Chapter 4
The great eagles flew down to retrieve the small bodies almost completely obscured by the swirling dust and noxious gases. Gandalf watched desperately as first one eagle, then another lifted the lifeless bodies from the ravaged slopes of Mt. Doom. "Please let them be alive!" he thought to himself, although he wondered how anyone could survive such destruction.
The eagles flew to the encampment where the armies of Men were gathered. "Eagles!" cried Legolas peering up into the distant sky. "Three of them!" Aragorn looked up into the sky and within moments, he too saw the mighty birds swoop down towards the open fields behind the camp, far from the chaos of the battle. Aragorn turned, gave some orders to his commanders and flew from the field towards where the eagles had landed. He knew that if Frodo and Sam were still alive, they would need more than a simple Healer's care to recover. As he approached he saw the Healers carrying the small limp bodies into a nearby tent. He burst in moments later, followed by Gandalf.
"They still live, my Lord" reported one of the Healers grimly, "But just barely." Aragorn knelt by the first cot. He looked at the ravaged, care-worn face. It took him a moment to realize that under all the dust and blood, it was Frodo. Aragorn turned to the first Healer.
"Get as much of the aethelas plant as you can and make an infusion. Just breathing it will help." The Healer nodded and hurried away. Aragorn put his hands on Frodo, searching for any sign of life. Frodo's cheeks were as white as chalk and barely could any breath be discerned. For many minutes Aragorn knelt there, unmoving. The effort he made searching the pathways of Frodo's mind and heart for the strength of Frodo's spirit was exhausting. "Come back to us, Frodo" he urged, "Please do not leave us yet!" The others stood around watching anxiously. Finally, with an exhausted sigh, Aragorn sat back. "He is still alive, but I do not know if he will return to us. The journey has broken much inside him and I do not know if he will ever recover." He gently stroked the fragile Hobbit's hair, a deep sadness in his eyes. Aragon thought much of this brave little creature and it hurt him more than he realized to think Frodo might not survive.
Aragorn got wearily to his feet and went now to Sam's cot. Sam looked as lifeless as Frodo. Aragorn hoped he had enough strength to help Sam back across the threshold. As with Frodo, the King placed his hands on either side of Sam's bloodied head and summoned as much healing power as he possessed. Many long minutes passed before he again leaned back, his face grey with exhaustion. He opened his eyes and looked down at Sam. How thin he was now, thought Aragorn. He looked nothing like the sturdy Hobbit Strider had first met in Bree. Sam's eyes were sunken in his gaunt face and there were lines of worry that had not been there before. The journey had not been easy for either of the Hobbits. Aragorn stood up. "I will tend these Hobbits personally," he told the Healers, "But someone must be with them at all times and do not separate them. I have put them both into a healing sleep, but they are hanging on to life by the merest of threads, especially Frodo." He looked down again at Frodo's skeletal features. He truly feared for Frodo's life.
"I will stay with them for now," suggested Gandalf. "My services are not needed at present at the battle. Aragorn nodded absently, gazing at the two wraith-like figures before him. He turned to the Healer. "We must wash off the filth of Mordor. Their lungs have been sorely damaged by the deadly fumes and ash from Mt. Doom. The dust that covers them is saturated with these poisons and will make them worse." The Healer nodded and sent some of his assistants to bring basins of warmed water to bathe the filthy hobbits. Aragorn turned to Gandalf. "I must return to the battlefield," he said reluctantly, "But I will return as soon as I am able. I hate to leave them, but there is nothing else I can do for them now."
Gandalf nodded. "You have brought them back from the threshold of death. Now we will see which way they will choose. I feel the Quest has taken more from both of them than even I had feared. We must wait."
Shortly after Aragorn departed, the Healers returned with the water and gently bathed the lifeless hobbits. One healer looked sadly into Frodo's pale, porcelain-like face. "Do you think he will live?" he asked the Wizard quietly. "I know nothing of these small creatures and do not know if they are strong or weak. This one looks as if he has carried the cares of all Middle Earth on his shoulders. He seems so frail."
Gandalf smiled gently. "He is stronger than you think. He has survived many hardships and I pray that this last will not be the end of him. I hope Aragorn has awakened his will to live." The Healer nodded slowly and quietly left the room.
Aragorn came frequently to the Healer's tent. Many times he despaired of the hobbits' survival. Frodo's heartbeat was as weak and as rapid as a small bird's. It seemed that barely a hint of breath could be found. The Healer's were captured by his fragile beauty. Frodo never moved and they took turns sitting by his side. Sam seemed to be doing somewhat better. His color was more natural than when he had first arrived and although he too lay still as death, his breathing and heart were stronger. The Healer's instinctively felt that this hobbit was hardier than his companion and would survive. But, appearances can be deceiving.
