Chapter 5: Journey Across the Sea
(a/n: It's not over yet folks! And btw, thank you to my reviewers for all the lovely feedback. Hope you're enjoying reading it just as much as I enjoy writing it!)
Any of Sam's former apprehension of boats had vanished as soon as he had set sail for Valinor. Never in all of his life had he taken a journey so splendid, so invigorating, and certainly none so remedial as this final journey he had embarked on.
The sound of voices singing, voices so beautiful it filled all his soul with a warmth and richness, and a strikingly uplifting sense of contentment…completeness ….It seemed that the words flowed through his very veins, it made the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end, and blanketed him in a feeling of everlasting serenity. He stared out straight ahead of him, under the cover of the night sky, arms resting lazily over the side of the ship, and there was a penetrating look in his eyes, though he saw nothing in front of him.
One of the Elves caught sight of him, and smiled to himself, and addressed him with kind words.
"Master Gamgee, sir? I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you, but I expect you must be feeling quite tired, and your bed is waiting for you."
Sam looked up at him, still immersed in the moment, and the clear voices singing above the din of the sea.
"Thank you, sir, I think I'll do just that. Lead the way, if you will." and he bowed respectfully, not having lost his sense of propriety, even in this entranced state. No sooner had he laid himself down in his bed was Sam cast into a peaceful, untroubled sleep.
The next day, Sam woke greatly refreshed; indeed he walked with a certain buoyancy in his step, and he whistled merrily as he went. Strength and vigor returned to each limb, in such a way as was beyond his reckoning. He hadn't a care in the world that could break this jovial mood he was in. He almost marveled at how resilient his heart had become overnight, all things considered.
"They don't call them the Undying Lands for nothing, do they?" he said to himself, shaking his head, wistfully.
"Why, I feel as if I'm in the prime of my youth, in a manner of speaking."
As he mad his away across the deck, to watch the panoramic beauty of the Sea, he caught sight of the Elf who had escorted him to his bedroom the night before, and said,
"Begging your pardon, sir? I just wanted to thank you for treatin' me so kindly yesterday, but I realized that I never learned your name, and yet somehow you knew mine. And, well, I was just a bit curious, is all, and I thought I might ask, if I may make so bold."
"Certainly, Master Samwise. My name is Nephrodel. I was asked by Cirdan to keep an eye out for you, in especial. And I knew why when he told me your name. For you see, although Men may forget their history within the span of a few years, my people have not soon forgotten your name, nor the deeds of unsurpassable valor you have done for the sake of Middle-earth."
Sam's face turned to a deep crimson, and he was quite at a loss for words after receiving such praise, and this coming from what he thought to be one of the most praise-worthy beings that walked the earth.
"But come!" Nephrodel continued, conscious of Sam's humble temperament. "The sun is newly risen, and there is a certain change in the air. You feel it, too, don't you? Perhaps the Sea holds the answer to what you wonder…" and he left Sam with that cryptic message, and excused himself politely, leaving Sam in a puzzled curious state. He had wondered indeed, at the change that had overcome him. He mulled the Elf's words over, and went to the ship's edge.
He peered out cautiously over the side of the ship, peering into the crystalline water below, still deep in thought, and nearly staggered backwards in utter shock. Staring up back at him was a Sam years younger than the one he had woken up to each morning for many, many years. His hair was restored to it's former healthy golden-brown, he looked his hands over, now free of wrinkles and age spots, then slowly reached up to his face, and was awe-stricken by the feel of his smooth, pristine skin.
Only the wisdom of his years was retained in his deep brown eyes.
His body and soul were revitalized; the healing process had begun.
For the remainder of his voyage, he anticipated his coming to Valinor. He realized that he hadn't quite prepared himself for it, hadn't readied his heart for what was in store. He had temporarily forgotten that after storm-clouds pass, no matter how destructive the storm may be, there is always sunshine. After all his suffering, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel, and ff the departure had been bitter, he knew at least the arrival would be blessed.
