Hello all, the long awaited ending of my story is finally here. Thank you all for coming on this fantastic journey with me. My new story Everlasting will, to some extent, carry on this story, but there will not be a sequel as such. Please enjoy the last chapter. I will warn you now, if you have found yourself with tears in your eyes throughout any of my chapters, this is the one you will be needing the tissues for.

Thank you to everybody who has been an inspiration, a reviewer, or an avid reader, the story would not be here were it not for each and every one of you out there.

OO

Memories of a Gardener

By Michelle Frodo

Chapter 17- The Beginning

OO

It was going to rain. Sam could smell it on the air. It was one of the many gifts that Gaffer Gamgee had passed onto his youngest son. If Sam had concentrated long and hard enough, he could have told you how much time before the first drops fell, and made a good guess at how long the storm would last. But for now, Sam wasn't interested in the weather.

It was late. Sam wasn't sure of the time. He had been sat by the bedside of his beloved Rosie for the best part of three days. There was nothing the doctor could do. Simply old age. Nothing he could do. Nothing.

It was likely that she wasn't going to make it through the night. Sam held his beloved's hand, feeling helpless and empty.

"Rosie" Sam stuttered, the only word he felt would ever leave his throat. He stroked her hand softly. Wrinkled hands, held within his own. They had both grown old over the last few years. But to Sam, his Rosie was still as beautiful as the day they had danced at Bilbo's party.

Slowly, Rose opened her eyes. They had lost their usual sparkle. The colour had faded, no longer a haunting shade of brown. She turned to look at Sam, who had tears running out of his own eyes.

"Sam" Rosie uttered in a soft voice, hardly loud enough to be heard, but to Sam it was the most beautiful sound that had passed his ears.

"Sam, promise me you won't go? Not yet, wait. Wait for me Sam."

"Listen to me Rosie, I ain't goin' nowhere. I'm here, right by your side. I'm not goin' to leave you."

"No you're not" Rose answered, "But I'm goin' to leave you. And when I do, then I want you to go. I know you've been waiting Sam, but you won't wait much longer now."

"Oh Rosie.." Sam began, but Rosie held one withered finger to his lips. It was true, Sam could not deny that for weeks now, he had felt that it was time for him to go. But he hadn't been ready to leave.

He had missed Frodo, missed him more then he ever thought possible. He needed him here, now, more then ever. But Frodo wasn't there, never was he to walk the fields of the Shire again.

And now, in his greatest hour of need, Sam was alone.

He held Rosie's hand, touched her forehead, and offered what small comfort old gardener's hands could. But it wasn't enough. Shortly after Rosie saw her last sunrise, and heard her last morning bird, Sam had to say another goodbye.

The hardest one.

XX

Sam sorted his affairs. He handed everything he owned over to his eldest son, as is Shire custom. He walked down the hall way of Bag End for the last time. Every room, every object, every smell bringing back memories of the happy years spent within it's walls. Picking up his bag, he walked out of the round green front door, and shut it behind him. He walked down the garden path. Taking it one step at a time. So much to leave behind.

Sam stopped before he reached the gate, and looked over his shoulder. His mind recalled every single knock on that door, whether it had been Gandalf or some strange traveller wanting to talk to Bilbo. Himself wanting to speak with Frodo. Merry and Pippin, long after the quest had been completed. His Little Elanor and her friends wanting a glass of milk. Elanor and all of Sam's other children calling with their families.

So many knocks on the door. In fact, the more Sam thought about it, the more it seemed possible to tell his whole story through knocks at the door. What was it Bilbo had once said?

I sit beside the fire and think

Of people long ago,

And people that will see a world

That I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think

Of times there were before,

I listen for returning feet

And voices at the door.

Now, there was just one more step on his journey. Another goodbye.

XX

As he walked up the path to his daughter's house, Elanor met him at the gate.

"You're leavin'?" she asked, though she had already guessed the answer. Sam merely nodded. "I don't want you to go." She said, laying her head on her father's old strong shoulder and embracing him.

"I have to go." Sam said, kissing the top of her head of soft shiny curls.

"Will you be comin' back?" Elanor asked, pulling away from him.

"No. You and your brothers and sisters have all grown up and left home. You have families of your own now; I'm not needed here any more. Your mother has gone, there is no longer anythin' to keep me here."

"Da', I can't, I can't do it. I can't let you go."

Sam pulled his daughter into a tight hug, and she sobbed on his shoulder. He handed Elanor a parcel, wrapped in brown paper. "This is for you, and for your children, and your children's children." Elanor nodded, accepting the package without a word.

"This is my very last goodbye Flower." Sam said, stroking her cheek softly, and embracing his daughter for the last time.

Then he set off, before he changed his mind. He was leaving it all behind.

Elanor stood on the top of the hill, watching him walk away. Away from her, away from the Shire, away from Middle Earth. It hurt; she had lost both of her parents now.

Her hands were shaking so badly; Elanor opened the parcel her father had left her, to give her something else to think about. Inside was the red book. There and back again, a Hobbits Tale, by Bilbo Baggins. The Downfall of The Lord of the Rings and the Return of the King, by Frodo Baggins. Elanor wept quietly as she brushed her fingers over the smooth leather covering. She had never been allowed more then the briefest glance before, having always heard the stories from Sam himself.

Now she suddenly knew that her father had left for good. He would no longer have the chance to tell his story. She was the eldest Gamgee left. The only one to know.

It was down to her to make sure her father, Frodo, and their great adventure were never forgotten.

XX

Stood on the deck of the great elven ship, the wind blowing through his hair, Sam inhaled the salty sea smell. He didn't think he would ever tire of this. Though he had hated water of any sort before, he found the sea a wonderful place for thinking. Sam reached under the collar of his shirt, and pulled out a star shaped jewel on the end of a glittering silver chain. The Star of the Dundain, Strider's last gift to him. Sam fingered it between his fingers. It was so beautiful, that he felt he was really too small and insignificant to be worthy of such an elaborate gift. He let it drop round his neck, and continued to stare at the horizon.

A dark haired elf came to stand beside him, also looking out to sea.

"Can you see it Master Gamgee?"

"See what?" Sam asked, taking his eyes off the magnificent view, and looking up at the elf.

"The shore line. If you look yonder, you can see the shore of the great realm of Valinor." And when Sam turned his attention back over the edge of the rail, he could see, as though unveiled by some great curtain, the white cliffs of the elven realm.

The ship continued to laze its way through the waves, in no particular hurry. But as the shore grew closer, Sam squinted his eyes tight, and almost imagined that he could see a blurry vision of someone stood on the edge of the beach.

Someone stood waiting for him.

He smiled.

The story back home would go on, but Sam would no longer be a part of it.

Sam had his own story to finish.

And so with the end of that story, comes the end of this story.

Or just maybe, the beginning of another, that these words do not tell of.

If you take my meanin'.