smiling joyfully at his friend. 

“Hullo Sam,” he says, admitting in that simple greeting that he has indeed been far away and thanking Sam from bringing him back.

“Mr. Frodo,” Sam returns. “Are you all right, master? You’ve not been yourself of late, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I’m quite well, Sam,” Frodo assures. “I’ve just been sorting things out. It’s like you said earlier. It gets to where you can’t tell what’s real and what’s not, only for me it’s been like that since the War. Ever since Cormallen I’ve been in a dream and the only times I ever felt alive were on the anniversaries of Weathertop and Cirith Ungol.”

“When you would dream,” Sam says, remembering that day in the cave, Frodo’s haunted look upon waking and his lingering illness all that day and night. He remembers again the few times he has walked in on Frodo in Bag End, that same haunted look in his eyes, only then he had not known what it meant. Now that he does know, he worries anew but he keeps his voice calm when he continues. “But it’s more than just dreams, isn’t it? You were awake most of that day and still you weren’t well. It’s visions you see then, or you remember things that happened, and it’s all day long isn’t it?”

Frodo swallows and steadies himself before answering. His heart shrivels a little just to think of those dark days, and though the sun still shines brightly in the west and the bay still sparkles with brilliant blue, everything around him seems to dim ever so slightly as he remembers those illnesses and the visions that would taunt him. He wraps his free arm around his knees and forces himself to focus on the warm spring day. 

“Mr. Frodo?” Sam asks, pressing his hand again. 

Frodo returns Sam’s grasp with equal force, and it is enough to shake the threads of darkness that entangle him. The dimness goes away and the cries of the seabirds fill his ears. “I can do this, Sam, and it’s far past the time that you know the truth, if you want to hear it.”

“I do,” Sam says, his voice shaking despite himself. 

Frodo takes a deep breath and plunges ahead. “On the day of the anniversaries, I go back there, to that place and that time. You’ve had the dreams and you know what that’s like, but this is more than just dreams. It’s as if the Shire is the dream and the dream is the reality. It will pull me out of my surroundings and I’ll be back there, walking through Mordor, smelling the stench of it, running from Shelob, feeling the Morgul blade dig into me and the shard crawling it’s way to my heart. It is real, more real than the first time around, and there is nothing I can do to get away from it. Every time it happens, it’s worse than the time before, the illness lasts longer, the visions are more reluctant to let me go. Eventually I just pass out and when I wake up I’m back in Bag End, but the shadows linger. I never really went home.”

Sam blinks back the tears that threaten to spill, and he has to calm himself before he answers. All this time and he never knew, never guessed. Some great servant he is, couldn’t even tell his master had been suffering all along. He had thought it started with the rumors of Sauron’s return but he sees now that Frodo never left Mordor, or else he had taken some piece of Mordor with him. 

Sam looks up at Rick and Sauron again, and some of the old confusion and doubt return. He watches Sauron laugh at some story of Rick’s, and the only way he can make sense of any of it is to think of Gollum. Stinker and Slinker. Neither of them had been very pleasant, but there had been a difference there between the two, and Sam supposes that Smeagol might have been able to redeem himself in the end if he had been given the chance. That is similar to Sauron now and Sam understands why Rick insists on distinguishing between them: Sauron and Aliesacan. Does this mean that Frodo also has been split in two? Sam shakes his head, unable to imagine such an unlikely scenario. He wants his master whole and sound, not torn in two, sewn back together but never fully mended, his very being a wound scabbed over, a scar never to fade.

Frodo waits for him to sort out his thoughts. “So,” Sam begins, struggling now to keep his voice steady and his face calm, though why he is not sure. Certainly, Frodo can feel how cold and sweaty his hand has become and how he trembles with confliction. “So, are you going to have a third anniversary day now? Is that why you were going to leave with Mr. Bilbo to Valinor then?”

