by Talisha Hibdon
RATING: PG (future NC-17)
PAIRING: Frodo/Sam
DISCLAIMER: The disclaimer telling you that I don't own Frodo or Sam or any of Tolkien's world was eaten by Smeagol. =D
SUMMARY: A drama in the works. Frodo decides to return to Middle-earth to try and find new meaning for his life without the hope of ever having Sam's love. But is there really no hope?
NOTES: This fic may take a LONG time to write. I've no clue how many chapters there will be, but this fic WILL be long. Have patience and you will be rewarded! ^_^ All feedback welcome, especially as this fic is still in the drafting stages.
SPOILERS: If you have not read the Return of the King, or at least know how LOTR is going to end, you probably shouldn't read this fic, that is unless you peeps like spoilers, like I do. ^.~
The Lady of Night walked the world with silent footfalls, the stars shimmering like jewels off her dresses. Where she moved, creatures grew still and trees sighed. Rest was in her voice and it whispered of promised bliss to all weary ears. Her soft, lilting song of sleep, however, did not reach the Hobbit that night as the Teleri ship passed like mist over the waters of the Sundering Sea. His eyes, blue like moonlight reflected off clear, life giving lakes, searched the sea line unceasingly for a sight of green, solid earth, of Middle-earth.
Gandalf came upon him without sound, yet Frodo could feel his presence without turning round to see him. Ever he looked outward toward the horizon, as if waiting for an omen or some sign to confirm some secret pondering or belief. They stood in silence for a long while, two old friends, both so very different from the other, and yet to seemingly be the same in many surprising aspects, both being grim of face and grave in countenance.
"What aught I to have done, Gandalf?" Frodo asked suddenly, breaking the thick quiet which had momentarily hung between them like a dank fog. The uncertainty of years had come back to Frodo with full force as they neared the mainland from which he had once fled.
Gandalf sighed, feeling very old, and leaned upon his staff as if he needed it's support. He of course knew what Frodo was thinking about, but it didn't make the answer that much easier. "I think, Frodo, that you did what you felt was the right thing to do at the time, and what needed doing."
"But you feel that I could have done something else, taken a wiser course of action.."
"Nay. If you had chosen to do anything other than what you have done, things might have turned out for the worst, and no one would have been spared of any worry or trouble, but would have been granted heartache that might have been far worse than what you are feeling now.."
"So there is really no way to win in this, is there? Either way, someone is bound to get hurt..."
"I didn't say that," Gandalf turned to look down at the Hobbit for the first time since their conversation started. Frodo looked up and the wizard saw dampness on his cheeks and a shimmer in his ever blue eyes. How much time would have passed in Aman, he wondered briefly, before those tears would eventually run out, along with all that was vulnerable and good within? "Action may not always bring happiness, Frodo, but there is no happiness without action. All choices have a chance of proving ill, but nothing happens in life that won't later prepare us for what is to come. If you had chosen to do nothing but sit at your study in Bag End for the rest of your life, both you and he would never have known true joy again."
"But I haven't known joy in any case, Gandalf," Frodo bit out, his tone full of bitterness unveiled.
"Then that is the question you should be asking yourself," Gandalf said firmly. "Whose happiness were you considering most when you chose to leave Middle-earth all those years ago?"
This caused Frodo's tears to dry up almost instantly. "Sam's...." It was barely a whisper.
Gandalf knelt down to bring himself to eye level with his hurting friend. "Then you should have naught to be sorry for or to regret, my dear hobbit. You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have truly lived are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love."
Frodo stared into the care worn face and felt that his heart might simply squeeze itself into a knot and choke at the conflicting emotions raging within. "It just... Gandalf, it hurts...."
"It will, my friend," Gandalf nodded sagely, taking one of his shoulders and squeezing it in an effort to comfort. "That's one of the prices that comes with caring deeply about someone. Sometimes it will hurt. That's how you know it's real. But you may find comfort in knowing as you may be hurting, you have also spared him such pain."
"That's the only comfort I have in this whole wretched business.." Frodo looked at him for a moment, doubt and pain mingled in his azure eyes, biting his lip red. "Oh, Gandalf!" the Hobbit nearly wailed at last and he quickly stepped up to wrap fling his arms around the Maia's neck, hugging his friend and sometime teacher. Gandalf took it all in stride and held his small form loosely with one arm, patting his shivering back gently. "Why ever am I going back?"
