Chapter 10
When Sam had seen Elrond and Celebrían off with Frodo from their front door, he had sent unspoken wishes up to the Ainur that they would find the peace that they sought in good time, and he took the stone that flashed and flickered upon its chain as a bright guarantee of the Valar's benevolence and a symbol of faith restored. He put in a good word for Arwen also, that the remainder of her days would be joyful and fulfilling, and that she should not repent of her choice though her time was no longer without limit. Most profoundly of all, he prayed for the happiness of his children, prayed that they could feel the fervour of their father's love though inestimable miles lay between them.
He helped Frodo with the tidying up mechanically, mulling over Elrond's words all the while. The concept of forever was one that had suddenly become disquieting to him, a source of couched and looming dread, for it seemed that eternity was a fathomless chasm yawning before him. What did forever really mean? Elrond had said that there would be relinquishment from this plane of existence for Sam when he desired it, when he grew "weary of earthly toils," to use his exact words. But what then?
For Elrond and Celebrían and all Elf-kind, the question of forever was quite unambiguous. They would remain in Arda as they ever have and ever would, until the hands of Time itself ceased to turn, if that should someday transpire. But for Sam, forever meant a headlong plunge into an unknown and inscrutable obscurity. It meant a surrendering of himself to an indeterminate fate, a journey to an undisclosed destination, an incomprehensible transmigration of his soul. Sam wondered to himself which was more frightening: the fear of enduring, of watching the world shift and alter for age after endless age, or the fear of fading away, never to know what the future held? Elrond had said that there were some among the Elves who envied mortals of their fate, that death was not a doom but a catharsis, a liberation, a freedom. But to Sam, it seemed that an expedition into an uncharted and unexplored territory was more worrying still.
It was not for himself that he was principally concerned, however. It was for the people that he loved. Who knew what they would be subject to when the moment arrived? Once they had crossed over into the great beyond, how could he be certain that they would be found? Was Rose waiting for him there patiently, or was she lost in an eddying flux of departed souls striving to find their place in the order of the universe? Who would take care of her if Sam could not – who would look after Frodo, or his children when their time came for that matter?
He stood before the sink, rinsing out the china cups, and a waking vision marched strangely before his eyes. He was back in the Shire, running through green meads and violet heather on a clear morning, running toward little Elanor, no more than three years of age, who toddled unsteadily towards him with outstretched arms. Her golden curls bobbed springily underneath springtime sunshine, and her tiny hobbit feet seemed hardly to disturb a single blade of grass in her lightness. But there was a tremor in the earth, and even as Sam struggled to keep his footing, Elanor toppled forward, and was brought to hands and knees. Stunned, she sat down in the grass and began to cry, and Sam cried with her, for their pain and fear was interconnected. The ground was being rent apart, he realised, and livid vapours rose from the fissures in insidious, serpentining arabesques. Elanor's wails grew louder, more desperate, as he skidded to a halt, rendered helpless and stupefied.
"Let me give you a hand and dry those off when you are ready," a voice at his side struck him like a bolt from the blue.
His hold on the cup had slipped in his disconcertment, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw the delicate thing plummet. He could not have said precisely why, but suddenly it became imperative that he was not responsible for its destruction, and he snatched at it clumsily so that it might still be salvaged. He must not let it break! But no, he had acted too late, was too ham-fisted in his groping endeavour; it was already beyond his grasp. He flinched as the little porcelain cup smashed to the floor, the sound amplified in his ears, and the pretty piece of dishware was reduced to a small heap of scattered, fractured debris. He cursed himself for his carelessness, stooping to the ground as Frodo tried to dissuade him from handling the broken pieces. For a moment, a mad notion flitted through his head: that he could yet piece the cup back together with a little resourcefulness, that he could make reparations for his blunder if he wanted it badly enough.
Frodo had stopped speaking, but Sam had not wished to give himself away, did not want Frodo to see him like this. But their eyes connected for the briefest of seconds, and it was all up. Frodo came down to him, and Sam broke down at last, his tears mixing with the ruined china, raining down like broken pieces of his own spirit, and finally allowed himself to be led away.
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"Tell me everything, Sam."
All of the questions that he had entertained, all the uncertainties that had ransacked him, all the heart-soreness that had constricted him flashed through his mind in the space of a millisecond.
"Well, sir, it's hard to know as where to begin," said Sam, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. "There's been such a powerful lot of ideas runnin' through my head since this morning. It's hard to get 'em all squared, if I'm making myself plain."
"Then start at the very beginning, Sam, for what better place to start than that?" Frodo counseled.
"All right, Mr. Frodo. I'll try. I guess it all began when we were in Elrond's house, and you newly waked-up. You said something that didn't seem to make much sense to me at the time, though I know you meant well and good by it. But it got me to thinking, and maybe that's where I went wrong in the first place; for I've often said my head's not the best part of me." Frodo looked at him remonstratively but allowed him to continue, not wanting to interrupt. "I was thinking of when you said: What if you (meaning me, you understand) couldn't-a come to the Elvish lands? Well, that just about did me in, sir; if I hadn't been lying abed it would-a knocked me right off-a my feet! I tried to work out in my head what you meant by it, seeing as how I always aimed to come, when I could. And then it came to me that maybe I couldn't have if things had turned out different."
