Chapter 6: The Arrival
"Master Gamgee?" a voice called, followed by a knocking on the door. Nephrodel poked his head inside. "We are arriving, sir.. We shall be reaching the shores of Valinor any moment now." Sam stretched languidly and rubbed his bleary eyes.
But the impact of these words suddenly hit him, and he sat bolt upright, then disentangled himself as quickly from the unmade sheets as he could, in a frantic state.
"Almost there! Already? Why, I'm not even dressed proper! I don't know if I'm ready for this, not yet. Oh, but there's no time for that. You'll just have to make yourself ready, in a hurry, there's naught else for it. I wonder what I shall find there."
It was not long before the answer to this question was unveiled. He rushed out onto the deck, eager to watch the onset of his new life. And then, there was the sound of singing, the clear voices of the Elves rang out once more, from far across the expanse of the Sea, and a sound more joyous and moving, Sam could not remember. He felt as if he had suddenly passed into another realm entirely, he could pinpoint the very spot where he had crossed over from his world to his new home with his waking eyes, as if there was a visible barrier separating these two worlds. The overcast skies suddenly dissipated, and for a moment, all was enclosed in a shining silver curtain. And a wonderful fragrance was in the air, and the sun rose on high illuminating Valinor in all its splendor
There they were; the white shores stretching as far as the eye could see, gleaming like immaculate porcelain under the sunrise. And beyond that, the vast, lush country, bursting with verdant foliage, extending far beyond the sight of mortal eyes, rolling on endlessly. The sun reflected brilliantly off the water, catching its many facets and radiating off like dazzling sapphire. All untainted, breath-taking, flawless. A true paradise.
"I'm home…" Sam breathed amazedly.
He didn't dare tear his eyes away from the ever-approaching land, inching closer and closer. He watched as the harbor came into view, there assembled a handful of onlookers, all Elves seemingly, awaiting for their loved ones' arrival. In his mind, Sam had pictured Frodo standing there solely, upon the dock he would disembark on, awaiting him with open arms, ready to invite him back into his life. And the fact that this notion hadn't come to fruition put a bit of a damper on his spirits, but they were certainly not dashed.
But Sam could not discern any faces, only vague forms, outlines of altogether unfamiliar people, and his hope began to slip. He scanned the crowd desperately, searching for the one thing that had really mattered to him now, for someone smaller in stature. And as they edged closer and closer, there was still no sign of what he was looking for. But he hadn't given up yet. Not entirely. It was too soon to ascertain anything. Wasn't it?
Within a few more moments, the boat was a stone's throw away from the pier. No sign of Frodo.
He was crestfallen. His heart sank into the bottommost pit in his stomach.
"So, that's it." he thought to himself. "I'm too late… Either that, or he's forgotten about me." and he quickly wiped a tear away with his sleeve.
But as the Elves began to file out of the ship, something caught his eye. He saw a small figure, walking along the beach, hands buried deeply in his trouser pockets, looking down at his feet as they stepped lightly across the pearly grains of sand. And he looked up suddenly, directly into Sam's face.
And in that moment, which might've been an eternity for all he could tell, time stood still.
"Master Gamgee?" a voice called, followed by a knocking on the door. Nephrodel poked his head inside. "We are arriving, sir.. We shall be reaching the shores of Valinor any moment now." Sam stretched languidly and rubbed his bleary eyes.
But the impact of these words suddenly hit him, and he sat bolt upright, then disentangled himself as quickly from the unmade sheets as he could, in a frantic state.
"Almost there! Already? Why, I'm not even dressed proper! I don't know if I'm ready for this, not yet. Oh, but there's no time for that. You'll just have to make yourself ready, in a hurry, there's naught else for it. I wonder what I shall find there."
It was not long before the answer to this question was unveiled. He rushed out onto the deck, eager to watch the onset of his new life. And then, there was the sound of singing, the clear voices of the Elves rang out once more, from far across the expanse of the Sea, and a sound more joyous and moving, Sam could not remember. He felt as if he had suddenly passed into another realm entirely, he could pinpoint the very spot where he had crossed over from his world to his new home with his waking eyes, as if there was a visible barrier separating these two worlds. The overcast skies suddenly dissipated, and for a moment, all was enclosed in a shining silver curtain. And a wonderful fragrance was in the air, and the sun rose on high illuminating Valinor in all its splendor
There they were; the white shores stretching as far as the eye could see, gleaming like immaculate porcelain under the sunrise. And beyond that, the vast, lush country, bursting with verdant foliage, extending far beyond the sight of mortal eyes, rolling on endlessly. The sun reflected brilliantly off the water, catching its many facets and radiating off like dazzling sapphire. All untainted, breath-taking, flawless. A true paradise.
"I'm home…" Sam breathed amazedly.
He didn't dare tear his eyes away from the ever-approaching land, inching closer and closer. He watched as the harbor came into view, there assembled a handful of onlookers, all Elves seemingly, awaiting for their loved ones' arrival. In his mind, Sam had pictured Frodo standing there solely, upon the dock he would disembark on, awaiting him with open arms, ready to invite him back into his life. And the fact that this notion hadn't come to fruition put a bit of a damper on his spirits, but they were certainly not dashed.
But Sam could not discern any faces, only vague forms, outlines of altogether unfamiliar people, and his hope began to slip. He scanned the crowd desperately, searching for the one thing that had really mattered to him now, for someone smaller in stature. And as they edged closer and closer, there was still no sign of what he was looking for. But he hadn't given up yet. Not entirely. It was too soon to ascertain anything. Wasn't it?
Within a few more moments, the boat was a stone's throw away from the pier. No sign of Frodo.
He was crestfallen. His heart sank into the bottommost pit in his stomach.
"So, that's it." he thought to himself. "I'm too late… Either that, or he's forgotten about me." and he quickly wiped a tear away with his sleeve.
But as the Elves began to file out of the ship, something caught his eye. He saw a small figure, walking along the beach, hands buried deeply in his trouser pockets, looking down at his feet as they stepped lightly across the pearly grains of sand. And he looked up suddenly, directly into Sam's face.
And in that moment, which might've been an eternity for all he could tell, time stood still.