"That is something that only you yourownself can discover," Gandalf intoned. "Perhaps you go to find an answer to that, Frodo. You go to find where your heart lies, where your home may be. And in the knowledge that you have come home at last you may, perhaps, find the peace you have so longed for."
The sight of green earth creeping closer upon the horizon was unseen through the blur in Frodo Baggins' vision as he gratefully took in comfort for the last time from Gandalf the White.
"That's all I want, Gandalf... That's all I could ever hope for..."
Why again?
Warmth spread over him like liquid light, caressing like a lover's hand, blinding as the sun in all her glory. Light as a feather on summer breeze he felt, glorious and fair. And he knew, even as the warmth slowly became even warmer, he knew it was all because of the eyes that gazed at him with such profound love and care, that it made him weep to look at their blue depths.
Why must you torment me like this?
Then he knew that the caressing he felt on his body was indeed from a lover's hand, soft and sure upon him, worshipping him with every touch. The wonder of it, of feeling those hands that he had known so long and held with such reverence feeling and knowing him with palms and fingertips, was almost too agonizingly beautiful to describe in words. The gaze of blue never left his as the feeling of moist heat traced upon his flesh, leaving a trail of fire in it's wake.
Oh please... I can't bear it...
Then he knew that the moist warmth was indeed a lover's lips, pressing onto his own, coaxing them into a gasp of long unfulfilled desire and want. Arms wrapped round him like a prayer, and his soul sang that prayer with the greatest sorrow and joy ever imagined. That same tongue which had spoken so kindly to him for as long as he could remember now with heated caresses spoke to his own of passion and love too great to endure. The warmth against his skin was now a burning heat that he never wanted to have cooled. Blue eyes burned into his with a deep fire.
So beautiful...
Then he knew the burning heat on his skin was indeed a lover's skin as well, pressing against him with an urgency he had not the will to ignore. Slick and yielding flesh that was too irresistible to go untasted was soon being given it's own due worship with his hands and mouth. To have it go on like this forever would be more Heaven than he thought he could possibly bear without breaking to pieces. He felt that he would shatter in any case if he didn't at that moment obey the demand of his body and of those searing azure eyes.
I don't want to leave...
Then he knew that suddenly, before both their desires could be fulfilled, that lover was gone, like a mist dispersed on the wind. The ache in his belly turned into a wrenching pain of lose and unappeased need, causing him to double over. Cold replaced the heat of the moment before and wetness was felt on his cheeks as he turned about, looking wildly for the only being who could ever bring true warmth and light back to his life again.
Don't leave me again...
Then he knew that the cold had indeed come from water, deep water that swallowed him whole with it's white foam embrace. Gazing up, he saw the shimmering blue of some light above the surface of the water, too far away for him to ever reach. The blue was like the eyes that had loved him so deeply, and he felt that his heart had been torn in two as he simply floated, weightless yet heavy at the same time. No lover's hand came to pull him out and save him from drowning in this sea of grief.
Frodo!
Samwise jolted up, gasping for lost breath and earth brown eyes wondering about the room wildly until he realized where he was. Rose lay with her back to him, still snoring in blissful slumber. The morning was just lightening and it's cool light filtered in through the drawn curtains of the window of the master bedroom of Bag End.
Sam choked back on a sob that wanted to break free from his throat and he bent over, pressing his head into his hands in an effort to regain control of himself. How many mornings have I woken up crying, he thought to himself, feeling the tears squeeze their way out of his tightly shut eyes. His body was still very much alive with the desires his dream had conjured up.
Realizing that sleep would never come to him now, he got up, careful not to disturb his sleeping wife, and headed for the washroom. There he heated water for an early morning bath and filled the tub, the whole procedure helping to take his mind off of the dream that had been haunting his sleep for the past fifteen years. But once in the water he could no longer keep the memory of Frodo's love filled eyes from driving him to pained tears.
"Mr. Frodo," Sam murmured softly, "why did you have to leave your Sam like you did. Why? I told you once, didn't I? That I wouldn't be able to bear having you leave me behind, that it would be the death of me. Then why did you think it right to go and leave me behind?"