Talyn, one of the Healers who had been tending the Ring Bearers came in one morning to begin his duties. He walked silently over to Frodo's cot and was delighted to see that the feeble hobbit actually looked improved. There was the faintest hint of a blush upon Frodo's gaunt cheeks and for the first time, his breathing appeared almost normal. "Master Ring Bearer," smiled the young man as he tenderly pushed Frodo's curls from his face, "I begin to understand what Gandalf means about your strength. I think you have decided to remain with us awhile longer. The King will be very pleased!" Still smiling, Talyn glanced over at the other small figure in the adjoining cot. He stared intently for a moment, his smile replaced by a worried frown. The Healer walked around Frodo's cot and looked more closely at the other hobbit. Sam's face was bathed in sweat and his breathing was harsh and shallow. Talyn wondered that he had not noticed it when he first entered. He gently placed his hand upon Sam's brow, his eyes widening in alarm at the heat he felt there. Talyn removed his hand and hurried into the adjacent room. "Who was with the hobbits last night?" he asked quickly. One of the other Healers, an older woman with a round, kindly face turned to Talyn and replied that she had been the one.
"Did you notice any fever or breathing difficulties in Master Samwise?" he asked urgently.
"No," she replied without hesitation, "I last checked the halflings just before dawn and both were as usual. There was no change." This concerned Talyn even more. This fever had come upon Sam rapidly and did not bode well.
He quickly went to the doorway of the tent and called for one of the page boys standing near. "Quickly, now" Talyn said to the boy, "I need you to run to the King and inform him that one of the Halflings has taken a turn for the worse. I think he should come as soon as he is able. Neither is strong enough to fight off an additional infection for long!" The boy nodded and hurried away towards the King's tent.
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"My Lord," a guard was standing hesitantly in the doorway of Aragorn's tent. Aragorn and Gandalf had been going over some maps. Aragorn looked up at the guard's entrance.
"Yes?"
The guard glanced back behind him then replied, "A page has been sent by the Healers with a message for you, my Lord." He motioned the boy forward, into the room.
Aragorn looked up sharply, his eyes meeting those of Gandalf. Frodo. They both turned to the boy and Aragorn signaled him to begin.
"My Lord!" panted the boy, "My master bid me tell you that one of the Halflings has taken a turn for the worse and asks that you come as quickly as possible."
Without hesitation, Aragorn sprung to his feet and strode out of the tent towards that of the Healers, Gandalf followed close behind. "I was afraid this would happen," muttered Aragorn to the wizard. "Frodo is so weak and broken that any illness will be the end of him. He just does not have the strength to fight any more!" The two arrived quickly and Aragorn pushed his way into the hobbits' room. However, he stopped in surprise when instead of finding the Healers grouped around Frodo's cot; they were hovering around Sam's. Aragorn's eyes flew to Frodo and was relieved to see that the young hobbit was breathing better and had some color. He then turned his attention to Sam, brave, faithful Sam. The King laid his hand on Sam's head, alarmed at the intensity of the fever. The Healers had been attempting to lower his fever with cool, damp cloths but it remained unabated. Sam's ragged breath led Aragorn to suspect that Sam's injured lungs had become infected by the poisons that still remained in his body. Aragorn looked up at Gandalf and saw the worry etched in the old Wizard's face. He looked back down at Sam, and laid his hands on the hobbit's feverish brow. He closed his eyes and went into his healing trance, looking to strengthen Sam's waning spark of life.
He searched long and hard for Sam's spirit, and when he found it, it was if he were suddenly transported out of the dusty Healer's tent on the edge of a bloody battlefield, to the quiet lands of the Shire. He stood on a sunny path, trees rustled overhead, and a light breeze, fragrant with the smell of roses gently caressed him. He looked around in amazement, but turned, startled, at the sound of a voice behind him.
"Hullo, Strider. I've been waiting for you." Beneath a tall elm tree sat Sam, his long clay pipe held in his hand. This was not the frail, wasted Sam that Aragorn had just seen lying lifeless in the Healer's tent, but the healthy, sturdy hobbit that he had met at the Prancing Pony so very long ago.
"Sam!" breathed Aragorn, "Sam, is that you?" Sam smiled again, rising to his feet.
"I knew you would come," he replied softly, gazing at the tall Man, "I've been waiting to have a word with you before I left."
Aragorn continued to stare at him open-mouthed, then regained his senses. "Going? Oh, Sam, don't go." Aragorn feared the implication of Sam's words. "Frodo will be lost without you and he will need all the help we can give him. He will be broken hearted if he loses you!"
