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The Letter  by Antane

Chapter Twenty-Two: Chrysalis

It was evening in the later part of June when the others were out walking and enjoying the longer and warmer days that Frodo sat with Gandalf in the garden with Elanor in her cradle beside him.

"I’m realizing all the more how much I will be losing when I leave," the Ring-bearer said, looking down at his niece.

"You do not have to go, my dear hobbit."

"Yes, I do. Sometimes I wish I could leave straightaway before I lose my will, instead of enduring this agony of waiting, of knowing how much I am leaving behind. I wonder how much longer I can bear it. I am dying and being reborn each moment."

The Maia’s heart broke to hear such torment. He drew Frodo in his arms and stroked his curls in love and sympathy. The troubled hobbit was silent at first as he held his beloved friend and listened to that strong heartbeat. "How did you enter Moria when you knew you were going to die there?" he asked after a long while.

Gandalf was long in answering, though his stroking continued. "Perhaps the same way you continued on your journey and still do so."

The Ring-bearer looked up at him. "I only thought I knew I would die, but you actually did know." He lowered his head again to return to that reassuring heart. He tightened his arms. "I don’t know you did it. Weren’t you horribly afraid?"

"I don’t know if I was any more afraid than you were or your companions. There are things that must be done, if one is to become who one is meant to be."

"You mean becoming Gandalf the White."

The Maia nodded. "Yes, though I did not know that at the time. I only knew a sacrifice was being asked for and I obeyed, just as you did. Gandalf the Grey died so he could become the White. You, my dear hobbit, are on the path to becoming, in your own wonderful, unique way, Frodo the White, still mortal, but a marvel for all to see. I have watched you become so for a very long time and as much as you have suffered and continue to do so, I assure you that the blessings that await you are just as great."

"And for that Frodo of the green Shire had to die."

"Not in the same manner. Liken it more to what happens before a beautiful butterfly comes out of its cocoon. You are a chrysalis now. One day we will all be blessed to see what you have become."

"Did it hurt?"

"To die?"

"To surrender your very self."

"No more painful than it was and is for you."

"Then how did you bear it?"

"The same way you did and are. Sometimes, my dear lad, we are asked to make very painful decisions and we do not always know why, but if we say yes, there is greater good to come out of it, than any torment it causes us."

"I remember when Sam and I were lads that we watched a cocoon waiting for it to open. You should have seen his face when the butterfly came out and landed near him. I hadn’t ever seen him so awed and delighted."

"You will see the same again when he sees you out of your cocoon."

Frodo was silent for a while as he pondered all his friend said, then he spoke once more. "I should like to be that butterfly for him."

Gandalf held him tighter. "Then you shall be."

* * *

As long as the weather was warm enough, Frodo spent much of his time in the garden, at times working on the book he intended to leave for his brothers with Elanor at his side on the ground in her cradle, other times he sat with Elanor on the bench Sam had long before put out for his use, looking around and waiting for the sunshine to reach his heart and soul. Most times Sam was out there with him, working on the garden and it was there Frodo’s gaze fell longest. Anytime the gardener looked up, he would see his beloved master looking at him with a tender, wistful smile and many a long gaze they shared that needed no words. Sometimes Rose would bring out meals there and they would share the feast together. Many nights Frodo slept out there on the ground, surrounded by scents, sounds and sights he was soon to leave for ever behind, but buoyed up by them and storing them all in his heart.

Merry and Pippin lingered as often as they could by their cousin’s side, noticing all the while that Frodo was slowly lifting up his roots in a Shire that he never did truly return to. They felt his grief and his long, silent goodbye to his beloved land. Rarely did they or Sam let him out of their sight. It was during one of those summer evenings in the garden that Pippin reached for his maimed hand, for once not hidden away in shame in one of his pockets.

"I am so proud of you, Cousin," the tween murmured.

Frodo looked at him pained. Merry and Sam braced themselves for their brother’s reaction. None of them knew how he would, maybe not even Frodo himself. The Ring-bearer slowly pulled his hand away from Pippin. "There’s naught anything to be proud of there, Pip. It is an everlasting testimony to my folly."

