Disclaimers are the same as in Chapter One.
Author's Note is at the end.
On the Beach: Chapter Five--Scars
Life can surprise you in ways you can never imagine.
If Enaiowen should be graced with long life, she would look upon this day as a crucial
turning point. Even those of immortal lives have moments where everything changes,
where they are not the same person who took the breath into their lungs the moment
before they must release it in a cry. All at once the mysteries of her life revealed
themselves to her. She knew everything but understood nothing. She sat numbly, taking
it all in like an empty vessel filling with water. But she couldn't digest it. Most of it
would just sit on her mind waiting for her to let it sink in.
She was transformed.
The truths were revealed to her gently. No one wanted to cause her pain. They did not
want her to misunderstand.
Her father hid the stories of her homeland from her as a means of protection. He had
protected her from a fate that was as murky as the water of the Scottish Loch. A fierce,
primal protection of a father to keep from losing his own. She never knew why. She
simply believed that he always had her best interests at heart. She trusted him. It was not
like him to behave irrationally, to hide an entire world from her simply because she might
go there and never come back.
He did not know her. He did not know her at all. She wanted nothing of that world. She
would die happy if she never stepped upon its shores. She knew what she wanted but for
duty and for honor she kept those wishes silent.
He had not behaved irrationally. He had behaved selfishly, locking her away in
ignorance as if that would save her from her fate. The irony lay in the fact that the life he
had planned for her held more danger than if she had remained in Middle Earth.
Truthfully, wardens led treacherous lives confronting demons and maintaining natural
law in the New World. It was an honorable duty for an elf and he was proud of her for
her achievements. But now she couldn't shake the doubt that he wasn't protecting her
from her fate. He was simply choosing it for her.
She wept.
But her tears were not for her father's deception. They were for her own. Things that
had been before her for years but she wouldn't see. She had been too self absorbed in her
own grief, she failed to acknowledge the suffering of another. She had no words for
Glorfindel now. He didn't understand. He watched her cry in utter bewilderment. He
had not seen what Gandalf had guessed.
Her attachment to her teacher had grown stronger than anyone could have foreseen.
She did not see it either. The power of her emotions blindsided her. As the details of his
trials and suffering unfolded she felt them as acutely as if she experienced them firsthand.
All of her rage and blame turned towards herself.
She should have known. She should have understood.
Finally she spoke. "I have to go to him," she announced. The words came out with
effort as if she'd nearly forgotten how to speak. She stumbled to her feet reaching for the
door only a few paces away. She had to get away, from her father, from Gandalf.
Although their actions towards her may come from well meaning intentions, they could
not assuage her guilt.
Glorfindel was taken aback. Why should events, which occurred so long ago, effect her
so? He began to regret allowing Gandalf to persuade him to reveal the tale to her. He
had expected her to be frightened of how close they had all come to disaster, but she
seemed to care little about that, as if it was merely a minor detail. He thought she would
show sympathy for her teacher's ordeal but her true reaction seemed to shake the
foundations of her soul. Her sudden desire to go to the hobbit troubled him deeply.
"Why? What could you do?" he asked her with a hint of fatherly warning.
She stopped. Her hand gripped the door to steady her. "I must say 'I'm sorry'," she said
with emotion. She turned to face her father. "As should we all. You have made him pay
the price for the folly of others. You think you honor him by bringing him here. You're
only prolonging his suffering." Once again her eyes held the haunted look of the little
girl unworthy of goodness. He had left her healing to another and now he paid the price.
He was the unworthy one now. She would never find comfort with him.
Glorfindel reached for his daughter but she slipped away. She was lost to him.
Gandalf placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Let her go. She has her own demons
to confront."
A soft breeze caressed his hair as the foamy water edged closer to his feet. Never had
Frodo approached the water alone before. He had always watched it from a great and
safe distance. Some instinctive fear had held him away from it, something he never
really tried to understand. Water could be fickle. At one time in his life water was the
only thing that kept him alive. At another time, it took his parents from him. He had
never wanted to guess what mood the water might have. He simply respected it and kept
his distance.
But he hadn't always left the water alone. When Enaiowen was younger her favorite
reward for her study was to search for shells in the surf. He would go with her and she
would always laugh when the tide caught him unaware. Water was a happy thing for her.
He didn't want her to think otherwise. Demons and monsters could live in the waters she
studied, but in waters at their beach she should find only pretty shells.