Sam's eyes dropped to his pipe. He absently turned it over in his hands. "I know, Strider," he replied in a low voice. He lifted his face and Aragorn's heart broke at the grief and sadness he saw there. "I was never meant to go on." continued Sam, in the same low, mournful tone. "I was supposed have died at Moria. I begged to come back so I could help Mister Frodo complete his task." He stopped a moment, his gaze shifting out across the flower-filled meadow. "I wish I had done better by Mr. Frodo." Tears had started to slowly form in his anguished eyes.
"Sam," said Strider, shaking his head in disbelief, "You did more than any of us could have ever hoped to achieve. You got Frodo through Mordor, to the very fires of Mt. Doom. He is still alive today, and I believe he will recover! You are a hero!"
Sam turned on Aragorn angrily, "I am NOT a hero!" he snapped, "I did nothing! I abandoned Frodo when he needed me most! I left him at the mercy of those orcs! And when I did get him back, he was suffering so much, that I knew I would lose him forever to that evil Ring! I didn't save anything! Even now, when he needs me more than ever, I'm leaving him!" Sam sat back on the ground, his face buried in his hands as deep, heart-wrenching sobs shook his small body. "I have no choice." He whispered. Aragorn stood in shock, unsure of what to do in this unusual situation.
Eventually, the sobs subsided and Sam raised his tear-streaked face. "I was meant to die at Moria," he repeated softly, "I was told I could stay till Mr. Frodo had finished his task. He's done that and as you say, it looks like he'll be well again, maybe not soon, but someday. He'll never be whole, though" his face darkened, "The Ring saw to that."
Aragorn sat down next to Sam and tenderly placed his arm around the hobbit's shoulders. "Sam, you have been of more help to Frodo than the rest of us combined. We all had our parts to play in this Quest and you played yours as well as anyone possibly could. If you had not been there to help Frodo, he could never have completed his task. I also believe that because of your love and devotion, the Ring was never able to completely consume Frodo. You saved him from that as well."
Sam sat quietly for a moment, thinking of Aragorn's words. "Thank you, Strider." He said finally, "I love Mister Frodo with all my heart. It grieves me beyond words to leave him like this. I didn't want to leave him without saying good-bye." He looked up into Aragorn's careworn face. "Will you tell him good-bye for me, Strider?" whispered Sam, "Tell him how sorry I am for not being able to stay and be there for him? I just wish…" He stopped, tears still running down his face. His shoulders slumped in misery as he attempted to regain control.
"It's all right, Sam." Aragorn comforted him. "I'll tell him." Sam smiled up at the Ranger gratefully, then he turned and looked up the road to the top of the hill. A small figure could be seen waiting patiently.
"I must go now,." Said Sam reluctantly. Sam slowly got to his feet and gave his hand to Aragorn. "Thank you, Aragorn, for everything. I know you and Gandalf will look after Mister Frodo for me. And Aragon, I hope you can find someone to write a story about our adventures. What Mr. Frodo did should never be forgotten." Then, his jaw set, he turned and unhesitatingly headed up the road. He did not look back. Aragorn watched, a heavy sadness settling on his heart as he watched the brave and faithful Samwise Gamgee disappear forever over the crest of the hill.
"My Lord?" Aragorn heard a voice as if from a great distance calling to him. He slowly opened his eyes and gazed down into Sam's pale face. He could feel Sam's heartbeat becoming weaker and weaker as his breath faded. Soon, neither could be detected. Aragorn's head fell as he gently removed his hands from Sam.
Aragorn lifted his eyes to meet Gandalf's. "Sam is gone," said Aragorn, his voice full of heartache. "A most brave and noble hobbit has given his life in the battle against the Enemy. He shall be honored as a true hero of Middle Earth."
Gandalf's head dropped, his eyes closed. "This will be a bitter pill for Frodo," he said softly, the sound of tears in his voice. "I do not know if he will be able to handle this loss." Gandalf looked up and gently caressed Sam's face. "I wondered at first, if I had made a mistake, sending Samwise Gamgee with Frodo. Other than his loyalty, I was not sure he had any abilities that would be of use on the Quest. I just knew that I did not want Frodo to go off alone. In the end, the Quest would have failed completely if not for the devotion of this most humblest of Hobbits. I will miss him."
Moments later, Merry and Pippin stood at the door, looking in hesitantly. "Gandalf?" whispered Merry, "Is Frodo alright?"
Aragorn stood up beside Sam's cot. "Frodo is doing better and although I think his recovery will take some long while, he should recover." He looked down at Sam. "It is with much sorrow that I cannot say the same for Samwise. We have lost him."
