Elanor
Frodo leaned back in his chair and gave a small sigh. He stuck the end of his quill in his mouth. The sunlight beamed through the window illuminating the words that had taken him so long to write. It was as if in writing his story, their story he mentally corrected himself, he had been forced to relive the horrible events that had taken place on the journey to Mount Doom. That is why it had taken him so long to finish his part. The carefree, happy hobbit that had left the Shire had returned as a mere shadow of his former self. He had been wounded; it would never really heal.
Suddenly, he gasped and clutched at the white jewel around his next. He tried to breath but the pain in his shoulder where the Morgul blade had pierced him two years ago to this day blazed white-hot pain. His eyesight lost focus and it seemed as if the world was spinning around him. His breath was coming in short gasps. He couldn't breathe.
He had hidden the pain from Sam and Rosie the best he could. They had other things to worry about now with the birth of their daughter. He didn't want to bother them, didn't want to be a burden even though he knew through and through that Sam never saw him in that light. Frodo feared that Sam might have suspected something was wrong when he asked him if maybe he should postpone his forestry trip for another time. Frodo had insisted that he go. He would only be gone for a few days and Frodo had plenty of the work on the Red Book to keep him occupied. Sam seemed to doubt him, but went nonetheless.
It was hard, keeping this secret from Sam. He knew Sam would be hurt at not being allowed to help him. That was just the type of hobbit he was, loyal and caring, good-hearted and brave. Just like Bilbo, Merry, and Pippin, a finer hobbit he had never met. But what was worse was the secret calling that grew ever in Frodo's mind. He knew the time was coming, he was growing worse, and soon the bittersweet parting from the Shire would take place. He would miss them all and yet, and yet it would be hardest on Sam. Frodo hoped Sam would be able to forgive him when the time came. He had walked through fire and hell for his master and would be distraught at not being allowed to continue the journey. But he has his own life now thought Frodo at once comforted and sorrowful at the thought.
Through the pain he heard crying and for a wild moment, he thought the sound had flown out of him. He didn't want to alert Rosie to his condition and frighten her. It was then that he remembered that Rosie had told him she was going down to see the old Gaffer for a few moments. Seeing as the baby was sleeping, she had asked if Frodo would keep an ear out for her. He had agreed. The baby, Frodo thought in a moment of even greater panic!
He quickly rushed out of his study and into the baby's room. Leaning over the crib, he beheld the six-month's baby face all scrunched up and crying. It had been so long since he had been around a baby hobbit he almost froze at the thought of what to do. Sam and Rosie had tried to keep the baby away from Frodo because they had thought she might disturb him. Frodo thought it ridiculous. But thoughts of the past were substituted for the present as his pain struggled for prominence in his mind, yet he pushed past it. He released the white jewel that he had held with his four-fingered hand and gently reached down to pick up the baby.
Spying the small rocking chair that Rosie frequently used in the room, Frodo quickly took a seat. He cradled the baby in his arms as he gently rocked her.
"Elanor, sweet Elanor, please don't cry. Uncle Frodo's got you safe now," he whispered.
He wondered what he should do if the child continued to cry, but a few moments later his worry proved unfounded. Slowly the child's face softened and her tears disappeared. She was beautiful. Her dark eyes focused on Frodo's sky blue ones as the two gazed at one another. It was almost like she could see into his very troubled soul. And it was at that moment that Frodo realized that the pain in his shoulder had diminished to such a degree that he hardly felt any pain at all.
Still looking at Elanor, Frodo realized how like her father she already was. Her face was the copy of the mother, but the eyes, the eyes were like his Sam's. He would soon be leaving little Elanor, Sam and Rosie's little sun-star, too when he left the Shire. He would never see her grow up and yet, just for a moment, it was as if he could see far into the future and see the beautiful hobbit lass she would become. She would be as she was now, just like her parents, the inner beauty shining through the outer. Elanor, the Fair she would be called.