They hadn't searched for shells for a long time.
"I search the waters for only one thing now," he thought unhappily. His mood had been
somber even before Gandalf had visited him.
His dreams had deserted him. He hadn't realized how much he needed them until they
disappeared. He almost believed that he had been visiting another life, the ways things
could have been. The way things should have been. But he no longer went there. Now
when he closed his eyes at night he only found sleep. Why they stopped, he did not
know. He tried not to ponder the unfairness of it.
He had new worries.
How would Enai react to his past? He knew her well enough to guess. She would worry.
She would feel badly for him. Sympathy from her was not something he was prepared
for. He had learned to shut out the others. Through the years, he had already let her in
too far.
"I know who you are waiting for," her voice announced from behind him.
Frodo would not turn to look at her. He didn't want to see her face. He wasn't ready.
"How much do you know?" he asked her cautiously.
"Everything," Enaiowen answered. She settled herself into the sand as if she were simply
awaiting the day's lesson. She sensed his tentativeness. "Well, everything they can tell
me. Views of those who merely watched. I've heard nothing from you. I can only guess
at the pain you must feel."
Her voice sounded remarkably steady. He felt himself relax a little. Perhaps he could
leave her guessing. He didn't have to tell her. Maybe she won't push any further. "I
don't know what I could tell you," he said finally. He watched as the clouds began to
form in the sky over the sea, still not ready to face her. "Some of it is so distant I could
almost imagine that it was someone else. Other things are still too fresh in my memory."
She sighed deeply, hugging her knees close to her chest. "I've been so naïve," she told
him sadly. "I've had this vision in my head of what a hero is. Someone as big as the
world. Brave, strong, majestic, who never ran away from adventure. Someone who
never wanted to run away."
Frodo finally turned towards her. She surprised him with her simplicity. She appeared
no different than any day that came before. He couldn't picture what his fears had
concocted of this day. Reality had banished that image away. She was no terrible,
beautiful elven queen bewitching him into revealing his soul. She was Enaiowen. He
had nothing to fear. He almost smiled. "You're describing you father," he observed.
"I suppose I am," she replied. The image formed in her mind did resemble her father in a
remarkable way. She couldn't escape his influence, even in her dreams. "In a way, he's
my ideal. What I'm supposed to be. But there are things that I can't be, not even for
him. How wrong I was about everything, about him, about you." She met his eyes and
he found himself unable to move. "You have been standing in front of me and I never
saw it. I only saw you as my teacher. I expected that when I would meet you today, you
would somehow look different. The person who was my teacher and the Ringbearer
were two different people. But you're not. You're the same that you've been everyday
that I've known you." She cast her gaze down to her hands, small and delicate. "So it
must be me who has changed. Today, I know the truth but I haven't figured yet how to
deal with it. I almost miss the girl who just yesterday was battling kelpie in the New
World."
He approached her now. For a moment, he had forgotten the delicacy of the moment.
The teacher in him had taken over. "Gandalf mentioned that you were hurt, that it
grabbed hold of you," he said with sudden concern.
"Oh," Enaiowen uttered in surprise. "It was just my shoulder," she then told him
dismissively. The gravity of a kelpie's bite mattered little to her now.
"May I see?" he asked her earnestly.
"Oh, of course," she replied automatically. There was nothing wrong with his request.
She pulled back the wide collar of her tunic to reveal her shoulder, mottled with dark
bruises where the beast had taken hold and pulled her under. She hoped that the old
wizard had not revealed too much of her ordeal with the demon. She didn't want Frodo
to worry. "It's just a couple of bruises, not really even a scratch."
He stood over her, closely inspecting her wound. He held her arm with one hand as his
other lightly traced the bruises on her skin. "I can make out the teeth marks," he said,
trying not to picture her in the deadly battle.
Suddenly he froze. Images of kelpies and the rest of the world vanished from his mind.
He shut his eyes tightly as she reached for his shoulder. He could feel her fingers lightly
brush against the fabric of his shirt. He wanted everything to stop. He wanted her to
leave him alone. He wanted to run away but he didn't move. Too close. Too close. He
didn't realize it until it was too late.
"May I see?" she breathed.
No! no. He shook his head not daring to open his eyes, praying for the moment to pass.
Her touch would not leave him. "The wound is old," he managed to say. The words
nearly caught themselves in his throat.