Merry and Pippin stared at Aragorn in shock. "Sam?" repeated Pippin in confusion, "But…but, we thought he was doing better! He was so much stronger than Frodo! How can he be gone?" Tears were now streaming down the faces of both hobbits. They had known how frail Frodo was and had feared he would not survive, but Sam's death was completely unexpected. They both stood quietly by Sam's bed wondering how they would break the news to Frodo when he woke.
"I believe his lungs became infected. They were badly damaged by the heat and poisonous gases from Mount Doom. He was too weak to fight it." Aragorn put his hands on the shoulders of the two Halflings. Both had recovered from their own ordeals and had visited Frodo and Sam as often as they could. Although they had seen many die during this War, somehow losing one of their own was the hardest blow of all.
Chapter 7
It was some time before Frodo finally awoke from his enchanted sleep. His eyes slowly opened to a bright sunshine glinting through the boughs of a magnificent beech tree. "Where am I?" he asked wonderingly, "Am I dead?"
He heard a low, soft laugh beside him. "No, Frodo Baggins," said the voice, "You are very much alive!"
Frodo turned and in amazement saw that the speaker was none other than the wizard, Gandalf! "Gandalf!" he cried joyfully, "You're alive! How can that be?"
Gandalf laughed again. "Ah that is a very long story indeed and one I will tell you in due course." He looked fondly down at the small figure, "And how are you feeling, Frodo?"
Frodo lay back in the bed a moment trying to decide just how he did feel. "I feel wonderful!" he said in surprise. After all the trials he and Sam had endured, he wasn't certain how he could feel so well. Abruptly, he turned to Gandalf. "Sam!" he cried, "Where is Sam? Is he all right?" He pushed himself up on his elbow, searching around the chamber for his devoted companion. When Gandalf did not answer immediately, Frodo slowly turned his eyes towards him, realization washing over him like a cold wind. "He…he did not survive?" Frodo's eyes were wide with alarm.
Gandalf sighed wearily. He had been dreading this more than anything. "No, Frodo," he replied gently. "Sam did not survive. He was alive when the eagles brought you from the slopes of Mt. Doom, but he could not endure the damage done to his lungs by the fire and vile poisons of Mordor."
Frodo lay back on his pillows. He felt cold and hollow. How could he go on without Sam? Sam, who had sacrificed everything for him? The only reason the quest had succeeded was because of Sam. How could they possibly understand that? He closed his eyes, feeling the tears threatening to burst free. "Why am I not dead, then?" he demanded. "Sam was so much stronger than I! I should have died, not him!"
Gandalf's sorrowful eyes gazed down at the grieving hobbit. "I believe that as destructive as the Ring was to you, it actually provided some protection against the poisons of Mordor. You were damaged in different ways than Sam. I know you will never be the hobbit you were, but your body has healed as well as can be expected and you will go on."
"How!?" cried Frodo in anguish, "How can I go on!? Sam was everything to me! He saved me countless times on our journey. He kept me alive and going! The quest would have failed many times over if not for him. How can I possibly go on without him?" He turned his face to the pillow and sobbed, such heart-wrenching sobs that Gandalf felt his own heart would break.
Gandalf heard a small sob behind him. He turned to find Merry and Pippin, along with Aragorn standing a short distance away. Legolas and Gimli stood behind them. Pippin had his own face buried in his hands, softly sobbing. Merry, with tears on his face, gently put his arm around his cousin's shoulders. Aragorn quietly walked over to Frodo and laid a hand on his arm. Frodo's sobs slowly subsided and he slowly turned to face the others. His face lighted with joy to see his friends and kin. He wiped his tears and tried to compose himself.
"It's all right, Frodo," smiled Aragorn sadly. "I was with Sam at the end. He fought hard and grieved at leaving you. He told me to tell you good-bye and that he loved you with all his heart. Your greatest gift to him is to go on living." Then, Aragorn gave a small laugh. "He also hoped that someday, someone would write a song about your adventures. He said what you did should never be forgotten."
Frodo lay back on his pillows and looked up at the ceiling through his tears. "Yes," he said thoughtfully, a small smile upon his lips. "That is indeed something that would please Sam. Many times he spoke about the old stories and legends. Nothing would please him more than to be part of one himself."
And so, Frodo recovered although his heart never fully healed. He sat with Aragorn and other remaining members of the Fellowship and was honored for his great achievement in destroying the Ring of Doom. Sam was also honored as a Hero of Middle Earth and a great ceremony was held upon his burial. A large monument was erected in his honor. But to Frodo's mind, there was no better memorial to the Shire's humblest hobbit than the beautiful mallorn tree from Lorien planted in place of the Party Tree in Hobbiton and the ballad sung all over the free lands of Middle Earth, "Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom": the story of Frodo and his dear and stalwart friend, Samwise the Brave.