He busied himself with his memories: memories of Frodo. Memories that for so long he tried to contain within himself as best he could, so as not let his emotions get the better of him, he now embraced freely, letting them flood back into his head full-force. He almost coerced himself into remembering every detail: the way he would look upon his master's sleeping face before waking him each morning in Bag End, how he had been beside himself with worry (and beside his master's bed as well) waiting for Frodo to recuperate after the terrifying attack on Weathertop. He remembered grasping onto his master's hand for dear life as he rescued him from the waters of The Anduin, the very river he had doused himself in, out of self-sacrifice. He even allowed himself to think of Mordor, their most desperate, hopeless, and blackest of hours. How he willingly gave Frodo more than his share of food and water, refusing to yield to his own parched mouth and empty stomach. He thought about cradling his dear master in his arms when finding him in the loathsome Tower of Cirith Ungol. The mere thought of Shelob make his stomach turn with a sudden dread, even after all of these years after the fact. He could never erase the terrible image of Frodo's deadly-pale face, eyes blank and distant, not the faintest vestige of life remaining in his still body, from his mind, no matter how hard he tried.
He remembered last of all, and most vividly, how he had watched the very ship he was standing on bear his master away from him, for what he thought would be forever. He remembered feeling that with that ship that had carried away Frodo, a piece of him had been carried away irretrievably; leaving him with an empty void he could never really fill. With Frodo's passing, Sam had almost convinced himself that Frodo had truly passed away, to a place that was far beyond his reach, that his departure was fixed, and their ties of friendship and love had forever been severed. Then a dark, dismal notion came into Sam's meandering thoughts.
"What if he really is gone? Gone for good? Surely, people can't go on living forever, no matter what land they live in, undying or no. And who'd really want to anyway? Maybe he couldn't wait no longer for me. And I'm getting my hopes up like this for nothing. Maybe I made a mistake in coming here, after all." But he pushed these thoughts aside, as best as he could.
"Now it's no good thinking like that, Sam Gamgee. Here you were, feeling on top of the world not more'n a few moments ago. And all you can think of now is the worst. He'll be there, he just has to. He wouldn't-a left without his Sam. Not without seeing his Sam one last time. Not the Mr. Frodo I knew. Yes, I reckon he'll have held on. I got to believe that. I wouldn't stand for it any other way." he thought determinedly, but no matter how many times he tried to convince himself, he still couldn't completely be rid of the gnawing doubt in the back of his mind that slowly ate away at his optimism.
That night, as he was lulled by the sounds of the Sea, being rocked gently by the waves, Sam found himself drifting away in his bed, imminent sleep creeping over him. The lovely satin blankets caressed his skin, and his head sunk into the feather-pillow as soft and airy as a cloud. He closed his eyes dreamily… And a strange sensation crept over him, and he reopened them.
There was Rose, standing there right by the foot of his bed, dressed all in a delicate gown of flowing white, Her hair was arranged around her face in an array of golden locks.. and there were flowers in her hair, and she was smiling… Her dainty feet seemed to barely even touch the mortal ground, rather they floated gracefully, and she glided whenever she moved. Her radiance was so perceptible---, she seemed to emanate a shining white glow, like a glimmering lantern in the night -- like the light of Earendil in it's glittering star-glass. Sam stared in awe, taking in every last bit of her…He could scarcely remember a time where she had looked so beautiful.. So beautiful she seemed ethereal, transcending anything he had seen in all of Middle-earth.
"Sam, my sweet Sam." her voice echoed into his ears. She lifted her outstretched lily-white fingers towards him, and stroked the side of his cheek. At her touch, Sam felt an inexplicably wonderful sensation well up inside of him, and he began to cry.
"Rosie.. Oh, my Rose, you're here, you're really here.. Here with me again. But how? "
"Sam, I've always been with you. And I always will be with you. Right here." she said, placing a hand over his chest. "Where it counts."
"Oh Rosie… why didn't I see it before.."
"It's all right, Sam. No more tears."
"Rosie… you don't, you don't hold me at fault? For leaving, do you? I could-a sworn I heard you speak to me when… when I was trying to tell you. Rose?" but she merely smiled at him, and it was all the answer he needed. Before he could speak with her any further, the next things he knew, she had vanished without a trace.