"I’m so sorry, Frodo," the tween said quietly. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."

Frodo’s face grew tender and he pulled his beloved cousin into his arms and kissed his head. "Of course you didn’t, you silly Took. I know what you meant and I love you for it. It startled me is all. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

He stroked Pippin’s curls and rocked him gently and held him for a long time as the tween mourned for all that his cousin had endured and was still tormented by. He held on tightly, hoping to comfort Frodo as well. When he had calmed enough, Frodo wiped at his tears and smiled at him and let him go. It was only then that Pippin saw that his cousin had been crying too.

When Merry announced it was time for bed, Pippin looked hopefully at Frodo, wanting to stay with him. The Ring-bearer deliberately reached out his maimed hand to him and Pippin held it gently while Frodo smiled bravely at him, through the haze of pain. While Sam and Merry cleared the dishes, Pippin curled up next to his brother, nestling his head against Frodo’s good shoulder and the elder hobbit put his arm around him. The other two hobbits came out to bid Frodo good-night before returning back inside. The Ring-bearer gave Sam a look and smile ofsuch pure, deep love, it bordered on adoration, then tenderly turned his gaze to his cousin as well. The two kissed their brother on the head, then went inside.

For some time, Frodo and Pippin stared silently up at the stars. "Do you remember when we used to do this as lads?" the tween asked. "Just you and me and Merry and Sam when he could and we’d plan all the sorts of adventures we were going have?"

"Yes, ’squeak, I remember."

There was so much pain in that dear voice that Pippin’s heart broke anew. He held his brother-cousin tighter, kissed his brow, then they settled down to sleep. With such loving protection, Pppin thought no demons would dare approach, but he could not guard his cousin’s mind where the terror already dwelt, waiting.

The tween woke abruptly when Frodo cried out from a nightmare. There was a wild, terrified look in his eyes and at first he fought Pippin as the younger hobbit held him in his arms. As Pippin shushed and murmured comforts and rocked him, Frodo slowly calmed. Eventually he settled back against his brother and held him, ragged breath easing as he listened to a beloved voice softly sing and tears silently flowed from under his closed eyes.

"Sleep now

And know that I love you

Let aside your cares

I will protect you


"Sleep now

And know that I love you

Let no darkness touch you

I will guard you


"Sleep now

And know that I love you

Let your worries fade away

I will not leave you


"Sleep now

And know that I love you

Let no pain plague you

I will defend you


"Sleep now

And know that I love you

Let no terror frighten you

I will always be with you


"Sleep now

And know that I love you."

Frodo gave his cousin a very sleepy, "I love you, ’squeak," and soft kiss to his cheek, then fell into sleep. Pippin kissed his tears away, then settled down to sleep himself.

The next night, the night terrors came again and this time Sam was with them as well as Merry. The gardener reached for his master who struggled against him until he opened his eyes and realized who was holding him. Frodo then clung to him and looked into his eyes with such love and trust that he was safe. Sam smiled and his tear-bright eyes shone with such profound adoration, it was like looking into something holy. Pippin and Merry stared at it greatly moved as they realized anew what had gotten their beloved cousin through the Quest and more assured than ever that if love could heal their troubled brother, there would be no doubt of his recovery.The younger two didn’t think Frodo was even aware they were there, as he kept his eyes staring into Sam’s so he wouldn’t be dragged back into whatever terror he had just escaped from. They listened as Sam spoke and sang softly and eventually Frodo returned to sleep. The next night, it was not Frodo who needed comforting, but the one giving it as Pippin woke crying out from nightmares of his own and the Ring-bearer reached for his cousin even before Merry.

From out a window, Gandalf watched the four hobbits give and gain comfort from each other. Grief that the four would be soon be parted moved his heart nearly to tears, but tender love swelled within his heart just as strongly, and when the tears did fall, they did so from a gently smiling face.

* * *

"Rose, may I see you a moment?" Frodo asked one evening as September was drawing on.

The young mother looked up a bit surprised. She balanced Elanor in her arms a little more comfortably.

"Certainly, Mr. Frodo. You be needing something?"

