Disclaimer: AU Story. My third large LOTR fic. I can't stop! None of the characters or settings are mine. They all belong to Tolkien. I wish I were related to Tolkien, don't you? It would be so cool! Oh, and the plot here is derived from my own imagination. Hope you enjoy.

MagicalRachel: Goody! Another Sam fan! Thank you for the luverly comments!

Shirebound: I went a bit insane yesterday and just wrote and wrote and wrote. I managed two chapters and my Geography homework all before ten o'clock. Calm, Ailsa, calm. Plus I just finished reading Bored of the Rings and have started on Barry Trotter and the Shameless Parody so I got steadily hyper during the day. Glad you liked the line too!

TrueFan: Hehe- nice to know I amuse. Oh, I have no brother to tell me I'm an idiot and I'm jealous! Morgan is the coolest name too. So pleased you're enjoying this.

Elf of Rivendell: Wow! Thank you! I'm really touched. I hoped that you would like the Aragorn moments.

~ Chapter Seven ~

Mr Underhill climbed out of the bed with a splitting headache. He quickly slipped on his clothes and then sat back down heavily. Nightmares had haunted him. Of terrible dark caves and a narrow stone bridge. Arrows that zipped and spun about him, tearing the darkness. Angry snarls and catcalls echoing in huge chambers. And then a low rumbling and the hiss of flame. A booming voice, the splintering of metal and his own voice- screaming. Then he had woken.

There was a knocking on the door and without waiting for any reply, Ferdirand's wife strode briskly into the room. She smiled at her guest.

"Sleep well?"

"Oh, very well. Thank you," the hobbit answered, out of habit. The little housewife busied herself with tidying bedsheets and drawing curtains.

"Anything planned for today?" she asked conversationally as she worked.

"Yes, I was thinking of going for a walk. Down to- the, er, the pier."

"Oh you mean the Grey Havens? Nice there in the morning. Breakfast'll be ready in a few minutes."

"The Grey-" Mr Underhill seemed to be caught in some sort of trance. He had frozen in one position, staring ahead, mouth slightly open. The wife frowned and turned to look at him. But before she could speak, he had got up from the chair and raced out of the room. There was the sound of his departing footsteps and then the front door opening and slamming behind him. The daughters came running into the spare room at all the commotion.

"Mama, what is it?" asked the eldest.

"Mr Underhill," replied her mother, clearing her throat, "Has gone for a walk."

"Oh he does speak nicely," sighed the fairer of the trio, "And he has the most 'mazing eyes!"

"He's just beautiful," breathed the other and they all blushed. The wife regained her wits enough to scold them for speaking in such a manner and shooed them out of the room. But she could not help but agree that Mr Underhill did have remarkable eyes...

--

Sam woke blearily and winced. He rubbed the sand from his eyes and sat up, gazing off to the horizon. The Grey Havens were truly magnificent in the sunlight. The water divided into so many parts, each wave outlined a hundred times with silver and gold that it was almost impossible to watch one part for more than a second.

"Well, you came, Sam. You faced up to your fear."

He did not feel any better for it. The place was so desolate. The last time he had seen it, it had been milling with his friends and companions. And now the pier was empty. No proud ship stood at its end, white sails unfurled to the wind. No voices singing their farewells. Nothing but shadows of memories that sifted like sands before his eyes. He walked to the end of the pier and positioned his feet into a certain way. He stood still, brow creased.

"I stood right on this spot when he said goodbye...said I couldn't come with him. Said that I couldn't always be torn in two."

His voice trailed off to silence and he was left, a lonely figure shivering at the end of the landing, staring listlessly off across a vast unending ocean.

--

Mr Underhill ran faster than he ever remembered, his waistcoat tearing on twigs and thorns and his arms scratched by low-hanging branches. He knew the way as if he had walked it every day of his life. He ran until his legs were stiff as wood and his arms felt like lead. At last, he stumbled back onto the sandy edges of the Havens and he fell to his knees, gazing round as his recollections sprang to life. There- it was there that the ship had waited for him. Lots of people gathered together, watching him and many others as they boarded. It was so strong that Mr Underhill would almost swear that he was reliving it. He suddenly heard a voice. It rose loudly over the roar of waves in song.

"You walked across

That endless sea

You said, "You

Can't come with me."

You left across

That endless sea

I wished you stayed

Here with me."

He crawled over to the edge of the embankment of sand and looked down to see a figure standing alone, looking out to sea. He got to his feet and walked slowly down, not wishing to startle the character. He joined him and studied his face. The eyes were a soft brown-green, encompassing many emotions at once. His sandy hair partly covered the dark, drawn face and smeared the tears on his cheeks.

"What's wrong?" he asked. There was a deep concern in his heart for this hobbit. As if he needed to protect him. The guardianship he felt for him was almost alarming. The figure turned to look at him and his face fell.

"You're just a memory," he said.

"Pardon?" Mr Underhill cried, taken aback.

"You ain't real. I must've gone mad."

"I'm real. Oh, please, tell me what's the matter."

The hobbit just scowled at him.

"My mind's playin' tricks. Stop it! Go away!"

The words hurt so much that Mr Underhill almost choked. He put a shaking hand but it was only received with hostility.

"Leave me alone! You ain't real! I'm not going to pretend that my master's still here. Stop tryin' to fool me!"

"But please! I don't understand. I'm so lost here and I don't remember things and- and then there are so many things coming back. And I- " he swallowed hard, "It's as if I knew this place once but now I can't even remember."

It felt right to say all this. Finally. And he didn't want to let go of his new discovery. He was someone he could trust. Someone who had been there for him every day. To hold back that shadow in his mind. Fighting his fears and- he remembered being carried. Up the slopes of a mountain of fire.

The hobbit before him blinked severally. Then he rubbed his eyes hard and looked again. He reached out and put his hand to Mr Underhill's face.

"Mister- Mister Frodo?"

And suddenly, Mr Underhill no longer existed. The name had been washed away, leaving clear marks behind reading only his name. His real name. The hobbit came forward so fast that it nearly knocked him to the ground. Both were sobbing so hard they could barely speak.

"Frodo! You came back- you really really came back! Oh, master, sir, Mister Frodo...Your Sam never gave up on you. I was always waitin' and then- and then..."

Frodo's fingers dug into Sam's back, making sure that they would never lose each other again. Never again! He was too breathless to speak but just clung to his friend and wept until his eyes were dry.