My Immortal

By StarWolf

4/17/2003 - edited 4/25/2004

Title: My Immortal

Author: StarWolf (elendraug@yahoo.com)

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Angst, deathficish, suicide, implied non-graphic slash

Pairing: Sam/Frodo implied

Distribution: No archiving.

Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien's. Lyrics from "My Immortal" by Evanescence.

Summary: Sam goes delusional in his old age. Frodo's been gone for far too long. Reminiscing about the past, present, and future tortures Sam's mind as he lies sleepless in Bag End.

Authoress' Note: This is somewhat decent, but could've been much better. It has a weak ending. Meh. At the time of writing, I hadn't finished reading the books. Excuse my ignorance.

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I think I've given up hope of ever sleeping peacefully again.

Here I am. Lying in my bed, safe in my home. Your home. Our home. You're gone, but I still think of you. You've been gone for years now. Has it really been that long?

Hah! This is so crazy. You've not been here for such a long time, and yet I'm talking to you in my head. I really am going insane. I thought that maybe it was just a temporary thing, like post-traumatic stress syndrome or something. I just lost a best friend, so do I fall into that category?

But you were so much more than a best friend. 'Friend' doesn't even do you justice. You were best everything. Best friend, best companion, best person I'd ever met (and ever will meet), best-looking Hobbit in all the Shire (my opinion, at least), best storyteller, best listener...simply best everything.

Maybe this is just blatant praise from a person who is blinded by everything that you are. I know what you aren't, but so do you, and that makes all the difference. You're noble enough to admit it, and you'd definitely disagree if I'd ever spoken aloud half of those compliments. That's just the way you are.

How I miss you, Mr. Frodo.

Oh, what is wrong with me? I'm just thinking, after all, and to my knowledge I'm the only one who can see my thoughts at the moment. Why should I bother adding titles? I called you 'master' and 'mister' and all sorts of things while you were here with me, but you never treated me like a servant, and certainly not a slave. You knew. You knew that regardless of everything else, I'd do whatever it took to make you comfortable. I sacrificed some of our last drops of water while we were in Mordor -- that horrid place -- just so your poor throat wouldn't be as parched. I carried you up that mountain, most of the way to the top. I risked my life so many times for you.

You knew the things I'd do for you, but you never took advantage of that. And it takes a lot to act that way. I know that.

Do you have any idea how I wish I could have gone with you? Left on that glittering white ship, travelled with you to whatever heaven you were headed towards. Escaped from this now empty world. You know, it wasn't truly empty until you were no longer a part of it.

You're out there somewhere. I only wish that I could see you again. Yes, I see you plenty enough, in my own memories. You torture me with your ethereal presence in my dreams. You know how I love Elves, right? Of course you do. In my dreams, you're far more beautiful. Even when you were with me in this life, you were more breathtaking than...than...even Lúthien herself.

I never told you that.

I'm a fool, I know it. To love someone -- one person -- for that long, and never tell them? I know that I made a terrible mistake. I've made many, many mistakes in my relatively short life, but I fear that one was the worst.

Elves live forever. You're with them now. I'll die, but you'll go on. Who knows where I'll end up? I wonder if I'll ever see you again...

What a depressing thought. You'd think that I would have resigned myself to that fact by now, but...it's just too hard to let go. To try and forget all that we did while you were still here.

All the times that you cried, and I held you until you could sleep. When you were cold, and I'd take off my own cloak for you to wear. When you'd scream in terror, frustration, and fear, and I'd whisper soothing words until you would calm down. All the times I gave up my own comfort for yours.

I'd do it all again, too. Instantly. Willingly. All you'd have to do is ask, and I'd travel to Mordor and back. I'd fight Shelob again, deal with Gollum hampering me all the way there. I'd take on the Ringwraiths all by myself...just to see you one more time.

It kills me to know that it won't ever happen again. You and I...we were destined for different places. You were to live forever, and I...

I was not.

Here I am, in Bag End, in Hobbiton. With a wife and daughters. Mayor for the who-knows-what time. I lie to myself, Frodo. All the time. I try and convince myself that I'm happy. Yes, I 'have everything I want.' I have a loving family, lovely Hobbit-hole, lush garden to tend to my heart's content. But it's not what I want, not really, and my heart cannot be content.

I want you. I've always wanted you. And you never saw it...at least, I don't think you did. Regardless, you never said anything, and I missed my chance.

