Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one. This chapter contains part of a
quote from The Return of the King.
Author's note at the end.
On the Beach—Chapter Six: Prelude
Hobbits were not designed to crave power. They desired the comfort of a home, the love of family, the simple pleasures that many other races took for granted. The One Ring knew only promises of a scale far too grand for them to ponder. It spoke to their hearts but it did not use a language they really understood or would listen to. That was the key to their great resistance to its power.
But the Ring had learned. In its last few moments of existence it found the way to one hobbit's heart. It spoke to him of the things he most desired. It sent him dreams of home and family and comfort. It showed him that without it, he would never know any of them. At the last moment of his quest he listened. He believed and he gave in.
"I will not do this deed," he had said in one moment of sublime selfishness. But fate had saved him and the world. The loss of his finger had been the price for his weakness that day.
He would gladly give the other nine so as not to lose his friend this time. He would not forget what weakness had done to him. It robbed him of rational thought and eventually his pride.
The Ring had been destroyed but its promise still lingered.
Had it been what it seemed, he would not have run. But that was no kiss of comfort he laid upon her cheek. For a moment, no matter how miniscule it was, he reached for something, a vision, a future. Even now he could not understand but he saw something.
A promise?
As the weakness passed he knew he must have been mistaken. She could not have guessed what passed through his thoughts. How could she know when the misunderstanding lay within himself? The future could not lie with Enaiowen. No matter that she was an elf. No matter that he was her teacher. Her future lay on a different path, far away from him. He would not reach for something that would ultimately slip away. He had said more than his share of good-byes to be naïve about what happens afterwards. He could not trust that she would come back.
He could not erase the moment or banish the thoughts that plagued him then but he could not just let it lie. He wanted to explain, even though he barely had a grasp of it. He had to try to make things right.
The sky had grown dark and heavy with rain. Had Frodo not become so preoccupied with finding Enaiowen and what he would say to her, he would have realized that he had never before seen rain, a true downpour, in all his days in the Blessed Realm. As his feet tramped through the wet puddles he became vaguely aware that he had no idea how to find his young elf friend. With weariness and no small amount of self-pity he glanced around the foreign elven road for a shelter from the rain.
The deafening sound of the pouring rain obscured the warning of approaching footsteps. Only his powerful voice alerted Frodo to Gandalf's presence. "Of all the hobbits I have ever known, I would have thought that you most of all would have the sense to stay out of the rain," he announced.
Frodo looked up to see the wizard's shape looming in the darkness before him. "Gandalf!" he cried with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. "I think I am lost."
Gandalf smiled at the double meaning of his friend's statement. In a way he had been lost for quite some time. Only now as he stumbled blindly in the rain did he come to realize it. "So it would seem," he replied kindly. He swept his arm in a wide gesture and at his silent command the rain began to dissipate.
Frodo blinked away the water that had run into his eyes. He had not realized how wet he had become. "I was looking for Enai," he admitted reluctantly.
Gandalf smiled wryly. "You will not find her here," he said. He gently guided the hobbit to a dry bench in an alcove of a building several steps off the road. "She sent me to find you. She's worried about you."
Frodo sat down with a heavy sigh and buried his wet face in his equally wet hands. The memory of his departure from her became once more overwhelmingly vivid. "I don't know what came over me," he said honestly.
The wizard placed his arm around his friend's small shoulders. "A great many years of sorrow and sacrifice," he said gently. Frodo had often surprised him with his strength and fortitude but he no longer had to be strong. What the hobbit had viewed as a failing, Gandalf saw as an emotional letting that was long overdue. "But you underestimate your student. She is no longer a child. She has spent many years watching you and understands you better than you think. She alone had the power to see the wound that has caused you so much pain."
Gandalf placed his hand upon Frodo's head but it drew him no further from his sadness. "You have worked too hard to hide it," he continued. "She wants nothing more than to help you heal. As do we all."
Frodo finally looked up and gazed out at the empty lane. "My healing should not be placed in her hands," he replied.
Gandalf frowned. He suspected that Frodo had someone else in mind. "Do you still have those dreams?" he asked suddenly.
Frodo thought of the hope his dreams had brought him but only sadness graced his face. "Every night," he answered looking to a puddle at his feet as if it were a window to his other life. "Every night, save the last two," he amended quietly. "I fear they've left me forever."
