The Face
Sam remembered. He still remembered that night. It was like etched in his mind, the night of Frodo's passing.
Sam had only been able to stare past the cold remainder of his infinite love. There were no more tears shed over the frozen smile on the peaceful face. The smile that would forever be engraved at the curved, soft lips Sam could never kiss enough.
No more tears would ever come between him and this – this gentlest soul he had ever known. For Sam was happiest now; Frodo had finally found his rest.
That night, though, was the very last moment Sam had ever felt. Bliss. Sorrow. Fear. Love.
And life.
Frodo's passing had left the deepest chasm in his heart. No. In truth, Frodo had taken along with him Sam's life. The Gamgee knew nothing but nights. There was no day to him. No sun, light, or the rainbow. His being had become empty and non-existent.
Until one day, a mere fortnight after Frodo was buried, things were suddenly bright again for Sam. The sunrays poured into the confinement of his chamber through the glass-paneled windows. The leaves turned dazzling green, and the rainbow arched smugly across the foot of the sky. Then the brightest smile glowed on Sam's wrinkled face, illuminating his previously shadowed features.
Alarming a particular wizard, a half-elven lord, and an elf lady standing by the sides of Sam's bed.
"Samwise, my dear." Gandalf's whisper rippled through the hushed air, he fearing the inevitable.
Sam's eyes were open; they would never close, in fact. But the face the Halfling saw belonged to none of those surrounding him. Sam blinked once, a trickle of tear rolling down his cheek.
Tear of joy.
And there was Frodo… neither strain of will, nor madness, nor any fear. His
burden was taken away. There was the dear master of the sweet days in the Shire.