"It's still fresh in my mind," she said quietly.
Almost against his will, he opened his eyes and saw her so perilously close. Her
expression filled with an intensity he could not describe. He felt himself falter. He
caught her hand and held it tightly but he could not get away. Should he let her see?
What would she find when she looked upon it? Would she see what he had hidden from
all who cared for him?
Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled back the collar as she had done. For the first
time since he left the Shire all those years ago, he revealed his wound to the eyes of
another. He closed his eyes. He did not have to look upon it. Its angry mark scarred his
soul as much as it did his body. He released her hand and she reached up to touch the
mark left by the Nazgul's blade.
He could feel her breath against his face. It chilled his cheeks as it drew across his fresh
tears. As badly as he wanted to, he could no longer feel her touch upon his shoulder.
"It's cold," she whispered softly. She spoke of the wound. Its chill had never left him.
"It will never heal," he cried out in quiet despair. He reached up to take her hand again,
to pull it away. "Not even here."
Tears brimmed in her eyes now too. She gripped his hand tightly. "Why didn't you tell
me?" she cried. "Did you think I could not understand? Did you not think that my
shoulders were strong enough to bear this burden?"
"It's my pain, Enai," he sobbed. "I cannot make you share it."
She pulled him closer. Their foreheads touched. His words echoed from her past. They
were wrong when she spoke them. They were wrong again. "But you have shared in my
pain," she said quietly, almost confessing. "More times than there are stars in the sky. I
cannot take any of it back. Let me take some of yours in its place."
He swallowed hard. His strength had all but failed him. He would have fallen to his
knees if he were not leaning against her. He still wanted desperately to run away. "It's
not something I can give," he told her finally.
She reached up and gently wiped away a tear from his cheek. He could not mistake the
sadness on her face. "Do you think you will be able to give it to him when he comes?"
she asked.
He pulled away from her, surprised by her question. Did he really believe that his
healing would come from Sam? He honestly didn't know. "He was there," he answered
defensively. "He understands. He bore the burden for a time as well."
She reached out for his hand, wounded by his response. He misunderstood her. "I do not
speak of the Ring, Frodo," she said gently. "He has everything that was denied you. He
may understand pain and loss but not so keenly as you. Your loss is what makes you
unable to heal."
Frodo began to shake. She had discovered his terrible secret. He could hide no longer.
She knew. "I didn't lose it," he told her as the tears overtook him again. "I gave it
away."
His legs gave way and he fell to his knees. His sorrow released itself in sobs that came
over him in waves. His tears blinded him and his cries deafened him but he knew she
was there. He could not keep her away. He no longer wanted to.
Her arms came around him in a comforting embrace. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm so
sorry."
He lifted his head to face her. She had not bewitched him. He had wanted to tell her.
Only her. He never sought sympathy, just understanding. She was the only one, save
Sam, who could give it to him.
For a moment, Frodo heard the sound of the children's laughter in his mind. Echoes of
the treasures he had given away. Would he ever hear them again?
A tear slid down Enaiowen's cheek. He reached up to catch it. When he pulled away
from her he realized he had stopped the tear with a kiss.
He scrambled away from her, horrified by his actions, but only more so by the weakness
from which they came. He didn't understand what made him do what he had done. That
is what terrified him the most.
It was a simple kiss but somewhere in a place he could not reach, he knew it was
something more. He had to get away and this time he found the strength. He couldn't
speak. He couldn't look at her. He began to run away before he pulled himself
completely to his feet. He had betrayed himself, but worse he had betrayed her. If he
never saw her again, it would not be punishment enough.
Through his shame he could not hear her calling out to him, pleading with him to come
back. He would not allow himself to hear, because if he heard, he might want to answer.
TBC
Author's Note: I worked REALLY, REALLY hard on this. It had to be just right. I
wrote out the dialogue three times before I got everything said that I wanted to be said. I
really wanted to create something of beauty, something that would make you guys say
"wow". Please, please, PLEASE, if ever I needed your feedback, send it to me now. I
want to know if I achieved my goal.
The next chapter may even be more tricky than this one, so if I delay, it means I'm
working on it really hard. Hopefully it will be worth the wait. The next one is the last
and it's the one you've all been waiting for. Sam's arrival in the Blessed Realm!!
Frodo's reunion with him will be bittersweet as it coincides with Enai's departure.
Thanks always for your wonderful support. It keeps me going.