Gandalf regarded his friend carefully. "They became very precious to you," he remarked, knowing full well the implication of that word. The dreams held power as much as the Ring ever did. Because Frodo could not see them as anything but pure and innocent, he had become blind to what they were doing to him. "Tell me, is it enough to only dream?"
"I can't have anything else," the hobbit said sadly. "Those children may be dreams but they were mine. I know they were."
"Of course they were your children and your dreams," the wizard assured him. "Can you imagine if you had been allowed to view Sam's life? To see everything that you did not have?"
Frodo jumped to his feet and faced Gandalf shocked, an edge of defensiveness in his voice. "I will not begrudge Sam his life!" he declared more loudly than he intended.
"Yes," Gandalf agreed calmly, "but will you begrudge him you own?"
"Never," Frodo replied softly and he believed it. "I left it all to him so he could keep it safe. I couldn't have it."
Gandalf smiled suddenly with such inexplicable warmness it brought confusion to his younger friend's eyes. "Your life, nurtured over the years by the finest gardener in all the Shire. It has grown and blossomed in ways that will astonish you. You have seen its fruits in your dreams and in an elf's tear. Did it ever occur to you that when Mr. Gamgee comes to the Blessed Realm he might return that life to you, fully healed?"
Frodo shook his head. "How can it be returned, Gandalf?" he asked. Gandalf presented an image of beauty designed to give him hope but he could not see it as the wizard did. His life was not a thing to be planted and tended in a garden. It was choices made long ago by a broken soul. "That life may be healed, but I am not."
Gandalf took a heavy breath and leaned upon the staff he held in his hands. "If you truly wish to heal, Frodo, you must either learn to live that life or you must let it go." He looked at the hobbit hard and spoke with a great sternness. "You have placed all your hope on this one event, believing that your healing depended on it. What if Sam was here and you still were not made whole? What then?"
As Frodo listened to Gandalf's words, tears began to well in his eyes. He was right. He had been expecting Sam's coming to be like a return to the Shire itself. This was not the Shire. It never could be. People came here at the end of their lives, as Sam would be as well. "I'm asking too much of him," Frodo admitted finally.
Gandalf steadied himself on his staff as he pulled himself to his feet. He laid a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Taking care of you was his sacred duty, Frodo. It was an extremely selfless act when you took that responsibility out of his hands. Do not undo that act. The Blessed Realm is not a place for sacred duty. Leave that to the wardens."
"You're right," Frodo agreed, placing his hand on top of Gandalf's. He held it to his shoulder for a moment. He had made a decision. "When he comes, he should find only peace. I have not the power to grant that to Enai, but to Sam, I owe him nothing less."
"And to yourself," Gandalf added.
Frodo smiled grimly. "That may be more difficult, but if I know Sam, he won't be able to rest otherwise."
The day was beautiful, glorious in fact. The previous evening's shower seemed to bring new life to the landscape. Perhaps the trees and flowers knew what this day would bring.
A Gardener was coming to the Blessed Realm.
Or perhaps the weather in this part of Eressea was as Gandalf mused, a reflection of Frodo's feelings. The unusual rain seemed fitting, as did this day's radiance.
Frodo himself had brightened at the news of the day's arrival. His eyes had sparkled and he couldn't help but laugh with joy. While he had promised himself not to rely on his old companion's presence to cure him, he could not help but feel the melancholy lift from his soul. His anticipation had grown over the years. Nothing could dampen his expectations.
He had left his books out. He looked forward to showing Sam how he had occupied himself over the years. He smiled, imagining Sam's delight at hearing of the strange and wondrous creatures of the New World, some much more grand than oliphaunts.
When he could contain himself no longer, Frodo left for the beach to await the coming of the ship from the East.
Gandalf sat alone in Frodo's home to await his return. He busied himself with plans for Enaiowen's next field test. He would welcome Samwise Gamgee in due time. Frodo deserved the purity of the moment, untarnished by the presence of others. He felt certain that word would have reached Enaiowen. He trusted that she would know how best to deal with the reunion.
Frodo had not waited on that beach alone.
At the sound of approaching footfalls, Gandalf looked up from the book he held. They were not the soft, patient steps of a hobbit. These feet wore hard-soled boots and walked with great urgency. Before a hand could reach up to knock, he opened the door.
Enaiowen looked at him startled. "Gandalf?" she gasped with surprise. Her eyes darted to the interior of the home in a frantic search. "Where's Frodo?" she asked.