"It is a good thing you were a girl, little Elanor," said Frodo. "I should have hated for you to be burdened with the name of `Frodo.'" Frodo started singing softly to Elanor, songs that Bilbo had taught him in his tweens as he thought back to the day Samwise had named his daughter. He had been honored and touched deeply by Sam's words that he had meant to name his first child Frodo. And yet part of him recoiled from it and wished to distance the goodness of Sam and his family from the evilness that he felt had invaded him, changed him. Frodo thought sadly on the very fact that he had been distancing himself from Shire and, of late of Sam, his family, Merry, and Pippin. As the time grew nearer for him to leave, he emotional had started preparing for the separation even though he knew he should be embracing every second with them. He tried to focus on the joy of being reunited with Gandalf and Bilbo again, but it didn't diminish the pain of leaving the rest of his loved ones behind. And Frodo knew they all, especially Sam, felt the widening crack between them keenly.
It was then that little Elanor's face broke into a mischievous smile that lit up her eyes. For a moment Frodo imagined that she had understood him, although he realized she was probably just responding to the familiar sound of his voice. It was as if by her smile she was saying that she would have been proud to be named Frodo.
Frodo could not help himself. His own face broke into a half smile and slowly turned into one that mirrored Elanor's. A gentle full-hearted laugh broke out of him, a laugh that Bag End had not heard from its master in a long, long time.
"It's good to hear you laughin' again, Mister Frodo."
Frodo, startled, looked up to see Sam in the doorway. How long he had been standing there, Frodo couldn't rightly say. He feared for a moment that Sam had heard his comment about his name. But from the big, cheerful grin on his face, Frodo felt with relief that he hadn't. Probably he had come in just in time to see Frodo laughing with Elanor in his arms.
Frodo smiled up at Sam. He could tell that seeing joy on his master's face had done much to lift Sam's spirits and to ease his trouble mind. Sam would have done anything for him, whether asked or no, if it would have helped or comforted Frodo in any way. Frodo knew this. He would miss Sam greatly, like a part of him was missing, and yet he knew that here, for now, was where Sam belonged. He belonged here with his daughter and wife, not traipsing off to the Grey Havens with him.
"And how is little Elanor today? I finished up a bit early and made my way back in case anyone should need anythin'."
"She's doing fine. Just fine, Sam," said Frodo as he passed the Elanor over to Sam.
Frodo knew this truth even more fully seeing Elanor in the arms of her loving, doting, and proud, yes proud, father. Samwise Gamgee had journeyed long and far, faced many dangers with his master and Frodo could ask no more of him. He was needed here in the Shire. He was needed here to help rebuild what had been lost. He was needed here to nurture and teach the baby in his arms and all her many siblings soon to come. He was needed here to make certain that the future generations never forgot that which should have never been forgotten. In his tales the sacrifices made by so many heroic people would live on and in that way the people of the Shire would love and cherish their precious freedom all the more. For Sam embodied everything that was best about the Shire and it made Frodo love him, and simultaneously miss him, all the more.
But Frodo knew that the part he had played was over even as he lingered here. He knew it was time, knew that he had to leave, but he allowed himself for this moment, for this one perfect moment, to bask in this happiness, tranquility, and love. The moment was fleeting, as all perfect moments are, but Frodo would think back to this moment often, feeling as he felt right then, long after he had past into the Grey Havens.
Tears began to well up in his eyes as his said, "It's Bilbo's birthday today. He has passed the Old Took."
Frodo's voice must have betrayed him because Sam took his eyes off of his daughter in order to search Frodo's. Concern, as it had been since they embarked on their journey to destroy the one ring, was etched in every line on Sam's face. He did not really see where this was going and so he spoke not a word.
