When all was at last brought ashore and the glad meeting ended, Frodo took Sam aside and said, ‘Well Sam! Are you ready now to explore this place with me? I have so much to show you!’

‘Why yes, Mr. Frodo,’ Sam said. ‘I’m quite ready. You can show me about now, if you’d like.’

Then Frodo took Sam by the hand and led him away over the fields. Sam did not ask where they were going; he was content simply to walk with his master. But he noted that it was the right hand that held his and that the third finger was missing; the thought of it brought tears to his cheeks.

Frodo stopped and looked at him. ‘My dear Sam,’ he said, ‘whatever is the matter?’

‘It’s your hand, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam. ‘I’d thought, somehow, I’d thought it would be healed, and the memory of all that sorrow be gone, if you understand me. It don’t seem right, somehow, for you still to have to bear it.’

Frodo smiled gently and held out his wounded hand to the sun. There was a faint radiance about it, and the skin seemed slightly translucent, so that the light flowed through it like water. Through the gap in his fingers there shone a great brilliance, and Sam had to look away. But Frodo said, ‘I have been healed, Sam. I must always bear the physical scars, and others, too, that maybe you cannot see, for that was the price. We cannot always find again everything that we have given up. The loss is real. But there is joy, too, of another sort, that comes even through loss. And there is healing. Though we cannot perhaps find what we have lost, we may find something other, and greater.’

‘I don’t know if I quite understand you, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam. ‘But I can see you’re happy, right enough. And that cheers my heart. It’s so long since I remember hearing you laugh. And you deserved to be the happiest of us all.’

Frodo laughed at that. ‘Well, Sam,’ he said, ‘whatever I deserved, I have found joy here, and healing, and you will, too. For you also were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. But come! There is much yet to see, and I would show you the gardens of Irmo!’

~*~*~*~

Now the gardens of the Vala Irmo at Lórien are the fairest of all gardens in the wide realm of Arda. They are wide and green, and in them grow all manner of fair things. And there also the mallorn-trees grow, taller and more beautiful than in all Middle-earth, and golden elanor and pale niphredil blossom at their feet. In those gardens it is always spring, and the wood is golden below and golden above, with pillars of silver. And in the midst of Lórien lies the mere of Lórellin, fairest of lakes and filled with many flowers, shaded all about by the great mellyrn, and there is the home of Estë the Gentle, she who brings healing to all wounds and release of sorrow. And it was to this fair realm that Frodo at last brought Sam, after many days wandering in joy across the fields and hills of Valinor. And many of the Elves who had but lately come from Middle-earth went with them also.

Then as they stood upon the borders of that land and gazed upon the golden mallorn-trees and the bright stars of elanor and niphredil scattered across the grass, Frodo turned and looked at Haldir. The Elf spoke no word; wonder and joy were writ across his face. For he had not thought to see the mallorn which he loved ever again beyond the shores of Middle-earth.

When they had walked some time beneath the boughs of the great trees, suddenly Sam gave a cry and pointed away to the West: ‘Why, look there Mr. Frodo!’

There in the midst of the garden was a low hill, and from it arose a mallorn of great size and majesty, but set in the hill at its roots there was a small round door painted green, and a row of cheery round windows looking out from the face of the hill. It was planted all round with flowers of every imaginable shape and colour: lovely roses and clumps of heather, saxifrage, and lobelia, primroses and lilies and fair alfirin,and the bright star-flower, elanor, and clusters of irises planted along the banks of a little stream; and there were many many more whose kinds Sam did not know.

‘It’s a proper hobbit-hole and no mistake, Mr. Frodo,’ he said, ‘and as nice a hole as I’ve ever seen, I might add. But how it got here I don’t guess I’ll ever know.’ And he scratched his head and continued to stare.

But Frodo smiled and said, ‘The Elves built it for Bilbo and me, Sam. And after he left I spent many a day getting it all ready for your coming.’

‘Was it you as planted the garden, then, Mr. Frodo?’ Sam asked.

‘I did,’ said Frodo, ‘though I know you could have done far better. But there, I’ve done the best I can. And I did want it to feel like home for you, when you came.’

‘I do feel home, Mr. Frodo. And I think it’s the most beautiful garden that ever was.’ And Sam burst into tears.