"He is at the beach," Gandalf answered. He now saw her for the first time. She was no simple elf girl wearing soft-soled boots and a tunic too long for her small frame. She stood before him in the full regalia of a warden of the New World. From her tailor-fit vest and leggings to her shimmering cloak and her golden torq, she had been dressed in a manner that demanded respect. Even the braid of her hair gave an almost regal air to her face. She had aged far beyond her years. She seemed weary as if her attire was too heavy for her to wear but he understood her demeanor. The weight of her dress burdened her more with its meaning than with its heft. "Enaiowen, you wear the crest," he stated.
She gave little regard to his statement or his presence, stating simply. "I am a warden now. My duty has called me." Her words sounded stiff. She had practiced them so that she could say them with ease. Nothing would be easy for her ever again. She pushed past the wizard and entered Frodo's home.
Gandalf followed her frowning. He watched as she grabbed a blank parchment and her teacher's quill. She did not even pause to sit down but simply stooped over the short desk and began to write furiously. As he watched her he realized that she had begun to erect an emotional dam. Red rimmed her eyes from the tears she had already shed. How hard did she have to hold them back now? Her entire morning must have been dedicated to her preparation to leave. Had she fought it every moment? Or did she just let it happen, knowing that she was powerless to stop it? He sensed the irrational fear of a father. When did Glorfindel tell her? "Your father has rushed you too quickly," Gandalf told her. "Your field testing has barely begun."
"I know," she said quietly. Her writing paused only briefly. She did not even look up as she answered him. "I frightened him yesterday. He fears I will deny my post and disgrace him."
Gandalf folded his arms across his chest. "It is not disgrace he fears."
Enaiowen blew her breath out in a note of disgust. "Damnable prophecy," she muttered quietly. She straightened herself as she sealed her letter. She laid it upon an open book sitting at the edge of the desk. She had written Frodo's name across it in a beautiful script of impossibly tiny letters. She now looked to Gandalf as if her sight went through him. She had built her walls high but they lacked strength. They would crumble easily. "Nevertheless, the die is cast. I am to leave within the hour."
She could not even bring herself to say good-bye to him. What words had she exchanged with her father to bring her this resolve? He could not help but look at her with great pity. She moved and spoke like an automaton, not giving free will to her thoughts and actions. To do so would unleash a torrent. She stumbled past him towards the door. The setting was too comfortable, home, safety under the watchful eye of someone who truly cared for her. She could have none of that now. Her life lay in the cold and desolate arms of duty. One more step and the girl would be lost forever.
"Frodo will not be happy with a note," Gandalf said, stopping her at the threshold. He turned to face her, to watch as her resolve began to break down. "You are far too dear to him."
She stood at the edge. She nearly flung herself out the door to make herself leave. She couldn't do it. "And he to me," she whispered. She turned her face up into the sunlight. She could feel the beach beckoning to her. "But they will not let me say good-bye. I have to go." Her will gave way. Her back leaned against the open door behind her but even that could not support the weight of her sorrow. She slid to the floor and began to weep. "I have to but my heart is aching for me to stay. What can I do?" Her hands reached out to the wizard in supplication. "Gandalf, please, tell me what to do. They won't let me say good-bye."
Her tears cascaded down as her desperate sobs left her gasping for air. Gandalf knelt down next to her and took her hands into his own. "Only you can decide your own fate, Enaiowen," he told her. "Not me, not your father, not even your teacher. Only you. I cannot tell you what to do but I can provide you with enough time for a proper farewell."
She looked up at him. Hope flickered in her eyes. She took a quavering breath to slow her tears. "The beach?" she asked breathlessly.
Gandalf squeezed her hand and smiled comfortingly. "Master Samwise arrives today."
TBC
Author's note: First, I know that I promised you Sam's arrival in "the next chapter" when I wrote the last chapter but this ended up being much more complicated written out than it was in my mind. To make it up to all of you, I went ahead and wrote Sam's arrival and it's in the next chapter. You won't have to wait for it. You just had to read this first.;)
Second, I'm very sorry that this took so long. My kids were both REALLY sick and they needed me. They are better now. (I hope!) To make up for the delay, I wrote three times as much and gave you guys two chapters instead of just one.
Third, I have an idea of what I want Enai's letter to say but I'm curious what you guys think. I have a feeling that some of you will have very different views. Let me know what you think.
Thanks to everyone who reviews. I check everyday to see if I got new ones. So, THANK YOU!!
