Chapter 3: Some Convincing
"Samwise! I'm glad to see you out and about." Cirdan met the hobbit as he stared solemnly to the west.
"Yes, sir," said Sam, "I been thinkin, not worth sulkin about. And I can't get enough of the sea. It always seems to uplift me, if you follow."
"Yes I do, Sam," Cirdan replied. "It fills you. Becomes a part of you and you a part of it."
Sam gave a sombre nod.
"You are still troubled."
"I- I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore. But then my head was never the best part of me. Don't listen to your head Sam Gamgee, is what I'd always say, listen to your heart."
"And what does your heart say, Master Gamgee?"
Sam was silent. He took in the sea. Its white capped waves as they churned and slapped against the boat; the cry of the gulls, gliding by on snow- white wings. Such a small hobbit, lost among something so big. Sam could not think of ever seeing anything so big. Caradras shrunk in it's majesty, the depths of the Cracks of Doom became a mere niche in the mount, the Mines of Moria but a tiny village. And yet he loathed all of those, the sea he loved.
"I do not know, Cirdan," he said at length.
"Perhaps your mind is trying to speak for your heart. Close your eyes, silence your mind, hear your heart."
With that the elf left and Sam was alone. He sighed and whispered to himself, "Shush up. Stop your foolish thinkin he will remember you you old ninny-hammer. He can't forget, we are one, each a part of the other, none complete without the other."
A voice from the corner of Sam's mind spoke. "Or is that just how you are, Sam. You need him, but the Quest is over. He doesn't need you now."
Another argued the point, "No, you were there for each other. He needs you and you need him."
"Is that so? He didn't seem to mind, leaving you all alone on those shores, as he sailed away with the elves. He was going to be healed, and he was going to forget, and he knew it. You were his servant and he was your master, nothing more, Sam, nothing more."
"No! No! It's not true! That was never how it was! That's not how it is!"
"Yes it is! You know it, Samwise Gamgee. You served him, and you served him poorly at that. You let him get hurt, so deeply wounded that you lost him, it's your own fault, YOU didn't protect him. But the Quest is over and so is your servitude. He made that clear to you. *You cannot always be torn in two* He set you free. You should have stayed you old fool. You still had a family. They would have taken care of you."
"No! No! No!" Sam cried, putting his hands to his ears, trying desperately to silence the voices.
"No, what, Master Gamgee?" Cirdan stood behind him once more.
"Oh, I'm sorry, just thinking is all." Sam answered in a voice less than a whisper.
"Try thinking with your heart, Sam. I know your master won't forget you, you only need to remind him a little."
At that word Sam stiffened. Master. What a dreadful word. It now stung him like a Morgul Blade. Master. That's all it ever was. Not friendship, not that bond that ran deeper than the roots of time. Not a bond that had a stronger power than the Ring itself. It was servitude, a master and his servant. Nothing more.
"You are having regrets." It was not a question. Sam looked up at Cirdan. Such pain was in the hobbit's eyes Cirdan felt his own heart twinge. "It will be alright. He will remember you. I promise you that. Things will turn out well in the end, Samwise." He put a hand on the hobbit's shoulder but he brushed it away.
"No, they never do. It's always lose lose. The ring lives, Middle Earth is destroyed, we destroy the ring we lose our lives, ourselves, and the third age in the process."
"You did not lose your life, Samwise."
"Oh yes I did," Sam was growing angry. "Everything I once had I lost it all. Nothing is simple any more. We all changed, we were all wounded. The lose of the few for the safety of the many. Even dear Pippin and Merry! Pippin lost all innocence after looking in that wretched stone. Merry was forever scarred after stabbing that wraith! The shire was destoyed and rebuilt, but it will never be what it once was! And I lost him! I lost him to the darkness no matter how hard I tried to protect him! And now- he's forgotten me!"
Cirdan pulled the small hobbit into his arms and rocked his trembling frame gently. He stroked his soft, sandy curls and sang a low song in elvish. At length Sam spoke in a trembling voice again, "I don't know what I'll do. For all eternity- alone."
"You can make him remember."
"And if I did?" Sam looked up, "Wouldn't that just bring back the memories of the pain he had to endure? I'd never do such a terrible thing to him. If he is happy then I will leave him. If he is happy, that's all that matters, but it still hurts. It will never stop hurting. There are some things that won't be healed."