"But they did not, Sam, as you promptly reminded me this morning," Frodo said. "But even if it had turned out differently, even if you could not have brought yourself to leave Middle-earth, if the time had not been right or the hour too late, I would have fully understood. As a matter of fact, I had all but reconciled myself to the idea that you would remain there, for it seemed to me that many years had already passed, though I did not know their true number, and that you would wish to remain in the homeland that you loved above all other places. I certainly would never have asked you to uproot yourself from the Shire if you were not fully prepared to take so decisive a step. How could I have faulted you for wishing to be amongst the family you raised and the friends you have kept? What sort of friend would I be to make such a demand or set such an expectation on your head? No friend at all, that's what kind! So do not give it a second thought, Sam. Whichever way you had chosen, I would have known that you had chosen what was best for you. And that is all that I ever wanted."
"Oh, Mr. Frodo, you know that that's all I wanted for you too – the very best," Sam said impassionedly. "And it ate me up inside not knowing for sure one way or the other whether you were getting it. And so I had to come, had to make sure that you were taken care of, and a good thing too; for what was best for me turned out to be what was best for you, as luck would have it."
"That has always been my feeling, Sam, ever since you arrived. But seeing you as you were today, I wondered if you had not had some regrets about leaving Middle-earth – and none could blame you if that proved to be the case."
"Regrets? No, sir, never!" he said emphatically, shaking his head. "Not for one moment, so don't you think it. It's not that, Mr. Frodo, that's working on me. It's what comes after. After all of this. Now I don't plan on going on for forever, and I 'spect I couldn't even if I wanted to. I know Lord Elrond says that…that having a way out, if you like, is a gift, and far be it from me to go against his word. But nobody says where we're headed to once we've gone, or what we'll find when we get there. So, I guess what's got me torn up is just this: what's to become of us, Mr. Frodo? You and me, and all the people who've gone before us and will come after?"
The air was charged with expectancy as Frodo strove to make some answer. Had he not been plagued with similar anxieties only the night before? Wasn't the thought of being parted from Sam, from Bilbo, from all of his loved ones what drove him into Sam's arms in a fit of tears? And wasn't it strange that he had never had an open discussion about a question so enormous, so monumental, and so unclear with anyone before today? Not Bilbo, not Gandalf; no one. Now Sam had given him an opening, a lead-in to what might be the biggest question that they had yet tackled. But how was he to answer?
"With the truth, of course," Frodo thought. And so he spoke.
"Those selfsame riddles have sprung to my mind too, Sam. I have posed the same questions and voiced the same concerns in secret. I think that the first time I really began to look for answers, when I really considered what would befall in the hereafter in earnest, was when Bilbo passed away. I remember it being one of my chief apprehensions at the time, whether I would find him again. But there were none who I could consult with that could provide me with any concrete explanations. Even the Valar, they say, do not know what occurs when we have moved beyond the boundaries of this world. And certainly, I, Frodo Baggins, a simple hobbit from Hobbiton have no special knowledge or insight on the matter. It is a question that is beyond even the Great. It seemed to be a closed case right from the start.
"But that did not seem satisfactory to me. I needed something more to go on, some definable hope to latch onto. I was forced to look inward – for what other alternative was there? – limited as I was and little as I knew. And so it is, Sam, that I can make no claims about anything that you have asked of me, for the reasons that I have stated. I can only tell you what I believe. I cannot say whither we will go when we have severed these mortal ties, but I can speak about how my own experiences have informed my faith. I may not have much to offer in the way of certitude, but I do have a thing or two to say of conviction.
"If you will oblige me, let us revisit what some might refer to as ancient history. By that, of course, I mean my own history, which seems to stretch a very far way back now that I have come to this stage in my life. Consider, Sam, your old master, when he was a very young lad, only twelve years of age. That lad was orphaned, hapless, and (quite understandably) distraught by so untimely a tragedy, as you can well imagine. And what happened to that lad? After spending some years at Brandy Hall, he was adopted by Bilbo Baggins, and he was given a new lease on life. He had finally found his foothold, had finally realised his identity, and he was happy.
"Consider that that same hobbit, a lad no longer, is told that he has in his possession a thing so dangerous, so full of unforeseen malice that he must go forth at once into strange lands whose very name is enough to set even a fledgling traveller's teeth on edge. He has resolved to fly into the very heart of darkness, ill-prepared as he is, and set himself against a foe whose wrath was enough to make even Elves and Wizards quake with fear. And what happened when he set off? His friends volunteered themselves – nay, imposed themselves upon him – so that they might take the journey together, no matter how far. The hobbit had companions, friendship, people that he could trust to ride out the storm with him, and he was moved by their devotion.