The great eagles flew down to retrieve the small bodies almost completely obscured by the swirling dust and noxious gases. Gandalf watched desperately as first one eagle, then another lifted the lifeless bodies from the ravaged slopes of Mt. Doom. "Please let them be alive!" he thought to himself, although he wondered how anyone could survive such destruction.
The eagles flew to the encampment where the armies of Men were gathered. "Eagles!" cried Legolas peering up into the distant sky. "Three of them!" Aragorn looked up into the sky and within moments, he too saw the mighty birds swoop down towards the open fields behind the camp, far from the chaos of the battle. Aragorn turned, gave some orders to his commanders and flew from the field towards where the eagles had landed. He knew that if Frodo and Sam were still alive, they would need more than a simple Healer's care to recover. As he approached he saw the Healers carrying the small limp bodies into a nearby tent. He burst in moments later, followed by Gandalf.
"They still live, my Lord" reported one of the Healers grimly, "But just barely." Aragorn knelt by the first cot. He looked at the ravaged, care-worn face. It took him a moment to realize that under all the dust and blood, it was Frodo. Aragorn turned to the first Healer.
"Get as much of the aethelas plant as you can and make an infusion. Just breathing it will help." The Healer nodded and hurried away. Aragorn put his hands on Frodo, searching for any sign of life. Frodo's cheeks were as white as chalk and barely could any breath be discerned. For many minutes Aragorn knelt there, unmoving. The effort he made searching the pathways of Frodo's mind and heart for the strength of Frodo's spirit was exhausting. "Come back to us, Frodo" he urged, "Please do not leave us yet!" The others stood around watching anxiously. Finally, with an exhausted sigh, Aragorn sat back. "He is still alive, but I do not know if he will return to us. The journey has broken much inside him and I do not know if he will ever recover." He gently stroked the fragile Hobbit's hair, a deep sadness in his eyes. Aragon thought much of this brave little creature and it hurt him more than he realized to think Frodo might not survive.
Aragorn got wearily to his feet and went now to Sam's cot. Sam looked as lifeless as Frodo. Aragorn hoped he had enough strength to help Sam back across the threshold. As with Frodo, the King placed his hands on either side of Sam's bloodied head and summoned as much healing power as he possessed. Many long minutes passed before he again leaned back, his face grey with exhaustion. He opened his eyes and looked down at Sam. How thin he was now, thought Aragorn. He looked nothing like the sturdy Hobbit Strider had first met in Bree. Sam's eyes were sunken in his gaunt face and there were lines of worry that had not been there before. The journey had not been easy for either of the Hobbits. Aragorn stood up. "I will tend these Hobbits personally," he told the Healers, "But someone must be with them at all times and do not separate them. I have put them both into a healing sleep, but they are hanging on to life by the merest of threads, especially Frodo." He looked down again at Frodo's skeletal features. He truly feared for Frodo's life.
"I will stay with them for now," suggested Gandalf. "My services are not needed at present at the battle. Aragorn nodded absently, gazing at the two wraith-like figures before him. He turned to the Healer. "We must wash off the filth of Mordor. Their lungs have been sorely damaged by the deadly fumes and ash from Mt. Doom. The dust that covers them is saturated with these poisons and will make them worse." The Healer nodded and sent some of his assistants to bring basins of warmed water to bathe the filthy hobbits. Aragorn turned to Gandalf. "I must return to the battlefield," he said reluctantly, "But I will return as soon as I am able. I hate to leave them, but there is nothing else I can do for them now."
Gandalf nodded. "You have brought them back from the threshold of death. Now we will see which way they will choose. I feel the Quest has taken more from both of them than even I had feared. We must wait."
Shortly after Aragorn departed, the Healers returned with the water and gently bathed the lifeless hobbits. One healer looked sadly into Frodo's pale, porcelain-like face. "Do you think he will live?" he asked the Wizard quietly. "I know nothing of these small creatures and do not know if they are strong or weak. This one looks as if he has carried the cares of all Middle Earth on his shoulders. He seems so frail."
Gandalf smiled gently. "He is stronger than you think. He has survived many hardships and I pray that this last will not be the end of him. I hope Aragorn has awakened his will to live." The Healer nodded slowly and quietly left the room.
Aragorn came frequently to the Healer's tent. Many times he despaired of the hobbits' survival. Frodo's heartbeat was as weak and as rapid as a small bird's. It seemed that barely a hint of breath could be found. The Healer's were captured by his fragile beauty. Frodo never moved and they took turns sitting by his side. Sam seemed to be doing somewhat better. His color was more natural than when he had first arrived and although he too lay still as death, his breathing and heart were stronger. The Healer's instinctively felt that this hobbit was hardier than his companion and would survive. But, appearances can be deceiving.