(a/n: It's not over yet folks! And btw, thank you to my reviewers for all the lovely feedback. Hope you're enjoying reading it just as much as I enjoy writing it!)
Any of Sam's former apprehension of boats had vanished as soon as he had set sail for Valinor. Never in all of his life had he taken a journey so splendid, so invigorating, and certainly none so remedial as this final journey he had embarked on.
The sound of voices singing, voices so beautiful it filled all his soul with a warmth and richness, and a strikingly uplifting sense of contentment…completeness ….It seemed that the words flowed through his very veins, it made the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end, and blanketed him in a feeling of everlasting serenity. He stared out straight ahead of him, under the cover of the night sky, arms resting lazily over the side of the ship, and there was a penetrating look in his eyes, though he saw nothing in front of him.
One of the Elves caught sight of him, and smiled to himself, and addressed him with kind words.
"Master Gamgee, sir? I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you, but I expect you must be feeling quite tired, and your bed is waiting for you."
Sam looked up at him, still immersed in the moment, and the clear voices singing above the din of the sea.
"Thank you, sir, I think I'll do just that. Lead the way, if you will." and he bowed respectfully, not having lost his sense of propriety, even in this entranced state. No sooner had he laid himself down in his bed was Sam cast into a peaceful, untroubled sleep.
The next day, Sam woke greatly refreshed; indeed he walked with a certain buoyancy in his step, and he whistled merrily as he went. Strength and vigor returned to each limb, in such a way as was beyond his reckoning. He hadn't a care in the world that could break this jovial mood he was in. He almost marveled at how resilient his heart had become overnight, all things considered.
"They don't call them the Undying Lands for nothing, do they?" he said to himself, shaking his head, wistfully.
"Why, I feel as if I'm in the prime of my youth, in a manner of speaking."
As he mad his away across the deck, to watch the panoramic beauty of the Sea, he caught sight of the Elf who had escorted him to his bedroom the night before, and said,
"Begging your pardon, sir? I just wanted to thank you for treatin' me so kindly yesterday, but I realized that I never learned your name, and yet somehow you knew mine. And, well, I was just a bit curious, is all, and I thought I might ask, if I may make so bold."
"Certainly, Master Samwise. My name is Nephrodel. I was asked by Cirdan to keep an eye out for you, in especial. And I knew why when he told me your name. For you see, although Men may forget their history within the span of a few years, my people have not soon forgotten your name, nor the deeds of unsurpassable valor you have done for the sake of Middle-earth."
Sam's face turned to a deep crimson, and he was quite at a loss for words after receiving such praise, and this coming from what he thought to be one of the most praise-worthy beings that walked the earth.
"But come!" Nephrodel continued, conscious of Sam's humble temperament. "The sun is newly risen, and there is a certain change in the air. You feel it, too, don't you? Perhaps the Sea holds the answer to what you wonder…" and he left Sam with that cryptic message, and excused himself politely, leaving Sam in a puzzled curious state. He had wondered indeed, at the change that had overcome him. He mulled the Elf's words over, and went to the ship's edge.
He peered out cautiously over the side of the ship, peering into the crystalline water below, still deep in thought, and nearly staggered backwards in utter shock. Staring up back at him was a Sam years younger than the one he had woken up to each morning for many, many years. His hair was restored to it's former healthy golden-brown, he looked his hands over, now free of wrinkles and age spots, then slowly reached up to his face, and was awe-stricken by the feel of his smooth, pristine skin.
Only the wisdom of his years was retained in his deep brown eyes.
His body and soul were revitalized; the healing process had begun.
For the remainder of his voyage, he anticipated his coming to Valinor. He realized that he hadn't quite prepared himself for it, hadn't readied his heart for what was in store. He had temporarily forgotten that after storm-clouds pass, no matter how destructive the storm may be, there is always sunshine. After all his suffering, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel, and ff the departure had been bitter, he knew at least the arrival would be blessed.
