DISCLAIMER: I do not own Lord of the Rings and I do not make any money writing this story. It has all sprung from the brilliant mind of J.R.R. Tolkien and I am merely borrowing his characters.

AN: Two-shot. Frodo sails west and thinks about the things he has lost and others that he was forced to leave behind. Frodo's POV.

Of course Frodo's quote of Gandalf is from "The Return of the King".

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Into the West


The heaviness in my heart begins to ease as I set foot on the gray ship waiting for my companions and me. Surprising and comforting is the feeling as the familiar certainty of firm ground underneath my feet is replaced by the gentle rocking of the Elvish vessel as small waves caress its hull lightly. The weathered wood is smooth as my fingers grab hold of the railing and I turn to look one last time at what once was my life. There they are, my family, my friend who I consider a brother after everything we went through together. Innumerable tears stain their cheeks as they are watching the ship leave Mithlond – taking me with it. My own tears are shed, however my heart becomes heavy once more as I realize that this is indeed the last time that I will see all of them. Those I loved are fading into the world of remembrance and soon I will be nothing more than a memory for them, too.

All too soon the shores of Middle Earth are out of sight and the ship is out on the open sea. Still standing by the railing I feel the presence of an old friend, companion, advisor and soon the notion is accompanied by a reassuring grasp of a large hand on my shoulder. Gandalf is standing next to me, his own gaze fixed on something in the distance.

"I assume Bilbo is already attempting to learn all about the Elves' nautical skills?" The words out of my mouth are soft-spoken and I can't bring myself to tear my eyes from the deep blue of the sea.

"That he is. But the trip from Rivendell to the Gray Havens has exhausted him so I should think he'll sit down to observe soon," Gandalf says in a low voice.

"Observe of course meaning that he will take a nap…" I interpret and as I look up at the Istari, my words are validated by the twinkle in his eyes.

"You have not left this spot since we left port several hours ago. Do you doubt your decision to leave?" He looks down on me and clearly his eyes are full of concern and compassion. "What troubles you so?"

Indeed. What troubles me so? Should I not feel blessed and relieved to finally claim what I've come to consider my reward for my deeds during the Ring-War? But is leaving behind everything I love and I hold dear - for a future that might not even be one - a reward?

I was promised to find peace and healing in the Undying Lands beyond the seas and my hopes are high that indeed a form of healing will come my way. But what then? What is to become of me, away from my home and my life without any prospect of going back?

"This is not what I once thought my life would be," I say at length looking at the endless ocean once again. "This is not how I thought it would end."

"It has not ended, Frodo," Gandalf reprimands not without fondness in his voice but I shake my head, once more quite surprised how one of the wisest could fall victim to ignorance.

"Then why do I feel as though I have witnessed what might as well have been my own funeral at Mithlond? Have those who were left not wept? Were they not mourning the loss of friends, knowing that they will never return? You said it yourself, my friend – I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil. There are tears of joy, tears of sorrow, pain, and grief, Gandalf. I could not detect any joy in their eyes and neither can I find any in my heart. There hasn't been any joy in my heart for a long time now." I am startled by my own honesty and I see comprehension dawning on the Wizard's face. "I once thought that, after my adventure would be over, I would return to a life I knew and loved. I never abandoned this hope until I was certain that the end had come. The moment I claimed the Ring as my own, something inside of me died, Gandalf, and I knew my life was forfeit." The power of speech abandons me as a thought begins to form in my mind that I do not wish to share with anyone. However, wouldn't it have been for the better had I died that day instead of Smeagol? I still pity him for what he became during all his years of exposure to pure evil. But in the end he also became the most unlikely hero when he saved all of Middle Earth simply because he was a victim of his own greed. His moment of unintentional heroism was the moment any chance to redeem myself for my failure at the Cracks of Doom was gone. The king, his people, my friends they all know that I failed and even though they never said a word, they must find my moment of weakness and cowardice revolting.

"Not even the strongest of both body and mind would return from such peril unscathed, my dear Frodo. I have not much comfort to offer you, for I know that words can never give you back what you've lost." Gandalf's voice is not quite as strong as it normally is and as I look up at him I see moisture glistening in his eyes. "For many months my heart was heavy with guilt, Frodo, and even though I have lived to see many years, none of my many experiences has taught me the words I need to find so I can ask you for forgiveness." His distress is obvious but there's nothing I can do now to help him find relief. "None of this should have happened, Frodo, at least not with you being the one carrying the biggest burden of us all. I doubt anyone could have accomplished what you did, but it should not have been you. Your innocence should have been spared. It was my responsibility to keep you safe. For this, my failure, I will not even attempt to apologize, for I doubt such an act can be forgiven."

His confession surprises me to say the least and I don't know what answer I should give, which answer he probably expects from me. For a while silence stands between us as we are both pondering over things we both wish could be made undone. Eventually Gandalf walks away and leaves me standing, still holding onto the railing for I fear if I let go my legs will no longer support what little there is left of me.


t.b.c.