"In the wind from the Sea the white lilies sway"
Frodo sighed and straightened his back as he pulled out the last weed from the flower bed. He looked at the flowers, pink roses, yellow roses, blue forget-me-not's, purple lavender… and lilies. White lilies. His gaze lingered on them for a moment, they had only just dared to come out of the protective buds and they were a marvel to look at. He cast his thought back to the lilies Sam had planted at Bag End, long before…
He stood up and scolded himself. "Don't torture yourself with memories. It cannot be undone." He sighed and looked at the sun high in the sky.
'But you could have made another choice.' His conscience chipped in, lecturing him. "No I could not," he argued with himself, "I could not. Sam needed me to go, and…"
'This was never about what Sam needed.' His conscience told him, and he had nothing to say back. That was the truth. It had never been Sam who needed to be one, to be whole, it was Frodo himself. Even before the quest, but even more evidently after it, there had been a chasm, something missing in Frodo's life. "I could never get that something." He mumbled to himself, eyes once again focused on the white that nearly hurt his eyes.
'You could have. If you weren't such a fool you would have.' He swallowed and blinked against some stray tears, coming out of nowhere. "But he loved Rosie!" Frodo said in desperation, frustrated that his mind would not let go of it. It was all done and over with.
'Because you pushed him to love her. You pushed him *away*.' More tears started to build in Frodo's eyes. "Yes," he agreed to himself, "I did." He shook his head. "I was so stupid."
'He loved you.' His conscience was definitely set on making him feel bad that day. "He never said that!" Frodo argued. Well, he hadn't, had he? Not verbally anyway. But… 'He showed you.' Yes, he did. And had Frodo given him a chance he would have said it, too, but he *had* pushed Sam away.
--
Sam put the bunch of lilies in the vase and put them on the table. He admired them for a while, they were beautiful flowers. Sam had planted them only two years ago, putting finishing touches to make the garden look just like it did before…
"No, don't think of that." He scolded himself impatiently. He turned and went back out into the garden. He started to randomly pull out weeds from the nearest flowerbed, feeling the tears building. Moving fast, he was soon face to face with the white lilies. He stopped what he was doing and sat up.
"I wish it had never happened." He sighed and looked up at the sun, high above him in the sky. "I wish he had never had to leave."
'Did he have to leave?' A voice asked in his mind? "Yes, of course he had. Otherwise he would have stayed." Sam replied, feebly. Then sighing, he looked back down at the blinding white flowers and changed his mind. "No, he could have stayed."
'You forced him to go.' Angrily, Sam crouched down and pulled a small dandelion out of the earth, from where it had planted himself just beside the delicate lilies. "I did not! I never did anything he didn't tell me to do."
'Why did you listen to him? You knew it wasn't what he, or you, wanted.' Sam blinked. "Rosie is a lovely lass. Of course I want her." He said weakly, the dandelion falling out of his hand; back down beside the finer flowers, where it could find its roots once again.
'Yes. But you wanted Frodo more.' Sam couldn't argue that. It was as plain as anything; Frodo had always been what Sam wanted. "But I couldn't have him. He never let me."
'Of course you could. You would have, if you had pushed him harder.' Sam fought back the stubborn tears. "Why didn't I push him?" He asked himself, turning his face up to face the sun once again.
--
A mild breeze woke Frodo from his thoughts. It came from the inland, not from the sea as it usually did. He shivered a little, despite the fact that it was not wholly chilly.
It caressed his cheek softly, blowing the hair out of his face in gently movements. The softness and gentleness reminded him of… Sam. Yet it filled him with reassurance, as if it brought a promise of a brighter future. Frodo smiled, suddenly feeling giddy as the wind ruffled his hair on its way to the sea.
"He will come when his time is come." He told himself with conviction. 'Yes he will.' His conscience told him. 'Of course he will.'
--
A chilly breeze pulled Sam's thoughts away from the turmoil in his head. He shivered and pulled his cloak tighter about him, and sniffing the air he noticed that it smelt fresh like sea air. "Strange." He muttered to himself. No sea breeze would ever blow all the way to the Shire.
But it brought comfort to him. It felt good to know that maybe something from the sea had actually come to the Shire, and reached him here in the garden, where it rustled through the grass and made the lilies sway gently. It blew over him and pushed the fringe into his face.
He smiled to himself. The wind had reminded him of Frodo. It felt like it had, somehow, brought him closer to where Frodo was, and it brought back memories. A memory of a promise long forgotten because of grief. "Your time may come." Frodo's voice echoed in his mind.
"My time will come." He told himself, and a certainty settled on him. 'Yes, it will come.' The voice told him, and now it seemed comforting. 'Of course it will.' He would get a second chance.