He busied himself with his memories: memories of Frodo. Memories that for so long he tried to contain within himself as best he could, so as not let his emotions get the better of him, he now embraced freely, letting them flood back into his head full-force. He almost coerced himself into remembering every detail: the way he would look upon his master's sleeping face before waking him each morning in Bag End, how he had been beside himself with worry (and beside his master's bed as well) waiting for Frodo to recuperate after the terrifying attack on Weathertop. He remembered grasping onto his master's hand for dear life as he rescued him from the waters of The Anduin, the very river he had doused himself in, out of self-sacrifice. He even allowed himself to think of Mordor, their most desperate, hopeless, and blackest of hours. How he willingly gave Frodo more than his share of food and water, refusing to yield to his own parched mouth and empty stomach. He thought about cradling his dear master in his arms when finding him in the loathsome Tower of Cirith Ungol. The mere thought of Shelob make his stomach turn with a sudden dread, even after all of these years after the fact. He could never erase the terrible image of Frodo's deadly-pale face, eyes blank and distant, not the faintest vestige of life remaining in his still body, from his mind, no matter how hard he tried.
He remembered last of all, and most vividly, how he had watched the very ship he was standing on bear his master away from him, for what he thought would be forever. He remembered feeling that with that ship that had carried away Frodo, a piece of him had been carried away irretrievably; leaving him with an empty void he could never really fill. With Frodo's passing, Sam had almost convinced himself that Frodo had truly passed away, to a place that was far beyond his reach, that his departure was fixed, and their ties of friendship and love had forever been severed. Then a dark, dismal notion came into Sam's meandering thoughts.
"What if he really is gone? Gone for good? Surely, people can't go on living forever, no matter what land they live in, undying or no. And who'd really want to anyway? Maybe he couldn't wait no longer for me. And I'm getting my hopes up like this for nothing. Maybe I made a mistake in coming here, after all." But he pushed these thoughts aside, as best as he could.
"Now it's no good thinking like that, Sam Gamgee. Here you were, feeling on top of the world not more'n a few moments ago. And all you can think of now is the worst. He'll be there, he just has to. He wouldn't-a left without his Sam. Not without seeing his Sam one last time. Not the Mr. Frodo I knew. Yes, I reckon he'll have held on. I got to believe that. I wouldn't stand for it any other way." he thought determinedly, but no matter how many times he tried to convince himself, he still couldn't completely be rid of the gnawing doubt in the back of his mind that slowly ate away at his optimism.
That night, as he was lulled by the sounds of the Sea, being rocked gently by the waves, Sam found himself drifting away in his bed, imminent sleep creeping over him. The lovely satin blankets caressed his skin, and his head sunk into the feather-pillow as soft and airy as a cloud. He closed his eyes dreamily… And a strange sensation crept over him, and he reopened them.
There was Rose, standing there right by the foot of his bed, dressed all in a delicate gown of flowing white, Her hair was arranged around her face in an array of golden locks.. and there were flowers in her hair, and she was smiling… Her dainty feet seemed to barely even touch the mortal ground, rather they floated gracefully, and she glided whenever she moved. Her radiance was so perceptible---, she seemed to emanate a shining white glow, like a glimmering lantern in the night -- like the light of Earendil in it's glittering star-glass. Sam stared in awe, taking in every last bit of her…He could scarcely remember a time where she had looked so beautiful.. So beautiful she seemed ethereal, transcending anything he had seen in all of Middle-earth.
"Sam, my sweet Sam." her voice echoed into his ears. She lifted her outstretched lily-white fingers towards him, and stroked the side of his cheek. At her touch, Sam felt an inexplicably wonderful sensation well up inside of him, and he began to cry.
"Rosie.. Oh, my Rose, you're here, you're really here.. Here with me again. But how? "
"Sam, I've always been with you. And I always will be with you. Right here." she said, placing a hand over his chest. "Where it counts."
"Oh Rosie… why didn't I see it before.."
"It's all right, Sam. No more tears."
"Rosie… you don't, you don't hold me at fault? For leaving, do you? I could-a sworn I heard you speak to me when… when I was trying to tell you. Rose?" but she merely smiled at him, and it was all the answer he needed. Before he could speak with her any further, the next things he knew, she had vanished without a trace.