"I need to tell you something," the elder hobbit said and Rosie’s heart ached as it always did to hear the pain and weariness in that voice, to see it in those eyes which had once been so lively.

She well knew Frodo tried to hide from her how much he was suffering, and though she knew little enough of its cause for both and their Sam had kept that from her as much as they could, she knew it was because of their terrible journey together. What little she did know was from what they both called out in their nightmares and only the other could comfort them.

"Yes, Mr. Frodo?"

"I wish to thank you while there is still time, for all your kindnesses to me since you and Sam have come to live here with me. I have been blessed beyond any deserving. But...I am going away soon."

"Yes, Mr. Frodo, I know. Remember you asked whether you could take Sam with you?"

"It’s more than that, Rose, though Sam does not know that yet and I beg you not to say anything. I will tell him myself, but not until we are on our way. He can’t come yet. He has so much to be and to do here and I wish I could stay and watch and rejoice in it all. But I am going, with Bilbo, across the Sundering Sea, to stay with the Elves, where I may heal...from my hurts. I have no other hope."

Rose did not understand half of what Frodo was saying, but still tears rose in her eyes as she looked into his and saw his unspoken plea, begging for her understanding. She felt her own grief, but she felt worse for their Sam, for truly he was theirs, not hers, not his, but theirs, that dearest of hearts embracing them both.

How could Sam bear to lose half of his though, she wondered? And how could Mr. Frodo bear to lose half of his for she knew better than anyone the bond the two shared. She bit her lip and spoke none of this. It would not be her place to do so and she would not add to his burdens.

"I’m so sorry, Mr. Frodo," she murmured.

Elanor began to fuss and Rose sought to calm her, but nothing worked. Frodo reached out his arms to her. "Let me try, please, Rose." The young mother handed Elanor to her uncle. Frodo sat down with her in his arms in the rocking chair that had been his wedding gift to Sam and Rose and began to sing softly. Elanor calmed almost immediately as she always did when Frodo sang to her in Elvish. Rose did not understand any of the words, but she loved to listen.

"What were you singing, Mr. Frodo? You have such a beautiful voice."

"It’s a lullaby in Quenya. That’s what they speak where I am going. I thought I should learn it so I’ve been teaching myself some from a primer Bilbo made for me."

"Oh, Mr. Frodo," Rose said in tears. The words tumbled out of her before she could stop them. "I hope you don’t forget how to be a hobbit where you are going..." She stopped in horror at stepping out of her place.

"I don’t know who I am anymore, Rose," Frodo said and Rose felt a secret gate open to a place where only he had trodden before, a wild and terrible place, where blood stained the sharp stones. "I am changing and I don’t know into what or who. Gandalf tells me it will be all right in the end, but it hurts and I am afraid. I don’t know where this Road is leading me, but I know I must follow, just as I did before."

The brutal honesty and anguish in those words tore at Rose’s heart. For all her longing to know what had happened to him and to Sam, she was suddenly frightened of knowing and now she knew or thought she could guess why they held back. The open gate beckoned to her, but Rose was afraid to enter. The raw torment and the revelation of it begged to be succored and honored, though, even if she felt far too little and helpless to do it. She took a couple of very tentative steps into that terrible place and gasped softly when she saw that some of the blood was fresh.

Further in she went, following the red footprints, deeper into this very private garden that was Frodo’s heart. She cut herself as she walked among the sharp rocks and brambles, but she did not turn back.. In the distance she thought she saw Frodo’s back, the blood dripping from his feet as he walked.

Just when she wondered how she could bear anything more, the vision began to change and it grew easier to walk as the garden grew less dense and also brighter ahead of her, so bright she lost sight of Frodo ahead of her. Slowly the garden, which had been so overrun by weeds, thorns and all manner of evil growth, was transformed into a place of unspeakable beauty and light, and she saw Mr. Frodo changed as well. Her breath caught in her throat as she became suddenly aware, though she could not have said how, that this place of terrible pain had become hallowed and sacred and reborn into life and light. She also knew with unwavering certainty that Sam would come one day and find rest there as well.