Now that's not fair, Sam Gamgee, a voice from within scolded him. You know very well that Mr. Frodo was in a lot of hurt and the reason he left was to seek healing over the Sea. It plain selfish to go on thinking about your own wants and needs when his were plainly not being taken care of while he stayed here. You should be pleased in knowing that he's getting the rest he deserves with Elves and Mr. Gandalf.
Shame colored his face red as images from the dream came unbidden to his mind's eye, of holding Frodo in his arms as he never had but had always wished to. How many time had he thought about it in all the years he served Mr. Frodo. Always he would watch him through white rose bushes as he sat on his porch with his full red lips curled around a pipe, his skin appearing white in contrast to his dark hair, making him look far more fair than even the white roses he tended. Always he would dream of striding over to take those lips in a tender, rapturous kiss that would send them both flying into the heavens.
But they only ever turned out to be dreams. Sam would never have dared to actually act on them. So he decided that the dream would simply have to suffice, dream that were without hope of coming true. How he wished sometimes that he could simply stay in those dreams forever. He had no right to think that way, he knew, especially since he was now married fifteen years with nine children and one more along the way.
"Stop dreamin' up all this foolishness," he scolded himself aloud. "It's no use wonderin' on what might have been. He's long gone, and as for you - well, you're still here."
When I aught to be there, with him, came the thought unbidden. Even in Mordor, you knew. You said to yourself, 'Never leave your master, never, never; that's your right rule!' And even Mr. Gandalf and the Elves had said to you, 'Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee!'
"But he was the one who left me," he murmured out loud, tears coming back to sting his eyes so that he had to splash hot bath water on his face to bring himself back to his senses. But instead of calming him, the warmth of the hot water reminded him of the warmth in his dream, and that only caused the tears to flow more freely. With a groan of resignation, he wept into his palms, thinking that he'd better just let it all out and have done with it. "Torn.. torn in two..." he wept, barely coherent. "Frodo..."
But deep down, he knew he'd never be done weeping over the lose of his Master, his friend, his other half.
Frodo Gardner was determined.
Some might have even said he was stubborn.
In any case, he was not going to give up trying to read the Red Book, in spite of his mother's warnings. He had decided that the best course of action was to read a little bit at a time each morning before anyone got up, and be outside to greet his father and ask about gardening so that no one would suspect what he was really up to.
The chill morning air caused Frodo-lad to shiver and wrap his robe tightly around him as he crept silently through the house in the early dawn hour. His dirty blonde hair fell in tangles about his forehead and his bright blue eyes darted this way and that as he passed the doors of his siblings rooms. He could have also sworn that he had heard water splashing from inside the washroom, but who would be taking a bath at this hour of the day? He shook his head and went on.
Coming to the Study room door, he quietly picked the lock open and slipped inside, shutting the door after him. Once he knew that no one had accidentally woken up and seen him, he raced over to the desk where the Red Book always lay, worn from many openings and with many a bookmark stuck between pages. He opened the book eager and just managed to suppress a sneeze as some dust rose to tickle his nostrils.
He was at the part after the Party, when Frodo Baggins, his name's sake, was having the discussion with Gandalf the Grey about the Ring. He read the poem of the One Ring at least ten time, each time the words soundly more evil and ominous in his mind than the last. He wondered briefly what he might have done in Mr. Baggins' stead if the old wizard had just laid the terrible news of the Ring on his own lap.
Probably would have broken down and started blubbering like a baby, he thought.
"What a pity that Bilbo did not stab the vile creature, when he had the chance!" Frodo Baggins said from within the story. The little Gardner couldn't agree more with that sentiment, from all that he had heard about Gollum.
"Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand," Gandalf responded, causing Frodo-lad to pink slightly in the cheeks, as if the wizard himself was scolding him directly and not the Frodo in the book. He read on as Gandalf continued to say, "... do not be too quick to deal out death in judgment. For even the very wise cannot see all ends.... And he is bound up by the fate of the Ring."