Author's Note is at the end.
On the Beach: Chapter Five--Scars
Life can surprise you in ways you can never imagine.
If Enaiowen should be graced with long life, she would look upon this day as a crucial
turning point. Even those of immortal lives have moments where everything changes,
where they are not the same person who took the breath into their lungs the moment
before they must release it in a cry. All at once the mysteries of her life revealed
themselves to her. She knew everything but understood nothing. She sat numbly, taking
it all in like an empty vessel filling with water. But she couldn't digest it. Most of it
would just sit on her mind waiting for her to let it sink in.
She was transformed.
The truths were revealed to her gently. No one wanted to cause her pain. They did not
want her to misunderstand.
Her father hid the stories of her homeland from her as a means of protection. He had
protected her from a fate that was as murky as the water of the Scottish Loch. A fierce,
primal protection of a father to keep from losing his own. She never knew why. She
simply believed that he always had her best interests at heart. She trusted him. It was not
like him to behave irrationally, to hide an entire world from her simply because she might
go there and never come back.
He did not know her. He did not know her at all. She wanted nothing of that world. She
would die happy if she never stepped upon its shores. She knew what she wanted but for
duty and for honor she kept those wishes silent.
He had not behaved irrationally. He had behaved selfishly, locking her away in
ignorance as if that would save her from her fate. The irony lay in the fact that the life he
had planned for her held more danger than if she had remained in Middle Earth.
Truthfully, wardens led treacherous lives confronting demons and maintaining natural
law in the New World. It was an honorable duty for an elf and he was proud of her for
her achievements. But now she couldn't shake the doubt that he wasn't protecting her
from her fate. He was simply choosing it for her.
She wept.
But her tears were not for her father's deception. They were for her own. Things that
had been before her for years but she wouldn't see. She had been too self absorbed in her
own grief, she failed to acknowledge the suffering of another. She had no words for
Glorfindel now. He didn't understand. He watched her cry in utter bewilderment. He
had not seen what Gandalf had guessed.
Her attachment to her teacher had grown stronger than anyone could have foreseen.
She did not see it either. The power of her emotions blindsided her. As the details of his
trials and suffering unfolded she felt them as acutely as if she experienced them firsthand.
All of her rage and blame turned towards herself.
She should have known. She should have understood.
Finally she spoke. "I have to go to him," she announced. The words came out with
effort as if she'd nearly forgotten how to speak. She stumbled to her feet reaching for the
door only a few paces away. She had to get away, from her father, from Gandalf.
Although their actions towards her may come from well meaning intentions, they could
not assuage her guilt.
Glorfindel was taken aback. Why should events, which occurred so long ago, effect her
so? He began to regret allowing Gandalf to persuade him to reveal the tale to her. He
had expected her to be frightened of how close they had all come to disaster, but she
seemed to care little about that, as if it was merely a minor detail. He thought she would
show sympathy for her teacher's ordeal but her true reaction seemed to shake the
foundations of her soul. Her sudden desire to go to the hobbit troubled him deeply.
"Why? What could you do?" he asked her with a hint of fatherly warning.
She stopped. Her hand gripped the door to steady her. "I must say 'I'm sorry'," she said
with emotion. She turned to face her father. "As should we all. You have made him pay
the price for the folly of others. You think you honor him by bringing him here. You're
only prolonging his suffering." Once again her eyes held the haunted look of the little
girl unworthy of goodness. He had left her healing to another and now he paid the price.
He was the unworthy one now. She would never find comfort with him.
Glorfindel reached for his daughter but she slipped away. She was lost to him.
Gandalf placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Let her go. She has her own demons
to confront."
A soft breeze caressed his hair as the foamy water edged closer to his feet. Never had
Frodo approached the water alone before. He had always watched it from a great and
safe distance. Some instinctive fear had held him away from it, something he never
really tried to understand. Water could be fickle. At one time in his life water was the
only thing that kept him alive. At another time, it took his parents from him. He had
never wanted to guess what mood the water might have. He simply respected it and kept
his distance.
But he hadn't always left the water alone. When Enaiowen was younger her favorite
reward for her study was to search for shells in the surf. He would go with her and she
would always laugh when the tide caught him unaware. Water was a happy thing for her.
He didn't want her to think otherwise. Demons and monsters could live in the waters she
studied, but in waters at their beach she should find only pretty shells.
