Chapter 4

Summerland

'And it is said by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any substance else that is in this Earth; and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen.'

The Silmarillion, J.R.R. Tolkien

The wind was fresh on Sam's face and ruffled his curls. He was sitting in front of Lindir on a white elf-horse, cantering along the road. In front of them rode Glorfindel with Frodo on Asfaloth.

They were taking the coastal road from Avallónë to a small wooded peninsula on the western shore. It was a blue-and-gold morning and the dancing waves were tipped with snowy ruffles of foam. Bright clouds billowed in the sky.

Sam closed his eyes and felt the sun warm his skin. He glanced down at his hand, resting lightly in his lap, which was brown and sunburnt. He could swear the hand looked less wrinkled than the night before.

'We are here,' Glorfindel said.

They had ridden through a coppice of elm and mallorn to a cove on the promontory. Sam spotted a grassy bank overlooking the cliffs … and lo and behold, there was a round green door cut into the hillside! A white paved path ran from the road up to the doorway. Climbing roses and vines twined over the porch.

Sam gazed in wonder, as Lindir lifted him to Glorfindel and set him on the ground. Frodo was already standing on the pathway, gazing at Sam expectantly.

'What do you think, Sam?' he said. 'A real smial. The first hobbit-hole ever built in the Undying Lands.'

'Be welcome to your new home, Master Samwise,' said Glorfindel. 'We shall be back before nightfall, Frodo. The celebrations begin in Kortirion well before midnight.'

Frodo inclined his head. 'Of course,' he said. 'Thank you, Glorfindel.'

'Expect us after sundown,' said the Elf.

'Farewell,' Frodo called. He and Sam watched Lindir and Glorfindel ride away.

Frodo took Sam's hand. 'What do you think?'

'It's a wonder and a marvel,' said Sam. 'That's what it is. The Fair Folk must honour you greatly, Frodo.'

'The Eldar built it especially for Bilbo and me.' Frodo paused. 'He is buried not far from here,' he said quietly. 'We can go and see his resting place this afternoon, if you wish. They laid him in a place which looks both east and west – east towards Middle-earth, west towards Valinor.'

'I can see as how you can get both views from here too,' said Sam. 'You can just about spot the mountains on the horizon there, if you look hard enough.'

'Yes,' said Frodo simply. 'I love the sea but it would make me sad to be always looking east. On clear days you can even see Mount Taniquetil. And the Lady Celebrían's house is not far from here. I am so longing for you to meet her.' He smiled. 'Why, Sam! You are looking and sounding so much younger already.'

There were Elven tapestries on the wall of the smial. The rooms were light and spacious and decorated with many marvellous objects: gifts from the Fair Folk, obviously, delicate things made with care and delight. Sam looked around him with pleasure. 'And books!' he said. 'Oh yes,' said Frodo, 'Bilbo did not write here, he said he'd done all his writing back in his old life in Middle-earth, but he read many many books. The Eldar keep much history on the island. And poetry.'

'Ah,' said Sam. 'Old Mr Bilbo and his poetry.'

His eye fell suddenly on a bowl filled with branches of delicate star-shaped golden blooms. His face changed, but Frodo did not see.

Sam took a step forward and lifted a bloom from the vase and laid it against his cheek.

The dream-like feeling had not quite left him all morning, although the wind and the sea and the hobbit-hole had helped to restore some sense of reality. Now he felt a torrent of emotions rising in his breast, a flood of feeling impossible to unravel.

'Elanor,' he muttered. Then – 'Elanor,' he repeated thickly, 'oh … oh, my Elanor, Ellie, Elanorellë!' His voice rose to a piercing wail and he buried his face in his hands.

'Sam –' Frodo's arms enfolded him. The tears were blinding, like a summer storm. 'Ellie -- my Ellie … on the other side of the Sea … forgive me, Frodo, but I – it's too much, it just hit me …'

'I know,' Frodo whispered, stroking Sam's hair. 'I know, I know.'

