It is Time – by Dreaming N Watercolors
Disclaimer – Lord of the Rings is not mine nor do I make any profit from this story.
A/N – This is a short story about Sam just before he leaves to cross the Great Sea. I got the idea from the toppetz.homstead site based on the seven very short lyrics you'll find at the end.
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Elanor was old, very old. The oldest of Samwise Gamgee's children. Her own children now had children and Sam was soon to be a great, great grandfather. Sam was more than old – ancient and past his time. This fact never left his thoughts. Frodo was gone. Merry and Pippin would soon be gone for they were making plans, in these their last days, to go to Rohan and then on to Gondor to visit old friends, the kings of these realms, Eomer and Aragorn. Everyone was leaving. Even his beloved wife Rose had passed leaving him grievously bereft.
There was no sunshine in Sam's life now without Rosie. His life was darkness and despair. He ate little and slept less. He merely sat and sometimes rocked in an old rocking chair of Bilbo Baggin's as if waiting for something but not sure why or for what.
Elanor couldn't stand to see her father like this. The house was in disarray and even the garden was unkempt and overgrown. Her father was a strong man both physically and mentally but now he seemed but a shadow of himself.
All day long and through the long nights he kept a firm hold on the large red book her Uncle Frodo had given to him so many years ago. He held the book fast to his bosom not once even opening it to turn a page or to gaze upon Frodo's delicate script. He would only stare straight ahead with silent tears streaming down his cheerless face.
Elanor, so old herself, knew not how to comfort this man whom she loved more than anyone in all the Shire. She would wrap her plump arms around his neck and lean down until their heads touched, his curly mop to hers, and she would hold him till his tears died. And Sam would reach out with a shaking hand and cover her own hand with a strength she was always surprised to find in him.
She found when she gave him comfort, though small and silent as it was, he seemed to have more life within his once fading soul. Soon he would be wandering about checking the garden and tousling the hair of grandchildren that he couldn't remember the names of. But it was only a small respite.
Gradually he would begin to fade again. No spirit. No life. No desire to live it seemed. And he would clutch the red book of Frodo's and cry once more for long hours and into the dark. And if she left him to himself he would cry out in the dark as if afraid like a child. Always calling for Mr. Frodo or his Rosie, the sound of his terror chilling her very soul.
Again she would wind her arms around her father whispering words of comfort. Whispering lies. Frodo was only gone for a little while. Yes, yes, when he returns I'll let you know. Mother's shopping. Mother's visiting the grand children. She'll be home soon, Papa. So many lies.
She was so tired. Physically – trying to tend to Sam and mentally – lies draining her like a curse upon her soul. Yet she couldn't stand by and let her father suffer so. Watching him now, clutching the red book, she wanted so badly to go to him to stop the tears from falling to prevent his descent into despair, madness even, where he needed her, like a mother, to feed and bathe him, to hold him and keep him safe in the cold dark night calming his fears away.
But in her heart she knew this could not go on. It was a disservice to her father and even a disservice to her uncle Frodo and her mother. What would they think if they could see the once strong beyond endurance Samwise Gamgee weeping like a child or calling out in grave alarm because no candle had been lit in the dimness of the night?
There was only one thing she could do. She knew it was so though she hated to do it. She knew she had to let him be strong, let him grow. And the night came when she did not go to her father. She had to let him help himself. She had to let him tend to his own needs for only he could ebb the grief within his soul. Only he could make the next step to either live or fade away.
He cried through the night and the next day. There were no comforting arms to hold him, no shoulder to cry on, no face to look upon that he loved. He sat in quiet darkness clutching a book of memories that hurt too much to read. He wept for his beloved friends and the woman he loved more than life itself but most of all he wept for what he had there in the Shire, there in Middle Earth.
Rosie and Frodo were gone. They would never be coming back. He saw now that Elanor had fed him lies. And as he realized this his thoughts became clearer. He loved his daughter very much, the splitting image of her mother she was, but she couldn't possibly understand his sorrow.