They hadn't searched for shells for a long time.
"I search the waters for only one thing now," he thought unhappily. His mood had been
somber even before Gandalf had visited him.
His dreams had deserted him. He hadn't realized how much he needed them until they
disappeared. He almost believed that he had been visiting another life, the ways things
could have been. The way things should have been. But he no longer went there. Now
when he closed his eyes at night he only found sleep. Why they stopped, he did not
know. He tried not to ponder the unfairness of it.
He had new worries.
How would Enai react to his past? He knew her well enough to guess. She would worry.
She would feel badly for him. Sympathy from her was not something he was prepared
for. He had learned to shut out the others. Through the years, he had already let her in
too far.
"I know who you are waiting for," her voice announced from behind him.
Frodo would not turn to look at her. He didn't want to see her face. He wasn't ready.
"How much do you know?" he asked her cautiously.
"Everything," Enaiowen answered. She settled herself into the sand as if she were simply
awaiting the day's lesson. She sensed his tentativeness. "Well, everything they can tell
me. Views of those who merely watched. I've heard nothing from you. I can only guess
at the pain you must feel."
Her voice sounded remarkably steady. He felt himself relax a little. Perhaps he could
leave her guessing. He didn't have to tell her. Maybe she won't push any further. "I
don't know what I could tell you," he said finally. He watched as the clouds began to
form in the sky over the sea, still not ready to face her. "Some of it is so distant I could
almost imagine that it was someone else. Other things are still too fresh in my memory."
She sighed deeply, hugging her knees close to her chest. "I've been so naïve," she told
him sadly. "I've had this vision in my head of what a hero is. Someone as big as the
world. Brave, strong, majestic, who never ran away from adventure. Someone who
never wanted to run away."
Frodo finally turned towards her. She surprised him with her simplicity. She appeared
no different than any day that came before. He couldn't picture what his fears had
concocted of this day. Reality had banished that image away. She was no terrible,
beautiful elven queen bewitching him into revealing his soul. She was Enaiowen. He
had nothing to fear. He almost smiled. "You're describing you father," he observed.
"I suppose I am," she replied. The image formed in her mind did resemble her father in a
remarkable way. She couldn't escape his influence, even in her dreams. "In a way, he's
my ideal. What I'm supposed to be. But there are things that I can't be, not even for
him. How wrong I was about everything, about him, about you." She met his eyes and
he found himself unable to move. "You have been standing in front of me and I never
saw it. I only saw you as my teacher. I expected that when I would meet you today, you
would somehow look different. The person who was my teacher and the Ringbearer
were two different people. But you're not. You're the same that you've been everyday
that I've known you." She cast her gaze down to her hands, small and delicate. "So it
must be me who has changed. Today, I know the truth but I haven't figured yet how to
deal with it. I almost miss the girl who just yesterday was battling kelpie in the New
World."
He approached her now. For a moment, he had forgotten the delicacy of the moment.
The teacher in him had taken over. "Gandalf mentioned that you were hurt, that it
grabbed hold of you," he said with sudden concern.
"Oh," Enaiowen uttered in surprise. "It was just my shoulder," she then told him
dismissively. The gravity of a kelpie's bite mattered little to her now.
"May I see?" he asked her earnestly.
"Oh, of course," she replied automatically. There was nothing wrong with his request.
She pulled back the wide collar of her tunic to reveal her shoulder, mottled with dark
bruises where the beast had taken hold and pulled her under. She hoped that the old
wizard had not revealed too much of her ordeal with the demon. She didn't want Frodo
to worry. "It's just a couple of bruises, not really even a scratch."
He stood over her, closely inspecting her wound. He held her arm with one hand as his
other lightly traced the bruises on her skin. "I can make out the teeth marks," he said,
trying not to picture her in the deadly battle.
Suddenly he froze. Images of kelpies and the rest of the world vanished from his mind.
He shut his eyes tightly as she reached for his shoulder. He could feel her fingers lightly
brush against the fabric of his shirt. He wanted everything to stop. He wanted her to
leave him alone. He wanted to run away but he didn't move. Too close. Too close. He
didn't realize it until it was too late.
"May I see?" she breathed.
No! no. He shook his head not daring to open his eyes, praying for the moment to pass.
Her touch would not leave him. "The wound is old," he managed to say. The words
nearly caught themselves in his throat.