Even now, I still love you. More than Rosie, more than my children, my home, my garden, anything and everything. I miss you so badly that sometimes I want to just die and get it over with. But the cruel reality is that it wouldn't solve anything. Whether my death comes tomorrow or in fifty years, I'll never see you again.

It kills me. It kills me, it kills me, it kills me to know this. I hate it. I can't stand this fact, but I can do nothing to change it. I shall never see you again, in life or death.

Why do things have to end this way? After so much that we went through, so many difficult things we accomplished, an impossible task that we fulfilled...it's just not fair! But I'm selfish... I try my hardest not to be, but in this one respect I am. Terribly selfish.

I wanted to keep you to myself. I wanted to be with you forever; it didn't matter what sort of 'with,' as long as I could be near you. You were my life...you are my life, even now.

God, I miss you.

Do you have any idea how many days I would watch you, trudging through the crumbling dirt, and wish I could just run away with you back home, cook you something for dinner, and hold you in my arms until you fell asleep? Peaceful, relaxed sleep? To tell you that everything would be okay, that we were safe now?

I don't think you did, or do even now. I mean, to a certain extent, yes -- you must've thought along those lines more than I ever did. I was there of my own free will. But you...

As Elrond said, "This task was appointed to you. And if you do not find a way...no one will."

But I don't think you ever knew how strongly I felt for you. I swear to Elbereth and Ilúvatar, I would do anything you could ask of me. I'd pack up and leave the Shire, never to return. I'd fight off ten cave trolls by myself.

I'd die for you, Frodo.

Did you know that?

You must have. You must've known.

...didn't you?

Why is it that I don't think to tell you these things until you're gone? It doesn't do either of us any good, me lying here, staring at my -- your -- ceiling, thinking about what I should've done years ago?

I want you. I want you here, with me. I want to see you again.

It's not fair! It's just not.

I can't take this, Frodo! I would kill myself right now if I knew I'd meet up with you somewhere. But I can't do it. Because my 'family' needs me. They'd starve if I died.

You were the only person I ever felt close to. My Dad...wasn't the greatest. Mr. Bilbo was really nice, but it just wasn't the same. And Rosie...

I don't think I could ever love her the way I love you. She deserves better than that.

Know what? I don't care anymore. I think I'll do that, though. I just realized that I don't really care what happens to them anymore. I'm astounded by my own callousness, but it's the truth. Someone else will take care of them. Rosie will get over it.

Haha, I'm an idiot. Me thinking that they could starve in the Shire. The Shire! The place where almost every food imaginable is grown on a daily basis. As I said, someone will take care of them.

...where do Elves go when they die, Frodo? When something or someone kills them. Do they go to the Havens, too? Maybe I'll go there, too. I can hope...I can pray.

I get up slowly, quietly, still thinking that I don't want to wake up Rosie. I still can't figure out why I 'married' her...probably the shock of losing you that hadn't quite registered in my mind yet.

But she's gone now, as well. Did I mention that? She died. That's not helping, either. My delusional mind forgot that one. Elanor isn't here, either. Or Goldilocks. They're off and married...

Okay. Now that my brain resumed functioning, I really don't have a reason to stay here.

I walk into my -- no, YOUR -- kitchen, and pull out the sharpest steak knife I own. It has the nicest blade...so cool and deadly. So easy. So easy to end it all...replace the pain that strangles my heart with one that will stop it from beating. I finger the edge of the knife...it reminds me of what Galadriel said to us so long ago. So terribly long ago. When you were with me, Frodo.

With thoughts of you smiling in my mind, I ignore any doubts I had and slice a deep cut along my upturned left wrist.

Tears stream down my face; I don't cry because of the pain. No, Samwise Gamgee has never complained about pain. I'm crying because I still don't think I'll see you. But I can't take this anymore! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts more than this knife ever will.

Blood. My blood. It's gushing out of the wound. Dripping down my arm and mingling with my falling tears. It's staining your floor. Sorry.

I love you, Frodo. Always have, and always will. Forever and ever.

...wait. I didn't...I didn't think of something...

Ai, Elbereth! How could I have been so stupid!?

My quickly numbing brain is still reacting well enough to grab a handful of dishtowels. I press them to my wrist, desperately trying to stop the blood that is quickly seeping through the flimsy cloth. I tie it as best as I can with only one hand currently functioning. It doesn't do much, but it buys me enough time to grab some more material to bind it with.

I am so blind! I am so STUPID! Part of me wants to bang my head against the wall, but I'm already weak from several minutes worth of rapid blood loss and it would probably cause me to faint. Then I'd really die -- and wouldn't even be conscious to know it.