Sorrow would be too mild a word. Of all that he loved he could have only one of them forever. Not even death could keep him from that destiny. But what he would have to give up to achieve it – all that mattered to him most in the world. He could not bring himself to act. He loved his children and his grand children and great grand children far too much to let them go and so he was torn. And what of his beloved wife? He felt he was lost to Rose for all time. He knew he could not join her where she had gone. He would never see her again no matter what he chose.
No. He was forced to walk another path. A path that he had once desired to tread no matter what the perils were but now he had not the heart to even think of the possibility. If he had to go somewhere he wished it could be wherever Rosie was. Wherever his children and grandchildren would be going. He wanted his wife. He wanted to be with Rosie. He longed to join her forever and ever but he knew in his heart and in his soul that he could never do this.
His thoughts were broken as a bag was thrust at him and he looked up to see Elanor holding out a bag that had belonged to Rosie. She handed him another bag, smaller, containing food then stooped and kissed his balding pate and turned to leave.
He shook his head. He could not – would not go! No one could make him. No one could force him to leave the Shire where he had shared so many memories with those whom he loved so dearly. And he wept and wept sobbing for her to understand.
There was no way he could understand that his oldest child fully understood. It was not her choice to send him away. She had never wanted him to go. She had hoped he had forgotten. She had hoped he would live to be two hundred years or more but in her heart she had always known her father would one day leave her. As much as she wanted to share these last precious days with him and her children, in her heart and in her soul she knew he must go on one final quest.
There was a special place for a Ring Bearer such as her father. The Gray Havens were calling him. A ship was waiting to take him into the West and once aboard he would disappear just as her Uncle Frodo had, never to be seen again. She would lose her father completely, forever.
He did not go but let the bags drop to the floor. He couldn't force himself to pry the book from his fingers. He couldn't face the long journey alone. He couldn't bear to leave all his little ones who whispered so quietly when he sat and rocked but skipped at his heels tugging at his vest when he walked amongst his flowers. They loved him as much as he loved them. And what of Elanor? Of all his dear children?
His heart grieved for his friends and his wife but it broke at the thought of leaving his children and their children and the ones to come.
"It is time, papa," she whispered from the shadows as she pried the book from his hands.
Elanor? Was she still there in the room with him or was he dreaming? It had to be just some bad dream – didn't it?
"Mr. Frodo's book! I need that, Elanor now give it back!"
"There are yet a few pages left, papa. Let me take my turn," she choked out before she left him.
She saw he needed the strength to go on but she had none to spare. Tears stung her eyes as she forced herself out of the house and down the path. She would not go back. She did not look back. She had given him all that she could. She had taken him into her arms as any mother would their child and soothed away his tears. She had given him what strength she had and learned to let him be strong for himself. She had hushed away his fears in the dark calming his troubled soul.
She held onto the book that proved her father was a hero and her heart told her this was right. She had helped him all she could. She had watched him take baby steps and now she would let him walk again as he was meant to do. She knew her father, brave and strong, would be all right if she could find the strength she needed within herself. Now, and this was the hardest – now she must let her father go and she didn't know how she could. How could she just let go?
She did not see her father when he left but she would always remember him that day. The tears had dried on Samwise's face and slowly, resolutely he stood neither looking right nor left and he reached down picking up his bundles then strode purposely out of the house and out of the Shire with nary a look back much as his daughter had done.
Many months later Elanor, mourning, living on memories, heard that her father had made it to the Gray Havens safely. Legolas, ever young and Gimli, ever stout, had brought her the tidings. Her father, Samwise Gamgee the Brave, would be in Valinor now with her Uncle Frodo Baggins fellow Ring Bearer they told her, rejoicing. Her heart was filled with sorrow for the loss of her dearly beloved father but it broke to know that though he was finally with his dear friend Mr. Frodo she had lost her devoted father for ever more.
"And I remember.....
How I learned how to hold you when you cried,
I learned how to let you be strong,
Learned how to calm you in the dark,
Learned how to listen with my heart,
I learned how to watch you grow,
But how will I learn to let go?"
By Mark Shultz "Learn to Let Go"