Talyn, one of the Healers who had been tending the Ring Bearers came in one morning to begin his duties. He walked silently over to Frodo's cot and was delighted to see that the feeble hobbit actually looked improved. There was the faintest hint of a blush upon Frodo's gaunt cheeks and for the first time, his breathing appeared almost normal. "Master Ring Bearer," smiled the young man as he tenderly pushed Frodo's curls from his face, "I begin to understand what Gandalf means about your strength. I think you have decided to remain with us awhile longer. The King will be very pleased!" Still smiling, Talyn glanced over at the other small figure in the adjoining cot. He stared intently for a moment, his smile replaced by a worried frown. The Healer walked around Frodo's cot and looked more closely at the other hobbit. Sam's face was bathed in sweat and his breathing was harsh and shallow. Talyn wondered that he had not noticed it when he first entered. He gently placed his hand upon Sam's brow, his eyes widening in alarm at the heat he felt there. Talyn removed his hand and hurried into the adjacent room. "Who was with the hobbits last night?" he asked quickly. One of the other Healers, an older woman with a round, kindly face turned to Talyn and replied that she had been the one.
"Did you notice any fever or breathing difficulties in Master Samwise?" he asked urgently.
"No," she replied without hesitation, "I last checked the halflings just before dawn and both were as usual. There was no change." This concerned Talyn even more. This fever had come upon Sam rapidly and did not bode well.
He quickly went to the doorway of the tent and called for one of the page boys standing near. "Quickly, now" Talyn said to the boy, "I need you to run to the King and inform him that one of the Halflings has taken a turn for the worse. I think he should come as soon as he is able. Neither is strong enough to fight off an additional infection for long!" The boy nodded and hurried away towards the King's tent.
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"My Lord," a guard was standing hesitantly in the doorway of Aragorn's tent. Aragorn and Gandalf had been going over some maps. Aragorn looked up at the guard's entrance.
"Yes?"
The guard glanced back behind him then replied, "A page has been sent by the Healers with a message for you, my Lord." He motioned the boy forward, into the room.
Aragorn looked up sharply, his eyes meeting those of Gandalf. Frodo. They both turned to the boy and Aragorn signaled him to begin.
"My Lord!" panted the boy, "My master bid me tell you that one of the Halflings has taken a turn for the worse and asks that you come as quickly as possible."
Without hesitation, Aragorn sprung to his feet and strode out of the tent towards that of the Healers, Gandalf followed close behind. "I was afraid this would happen," muttered Aragorn to the wizard. "Frodo is so weak and broken that any illness will be the end of him. He just does not have the strength to fight any more!" The two arrived quickly and Aragorn pushed his way into the hobbits' room. However, he stopped in surprise when instead of finding the Healers grouped around Frodo's cot; they were hovering around Sam's. Aragorn's eyes flew to Frodo and was relieved to see that the young hobbit was breathing better and had some color. He then turned his attention to Sam, brave, faithful Sam. The King laid his hand on Sam's head, alarmed at the intensity of the fever. The Healers had been attempting to lower his fever with cool, damp cloths but it remained unabated. Sam's ragged breath led Aragorn to suspect that Sam's injured lungs had become infected by the poisons that still remained in his body. Aragorn looked up at Gandalf and saw the worry etched in the old Wizard's face. He looked back down at Sam, and laid his hands on the hobbit's feverish brow. He closed his eyes and went into his healing trance, looking to strengthen Sam's waning spark of life.
He searched long and hard for Sam's spirit, and when he found it, it was if he were suddenly transported out of the dusty Healer's tent on the edge of a bloody battlefield, to the quiet lands of the Shire. He stood on a sunny path, trees rustled overhead, and a light breeze, fragrant with the smell of roses gently caressed him. He looked around in amazement, but turned, startled, at the sound of a voice behind him.
"Hullo, Strider. I've been waiting for you." Beneath a tall elm tree sat Sam, his long clay pipe held in his hand. This was not the frail, wasted Sam that Aragorn had just seen lying lifeless in the Healer's tent, but the healthy, sturdy hobbit that he had met at the Prancing Pony so very long ago.
"Sam!" breathed Aragorn, "Sam, is that you?" Sam smiled again, rising to his feet.
"I knew you would come," he replied softly, gazing at the tall Man, "I've been waiting to have a word with you before I left."
Aragorn continued to stare at him open-mouthed, then regained his senses. "Going? Oh, Sam, don't go." Aragorn feared the implication of Sam's words. "Frodo will be lost without you and he will need all the help we can give him. He will be broken hearted if he loses you!"