Peace came to her then and joy and she wondered how she could communicate to Mr. Frodo all she had seen for words seemed to be woefully inadequate and he seemed unaware of it himself. The vision faded and the desolate landscape came back into focus, but the peace remained. She had no worries and she joyfully anticipated the day that Mr. Frodo would see the vision himself come into reality and the day Sam would see it as well.

"Perhap, it’s a little like birthing a baby, Mr. Frodo," she said, wondering if he would think her cracked for making such a comparison, but it was the closest she could come in her attempt to explain something that words simply could not.

But at least here she was on solid ground and could speak from experience. She bit her lip, then she plunged on because her mother’s heart could not bear to see someone she loved in pain. "It is very painful and more than a mite frightening, but at the end, you have this beautiful new being." She stopped, no longer certain she had stepped far out of her place, for now she understood that place to be exactly where she was.

Frodo looked up at Rose and wondered at the great light he saw in her face, almost as bright as the Elves, brighter than even he had seen in Sam. She saw within his pain, the tremendous beauty which had always spun the heads of all the lasses, would have spun hers if her heart had not already been tied to Sam. "Mayhap you are right, Rose," he said. "I hope you are. Gandalf compared it to a butterfly coming out of its cocoon."

Rose smiled and kissed the top of his head. "Just you wait, Mr. Frodo," she murmured and he held onto her words for the hope in them. "Sam always did love butterflies."

When Sam returned later that afternoon, his heart nearly stopped at the beauty of the sight he beheld in the parlour. Frodo and Elanor were both asleep in that rocking chair. The master of Sam’s heart had his arms wrapped around his beloved niece and the baby’s hand was over his heart.

"It’s just like she was protecting him there," Sam murmured when he looked up and saw his wife, "and he needs protecting sore," he continued, to himself, or so he thought. Even in sleep, Frodo’s features were drawn, but still his light shone.

"He’s that beautiful, all lit up like that," Rose said. "It’s no wonder all the lasses were wild about him."

"There is none more fair than he, my Rose. But he don’t know his own worth, beyond all the jools ever delved."

Rose smiled as she remembered her vision of that transformed garden and she did not fear for her husband for she knew he would one day dwell there with his, their, beloved Frodo. She could no more share the awesome beauty of that vision that neither had yet seen than she had been able to with Frodo, but she knew she did not need to. Sam already knew of it in his own way.

Sam brushed his master’s brow with a soft kiss, then went in to help with dinner.

That night, Rose turned to her husband. She kept Mr. Frodo’s word not to say anything about his departure, but she couldn’t abide the thought of her Sam, their Sam, losing such a dear soul without some comfort.

"Sam dear, I think you should go to Mr. Frodo tonight. It’s his last night here and I daresay he needs some cuddling."

Sam kissed his wife and smiled. "Bless your heart, my Rose, and mine for knowing yours and yours for knowing his."

"Bless us both for knowing his," she said.

Sam’s smile grew wider.

He got up from bed and Rose smiled as she turned over.

Sam crawled into Frodo’s bed and the elder Ring-bearer silently and gratefully wrapped his arms around his beloved guardian. He laid his head down on Sam’s chest and listened to that treasured heartbeat that had kept him on his Road. It was then that the younger hobbit saw through the moonlight streaming in the window that there were tears on his beloved master’s face. He wiped them gently away.

"We are always going to be with you, me dearlove," Sam said, stroking his curls gently. "And we’ll come to visit you and Mr. Bilbo whenever we can. I wish we could all come with you. And you can come and visit us. Wouldn’t you love to come back one day?"

"I would indeed love that, my Sam," Frodo said. But it cannot be.

Sam kissed his head. "Then no more tears, my dear. You will be coming home."

And though Sam did not know what he was speaking of, Frodo took those words into his heart and they comforted him in a way nothing else had been able to do.

"I’m glad you are with me, Sam."

Frodo slept peacefully that night, waking only once, to look at his Sam’s face shining in the moonlight and brushing that dear brow with the lightest of kisses and the softest breath of thanks, he fell back asleep. The morrow would bring enormous change, but for now, he was in his own bed, in his Sam’s arms, and he would treasure that, instead of grieve.





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