Disclaimer is the same as chapter one. This chapter contains some quotes The Return of the King.

Author's Note at the end.

On the Beach—Chapter Seven: Comings and Goings Part One

Frodo was the portrait of patience. He stood in the sand at the end of the dock, waiting for the elven ship to release its passengers. He watched the moving figures on board trying to catch a glimpse of his long lost friend. He couldn't see him yet, but he could wait, if only for a few minutes more.

Finally the ship released each of the world-weary passengers from captivity. One by one the elves stepped down upon the dock. Frodo did not recognize their faces or knew their names but he saw within them an overwhelming sense of relief. They had come to the end of their days of toil to their final peace.

Two of them stopped and reached their hands up to help a small hobbit of greatly advanced years. The old fellow did not wave away their assistance. Once they set his feet firmly on the dock, he turned to each and thanked them gratefully and cheerfully, shaking their hands with warmth.

Frodo felt a knot tense in his stomach.

Sam.

The years had etched deep lines around his eyes and taken the color from his curly hair, but in every manner of his being, Frodo recognized him. Had the passing of time changed his spirit or would he still be his Sam?

Frodo had not aged a day since he left from the Gray Havens. He looked down at his hands, still the hands of a young hobbit. Was his soul as unchanged as his body? Even he could not answer that question. He had eluded rest as much as it eluded him, but he would keep his troubles from Sam. A part of Sam's life had ended or changed in a way that made him want to leave it. He may need healing of his own and Frodo would do whatever it took to see his friend well.

He smiled in welcome as the elderly hobbit made his way down the dock toward the beach. He made slow progress leaning on a walking stick made from a fallen branch from the Party Tree. His old eyes squinted ahead but they had become too weathered by time for him to see clearly. He did not see Frodo waiting for him.

As he stepped off the dock and onto the beach an amazing thing happened to him. The years melted away from his body like dirt being washed off the soles of muddy feet. As he filled his lungs with the sweet air of the Blessed Realm, youth and vitality spread throughout him, darkening his hair and wiping away the deepness of the lines on his face. Sam had no difficulty accepting the healing powers of the Undying Lands. He stood there just as Frodo remembered him from years ago, a sturdy hobbit full of youth with a face of everlasting innocence.

Sam nearly stumbled in his surprise over his sudden transformation. Frodo reached out to steady him, catching his friend by the shoulder with his hand. "Hello, Sam," he said gently.

Sam looked at him, tears of disbelief beginning to sting his eyes. "Mr. Frodo?" he asked in a tone that resembled fear. "Am I still dreaming?"

The hand that gripped his shoulder squeezed tightly. "You're not dreaming at all, Sam," Frodo said. "It's real. It's me. You've come." The words came out of their past from a dark time only now to grace them in a place of light.

They fell into each other's arms as a profound sense of relief washed over them both. Sam buried his face in his master's shoulder and sobbed unabashedly. "There were so many times when I wanted to come," he cried in strained words only Frodo could hear. "I tried not to be torn in two as you said, but sometimes when I wasn't careful enough, it just snuck up on me. Sometimes it would be like you were dead but I knew better. I never forgot."

"I knew you wouldn't, Sam," Frodo said softly in his ear. He clutched him tightly. His arms had the strength to hold on for an eternity. "I knew you would come."

Sam parted from him slightly to see Frodo's face. The sight was almost too much for him to bear. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Look at what an old fool I've become," he said almost embarrassed. "I can't stop my crying."

Frodo touched Sam's face, cupping his cheek in his hand. He looked at him with gentle concern. "What's wrong, Sam?"

"I'm feeling like I should have come sooner," he said with a growing smile to disguise his still streaming tears. He took another step back from Frodo, holding him at arm's length to take in his first full look of him. "It fills my heart to see you so well. All these years I've tried to put my mind at ease that you were healed. Something kept pulling at me that you weren't." He frowned at the thought of all of his needless worry. "I don't know what it was. Probably just bad memories." Suddenly he brightened. "But here you are, smiling and young like you'd never known a day of strife."

Frodo swallowed a sudden feeling of guilt. Somehow over this great distance Sam had sensed his melancholy. How much longer could he hide it from him? He smiled warmly and clapped his arm around Sam's shoulders to lead him away from the dock. "Welcome to the Undying Lands," he declared with labored joy. "A great many wounds are healed here. You'll see soon enough." Perhaps his own as well. He held Sam closely to him as they walked along the beach. The smile Frodo had forced on his face became more genuine with each passing moment. "Tell me of the world, Sam. I've missed so much. I want to hear about everything. Tell me about the Shire and Merry and Pippin. And tell me of Rosie and you children."

Sam had begun to slow and at this he stopped. Frodo looked to him with deep concern. His lip began to tremble and fresh tears welled in his round eyes. "Rosie's dead, Frodo," he said quietly.

Frodo understood at last what had brought his beloved friend to the end of his days. He could only imagine his pain, so different from his own. Sam knew what he lost. Frodo could only guess and dream. "Oh, Sam," he called sadly. He pulled him back into his comforting embrace. "Poor Sam. I'm so sorry."

They held each other for a long time as Sam cried over the loss of his wife. Was his decision to sail West a selfish one? Would his children still have need of him or did he better serve them this way? Elanor had wept as he left but he had to believe that she understood. Would she have been happier to have buried him in the ground when the sorrow and loss became too much for his old heart to bear? At least this way she could imagine her Papa alive and well on a beach across the sea. At least she could dream.

Finally Sam's tears subsided and Frodo guided him along the beach away from the sea to his new home. He felt his master's arm around him and sighed in the comfort it brought him. He was right to have come, he decided. He had been a husband and a father. He had been mayor in the Shire longer than anyone could recollect. But beyond all of that he knew something else he was. A part of him that had always been with him. He belonged here, at his master's side. Time and great distance had separated them but fate had reunited them. Nothing could take him away now.

"Come," Frodo said gently. "We shall mourn her together."

TBC

Author's note: Here it is. Hope you liked it. I almost thought it was too short but I found that for this, there was very little to say. As you can see I put the chapter title as "part one". This was meant to have more to it but that "more" will have it's own chapter. I just thought that I had made you guys wait long enough. I hope that this was worthy of the wait. It might help ease the pain left by Liz Huisman's heartwrenching "And the Angels Were Silent". A wonderful piece, btw. If you haven't read it, you should.

The next chapter should really, honest to God, be the last chapter. I'm working hard but I tell you, I almost outdid myself on chapter five.(