Frodo said wistfully, "I should very much like to see him again for his birthday. I know Rosie and Elanor cannot spare you very long, but I should...I should very much like for you to come with me for part of the journey. Not all the way to Rivendell, just part of the way...." His voice trailed off. He couldn't, he couldn't bring himself to tell Sam that he was leaving. Not just yet. He didn't want to ruin this moment. Frodo was half-afraid Sam's tears and entreaties would convince him to stay. Frodo was wounded too deeply to ever be healed here in Middle Earth. Only in the Grey Havens could the ringbearers find peace, rest.
It was then that Sam's face broke into half a smile. "I'd be happy to go with you. I only wish I could go all the way with you and see dear Bilbo and the elves again, but with Elanor...."
"Thank you, Sam," said Frodo with gratefulness in his heart and sadness as well. At lease for now, the bitter parting could wait. He put on a smile for Sam's benefit.
But even Frodo's smile could not hide the pain that Sam saw in his eyes. He knew something was wrong here, but he couldn't find the words to ask. He wished he could go the full journey with his master and half feared that Frodo might not come back from Rivendale. If Frodo chose to live in Rivendale it wouldn't be the same and Sam would miss him greatly like he was torn in two, but it wasn't as if Frodo was leaving Middle Earth or anything. His Sam could visit him from time to time.
"Hullo!"
"It's Rosie. I'll be back in a second, Mister Frodo."
Frodo watched Sam, cradling his daughter, leave the room to find his wife. He leaned back into the rocking chair and turned his gaze out the window. He wondered what life in the Gray Havens would be like. But mostly he wondered if Sam would ever choose, in the end, after all his work had been done here in the Shire, to join him, across the sea. He hoped he would. He hoped he would.
The End
"Our separation so abides and flies that thou residing here goes yet with me, and I hence fleeing here remain with thee."-William Shakespeare-"Antony and Cleopatra"
"The oldest has borne most: we that are young shall never see so much."-William Shakespeare-"King Lear"
"He that can endure to follow with allegiance a fallen lord does conquer him that did his master conquer and earns a place in the story."-William Shakespeare-"Antony and Cleopatra"
Frodo leaned back in his chair and gave a small sigh. He stuck the end of his quill in his mouth. The sunlight beamed through the window illuminating the words that had taken him so long to write. It was as if in writing his story, their story he mentally corrected himself, he had been forced to relive the horrible events that had taken place on the journey to Mount Doom. That is why it had taken him so long to finish his part. The carefree, happy hobbit that had left the Shire had returned as a mere shadow of his former self. He had been wounded; it would never really heal.
Suddenly, he gasped and clutched at the white jewel around his next. He tried to breath but the pain in his shoulder where the Morgul blade had pierced him two years ago to this day blazed white-hot pain. His eyesight lost focus and it seemed as if the world was spinning around him. His breath was coming in short gasps. He couldn't breathe.
He had hidden the pain from Sam and Rosie the best he could. They had other things to worry about now with the birth of their daughter. He didn't want to bother them, didn't want to be a burden even though he knew through and through that Sam never saw him in that light. Frodo feared that Sam might have suspected something was wrong when he asked him if maybe he should postpone his forestry trip for another time. Frodo had insisted that he go. He would only be gone for a few days and Frodo had plenty of the work on the Red Book to keep him occupied. Sam seemed to doubt him, but went nonetheless.
It was hard, keeping this secret from Sam. He knew Sam would be hurt at not being allowed to help him. That was just the type of hobbit he was, loyal and caring, good-hearted and brave. Just like Bilbo, Merry, and Pippin, a finer hobbit he had never met. But what was worse was the secret calling that grew ever in Frodo's mind. He knew the time was coming, he was growing worse, and soon the bittersweet parting from the Shire would take place. He would miss them all and yet, and yet it would be hardest on Sam. Frodo hoped Sam would be able to forgive him when the time came. He had walked through fire and hell for his master and would be distraught at not being allowed to continue the journey. But he has his own life now thought Frodo at once comforted and sorrowful at the thought.