Cirdan was silent. He couldn't comfort the hobbit. He just held him, and cradled him gently until he was worn from crying and fell limp in the elf's arms.
Sam dreamed again that night. He saw himself in a room filled with pure, white light. It was warm and soft. The room was hobbit sized, and everything was so perfect. And there stood Frodo, young as he was, and happy. He had an oblivious smile on his face, as if nothing was ever wrong with his life. Sam gulped, "Mr.- Mr. Frodo?"
Frodo looked up, his blue eyes brightened but without recognition. This hurt Sam already, then a smile appeared on the hobbits lips and it felt like a knife was being driven through him. "Hello," said Frodo, "What can I do for you?"
"It's me, Frodo- Sam."
Frodo frowned and looked into Sam's eyes. For a moment Sam thought that he would recognize him, "Hello Sam," said Frodo, smiling again, "Would you like a cup of tea? I was just preparing some myself and there is always room for another. We don't get many hobbit visitors here. Well come on, sit down, um- Sam it was?"
This did it. The last stab into Sam that would surely kill him. And as he looked down he was indeed stabbed. And the smiling, oblivious Frodo held aloft a Morgul Blade, "What is it, lad? What's wrong?" he asked, wondering why such a look of anguish came upon Sam's face. He did not seem to notice the blade in his hand or the fact that he had driven it once more into Sam's heart. Sam fell to his knees, his eyes wide and unseeing, the look of agony still writ clear on his face, and the light faded. His last words were, "I don't blame you, Frodo."
And the last thing he heard was, "Lad? Are you alright? What's wrong?"
He woke with a start, his breathing rasped as he felt all around him expecting wounds or blood. With a sigh of relief upon finding no wounds he lay back again. "It was just a dream, Sam, just a dream."
He tried convincing himself that the dream was nothing. And slowly he fell back to sleep. His sleep was haunted by darkness, and the dream, and a great wheel of fire, a band of gold, that threatened to take everything he cared for away from him. He tossed and groaned and whimpered. A great eye appeared before him, writhed in flame, and he cowered on the ground and kept crying, "Frodo! I don't blame you, Frodo. Frodo!"
"Samwise! I'm glad to see you out and about." Cirdan met the hobbit as he stared solemnly to the west.
"Yes, sir," said Sam, "I been thinkin, not worth sulkin about. And I can't get enough of the sea. It always seems to uplift me, if you follow."
"Yes I do, Sam," Cirdan replied. "It fills you. Becomes a part of you and you a part of it."
Sam gave a sombre nod.
"You are still troubled."
"I- I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore. But then my head was never the best part of me. Don't listen to your head Sam Gamgee, is what I'd always say, listen to your heart."
"And what does your heart say, Master Gamgee?"
Sam was silent. He took in the sea. Its white capped waves as they churned and slapped against the boat; the cry of the gulls, gliding by on snow- white wings. Such a small hobbit, lost among something so big. Sam could not think of ever seeing anything so big. Caradras shrunk in it's majesty, the depths of the Cracks of Doom became a mere niche in the mount, the Mines of Moria but a tiny village. And yet he loathed all of those, the sea he loved.
"I do not know, Cirdan," he said at length.
"Perhaps your mind is trying to speak for your heart. Close your eyes, silence your mind, hear your heart."
With that the elf left and Sam was alone. He sighed and whispered to himself, "Shush up. Stop your foolish thinkin he will remember you you old ninny-hammer. He can't forget, we are one, each a part of the other, none complete without the other."
A voice from the corner of Sam's mind spoke. "Or is that just how you are, Sam. You need him, but the Quest is over. He doesn't need you now."
Another argued the point, "No, you were there for each other. He needs you and you need him."
"Is that so? He didn't seem to mind, leaving you all alone on those shores, as he sailed away with the elves. He was going to be healed, and he was going to forget, and he knew it. You were his servant and he was your master, nothing more, Sam, nothing more."
"No! No! It's not true! That was never how it was! That's not how it is!"
"Yes it is! You know it, Samwise Gamgee. You served him, and you served him poorly at that. You let him get hurt, so deeply wounded that you lost him, it's your own fault, YOU didn't protect him. But the Quest is over and so is your servitude. He made that clear to you. *You cannot always be torn in two* He set you free. You should have stayed you old fool. You still had a family. They would have taken care of you."
