It seemed so distant now, the sheer weight of his passage to Mordor and the load he had had to bear. It felt almost like a dream for him as he reminisced over the pain and the unyielding calling that nearly forced him to succumb at times. Frodo glanced up towards the unsoiled translucent sky and the gently fluttering oak tree leaves underneath. Everything would come to an end, he realized. There had been no point to bleat. There had been no point to weep. And irrefutably there had been no point to give in to the shadows. Frodo looked down to a certain hobbit lying face up on his lap, and smoothed his downy tresses.
"Things would've not been the same without you by my side," Frodo whispered. The hobbit gazed back at him and smiled lazily.
"C'mere, Mr. Frodo," Sam mumbled, and reached up, draping an arm around Frodo's neck. Eyes glimmering at the approaching face of his beloved, Sam broke into smile before his lips were crushed and claimed by his former master's.
ooo