Sam's eyes dropped to his pipe. He absently turned it over in his hands. "I know, Strider," he replied in a low voice. He lifted his face and Aragorn's heart broke at the grief and sadness he saw there. "I was never meant to go on." continued Sam, in the same low, mournful tone. "I was supposed have died at Moria. I begged to come back so I could help Mister Frodo complete his task." He stopped a moment, his gaze shifting out across the flower-filled meadow. "I wish I had done better by Mr. Frodo." Tears had started to slowly form in his anguished eyes.
"Sam," said Strider, shaking his head in disbelief, "You did more than any of us could have ever hoped to achieve. You got Frodo through Mordor, to the very fires of Mt. Doom. He is still alive today, and I believe he will recover! You are a hero!"
Sam turned on Aragorn angrily, "I am NOT a hero!" he snapped, "I did nothing! I abandoned Frodo when he needed me most! I left him at the mercy of those orcs! And when I did get him back, he was suffering so much, that I knew I would lose him forever to that evil Ring! I didn't save anything! Even now, when he needs me more than ever, I'm leaving him!" Sam sat back on the ground, his face buried in his hands as deep, heart-wrenching sobs shook his small body. "I have no choice." He whispered. Aragorn stood in shock, unsure of what to do in this unusual situation.
Eventually, the sobs subsided and Sam raised his tear-streaked face. "I was meant to die at Moria," he repeated softly, "I was told I could stay till Mr. Frodo had finished his task. He's done that and as you say, it looks like he'll be well again, maybe not soon, but someday. He'll never be whole, though" his face darkened, "The Ring saw to that."
Aragorn sat down next to Sam and tenderly placed his arm around the hobbit's shoulders. "Sam, you have been of more help to Frodo than the rest of us combined. We all had our parts to play in this Quest and you played yours as well as anyone possibly could. If you had not been there to help Frodo, he could never have completed his task. I also believe that because of your love and devotion, the Ring was never able to completely consume Frodo. You saved him from that as well."
Sam sat quietly for a moment, thinking of Aragorn's words. "Thank you, Strider." He said finally, "I love Mister Frodo with all my heart. It grieves me beyond words to leave him like this. I didn't want to leave him without saying good-bye." He looked up into Aragorn's careworn face. "Will you tell him good-bye for me, Strider?" whispered Sam, "Tell him how sorry I am for not being able to stay and be there for him? I just wish…" He stopped, tears still running down his face. His shoulders slumped in misery as he attempted to regain control.
"It's all right, Sam." Aragorn comforted him. "I'll tell him." Sam smiled up at the Ranger gratefully, then he turned and looked up the road to the top of the hill. A small figure could be seen waiting patiently.
"I must go now,." Said Sam reluctantly. Sam slowly got to his feet and gave his hand to Aragorn. "Thank you, Aragorn, for everything. I know you and Gandalf will look after Mister Frodo for me. And Aragon, I hope you can find someone to write a story about our adventures. What Mr. Frodo did should never be forgotten." Then, his jaw set, he turned and unhesitatingly headed up the road. He did not look back. Aragorn watched, a heavy sadness settling on his heart as he watched the brave and faithful Samwise Gamgee disappear forever over the crest of the hill.
"My Lord?" Aragorn heard a voice as if from a great distance calling to him. He slowly opened his eyes and gazed down into Sam's pale face. He could feel Sam's heartbeat becoming weaker and weaker as his breath faded. Soon, neither could be detected. Aragorn's head fell as he gently removed his hands from Sam.
Aragorn lifted his eyes to meet Gandalf's. "Sam is gone," said Aragorn, his voice full of heartache. "A most brave and noble hobbit has given his life in the battle against the Enemy. He shall be honored as a true hero of Middle Earth."
Gandalf's head dropped, his eyes closed. "This will be a bitter pill for Frodo," he said softly, the sound of tears in his voice. "I do not know if he will be able to handle this loss." Gandalf looked up and gently caressed Sam's face. "I wondered at first, if I had made a mistake, sending Samwise Gamgee with Frodo. Other than his loyalty, I was not sure he had any abilities that would be of use on the Quest. I just knew that I did not want Frodo to go off alone. In the end, the Quest would have failed completely if not for the devotion of this most humblest of Hobbits. I will miss him."
Moments later, Merry and Pippin stood at the door, looking in hesitantly. "Gandalf?" whispered Merry, "Is Frodo alright?"
Aragorn stood up beside Sam's cot. "Frodo is doing better and although I think his recovery will take some long while, he should recover." He looked down at Sam. "It is with much sorrow that I cannot say the same for Samwise. We have lost him."