Frodo-lad frowned and rubbed his chin in thought. From what he understood about the Ring so far, it seemed to choose it's own master - no, bearer is a better word, because it was really the Maker who was the Master. Was then Frodo Baggins' own fate bound to the Ring's? Was his own father's then bound also? And if it was so, what was going to happen to Mr. Baggins? Would he become wretched and decrepit like Gollum before the end? Is this why everytime some gossiper mentioned "Mad Frodo" and looked at him funny, his father would get a far away, sad look in his eyes, as if he were wishing to be somewhere else?
"Hope nothing happens to Mr. Baggins..." Frodo-lad murmured, reading on. Page after page turned and it was with increasing wonder that the lad continued to read as the Frodo in the book grew more solemn in manner and took it upon himself to bear the One Ring, alone. How brave of him, he thought, feeling an odd sense of pride in knowing that the person he was named after had such a courageous heart. I'll bet he won't turn out like that slinking Gollum, whatever the Ring does, he thought with a decisive nod.
It was just at the part where Sam, his own father, was being pulled up by the ears by Gandalf, when he heard a noise in the room. The lad whirled around and his blue eyes widened to see his little sister Goldilocks standing there, in little pink robe, giggling at him.
"You're not supposed to be here," she said, hazel eyes full of mirth.
"How did you get in?" Frodo gasped.
"You didn't close the door all the way."
Frodo-lad moved towards his younger sibling and her eyes widened slightly as she looked past him and saw the open Red Book laying on the desk.
"Goldy, you can't tell anyone about this-"
"Is that Daddy's Book?"
"Yes, but-"
"Mommy's going to throw a fit when she-"
"No!" Frodo winced and covered his mouth, afraid that his outburst might have disturbed someone in the smail. "Goldy, please. You can't tell anyone I've been here, especially Mum."
"Why shouldn't I?" Goldilocks grinned. "You aren't the boss of me."
Frodo-lad bent down to kneel on his heels and look the little girl in the eye. "If you keep this a secret, I'll tell you the stories about the War that I'll read from this book."
"You mean stories about Daddy?" Goldilocks' face lit up.
"Aye, to the very last detail," Frodo reassured, smiling.
"Yay-" Goldilocks started to shout but her older brother quickly clamped his hand over her mouth to silence her. When they were both sure no one had heard them, Frodo-lad let out a sigh and released his sister.
"Come on then, Goldy," Frodo-lad sighed, closing the book gently and putting it back in it's place. "Let's see if Dad is up yet."
Goldilocks took her brother Frodo-lad's hand in a show of childish affection and the two Gardner children crept out of the room as silently as the chill morning wind.
The Hobbit watched in silence as the white ship sailed out of view like a fading dream. He stood alone upon the shores of the Grey Havens, with nothing but a pony laden with food and essentials for a long journey. How every strange it felt to him now, to be standing once more on the other side of the Sea, looking in the opposite direction in which he always looked out from the beaches of the Blessed Realm. The sun rising slowly into the lightening sky, and the birds were already out and about their trees, singing the same song of "Oh sweet Middle-earth, Middle-earth, Middle-earth!" that they had always sung.
"Goodbye then, dear Gandalf," Frodo Baggins whispered to the wind, somehow knowing that the wizard would be able to hear it. "Perhaps we may meet again before all else is over.."
At last he turned about and made ready to prepare some breakfast. He found a clear place to start a campfire and soon found that he was having trouble getting the pile of driftwood he had found to kindle. After almost half an hour of trying, me managed to get a small fire going.
Small though it may have been, the sight of it broke a great deal of pleasure to Frodo and he smiled at the licking red tongues. It had been such a very long time since he had lit his own fire. Too long. When was the last time he had - when he first left Middle-earth? No, it was even before that. Sam had insisted on doing nearly everything for him since even before they returned to the Shire. So when was it? Minas Tirith? No, before that - Mordor?
Frodo frowned at the memory, or rather lack thereof. The whole time he had spent in Mordor has become more like a blur that only cleared in his deepest nightmares. They woud wake him up and leave him screaming in the middle of the night, then left his memory again before he could recall what exactly it was that had frightened him so. But at least he knew that he was completely vulnerable during that time. No indeed, he was hardly in a state to do anything during those long, dark days without end. Sam had done everything for him.
"Must have been since a little time after the breaking of the Fellowship.." he murmured to himself.