THE END
Frodo sighed and straightened his back as he pulled out the last weed from the flower bed. He looked at the flowers, pink roses, yellow roses, blue forget-me-not's, purple lavender… and lilies. White lilies. His gaze lingered on them for a moment, they had only just dared to come out of the protective buds and they were a marvel to look at. He cast his thought back to the lilies Sam had planted at Bag End, long before…
He stood up and scolded himself. "Don't torture yourself with memories. It cannot be undone." He sighed and looked at the sun high in the sky.
'But you could have made another choice.' His conscience chipped in, lecturing him. "No I could not," he argued with himself, "I could not. Sam needed me to go, and…"
'This was never about what Sam needed.' His conscience told him, and he had nothing to say back. That was the truth. It had never been Sam who needed to be one, to be whole, it was Frodo himself. Even before the quest, but even more evidently after it, there had been a chasm, something missing in Frodo's life. "I could never get that something." He mumbled to himself, eyes once again focused on the white that nearly hurt his eyes.
'You could have. If you weren't such a fool you would have.' He swallowed and blinked against some stray tears, coming out of nowhere. "But he loved Rosie!" Frodo said in desperation, frustrated that his mind would not let go of it. It was all done and over with.
'Because you pushed him to love her. You pushed him *away*.' More tears started to build in Frodo's eyes. "Yes," he agreed to himself, "I did." He shook his head. "I was so stupid."
'He loved you.' His conscience was definitely set on making him feel bad that day. "He never said that!" Frodo argued. Well, he hadn't, had he? Not verbally anyway. But… 'He showed you.' Yes, he did. And had Frodo given him a chance he would have said it, too, but he *had* pushed Sam away.
--
Sam put the bunch of lilies in the vase and put them on the table. He admired them for a while, they were beautiful flowers. Sam had planted them only two years ago, putting finishing touches to make the garden look just like it did before…
"No, don't think of that." He scolded himself impatiently. He turned and went back out into the garden. He started to randomly pull out weeds from the nearest flowerbed, feeling the tears building. Moving fast, he was soon face to face with the white lilies. He stopped what he was doing and sat up.
"I wish it had never happened." He sighed and looked up at the sun, high above him in the sky. "I wish he had never had to leave."
'Did he have to leave?' A voice asked in his mind? "Yes, of course he had. Otherwise he would have stayed." Sam replied, feebly. Then sighing, he looked back down at the blinding white flowers and changed his mind. "No, he could have stayed."
'You forced him to go.' Angrily, Sam crouched down and pulled a small dandelion out of the earth, from where it had planted himself just beside the delicate lilies. "I did not! I never did anything he didn't tell me to do."
'Why did you listen to him? You knew it wasn't what he, or you, wanted.' Sam blinked. "Rosie is a lovely lass. Of course I want her." He said weakly, the dandelion falling out of his hand; back down beside the finer flowers, where it could find its roots once again.
'Yes. But you wanted Frodo more.' Sam couldn't argue that. It was as plain as anything; Frodo had always been what Sam wanted. "But I couldn't have him. He never let me."
'Of course you could. You would have, if you had pushed him harder.' Sam fought back the stubborn tears. "Why didn't I push him?" He asked himself, turning his face up to face the sun once again.
--
A mild breeze woke Frodo from his thoughts. It came from the inland, not from the sea as it usually did. He shivered a little, despite the fact that it was not wholly chilly.
It caressed his cheek softly, blowing the hair out of his face in gently movements. The softness and gentleness reminded him of… Sam. Yet it filled him with reassurance, as if it brought a promise of a brighter future. Frodo smiled, suddenly feeling giddy as the wind ruffled his hair on its way to the sea.
"He will come when his time is come." He told himself with conviction. 'Yes he will.' His conscience told him. 'Of course he will.'
--
A chilly breeze pulled Sam's thoughts away from the turmoil in his head. He shivered and pulled his cloak tighter about him, and sniffing the air he noticed that it smelt fresh like sea air. "Strange." He muttered to himself. No sea breeze would ever blow all the way to the Shire.
But it brought comfort to him. It felt good to know that maybe something from the sea had actually come to the Shire, and reached him here in the garden, where it rustled through the grass and made the lilies sway gently. It blew over him and pushed the fringe into his face.
He smiled to himself. The wind had reminded him of Frodo. It felt like it had, somehow, brought him closer to where Frodo was, and it brought back memories. A memory of a promise long forgotten because of grief. "Your time may come." Frodo's voice echoed in his mind.
"My time will come." He told himself, and a certainty settled on him. 'Yes, it will come.' The voice told him, and now it seemed comforting. 'Of course it will.' He would get a second chance.
THE END