Through the pain he heard crying and for a wild moment, he thought the sound had flown out of him. He didn't want to alert Rosie to his condition and frighten her. It was then that he remembered that Rosie had told him she was going down to see the old Gaffer for a few moments. Seeing as the baby was sleeping, she had asked if Frodo would keep an ear out for her. He had agreed. The baby, Frodo thought in a moment of even greater panic!
He quickly rushed out of his study and into the baby's room. Leaning over the crib, he beheld the six-month's baby face all scrunched up and crying. It had been so long since he had been around a baby hobbit he almost froze at the thought of what to do. Sam and Rosie had tried to keep the baby away from Frodo because they had thought she might disturb him. Frodo thought it ridiculous. But thoughts of the past were substituted for the present as his pain struggled for prominence in his mind, yet he pushed past it. He released the white jewel that he had held with his four-fingered hand and gently reached down to pick up the baby.
Spying the small rocking chair that Rosie frequently used in the room, Frodo quickly took a seat. He cradled the baby in his arms as he gently rocked her.
"Elanor, sweet Elanor, please don't cry. Uncle Frodo's got you safe now," he whispered.
He wondered what he should do if the child continued to cry, but a few moments later his worry proved unfounded. Slowly the child's face softened and her tears disappeared. She was beautiful. Her dark eyes focused on Frodo's sky blue ones as the two gazed at one another. It was almost like she could see into his very troubled soul. And it was at that moment that Frodo realized that the pain in his shoulder had diminished to such a degree that he hardly felt any pain at all.
Still looking at Elanor, Frodo realized how like her father she already was. Her face was the copy of the mother, but the eyes, the eyes were like his Sam's. He would soon be leaving little Elanor, Sam and Rosie's little sun-star, too when he left the Shire. He would never see her grow up and yet, just for a moment, it was as if he could see far into the future and see the beautiful hobbit lass she would become. She would be as she was now, just like her parents, the inner beauty shining through the outer. Elanor, the Fair she would be called.
"It is a good thing you were a girl, little Elanor," said Frodo. "I should have hated for you to be burdened with the name of `Frodo.'" Frodo started singing softly to Elanor, songs that Bilbo had taught him in his tweens as he thought back to the day Samwise had named his daughter. He had been honored and touched deeply by Sam's words that he had meant to name his first child Frodo. And yet part of him recoiled from it and wished to distance the goodness of Sam and his family from the evilness that he felt had invaded him, changed him. Frodo thought sadly on the very fact that he had been distancing himself from Shire and, of late of Sam, his family, Merry, and Pippin. As the time grew nearer for him to leave, he emotional had started preparing for the separation even though he knew he should be embracing every second with them. He tried to focus on the joy of being reunited with Gandalf and Bilbo again, but it didn't diminish the pain of leaving the rest of his loved ones behind. And Frodo knew they all, especially Sam, felt the widening crack between them keenly.
It was then that little Elanor's face broke into a mischievous smile that lit up her eyes. For a moment Frodo imagined that she had understood him, although he realized she was probably just responding to the familiar sound of his voice. It was as if by her smile she was saying that she would have been proud to be named Frodo.
Frodo could not help himself. His own face broke into a half smile and slowly turned into one that mirrored Elanor's. A gentle full-hearted laugh broke out of him, a laugh that Bag End had not heard from its master in a long, long time.
"It's good to hear you laughin' again, Mister Frodo."
Frodo, startled, looked up to see Sam in the doorway. How long he had been standing there, Frodo couldn't rightly say. He feared for a moment that Sam had heard his comment about his name. But from the big, cheerful grin on his face, Frodo felt with relief that he hadn't. Probably he had come in just in time to see Frodo laughing with Elanor in his arms.