"No! No! No!" Sam cried, putting his hands to his ears, trying desperately to silence the voices.
"No, what, Master Gamgee?" Cirdan stood behind him once more.
"Oh, I'm sorry, just thinking is all." Sam answered in a voice less than a whisper.
"Try thinking with your heart, Sam. I know your master won't forget you, you only need to remind him a little."
At that word Sam stiffened. Master. What a dreadful word. It now stung him like a Morgul Blade. Master. That's all it ever was. Not friendship, not that bond that ran deeper than the roots of time. Not a bond that had a stronger power than the Ring itself. It was servitude, a master and his servant. Nothing more.
"You are having regrets." It was not a question. Sam looked up at Cirdan. Such pain was in the hobbit's eyes Cirdan felt his own heart twinge. "It will be alright. He will remember you. I promise you that. Things will turn out well in the end, Samwise." He put a hand on the hobbit's shoulder but he brushed it away.
"No, they never do. It's always lose lose. The ring lives, Middle Earth is destroyed, we destroy the ring we lose our lives, ourselves, and the third age in the process."
"You did not lose your life, Samwise."
"Oh yes I did," Sam was growing angry. "Everything I once had I lost it all. Nothing is simple any more. We all changed, we were all wounded. The lose of the few for the safety of the many. Even dear Pippin and Merry! Pippin lost all innocence after looking in that wretched stone. Merry was forever scarred after stabbing that wraith! The shire was destoyed and rebuilt, but it will never be what it once was! And I lost him! I lost him to the darkness no matter how hard I tried to protect him! And now- he's forgotten me!"
Cirdan pulled the small hobbit into his arms and rocked his trembling frame gently. He stroked his soft, sandy curls and sang a low song in elvish. At length Sam spoke in a trembling voice again, "I don't know what I'll do. For all eternity- alone."
"You can make him remember."
"And if I did?" Sam looked up, "Wouldn't that just bring back the memories of the pain he had to endure? I'd never do such a terrible thing to him. If he is happy then I will leave him. If he is happy, that's all that matters, but it still hurts. It will never stop hurting. There are some things that won't be healed."
Cirdan was silent. He couldn't comfort the hobbit. He just held him, and cradled him gently until he was worn from crying and fell limp in the elf's arms.
Sam dreamed again that night. He saw himself in a room filled with pure, white light. It was warm and soft. The room was hobbit sized, and everything was so perfect. And there stood Frodo, young as he was, and happy. He had an oblivious smile on his face, as if nothing was ever wrong with his life. Sam gulped, "Mr.- Mr. Frodo?"
Frodo looked up, his blue eyes brightened but without recognition. This hurt Sam already, then a smile appeared on the hobbits lips and it felt like a knife was being driven through him. "Hello," said Frodo, "What can I do for you?"
"It's me, Frodo- Sam."
Frodo frowned and looked into Sam's eyes. For a moment Sam thought that he would recognize him, "Hello Sam," said Frodo, smiling again, "Would you like a cup of tea? I was just preparing some myself and there is always room for another. We don't get many hobbit visitors here. Well come on, sit down, um- Sam it was?"
This did it. The last stab into Sam that would surely kill him. And as he looked down he was indeed stabbed. And the smiling, oblivious Frodo held aloft a Morgul Blade, "What is it, lad? What's wrong?" he asked, wondering why such a look of anguish came upon Sam's face. He did not seem to notice the blade in his hand or the fact that he had driven it once more into Sam's heart. Sam fell to his knees, his eyes wide and unseeing, the look of agony still writ clear on his face, and the light faded. His last words were, "I don't blame you, Frodo."
And the last thing he heard was, "Lad? Are you alright? What's wrong?"
He woke with a start, his breathing rasped as he felt all around him expecting wounds or blood. With a sigh of relief upon finding no wounds he lay back again. "It was just a dream, Sam, just a dream."
He tried convincing himself that the dream was nothing. And slowly he fell back to sleep. His sleep was haunted by darkness, and the dream, and a great wheel of fire, a band of gold, that threatened to take everything he cared for away from him. He tossed and groaned and whimpered. A great eye appeared before him, writhed in flame, and he cowered on the ground and kept crying, "Frodo! I don't blame you, Frodo. Frodo!"