“I don’t know,” Frodo answers the first question. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t have them at all anymore. Only time will tell. As for Bilbo, he was supposed to go with me not the other way around. Queen Arwen granted me passage to the Undying Lands, to take her place there. Bilbo was given permission to join me for his resistance of the Ring and his injuries in keeping it and losing it, as well as to keep me company. He went without me because Gandalf and I insisted on it. He was old and weary and didn’t have much longer to live in this world. He would have found rest and peace in Valinor and thus live out the rest of his days in ease. He would be among friends and he was long familiar with the way of Elves, so he went without me. He was glad I decided to stay, and he said that while he would wait for me, he wouldn’t expect me.”

“So why did you decide to stay?” Sam asks. “Why didn’t you go if you were so miserable?”

Frodo blushes and studies the grain of the deck beside him. He can feel Sam’s gaze on him and he knows already what his friend is going to say when he hears the answer. His blush brightens but he forces himself to answer anyway. “Because of you, because I was afraid of what might happen to you if I left and you had no one else to take care of, or no one to take care of you. I was afraid you might let yourself waste away from the grief and…” He pauses as understanding dawns upon him. The confusion and fear of the last couple weeks fades away and he brightens considerably, enough to dare meeting Sam’s skeptical and rather bemused expression. “That was it, Sam!” he says. “That’s where the nightmare came from. They didn’t foresee anything, they just took what I feared most and twisted it to their own design, just as Saruman did. Sauron was right.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks. “Where what nightmare came from and what has old Sharkey to do with any of this?”

Frodo then relates his battle with the Blue Wizards, telling Sam of all that they made him see and the warnings they had given him. He then explains his nightmares he’s had since that day and the discussion he had with Sauron a couple of nights ago. “I’ve been trying to weed out the lies from the truth, but the reason I wasn’t able to do that was because it was all a lie,” Frodo finishes. “It’s just that they made it seem so real, it confused me and frightened me.”

“Well that’s a relief and no mistake,” Sam says after a lengthy pause. He pulls his hand away from Frodo and frowns at him. Frodo braces himself, knowing Sam won’t allow himself to be distracted from Frodo’s confession for long. “I’m right glad to hear you’re not in for more hurting, Mr. Frodo. You’ve had more than your fair share, the way I see it.”

“But?” Frodo prompts.

“But I have to say, sir, that I thought you knew me better’n all that,” Sam says. “Now you mean a lot to me, sir, and no mistake. I can’t hardly remember a day when you weren’t in it. You helped me learn my letters, and you taught me a bit of Elvish, and you’ve always treated me with respect and dignity for all I was just the gardener’s son, and I love you for it. That, and you just being you, and I’d not know what I’d do if ever I lost you for good. I did get a glimpse of it Mordor, but that was Mordor and I don’t know how much I was thinking very clearly. Everything was bleak in that dark place, and there didn’t seem to be much point of continuing on, so long as I could get the Ring to Mt. Doom. But now… Well, I reckon I’d still feel like a piece of me was gone forever, but I do like think that I’d find a way of continuing on and making something of myself despite it, especially if I could know that you were happy and getting the healing that you needed. To think that you stayed here, suffering and being ill all that time, just acause of me… Well, sir, if I may be so bold, that was plain daft of you, and it makes me feel like I was the one as was hurting you.”

“I know, Sam,” Frodo says, taking his hand again, reaching up with his other to brush away the tears that now spill down Sam’s brown cheeks. “I was daft and it wasn’t fair of me to use you as an excuse. It wasn’t you at all. It was me. I was afraid to go and I was afraid to stay. By saying I was waiting for you to move on with your life, I was taking the decision off myself and making you bear the burden of it. I didn’t even have the decency to tell you that’s what I was doing. But no more. I’m not hiding from life any longer, Sam, whatever it may bring. I owe it to you, and I owe it to Rakmahnesh, but more so I owe it to myself. I might still eventually have to sail. Even now I can feel the Sea swelling inside me, calling me towards it, but if I do sail it will be on my terms and no one else’s.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Frodo,” Sam says.

“I’m glad to say it. Can you forgive me, Sam?” Frodo asks.

“There’s naught to be forgiving, sir,” Sam says. “Just answer me this. Who was she?”

“Who was who?”