Author's note at the end.
On the Beach—Chapter Six: Prelude
Hobbits were not designed to crave power. They desired the comfort of a home, the love of family, the simple pleasures that many other races took for granted. The One Ring knew only promises of a scale far too grand for them to ponder. It spoke to their hearts but it did not use a language they really understood or would listen to. That was the key to their great resistance to its power.
But the Ring had learned. In its last few moments of existence it found the way to one hobbit's heart. It spoke to him of the things he most desired. It sent him dreams of home and family and comfort. It showed him that without it, he would never know any of them. At the last moment of his quest he listened. He believed and he gave in.
"I will not do this deed," he had said in one moment of sublime selfishness. But fate had saved him and the world. The loss of his finger had been the price for his weakness that day.
He would gladly give the other nine so as not to lose his friend this time. He would not forget what weakness had done to him. It robbed him of rational thought and eventually his pride.
The Ring had been destroyed but its promise still lingered.
Had it been what it seemed, he would not have run. But that was no kiss of comfort he laid upon her cheek. For a moment, no matter how miniscule it was, he reached for something, a vision, a future. Even now he could not understand but he saw something.
A promise?
As the weakness passed he knew he must have been mistaken. She could not have guessed what passed through his thoughts. How could she know when the misunderstanding lay within himself? The future could not lie with Enaiowen. No matter that she was an elf. No matter that he was her teacher. Her future lay on a different path, far away from him. He would not reach for something that would ultimately slip away. He had said more than his share of good-byes to be naïve about what happens afterwards. He could not trust that she would come back.
He could not erase the moment or banish the thoughts that plagued him then but he could not just let it lie. He wanted to explain, even though he barely had a grasp of it. He had to try to make things right.
The sky had grown dark and heavy with rain. Had Frodo not become so preoccupied with finding Enaiowen and what he would say to her, he would have realized that he had never before seen rain, a true downpour, in all his days in the Blessed Realm. As his feet tramped through the wet puddles he became vaguely aware that he had no idea how to find his young elf friend. With weariness and no small amount of self-pity he glanced around the foreign elven road for a shelter from the rain.
The deafening sound of the pouring rain obscured the warning of approaching footsteps. Only his powerful voice alerted Frodo to Gandalf's presence. "Of all the hobbits I have ever known, I would have thought that you most of all would have the sense to stay out of the rain," he announced.
Frodo looked up to see the wizard's shape looming in the darkness before him. "Gandalf!" he cried with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. "I think I am lost."
Gandalf smiled at the double meaning of his friend's statement. In a way he had been lost for quite some time. Only now as he stumbled blindly in the rain did he come to realize it. "So it would seem," he replied kindly. He swept his arm in a wide gesture and at his silent command the rain began to dissipate.
Frodo blinked away the water that had run into his eyes. He had not realized how wet he had become. "I was looking for Enai," he admitted reluctantly.
Gandalf smiled wryly. "You will not find her here," he said. He gently guided the hobbit to a dry bench in an alcove of a building several steps off the road. "She sent me to find you. She's worried about you."
Frodo sat down with a heavy sigh and buried his wet face in his equally wet hands. The memory of his departure from her became once more overwhelmingly vivid. "I don't know what came over me," he said honestly.
The wizard placed his arm around his friend's small shoulders. "A great many years of sorrow and sacrifice," he said gently. Frodo had often surprised him with his strength and fortitude but he no longer had to be strong. What the hobbit had viewed as a failing, Gandalf saw as an emotional letting that was long overdue. "But you underestimate your student. She is no longer a child. She has spent many years watching you and understands you better than you think. She alone had the power to see the wound that has caused you so much pain."
Gandalf placed his hand upon Frodo's head but it drew him no further from his sadness. "You have worked too hard to hide it," he continued. "She wants nothing more than to help you heal. As do we all."
Frodo finally looked up and gazed out at the empty lane. "My healing should not be placed in her hands," he replied.
Gandalf frowned. He suspected that Frodo had someone else in mind. "Do you still have those dreams?" he asked suddenly.
Frodo thought of the hope his dreams had brought him but only sadness graced his face. "Every night," he answered looking to a puddle at his feet as if it were a window to his other life. "Every night, save the last two," he amended quietly. "I fear they've left me forever."
