Part of my wing!fic AU [_Flightless_, _Flagging Spirit_, _Grounded_]. This has been on my mental back burner since I posted the previous story almost (eep!) five years ago.
Written for my hc_bingo square "wings".

_Restored_

Approaching the Grey Havens brought back such vivid memories he had to stop his pony to give himself a moment to breathe. A vague recollection of those memories had been at the front of his mind for weeks, ever since his Rosie was buried next to her parents, but now they danced before his mind's eye in startling detail. Long had he felt a tug to follow Mr. Frodo and Mr. Bilbo over the sea, but it had been easily drowned out by the pleasures of his life in the Shire. Now his many years weighed heavily on him and he thought of nothing else.

Elanor had worried there would not be anyone at the harbor to receive him, but he found a bustle of activity centered around a ship at the dock. The Elves received him graciously, understanding why he was there without any explanation on his part and even without him recognizing them. He had the sense that they were waiting for him, somehow.

A light meal, a low bed in a small room near the dock, and he was left to rest until someone came for him the next morning at sunrise. He slept easier than he had in months and was awake as the first grey light crept over the horizon.

The ship rocked beneath his feet as he was helped aboard and he had his first moment of doubt. He had never liked boats or water and here he was sending himself on a journey of unknown duration across a sea to another land . . . it was enough to put fear in the stoutest heart. His wings fluttered beneath his cloak as if yearning to take flight in spite of the rheumatism that had kept him solidly on the ground for at least a decade.

He gripped the rail tightly as the ship was loosed from its moorings. As the sails billowed overhead and the vessel slid smoothly toward the mouth of the bay and the open seas beyond, the Elves began to sing. He felt his doubts melt away and he watched the shore recede with a sense of profound peace.

The singing continued night and day for as long as they sailed. He often sat and listened, sometimes preening but more often sitting quietly. Some of the elves exclaimed over his wings, which had kept their brown coloring even as the hair on his head became more grey than brown. They seemed to think the color of his feathers was remarkable and apparently debated which wood color it most resembled-he couldn't be certain, since none of them spoke the Common Tongue and what little Elvish he'd picked up was no help for that conversation. He wondered what they would think of Mr. Frodo's bright coloring if they were so impressed by his plain brown wings.

He lost track of how many days they had been sailing, though he did notice that rising from bed was a little easier than it had been; he no longer felt every one of his hundred-and-two years in the creaking and stiffness of his joints. He hadn't been certain what to expect as a mortal venturing into the Undying Lands, but he would be grateful for whatever was granted to him.

Then one morning he went up on deck to find the atmosphere had changed. A cluster of elves were at the bow, their animated chatter audible above the music and the singing had taken on a liveliness it lacked before. He hadn't realized elvish music could sound so joyful.

One of the elves at the bow took pity on him and let him through to the rail, pointing ahead at a shadow on the horizon. It was land, their destination, finally within sight though still far off. He tried to ask how long it would take to reach the shore; once they understood the question, it took a while to answer, as evidently none of them knew. Finally one elf gestured to the sun, miming it setting and rising again.

Like many of the elves, he spent the day on deck, watching the sliver of shadow growing slowly. As the day progressed, increasing numbers of birds flocked overhead, their calls mingling with the elves' songs. He watched them more than the shore, after a while, and thought they had the right idea-it would be far faster to fly ashore.

He was debating whether to try out his wings, for he really was feeling quite well, when he thought he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a large bird approaching the ship. Only when it was much closer did he realize the large bird had familiar brilliant blue-green plumage.

Mere moments after that, Mr. Frodo landed gently on the deck beside him with a flutter of wings. "Sam!" he cried joyfully, then embraced him enthusiastically.

For several minutes all they did was hug tightly. When Mr. Frodo pulled back, he held Sam at arm's length. "Let me get a good look at you."

He wondered what Mr. Frodo saw that made him look so happy, and he did some studying in return. Mr. Frodo looked older than he remembered, but still far younger than his age. The fine lines at his eyes and his mouth implied that he had spent a good deal of time smiling, and Sam felt unaccountably happy at that thought.

Frodo beamed, the lines of his face creasing and confirming Sam's conclusion. "I can tell you have lived well, Sam. How many times were you mayor?"

"Seven."

"And how many children?"

"Thirteen," Sam said proudly.

Frodo threw his head back and laughed. "You will have to tell me all about it, but not here." Then his expression became more serious. "Will you fly with me? There is much I would like to show you."

Sam hesitated. "I-I cannot-I haven't-My rheumatism-" he stuttered, then stopped himself and started over. "I haven't flown in over ten years," he said.

"How do you feel?" Frodo asked, seeming to change the subject.

"Better than I have in years," Sam answered promptly.

"Do you feel well enough to try to fly?" Frodo inquired gently, then quickly added, "If you wish to wait, I understand. It was quite a while before I was willing to make an attempt."

Sam carefully weighed his options against the renewed vigor in his limbs and found himself nodding even before he was aware of making up his mind. "I will try."

Frodo grinned. "I will catch you if you fall," he promised as he stepped back.

Sam let his cloak slide to the deck and stretched out his wings, shaking the feathers into place. He hesitated again for a moment, then Frodo caught his eye and nodded slightly. He closed his eyes and thought about how it felt to fly.

His heart swelled with joy as his wings beat steadily, lifting him gracefully above the deck. Frodo laughed and quickly rose to join him. "Come now, fly with me!" he cried, wheeling away from the Elves and their ship over the open water.

Nearly bursting with happiness, Sam followed.