“In that vision the wizards gave you. Who were you married to?”

Frodo blushes again, deeper than before. “Melilot Brandybuck,” he mutters.

Sam raises his eyebrows. “She’s a fair sight younger than you, isn’t she? Weren’t she courting Mr. Everard Took?”

“She’s a sweet enough lass. She always enjoyed hearing about Bilbo’s adventures, and she’d even listen to tales of my hikes around the Shire at times. Not that it matters of course. It was just a lie, after all,” Frodo says sheepishly and looks pointedly away to avoid Sam’s knowing grin. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

“If that’s what you want, sir,” Sam agrees, chuckling under his breath. “Are you getting hungry? Mayhap we should go down and get some food, and get you out of this sun.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Frodo says, jumping at the distraction and change in subject. Food is always a good way of making one forget embarrassing conversations. He scrambles to his feet and helps Sam onto his, then leads the way below deck to the kitchen.

The rest of the journey passes pleasantly. They pass into the Ethir Anduin the next morning. The massive delta is full of fishing boats and cargo ships, mostly of Gondorian origin. They spy a couple of other Haradrim ships, both flying the King’s banner just as their own does. The crew remains on guard, watching the crews of the other ships with keen interest. Likewise, the Gondorians, both on water and on land, watch the Haradrim ship with suspicion, though some of the fishermen who deal most often with the Southrons wave at them amiably. 

The days are cooler now and the nights are chill. The travelers change out of their Haradrim robes and into their own clothing. After being so long in the loose-fitting robes, they are shocked to discover that their usual clothing now feels constrictive and uncomfortable. The feeling doesn’t last long however, and by the time they reach Pelargir they are again accustomed to their own attire. Frodo and Sam leave their robes on the ship, though Frodo makes certain that his shaman’s necklace is safe in his pack before disembarking. He will never wear it again, but out of respect and fondness for the people who gave it to him, he will take it with him to Bag End and hang it on the wall in the parlor between the portraits of his parents.

The port and market are bustling with activity, but between Sauron’s great height and Rick leading Matronos, the crowd parts easily before them. There are many tradesmen and merchants from Minas Tirith in port and it doesn’t take long for Sauron to secure them passage on a ship that will take them to Harlond. The ship’s captain gawks with surprise at Frodo and Sam, for he has heard of the perian but never seen them. When he learns that he is to be carrying the Lords Frodo and Samwise, he gives Sauron his money back and insists on taking them for free. 

The word that perian are in the port spreads quickly, and by the time they have secured their things in their room and convinced Matronos to get onto the ship and into the cargo hold there is a small crowd on the dock awaiting the hobbits to disembark. “Well, at least they won’t be prostrating in front of us,” Frodo points out and takes Sam’s arm to guide him down the plank. Rick joins them in the market as they stroll about the booths and they come back loaded down with food. 

The ship sets sail early the following morning and after two long days, they are docking in the Harlond port. Rick retrieves his horse, who is grateful to set hoof to earth once more, and the travelers shoulder their packs and set out for the port entry. There they can see the King’s royal carriage standing in wait for them. When the coachman sees them approaching, he jumps down from his seat and opens the door, bowing low. “Your lordships,” he says. 

“How did—?” Rick begins.

Sauron laughs. “King Elessar doesn’t miss anything that happens within his realm,” he explains. 

Rick secures Matronos to the lead horse and joins the others in the carriage. They are soon rattling down the dirt lane towards the distant wall of Rammas Echor and the fields of the Pelennor beyond it, and lastly the great city of Minas Tirith. The Tower of Ecthelion shines in the afternoon sun, casting its shadow long over the city and the plains, and Frodo imagines he hears the sound of a horn call as they approach, beckoning them onward.

“Home at last,” he says wistfully. 

“And a sight for sore eyes it is, sir,” Sam replies. “I’m looking forward to a good long bath and sleeping on a soft feather mattress.”

“As am I, Sam. As am I,” Frodo agrees and sits back with a sigh as the Pelennor passes outside the carriage window.

To be continued…

GF 8/6/07