Gandalf regarded his friend carefully. "They became very precious to you," he remarked, knowing full well the implication of that word. The dreams held power as much as the Ring ever did. Because Frodo could not see them as anything but pure and innocent, he had become blind to what they were doing to him. "Tell me, is it enough to only dream?"
"I can't have anything else," the hobbit said sadly. "Those children may be dreams but they were mine. I know they were."
"Of course they were your children and your dreams," the wizard assured him. "Can you imagine if you had been allowed to view Sam's life? To see everything that you did not have?"
Frodo jumped to his feet and faced Gandalf shocked, an edge of defensiveness in his voice. "I will not begrudge Sam his life!" he declared more loudly than he intended.
"Yes," Gandalf agreed calmly, "but will you begrudge him you own?"
"Never," Frodo replied softly and he believed it. "I left it all to him so he could keep it safe. I couldn't have it."
Gandalf smiled suddenly with such inexplicable warmness it brought confusion to his younger friend's eyes. "Your life, nurtured over the years by the finest gardener in all the Shire. It has grown and blossomed in ways that will astonish you. You have seen its fruits in your dreams and in an elf's tear. Did it ever occur to you that when Mr. Gamgee comes to the Blessed Realm he might return that life to you, fully healed?"
Frodo shook his head. "How can it be returned, Gandalf?" he asked. Gandalf presented an image of beauty designed to give him hope but he could not see it as the wizard did. His life was not a thing to be planted and tended in a garden. It was choices made long ago by a broken soul. "That life may be healed, but I am not."
Gandalf took a heavy breath and leaned upon the staff he held in his hands. "If you truly wish to heal, Frodo, you must either learn to live that life or you must let it go." He looked at the hobbit hard and spoke with a great sternness. "You have placed all your hope on this one event, believing that your healing depended on it. What if Sam was here and you still were not made whole? What then?"
As Frodo listened to Gandalf's words, tears began to well in his eyes. He was right. He had been expecting Sam's coming to be like a return to the Shire itself. This was not the Shire. It never could be. People came here at the end of their lives, as Sam would be as well. "I'm asking too much of him," Frodo admitted finally.
Gandalf steadied himself on his staff as he pulled himself to his feet. He laid a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Taking care of you was his sacred duty, Frodo. It was an extremely selfless act when you took that responsibility out of his hands. Do not undo that act. The Blessed Realm is not a place for sacred duty. Leave that to the wardens."
"You're right," Frodo agreed, placing his hand on top of Gandalf's. He held it to his shoulder for a moment. He had made a decision. "When he comes, he should find only peace. I have not the power to grant that to Enai, but to Sam, I owe him nothing less."
"And to yourself," Gandalf added.
Frodo smiled grimly. "That may be more difficult, but if I know Sam, he won't be able to rest otherwise."
The day was beautiful, glorious in fact. The previous evening's shower seemed to bring new life to the landscape. Perhaps the trees and flowers knew what this day would bring.
A Gardener was coming to the Blessed Realm.
Or perhaps the weather in this part of Eressea was as Gandalf mused, a reflection of Frodo's feelings. The unusual rain seemed fitting, as did this day's radiance.
Frodo himself had brightened at the news of the day's arrival. His eyes had sparkled and he couldn't help but laugh with joy. While he had promised himself not to rely on his old companion's presence to cure him, he could not help but feel the melancholy lift from his soul. His anticipation had grown over the years. Nothing could dampen his expectations.
He had left his books out. He looked forward to showing Sam how he had occupied himself over the years. He smiled, imagining Sam's delight at hearing of the strange and wondrous creatures of the New World, some much more grand than oliphaunts.
When he could contain himself no longer, Frodo left for the beach to await the coming of the ship from the East.
Gandalf sat alone in Frodo's home to await his return. He busied himself with plans for Enaiowen's next field test. He would welcome Samwise Gamgee in due time. Frodo deserved the purity of the moment, untarnished by the presence of others. He felt certain that word would have reached Enaiowen. He trusted that she would know how best to deal with the reunion.
Frodo had not waited on that beach alone.
At the sound of approaching footfalls, Gandalf looked up from the book he held. They were not the soft, patient steps of a hobbit. These feet wore hard-soled boots and walked with great urgency. Before a hand could reach up to knock, he opened the door.
Enaiowen looked at him startled. "Gandalf?" she gasped with surprise. Her eyes darted to the interior of the home in a frantic search. "Where's Frodo?" she asked.