Sam wept in Frodo's arms for a long time, his sturdy hands clenching and unclenching on the cloth of Frodo's tunic, and Frodo let him weep, saying no words, but gently stroking Sam's thick curls, which already showed blond threads among the white.

Eventually Sam drew back, his breath hitching. Frodo's eyes were glittering with unshed tears.

'I know, Sam,' he said. 'I know.'

That afternoon, the two hobbits placed chairs outside their elegant smial, in a warm sun-spot where the light glowed on their skin, so they could gaze over the sparkling Sea.

Frodo had set a jug of miruvor on a small table, which was also laiden with white bread and cheese and cream and bowls of fruit and berries. He poured himself and Sam a glass each.

'Food keeps a long time here,' he said with a wry smile. 'Things never go in short supply. They couldn't, in the realm of the Eldar. Ah, Sam! I love this little corner of the Lonely Isle because it reminds me of the Shire.Well, apart from the Sea of course. That's why Bilbo and me chose this corner for our house. Well, I chose it, really. Bilbo loved Avallónë and so do I. But I wanted to be by the Sea, and he loved looking towards Taniquetil, the blessed mountain.'

He turned to Sam with an inviting smile. 'Now, Sam. Tell me everything.'

And Sam told Frodo everything which he could. About Merry's marriage to the cheerful and capable Estella Bolger and their four delightful children, Théo, Éowyn, Éomer and Stella. About Pippin's marriage to his North-took cousin Diamond, and their handsome fair-haired Faramir, heir to the Thainship, who had inherited his father's high spirits and his mother's gentleness and married Sam's Goldilocks and was as fine a son-in-law as one could wish for. There were also the twins, born late to Pippin and his wife: Arwen and Arabella. And Master Samwise told of Elanor the Fair and how she had been a maid of honour to Queen Arwen when the King and Queen had stayed in Annúminas by the shores of Lake Evendim in the summer of 1436. About Elanor's marriage to Fastred. About how Frodo-lad had been the spitting image of his father, and how he was yet so different from the Frodo he was named for. 'I don't mind telling you,' said Sam frankly, 'that it gave me a pang at first to call him by that name. I wish you'd known him. Me and Rose conceived him during the snows of 1422.'

Sam's measured talk flowed on into the afternoon. He held Frodo's hand, and Frodo listened to it all without a word, drinking everything in.

So much to tell. Of the visit to Gondor in 1442, during Elanor's twenty-first year, and how he had met the Lord Faramir again. So much … Sam could not tell it all. Such a long and rich life.

The afternoon sun fell lower in the sky and the shadows lengthened around the smial.

'Thank you Sam,' Frodo said at last. 'I have not allowed myself to think of these things for – well, ever since I came here. I could not. All my past life receded from me like a dream. It was better so. It would have been too hard to remember.'

Sam looked at him anxiously. 'But you have been happy here, haven't you?' he asked, his voice catching a little. 'Frodo, if I thought you weren't –'

'Happy …' Frodo's voice came out like a sigh. 'Happy,' he repeated, 'happy's a thin sort of word for my life here. Sam, when I arrived I was like a ghost. All those terrible memories, those wounds in my soul … as soon as I came ashore I felt the dark edges of their power.' He lifted his clear, bright eyes to Sam. 'But I was healed of them, and the healing was like being burned with white fire. It seared my soul in a way I can't describe to you. And afterwards I felt totally cleansed. Washed through, like rain.' He paused. 'I had to become myself again, in a way. And I got my strength back, and the air made me younger. I have seen glories I could never have imagined, Sam. I've seen the Elven-light streaming through the Calacirya. I've sung with the Elves in the halls of Kortirion and hailed the dawn over the Pelóri. There's time enough to tell of all that. Happy …'

'Well now, there's a funny sort of answer to a straight-asking question,' said Sam with a wry smile. 'If I didn't know better I'd say you'd turned into one of the elven-folk yourself. But there's still enough hobbit in you, ain't there, Frodo dear?'

'I'm still myself, Sam. I'm still me.'

'Aye, and I know my Frodo of old. There's always a lot going on deep down inside of you but it's rare for you to speak it out loud and wear it on your sleeve as you might say.' Sam paused. 'So it was hard for you at first. You can't hide that from me.'