"It's still fresh in my mind," she said quietly.
Almost against his will, he opened his eyes and saw her so perilously close. Her
expression filled with an intensity he could not describe. He felt himself falter. He
caught her hand and held it tightly but he could not get away. Should he let her see?
What would she find when she looked upon it? Would she see what he had hidden from
all who cared for him?
Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled back the collar as she had done. For the first
time since he left the Shire all those years ago, he revealed his wound to the eyes of
another. He closed his eyes. He did not have to look upon it. Its angry mark scarred his
soul as much as it did his body. He released her hand and she reached up to touch the
mark left by the Nazgul's blade.
He could feel her breath against his face. It chilled his cheeks as it drew across his fresh
tears. As badly as he wanted to, he could no longer feel her touch upon his shoulder.
"It's cold," she whispered softly. She spoke of the wound. Its chill had never left him.
"It will never heal," he cried out in quiet despair. He reached up to take her hand again,
to pull it away. "Not even here."
Tears brimmed in her eyes now too. She gripped his hand tightly. "Why didn't you tell
me?" she cried. "Did you think I could not understand? Did you not think that my
shoulders were strong enough to bear this burden?"
"It's my pain, Enai," he sobbed. "I cannot make you share it."
She pulled him closer. Their foreheads touched. His words echoed from her past. They
were wrong when she spoke them. They were wrong again. "But you have shared in my
pain," she said quietly, almost confessing. "More times than there are stars in the sky. I
cannot take any of it back. Let me take some of yours in its place."
He swallowed hard. His strength had all but failed him. He would have fallen to his
knees if he were not leaning against her. He still wanted desperately to run away. "It's
not something I can give," he told her finally.
She reached up and gently wiped away a tear from his cheek. He could not mistake the
sadness on her face. "Do you think you will be able to give it to him when he comes?"
she asked.
He pulled away from her, surprised by her question. Did he really believe that his
healing would come from Sam? He honestly didn't know. "He was there," he answered
defensively. "He understands. He bore the burden for a time as well."
She reached out for his hand, wounded by his response. He misunderstood her. "I do not
speak of the Ring, Frodo," she said gently. "He has everything that was denied you. He
may understand pain and loss but not so keenly as you. Your loss is what makes you
unable to heal."
Frodo began to shake. She had discovered his terrible secret. He could hide no longer.
She knew. "I didn't lose it," he told her as the tears overtook him again. "I gave it
away."
His legs gave way and he fell to his knees. His sorrow released itself in sobs that came
over him in waves. His tears blinded him and his cries deafened him but he knew she
was there. He could not keep her away. He no longer wanted to.
Her arms came around him in a comforting embrace. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm so
sorry."
He lifted his head to face her. She had not bewitched him. He had wanted to tell her.
Only her. He never sought sympathy, just understanding. She was the only one, save
Sam, who could give it to him.
For a moment, Frodo heard the sound of the children's laughter in his mind. Echoes of
the treasures he had given away. Would he ever hear them again?
A tear slid down Enaiowen's cheek. He reached up to catch it. When he pulled away
from her he realized he had stopped the tear with a kiss.
He scrambled away from her, horrified by his actions, but only more so by the weakness
from which they came. He didn't understand what made him do what he had done. That
is what terrified him the most.
It was a simple kiss but somewhere in a place he could not reach, he knew it was
something more. He had to get away and this time he found the strength. He couldn't
speak. He couldn't look at her. He began to run away before he pulled himself
completely to his feet. He had betrayed himself, but worse he had betrayed her. If he
never saw her again, it would not be punishment enough.
Through his shame he could not hear her calling out to him, pleading with him to come
back. He would not allow himself to hear, because if he heard, he might want to answer.
TBC
Author's Note: I worked REALLY, REALLY hard on this. It had to be just right. I
wrote out the dialogue three times before I got everything said that I wanted to be said. I
really wanted to create something of beauty, something that would make you guys say
"wow". Please, please, PLEASE, if ever I needed your feedback, send it to me now. I
want to know if I achieved my goal.
The next chapter may even be more tricky than this one, so if I delay, it means I'm
working on it really hard. Hopefully it will be worth the wait. The next one is the last
and it's the one you've all been waiting for. Sam's arrival in the Blessed Realm!!
Frodo's reunion with him will be bittersweet as it coincides with Enai's departure.
Thanks always for your wonderful support. It keeps me going.