Now you must try to realize why having lit his own little fire had in fact meant such a great deal to Mr. Frodo Baggins. It had been so very long since he was given the chance to care for himself, by himself, with no one's help but his own, that it almost seemed to him that he had forgotten how to. The sense of independence was one he had not felt since his younger days, when he used to run out alone to steal Farmer Maggot's mushrooms, back in the days before he met Sam Gamgee and fell in love with the simple gardener's son.
"Nice fire thou hast thyself," came a voice, laughing and sweet from behind him. Frodo's head jerked up and he wheeled round to see a completely unexpected visitor. With long black hair flying wild and blue skin reflecting light from the sun, the Sea Elf-maid that he had met the day before in the middle of the Sundering Seas stood before him on two legs, naked and grinning with pleasure at his dumbfounded expression.
"W-what-" Frodo sputtered out, causing the Sea Elf to throw back her head with a laugh.
"Thou look surprised, little master. Did not I say to thee that we should meet again soon?"
"Y-yes, but - but-"
"Speak not if thy tongue doesn't know what to say," the sea-maid winked and moved to sit by the fire as if she had been invited. For the first time Frodo noticed that she had been carrying a fishing net slung over her shoulder, and in the net was a large supply of freshly caught fish. "I have brought thee some breakfast. Shall we partake?"
Frodo opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out, so he simply nodded. The sea-maid smiled and placed five fish on a stick to cook over the fire. He sat down on a log rather unsteadily, still trying to get used to seeing blue naked lady sitting next to him cooking fish as if this sort of thing was supposed to happen. He drank water from his waterskin hastily, and after many moments of deliberate mental exercises, Frodo was at last able to look at the Sea Elf's form without turning red.
Upon looking closer, Frodo realized that her hair actually wasn't really hair at all, but more of a type of living fiber not unlike the feelers on some insect or coral life. There were thousands of the feeler fibers, curled into an untamed mass of black that from further away appeared to be thick hair. The hair moved at times as if some wind was blowing though it, yet he could tell that it had been of it's own accord.
Glancing down at the Sea Elf's new legs, he made another discovery. Stuck to the blue skin in dried flakes were long pieces of what appeared to by dried up skin, like the old skin a snake might shed, scaled and transparent. Yet the new skin of her legs were not scaled but as smooth as his own, whatever the color may have been.
"Go on, then. Ask me," the voice of the sea-maid, abruptly dragging him out of his pondering and causing him to look wide eyed at the lady, who was currently smiling knowingly.
"What happened to your tail and fins?" Frodo asked more shakily than he meant to, embarrassed that he had been caught staring.
"I shed it," the Sea Elf explained simply, turning the fish over so as to let it cook on the other side. "The tail skin dries in the sun, so it needs to be pulled off before one can walk."
"You mean you've always had legs," Frodo said.
The lady nodded, smiling. "The tail skin forms over them when return to the water. Makes it easier for swimming." She then noticed that he was pointedly looking away from her as she turned round to face him. "What troubles thee, little master?" Then she looked down at herself, puzzled until she realized what was bothering the Hobbit so much. She laughed long and hard when she at last understood, and that only caused Frodo's ears to grow even hotter as his blush deepened.
To save Frodo the embarrassment more than for herself, she reached and took a cloak that had been packed onto the pony among other things and draped it over herself, covering all the parts that counted. Frodo looked exstreemly relieved and at last smiled back at her.
"What's you're name then, fair Sea Elf?" Frodo asked politely.
"Mine is a new name!" she exclaimed, pleased at having been asked. "I gave to myself only last night. I'm called Lune. Like it?"
"It's very nice," Frodo nodded, and made ready to introduce himself. "As for myself, I am-"
"Frodo," Lune finished for him causing him to raise his eyebrows.
"How did you-"
"Thou looks like a Frodo," Lune offered in a matter-of-fact tone. "Does thou not carry a burden still, little master? For that is what thy name means, of course."
Frodo frowned and looked into the fire. "Perhaps I still do."
Lune nodded sagely. "Go ye then to try and lighten the burden? Be that the reason thou has chosen to leave Valinor?"
Frodo sighed and nodded slowly in agreement, bewildered that the Sea Elf seemed to know so much.
"I like my new name," Lune said, suddenly switching gears again. "I spent all day thinking about it yesterday."