'Oh, Sam. Those first few weeks were indeed hard. It's so beautiful here, and the Elves were so kind and I had Bilbo to look after too, which helped. And this place did heal my heart – all those wounds inside my mind and heart were eventually healed and cleansed, the dark memories and those awful torn feelings inside, they were all cured, by the grace of Elbereth. But oh, I missed you all so much. You, and – and Merry, and Pippin …' Frodo's voice caught …'I kept on wondering what Elanor would be like when she grew up, knowing that I would never see it. I had to let go of everyone. Everyone except you. Yes, Sam, it was hard.' Frodo gazed at Sam. 'I had to let go of all the things which hadn't happened too,' he said softly. 'One of the hardest things was realising that my life had hardly begun, really, before the Ring came into it. I had so much to enjoy and to be and to do … but it never came to pass.'

Sam shook his head, and pressed Frodo's hand.

'I was comforted a great deal by Elrond. I knew he was carrying his grief for Arwen …he was a help to me. Who knows, maybe I was even a help to him.'

'My poor Frodo,' Sam murmured. 'You must have wept long when Mr Bilbo passed on.'

'Oh yes. Yes, I did.'

'And nobody here to comfort you, me dear.'

'Oh, but there were. You mustn't think people just left me to grieve on my own.'

'Nobody of our own kind, Mr Frodo. That's what I meant.'

'I learned to live with that a long time ago.' Frodo gazed out to Sea. 'I have no regrets, Sam,' he said quietly. 'I chose my path, and it was the right one. And I couldn't stay in Middle-earth. I didn't even want to. Remember what Saruman said to me? That last vicious parting shot of his? He said I would have neither health nor a long life. Well, he was wrong, because I had a way out of Middle-earth. He didn't know about Arwen's generous offer. But he was also right … if I had stayed, I wouldn't have lasted long. And besides, once a person has the sea-longing in their heart, whether they be Elf or Hobbit … well, it never leaves them. It didn't leave me. I longed for the Sea, Sam. I began longing for it in Rivendell.'

'I know that longing too,' said Sam slowly. 'I had the sound of the sea in my heart for sixty years.'

Frodo looked up, startled.

'No, no, don't take it amiss … it weren't constant. I weren't pining to rush off and leave my Rose and the children! It was right hard at first, Frodo, I missed you sorely that first autumn –' he looked Frodo full in the face, and Frodo winced – 'but I took your words to heart, you have so much to enjoy and to be and to do, and my sweet Rose and our baby Elanor gave me all I could wish to live for.'

'I so much wanted to give you that hope, Sam.'

Sam smiled. 'You did.'

'How long do we have?' Sam asked presently.

'I don't know, Sam. Not that long, I think.' Frodo paused. 'I may look hale and young but inside I can feel time … well, I'm all too aware of how it's slipping away. And concerning tonight's banquet in Kortirion, the city is quite a long way inland, so it might be the last time I ever go there. I am still quite strong but I am … now more like a candle flame which is burning down. I'm sorry. I wish I could give you more.'

'Well, Mr Frodo, it's like this. I've seen a lot of things in my long life. A lot of terrible things but mostly a lot of fair and lovely things. I've been given a whole more than any humble hobbit has any right to expect. I ain't going to fret myself about how much time has been given to us in the Blessed Realm. As much as I respect the Fair Folk, it's you I came for. And you know it.' He paused. 'If you and me don't have much time left, then it's all the more precious.'

'Bless you, Sam. I was healed a long time ago. I have only been waiting for you.' Frodo pressed Sam's hand. 'My heart was empty for so long, but now it has been filled.'

Epilogue

The seasons turn but slowly on Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle, east of Valinor, the realm of the Powers. Mild springs melt into deep golden summers and during autumn the leaves never fall and the winds are kind.