I finally get it to clot up enough for me to think straight. Okay, what now, Samwise Gamgee? I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier. I tie another cloth around my wrist just to be on the safe side, even though I'm probably cutting off whatever meagre blood flow was going to my hand. Oh well. At least I'm right-handed.

It's probably close to three in the morning and here I am, running around my house, my clothes and body stained with my own blood because I just tried to kill myself, and reconsidered after it was nearly too late. At least I thought of this before it really was too late to save myself.

How could I have not seen this before?!

My beautiful, wonderful, perfect Frodo. I'll sail to you. I'll take the ship, go to you to live forever in the Undying Lands. Maybe I'll find comfort there. Regardless, I'll have you.

And that's all I've ever needed...

You.

I take the Red Book of Westmarch down from my bookshelf, and carefully open to one of the pages. It doesn't matter which one. I inhale the clean scent that is distinctly 'book,' then read what was on it.

My God. This is the one where you're describing all that we went through after we reached Mount Doom. When I carried you. When I did faint, and you lost your poor, poor finger. When Gollum fell into the volcano. And then...

Then we went home. Well, not right away, but you know.

Anyway! I close the volume with something along the lines of reverence. Respect to all that we -- you, myself, the Fellowship, and everyone else involved -- have undergone. I wrap the book up in the one remaining cloth in the kitchen...the only one that isn't soaked with my blood. I take extreme care not to ruin this one, and tie it with a string. I tear a corner off of a sheet of paper on your old desk -- the poor thing hasn't seen much use since you left. I scrawl my daughter's name on it: Elanor. She'll take good care of it.

I then gather up my belongings, the only ones that are truly important to me: my pipe, the box that Galadriel gave to me, and the strands of Elven-rope that I still have left. Our old travel clothes that I've saved through all these years. The green-and-silver leaf brooch from Lothlórien. ...I can't really think of anything else. You took anything that you really treasured. Just to be sure, I do a once-over of the entire house. Namárië, Bag End -- farewell. One of the few Elvish words I can remember.

Farewell. The leave-taking. I'm leaving for good.

I clean the wound on my wrist as best as I can, and re-wrap it with a strip of material torn from my bedsheets. It doesn't matter now.

I don't know where I'm going really, but I'll know when I get there, I guess.

I leave the package containing the precious book on a table in the foyer. Elanor will find it...eventually. She'll come to visit me and I'll be gone. Gone with you, Frodo.

I open the front door, walk through, and close it softly but firmly behind me. I turn my gaze wistfully over the garden -- my other true love -- and know that this will be the last time I'll ever see it. I can't bear the thought, but anything is worth seeing you again. Anything. I kneel down into the soft earth, and caress the leaves of a newly growing plant. Live, young one, live and grow tall. Live for rain, for sun, for gentle breezes on spring days. For birds singing during lazy afternoons in summer. For crisp winds in fall. And maybe you'll be strong enough to know a bit of winter, too.

I sigh, and stand up. Allowing myself a final look at the only real home I've ever known, I tread the loose soil beneath my bare Hobbit feet, relishing the feel of it. I wonder if it'll be the same in Valinor, or maybe even better, if it's possible? Anything's possible, I guess.

I'm on my way to the Grey Havens. The last hope for the Elves, their gateway to heaven. The pathway to an eternal resting place. Where they can escape to when all else seems lost -- where they find healing. In the words of the Lady of Lórien, 'A light when all others go out.' I might reach there by morning...

I'll step onto a shimmering white ship, built in the likeness of a swan, like yours was. I'll sail away, sail away to the Undying Lands of the High Elves. The Immortal. The Eldar -- star-people. I'll see Elves, Frodo! And most importantly, I'll see you.

'Don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee.' And I don't mean to. I'll find you again, no matter what it takes. I'll wander all of the lands West of the Grey Havens, just to see you once. I'd do it. But this time...I'll be with you forever.

I'll be there soon. I promise.

I'm coming, Frodo.
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// I'm so tired of being here// Suppressed by all of my childish fears // And if you have to leave // I wish that you would just leave // Because your presence still lingers here // And it won't leave me alone //

You used to captivate me // By your resonating light // But now I'm bound my the life you left behind // Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams // Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me //

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone // And though you're still with me // I've been alone all along //

These wounds won't seem to heal // This pain is just too real // There's just too much that time cannot erase //


When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears // When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears // And I've held your hand through all of these years // You still have all of me... //

~ "My Immortal" by Evanescence

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