Frodo smiled up at Sam. He could tell that seeing joy on his master's face had done much to lift Sam's spirits and to ease his trouble mind. Sam would have done anything for him, whether asked or no, if it would have helped or comforted Frodo in any way. Frodo knew this. He would miss Sam greatly, like a part of him was missing, and yet he knew that here, for now, was where Sam belonged. He belonged here with his daughter and wife, not traipsing off to the Grey Havens with him.
"And how is little Elanor today? I finished up a bit early and made my way back in case anyone should need anythin'."
"She's doing fine. Just fine, Sam," said Frodo as he passed the Elanor over to Sam.
Frodo knew this truth even more fully seeing Elanor in the arms of her loving, doting, and proud, yes proud, father. Samwise Gamgee had journeyed long and far, faced many dangers with his master and Frodo could ask no more of him. He was needed here in the Shire. He was needed here to help rebuild what had been lost. He was needed here to nurture and teach the baby in his arms and all her many siblings soon to come. He was needed here to make certain that the future generations never forgot that which should have never been forgotten. In his tales the sacrifices made by so many heroic people would live on and in that way the people of the Shire would love and cherish their precious freedom all the more. For Sam embodied everything that was best about the Shire and it made Frodo love him, and simultaneously miss him, all the more.
But Frodo knew that the part he had played was over even as he lingered here. He knew it was time, knew that he had to leave, but he allowed himself for this moment, for this one perfect moment, to bask in this happiness, tranquility, and love. The moment was fleeting, as all perfect moments are, but Frodo would think back to this moment often, feeling as he felt right then, long after he had past into the Grey Havens.
Tears began to well up in his eyes as his said, "It's Bilbo's birthday today. He has passed the Old Took."
Frodo's voice must have betrayed him because Sam took his eyes off of his daughter in order to search Frodo's. Concern, as it had been since they embarked on their journey to destroy the one ring, was etched in every line on Sam's face. He did not really see where this was going and so he spoke not a word.
Frodo said wistfully, "I should very much like to see him again for his birthday. I know Rosie and Elanor cannot spare you very long, but I should...I should very much like for you to come with me for part of the journey. Not all the way to Rivendell, just part of the way...." His voice trailed off. He couldn't, he couldn't bring himself to tell Sam that he was leaving. Not just yet. He didn't want to ruin this moment. Frodo was half-afraid Sam's tears and entreaties would convince him to stay. Frodo was wounded too deeply to ever be healed here in Middle Earth. Only in the Grey Havens could the ringbearers find peace, rest.
It was then that Sam's face broke into half a smile. "I'd be happy to go with you. I only wish I could go all the way with you and see dear Bilbo and the elves again, but with Elanor...."
"Thank you, Sam," said Frodo with gratefulness in his heart and sadness as well. At lease for now, the bitter parting could wait. He put on a smile for Sam's benefit.
But even Frodo's smile could not hide the pain that Sam saw in his eyes. He knew something was wrong here, but he couldn't find the words to ask. He wished he could go the full journey with his master and half feared that Frodo might not come back from Rivendale. If Frodo chose to live in Rivendale it wouldn't be the same and Sam would miss him greatly like he was torn in two, but it wasn't as if Frodo was leaving Middle Earth or anything. His Sam could visit him from time to time.
"Hullo!"
"It's Rosie. I'll be back in a second, Mister Frodo."
Frodo watched Sam, cradling his daughter, leave the room to find his wife. He leaned back into the rocking chair and turned his gaze out the window. He wondered what life in the Gray Havens would be like. But mostly he wondered if Sam would ever choose, in the end, after all his work had been done here in the Shire, to join him, across the sea. He hoped he would. He hoped he would.
The End
"Our separation so abides and flies that thou residing here goes yet with me, and I hence fleeing here remain with thee."-William Shakespeare-"Antony and Cleopatra"
"The oldest has borne most: we that are young shall never see so much."-William Shakespeare-"King Lear"
"He that can endure to follow with allegiance a fallen lord does conquer him that did his master conquer and earns a place in the story."-William Shakespeare-"Antony and Cleopatra"