Samwise remembers his Rose, and his Elanor, and there is peace in his heart. Sometimes he and Frodo visit the Lady Celebrían in her house by the sea, and the Lady Galadriel is often there, and together they honour the memory of the Evenstar in her white city, now separated from them forever by the Sundering Sea. Silently Sam remembers his loved ones left in Middle-earth, the Mortal Lands, and offers quiet petitions in his heart.

It is enough for Sam, having tended gardens all his life, to sit in their green garden in the sunshine and delight in the scents wafted on the summer winds, content now not to toil but listen to Frodo singing softly or reading aloud. The two hobbits also love to sit on the small stone wall and gaze towards the coast of Valinor. All kinds of herbs grow in the garden and Frodo teaches Sam the elvish words for the trees of the island. Sam rolls them on his tongue … nessamelda, yavannamírë, taniquelassë, lairelossë.

Often Frodo and Sam go walking on the smooth white beach below their little smial. The ocean's endless music enters their souls and comforts them. As Frodo listens to those eternal, changeful, unchanging waters, he thinks of all he has lost, of all he has gained. He remembers his long-dead parents, and dear Bilbo, who was like a father to him. Who knows where those sweet spirits have gone? … into hallowed mysteries of which the Elves know nothing. His beloved friends in Middle-earth were lost to him because he had to go where they could not follow. Yet the one thing remaining is Sam's love. The promise held true, and the ocean did not keep Sam from him. As Frodo listens to the Sea by day and contemplates the stars of Elbereth by night, he feels no fear as he thinks of what might lie beyond Elvenhome. He has learned the tranquillity of time from the Elves. Not even the Eldar know all things. Yet they accept their place in the world. Now he has accepted his. Whenever he remembers all those he loved and lost, he hears the song of the Sea.

Sometimes Frodo lies asleep on Sam's breast while Sam watches over him. Sam can't count the times he has seen Frodo sleeping. Long ago, on summer mornings in Bag End, he would draw back the curtains and see his master's dark head on the pillow, and an open book lying next to the candle-stump on the bedside table, evidence of Mr Frodo's late-night reading. A cheerful drowsy voice would greet him and he would say, 'morning, Mr Frodo.' He kept vigil at Rivendell while Frodo slept after the morgul-stabbing. And on hard bitter nights in the Black Land he cradled Frodo in his arms.

When I cradled your poor broken body in Cirith Ungol, that was like endless happiness, even in that dark and dreadful place. And now all those dark webs have tattered like rags in the wind, beyond recall, never to return. This is endless happiness. Now we are truly at peace.

As Sam watches Frodo sleeping he is reminded of his own Frodo-lad, or indeed any of his children lying small and vulnerable. Sam has comforted sleepless sons and daughters countless times – 'Daddy, there's an orc outside the door –' 'Nay, lovey, 'tis only a bad dream. Hush now.' And he would lift the troubled small one into his lap and sing them a song or tell them a funny story, until they were dozing against his shoulder.

Now they look about the same age, the young master of Bag End and his gardener from so long ago. The bloom of health lies on Sam's tanned arms, and his body is compact and sturdy. His right arm encircles Frodo, whose face is softly flushed and serene, whose lips are curved in a slight smile, whose dark curls are untouched by any frost.

You and I have come such a long way, Frodo, Sam thinks.

Together.

The End

Bilbo's Last Song
by J.R.R. Tolkien

Text copyright © 1974 by M. Joy Hill

Day is ended, dim my eyes,
but journey long before me lies.
Farewell friends! I hear the call.
The ship's beside the stony wall.
Foam is white and waves are grey;
beyond the sunset leads my way.
Foam is salt, the wind is free;
I hear the rising of the Sea.

Farewell friends! The sails are set,
the wind is east, the moorings fret.
Shadows long before me lie,
beneath the ever-bending sky,
but islands lie behind the Sun
that I shall raise ere all is done;
lands there are to West of West,
where night is quiet and sleep is rest.

Guided by the Lonely Star,
beyond the utmost harbour-bar,
I'll find the havens fair and free,
and beaches of the Starlit Sea.
Ship my ship! I seek the West,
and fields and mountains ever blest.
Farewell to Middle-earth at last,
I see the Star above your mast!