Merry and Pippin stared at Aragorn in shock. "Sam?" repeated Pippin in confusion, "But…but, we thought he was doing better! He was so much stronger than Frodo! How can he be gone?" Tears were now streaming down the faces of both hobbits. They had known how frail Frodo was and had feared he would not survive, but Sam's death was completely unexpected. They both stood quietly by Sam's bed wondering how they would break the news to Frodo when he woke.
"I believe his lungs became infected. They were badly damaged by the heat and poisonous gases from Mount Doom. He was too weak to fight it." Aragorn put his hands on the shoulders of the two Halflings. Both had recovered from their own ordeals and had visited Frodo and Sam as often as they could. Although they had seen many die during this War, somehow losing one of their own was the hardest blow of all.
Chapter 7
It was some time before Frodo finally awoke from his enchanted sleep. His eyes slowly opened to a bright sunshine glinting through the boughs of a magnificent beech tree. "Where am I?" he asked wonderingly, "Am I dead?"
He heard a low, soft laugh beside him. "No, Frodo Baggins," said the voice, "You are very much alive!"
Frodo turned and in amazement saw that the speaker was none other than the wizard, Gandalf! "Gandalf!" he cried joyfully, "You're alive! How can that be?"
Gandalf laughed again. "Ah that is a very long story indeed and one I will tell you in due course." He looked fondly down at the small figure, "And how are you feeling, Frodo?"
Frodo lay back in the bed a moment trying to decide just how he did feel. "I feel wonderful!" he said in surprise. After all the trials he and Sam had endured, he wasn't certain how he could feel so well. Abruptly, he turned to Gandalf. "Sam!" he cried, "Where is Sam? Is he all right?" He pushed himself up on his elbow, searching around the chamber for his devoted companion. When Gandalf did not answer immediately, Frodo slowly turned his eyes towards him, realization washing over him like a cold wind. "He…he did not survive?" Frodo's eyes were wide with alarm.
Gandalf sighed wearily. He had been dreading this more than anything. "No, Frodo," he replied gently. "Sam did not survive. He was alive when the eagles brought you from the slopes of Mt. Doom, but he could not endure the damage done to his lungs by the fire and vile poisons of Mordor."
Frodo lay back on his pillows. He felt cold and hollow. How could he go on without Sam? Sam, who had sacrificed everything for him? The only reason the quest had succeeded was because of Sam. How could they possibly understand that? He closed his eyes, feeling the tears threatening to burst free. "Why am I not dead, then?" he demanded. "Sam was so much stronger than I! I should have died, not him!"
Gandalf's sorrowful eyes gazed down at the grieving hobbit. "I believe that as destructive as the Ring was to you, it actually provided some protection against the poisons of Mordor. You were damaged in different ways than Sam. I know you will never be the hobbit you were, but your body has healed as well as can be expected and you will go on."
"How!?" cried Frodo in anguish, "How can I go on!? Sam was everything to me! He saved me countless times on our journey. He kept me alive and going! The quest would have failed many times over if not for him. How can I possibly go on without him?" He turned his face to the pillow and sobbed, such heart-wrenching sobs that Gandalf felt his own heart would break.
Gandalf heard a small sob behind him. He turned to find Merry and Pippin, along with Aragorn standing a short distance away. Legolas and Gimli stood behind them. Pippin had his own face buried in his hands, softly sobbing. Merry, with tears on his face, gently put his arm around his cousin's shoulders. Aragorn quietly walked over to Frodo and laid a hand on his arm. Frodo's sobs slowly subsided and he slowly turned to face the others. His face lighted with joy to see his friends and kin. He wiped his tears and tried to compose himself.
"It's all right, Frodo," smiled Aragorn sadly. "I was with Sam at the end. He fought hard and grieved at leaving you. He told me to tell you good-bye and that he loved you with all his heart. Your greatest gift to him is to go on living." Then, Aragorn gave a small laugh. "He also hoped that someday, someone would write a song about your adventures. He said what you did should never be forgotten."
Frodo lay back on his pillows and looked up at the ceiling through his tears. "Yes," he said thoughtfully, a small smile upon his lips. "That is indeed something that would please Sam. Many times he spoke about the old stories and legends. Nothing would please him more than to be part of one himself."
And so, Frodo recovered although his heart never fully healed. He sat with Aragorn and other remaining members of the Fellowship and was honored for his great achievement in destroying the Ring of Doom. Sam was also honored as a Hero of Middle Earth and a great ceremony was held upon his burial. A large monument was erected in his honor. But to Frodo's mind, there was no better memorial to the Shire's humblest hobbit than the beautiful mallorn tree from Lorien planted in place of the Party Tree in Hobbiton and the ballad sung all over the free lands of Middle Earth, "Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom": the story of Frodo and his dear and stalwart friend, Samwise the Brave.