"Now consider that this hobbit, against all likelihood, succeeds in his mission. Succeeds! But not alone, of course, for he has never been alone. No, he succeeds with the help of a hobbit whose daily courage and unfaltering loyalty is a thing to be marveled at. He succeeds also with help from unlikely places, by the valour of distant friends and the cunning of would-be foes nearer at hand. But when he and his companion have completed their task and the fires of doom are singeing at their very heels and all seems over, what do you suppose happens next? They are borne away on the wings of the Eagles. They are rescued. They are alive. And the hobbit rejoices.
"Suppose now that this hobbit has sustained grievous injuries whose pain is an enduring agony to him. Suppose that he knows in his heart that he can never settle back comfortably into his old life, not after the way he has been changed. What is to become of him now? He is given permission to sail the Straight Road to the Undying Lands where he may find healing and succour, along with his uncle, the only two hobbits who have ever, as yet, gazed upon the haven of the Elves. He is prepared to take that trip, and he is at peace.
"Now imagine that this hobbit has grown much aged, and his uncle even more so. Said uncle has grown increasingly weary, and is ready to take his leave, and the old hobbit must weather it as best he can. And when he feels he has reached his very lowest, when he is shadowed by persistent loneliness and feels as though he cannot continue onward, his best of friends comes to him, comes right through his very doorway, and tells him he has come back to him.
"What I am trying to tell you with all of this, Sam, is that whenever hope was at its lowest ebb, when the darkness seemed too enveloping and the possibility of continuation all but impossible, I have found deliverance. When my parents were drowned, Bilbo was there to hoist me up from the slump of despondency. When I was summoned to the Quest, I had my friends to accompany me and help me find safe passageways. When the Mountain of Fire had conquered me, I had you to put me on your back and carry me the distance. And the list goes on. So you see, no matter how bleak the outcome appeared, no matter how improbable success was or unlikely recovery seemed, there has been some other will which has proven me wrong. There has been a power greater than any I have yet encountered that has kept watch over me, a guardian that has provided me with just what I needed to move past adversity and so be redeemed. I do not know why this power has seen fit to do so, why I would be deemed worthy of such bounteous rewards, but such has been my fortune. And that is why I have faith.
"So I ask you, Sam, hobbit of hobbits, would such a power forsake me in the end, when I am at my utmost need, to chaos and cold abandonment? Would the people that I love be wrenched callously away from me where I can no longer reach them? Would those forces that have ever turned misfortune to good and despair to hope disown me at the last? I think not. And neither will they forsake you. For I know that you perceive the many ways that your life has been blessed, the way that the stars have aligned when disaster was imminent. So whatever we meet when death at last leads us away, I think you can be quite certain that it will not be a blackness that greets us. And I do believe that Rose will await us, and your Gaffer, and my parents, and Bilbo and everyone we could hope to see. Remember Bilbo's stone, Sam, remember how his song began: The road goes ever on and on. I believe that he hit upon something more profound than even he knew when he first composed those words. We are all of us bound to the Road, the one Road where all paths eventually lead; the Road that stretches into forever. That is where we will meet; I am sure of it. And we shall be in good company, for what would such an important journey be without our travelling companions?" said Frodo, breaking out into a beatific grin as he laid a hand on Sam's shoulder.
Sam regarded Frodo steadily, could see the truth like liquid light in his eyes, could feel the profundity of his words as they seemed to hang about the room like unseen tapestries depicting all of the scenes from his life that he had described, and his heart was filled with love for his master whose wisdom burned brighter than any beacon and sang out louder than any song. So gladdened was Sam that he jumped up from the couch, and pulling Frodo up beside him seized him with both arms and lifted his feet right off the ground. The two of them laughed, and the sound was that of their triumph over despair, slicing through doubt and grief like sunbeams through storm-clouds. It was a laugh that would carry them through all of the days ahead and, at last, into the arms of forever.
And when forever came, Sam would be ready to embark upon the Road that had been laid before his feet. For wherever Frodo went, Sam was sure to follow.
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Author's Note: Well, I hadn't anticipated trying to justify the ways of Eru to fanfiction readers (to play on a famous literary quote) but that is how the cards seemed to fall. This feels like an ending to me, but I am not sure that I am ready to sign off on this fic just yet, so I won't definitively say that this is "The End." Depending on how the muse strikes me, I may return to this story and post additional chapters as I think of new story lines, or I might turn this series into a trilogy with a third installment. Then again, it might end up losing some of its impact if I do choose to continue onward, so maybe it's better left off as it is. I'd love to hear thoughts/opinions from anyone who might be reading as to what direction (if any) that you'd like to see the story go. It is bound to be more helpful than my hopeless vacillating and fruitless self-debating! And, as always, thank you to all of you who continued to read all the way through, whether you left a review or not.
Updated Author's Note (as of Nov. 2, 2012): I have made an executive decision to carry on with this story in a third fic, which has now been posted under the title "Where All Roads Converge." Please read it!