"He is at the beach," Gandalf answered. He now saw her for the first time. She was no simple elf girl wearing soft-soled boots and a tunic too long for her small frame. She stood before him in the full regalia of a warden of the New World. From her tailor-fit vest and leggings to her shimmering cloak and her golden torq, she had been dressed in a manner that demanded respect. Even the braid of her hair gave an almost regal air to her face. She had aged far beyond her years. She seemed weary as if her attire was too heavy for her to wear but he understood her demeanor. The weight of her dress burdened her more with its meaning than with its heft. "Enaiowen, you wear the crest," he stated.
She gave little regard to his statement or his presence, stating simply. "I am a warden now. My duty has called me." Her words sounded stiff. She had practiced them so that she could say them with ease. Nothing would be easy for her ever again. She pushed past the wizard and entered Frodo's home.
Gandalf followed her frowning. He watched as she grabbed a blank parchment and her teacher's quill. She did not even pause to sit down but simply stooped over the short desk and began to write furiously. As he watched her he realized that she had begun to erect an emotional dam. Red rimmed her eyes from the tears she had already shed. How hard did she have to hold them back now? Her entire morning must have been dedicated to her preparation to leave. Had she fought it every moment? Or did she just let it happen, knowing that she was powerless to stop it? He sensed the irrational fear of a father. When did Glorfindel tell her? "Your father has rushed you too quickly," Gandalf told her. "Your field testing has barely begun."
"I know," she said quietly. Her writing paused only briefly. She did not even look up as she answered him. "I frightened him yesterday. He fears I will deny my post and disgrace him."
Gandalf folded his arms across his chest. "It is not disgrace he fears."
Enaiowen blew her breath out in a note of disgust. "Damnable prophecy," she muttered quietly. She straightened herself as she sealed her letter. She laid it upon an open book sitting at the edge of the desk. She had written Frodo's name across it in a beautiful script of impossibly tiny letters. She now looked to Gandalf as if her sight went through him. She had built her walls high but they lacked strength. They would crumble easily. "Nevertheless, the die is cast. I am to leave within the hour."
She could not even bring herself to say good-bye to him. What words had she exchanged with her father to bring her this resolve? He could not help but look at her with great pity. She moved and spoke like an automaton, not giving free will to her thoughts and actions. To do so would unleash a torrent. She stumbled past him towards the door. The setting was too comfortable, home, safety under the watchful eye of someone who truly cared for her. She could have none of that now. Her life lay in the cold and desolate arms of duty. One more step and the girl would be lost forever.
"Frodo will not be happy with a note," Gandalf said, stopping her at the threshold. He turned to face her, to watch as her resolve began to break down. "You are far too dear to him."
She stood at the edge. She nearly flung herself out the door to make herself leave. She couldn't do it. "And he to me," she whispered. She turned her face up into the sunlight. She could feel the beach beckoning to her. "But they will not let me say good-bye. I have to go." Her will gave way. Her back leaned against the open door behind her but even that could not support the weight of her sorrow. She slid to the floor and began to weep. "I have to but my heart is aching for me to stay. What can I do?" Her hands reached out to the wizard in supplication. "Gandalf, please, tell me what to do. They won't let me say good-bye."
Her tears cascaded down as her desperate sobs left her gasping for air. Gandalf knelt down next to her and took her hands into his own. "Only you can decide your own fate, Enaiowen," he told her. "Not me, not your father, not even your teacher. Only you. I cannot tell you what to do but I can provide you with enough time for a proper farewell."
She looked up at him. Hope flickered in her eyes. She took a quavering breath to slow her tears. "The beach?" she asked breathlessly.
Gandalf squeezed her hand and smiled comfortingly. "Master Samwise arrives today."
TBC
Author's note: First, I know that I promised you Sam's arrival in "the next chapter" when I wrote the last chapter but this ended up being much more complicated written out than it was in my mind. To make it up to all of you, I went ahead and wrote Sam's arrival and it's in the next chapter. You won't have to wait for it. You just had to read this first.;)
Second, I'm very sorry that this took so long. My kids were both REALLY sick and they needed me. They are better now. (I hope!) To make up for the delay, I wrote three times as much and gave you guys two chapters instead of just one.
Third, I have an idea of what I want Enai's letter to say but I'm curious what you guys think. I have a feeling that some of you will have very different views. Let me know what you think.
Thanks to everyone who reviews. I check everyday to see if I got new ones. So, THANK YOU!!
