And Time moved in His interminable circles. And Sam, now a nonagenarian (with looks that belied his age), tapped his pipe thoughtfully against his front teeth.
After Frodo's visit, Sam was in much better spirits, and worked with a clearer conscience. That is not to say that he didn't ever think of Frodo, for he did, every day. Now that his children were grown and his last stint as mayor was drawing to a close, he wondered what was in store for him, a wizened shadow of the hobbit he had been.
Rosie had been gone for two months, and Sam grew a bit misty-eyed remembering how he had tried to wake her one morning, and she was cold, so very cold. 'She was a good lass,' he said aloud, looking out the window. The silence of the house still amazed him. Nothing seemed comfortable or familiar any longer.
He idly munched on some bread and cheese from the larder, staring off into space. So, when the knock at his door came, he was completely unprepared, and proceeded to jump three feet into the air.
'Who can this be?' he said as he slowly walked to the front of the house.
He opened his round door, and even though his heart was expecting it, his head was not. The surprise evident on his face spurred a laugh from Frodo.
'We meet again, Sam,' said Frodo, traces of a smile still on his face. 'How are you holding up?' he continued, his voice more somber. 'Since Rose is gone . . .'
'Well, I've been lonely. And sad. Nothin' is the same. But as the Gaffer used to say, "Things happen a Purpose."'
'Indeed they do, dear Sam,' Frodo said, but Sam did not appear to hear, just regarded him silently, his lower lip between his teeth.
When he finally did speak, his voice was frayed with emotion. 'I have missed you, Master. Not a day has gone by when I haven't.' He reached for Frodo's hand, and recoiled in surprise when he touched skin instead of vapour. He looked at Frodo, his face a question mark.
'A trick of Gandalf's,' Frodo said in answer. 'Only you can see me here.' He grasped Sam's hand, and held it between both of his. His voice dropped in register. 'I've missed you too, Sam. More than you shall ever know.'
The pair stared at each other, it seemed, through time and space. Then Frodo leaned in tentatively, and brushed his lips over Sam's. Sam closed his eyes in blissful acquiescence, and a small flame scorched his heart when Frodo reluctantly pulled away.
Frodo smiled as he said, 'I've been waiting to do that for 45 years. But, there's plenty of time for everything later. It's high time you go to sleep. We start the journey back tomorrow before daybreak.'
Sam did feel weary, as if he had finally shaken off a large weight born on his shoulders for a long spate of years. He didn't even bother to change. He turned to go down the hall to his bedroom, and then he turned around and looked at Frodo once more. 'Goodnight, Master Frodo. . .'
'Goodnight, Sam, and don't worry. I'm not going anywhere.'
Sam continued down the hallway, a little disappointed that Frodo was not following him. Frodo watched him go, a fond look on his face. 'I love you, too, Samwise Gamgee,' he whispered to the darkened corridor.
In a little while, Sam was deeply asleep. Frodo watched from the doorway, and marveled at how peaceful Sam looked in his repose. He walked softly among the creaky boards, and slipped under the coverlet. Sam did not stir a bit, even when Frodo clasped his arms about him, and listened to Sam's even breaths until he also fell asleep.