"Do you Sea Elves always change your names constantly then?" Frodo asked, glad for the change in subject.
"Only when we change ourselves," she said. "When we change ourselves, we are no longer the people we were, and we must therefore choose new names for our new selves."
"Well, how do your friends know you if you are always changing your name?" Frodo inquired, puzzled.
"They don't. We become different people, and they would have need to meet me and get to know me all over again."
Lune spoke in a cheerful voice, but the meaning of her words had not escaped Frodo's comprehension. There was a quiet, underlying wisdom in the Sea Elf's words. When people change, the people around them did indeed have to learn about the new person and get to know them again. He suddenly felt sure that this was a message meant especially for him, and he looked on the Sea Elf with newfound wonder.
The cat he had woken up to earlier yesterday night showed up then suddenly, to Frodo's blinking astonishment, and rubbed the length of it's body along his legs. The feline purred pleasantly as it staked it's claim on the Hobbit by placing it's scent on him. "What.. Where did you come from, little one?" Frodo asked softly, picking the cat up and holding it gently in his arms. "I'm beginning to think you're following me."
"He wants some fish," Lune said without looking up from the cooking fire.
In spite of the odd nature of his guest, Frodo was actually very glad for the company that morning. They ate breakfast in a comfortable silence, the Sea Elf eating her fish straight from her hands and the cat curled up around his fury feet, feasting on it's own share. Frodo couldn't help being reminded of Gollum and his cravings for fish as he watched the lady make short work of her meal. Her fingers were webbed like a duck and the skin of it stretched like rubber as she picked out needle-like bones. When they were both done, Lune stood up and made ready to leave.
"Thou hast a long journey before thee, does thou not?" Lune reminded when he had asked why she was leaving so soon.
"Yes, I suppose," Frodo sighed, remembering what lay on the end of that journey and hesitant to start.
"Now then," Lune grinned and lifted up the tabby into one hand to look it in the eyes. The cat didn't even squirm in her grasp. "Thou hast the eyes of a god. Thou shalt need a good name." She looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled brightly. "Para! Para, protector. Does thou approve?"
The cat mewed at the sea-maid as if in agreement. Lune smiled and
set the cat on it's feet next to Frodo. "Now don't ye leave him, Para," she commanded, the familiar phrase causing Frodo to nearly stumble as he packed things up. The cat meowed and Frodo imagined that it might have translated to "I don't mean to."
"Thou must come back to the Shore to visit us someday, Master Frodo," Lune said, picking up her net which was still quiet full of fish. She packed some of the fish into one of the bag on the pony for Frodo and Para to eat later.
"Perhaps I might," Frodo said, not at all sure.
"Thou shalt return indeed," Lune decided for him with a laugh. Then she handed him back his cloak and embraced him before he could protest. The smell of salt water and beach flowers tickled his senses and her hair-like fibers shifted near his face, as if feeling and smelling him as well. She pulled away, standing very tall above him, and tousled his normal, curly dark brown hair. "Find thy home, little master, and remember, do not stop singing."
With that, the Sea Elf spun on her blue heels and strode off, back towards to nearby shore, singing a little song as she went.
O Bumbling bright, ye children of light
While Gods are at play,
And Sea Elves laugh and
Sing the day away!
O to play and sing, a glorious sight!
What a joy to hear, lays of love so dear
Such a joyous treat,
to sing and to dance
How lovely and sweet!
Sing then, all ye folk, with true love so clear!
Frodo watched her until she had walked into the sea water and had dived in, and he could just make out the beginnings of her tail reforming around her legs. He shook his head, amused and baffled at the same time, and looked down at the cat, who was now called Para. It meowed up at him, as if asking a question.
"Well, I suppose it's just you and me now, little one," he said, smiling fondly at the feline as he climbed onto the pony. Para leapt up after him and settled into a comfy position on his lap, making ready to nap there. Frodo shook her head again, a light hearted grin spreading on his face as he urged the pony forward.
Things in the Shire may have changed, he pondered as he rode down the Road. Sam may have changed. But then so also have I changed. Lune has the right idea after all. They'll just have to get to know me all over again.
The singing of the birds soon drowned out the cry of the seagulls as the Hobbit took his first steps towards home.