Chapter III: Memory and Loss

And so Sam Gamgee came to dwell once again with his master, and they spent many happy days wandering in bliss about the gardens of Lórien and throughout the wide realm of Valinor. For in that glad place they felt neither age nor care, and they found that they did not tire easily. Occasionally Gandalf would accompany them, and sometimes Haldir or Glorfindel, or the Lady Galadriel, for all the Elves delighted to honour them, but more often they would wander alone, for they had much to tell one another.

Frodo was content for the most part to listen, for he was eager for news of the Shire, and especially of his cousins Merry and Pippin and of Sam’s family. He heard with joy of the glory of the Captains Meriadoc and Peregrin, and of their fame in the lands of Gondor and Rohan, and the joy they had in the Shire, with their wives and children and their many duties. And Sam told him of the births of his many children, and of all their doings throughout childhood, and whom they had married, and the names of their children. And he spoke of reading the Red Book aloud to the children as they gathered about the fire in Bag End, and of the little celebration that was held every year on September the twenty-second, in honor of the Ring-bearers, and of the great festival he had seen in Gondor on the twenty-fifth of March. But most of all he spoke of his dear Rose, and of Elanor left behind at the Havens.

‘Do you know, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam, ‘when she was only fifteen, and I told her how you’d sailed, she said to me, “It must have been very sad for you, Sam-dad, for your treasure went too.” She pierced me right to the heart, if you understand me, so I couldn’t help myself. I told her what you said to me, there at the Havens—so long ago it seems now!—that I could come too, may be, some day, but that I would have to be whole for many years. And I said that I could wait. But do you know what she said to me, Mr. Frodo? She said she wouldn’t be like Lady Arwen, that when I left she’d be coming with me, and we wouldn’t never be separated. But I said that she couldn’t make that choice just then. And, well, look now, Mr. Frodo. Here I am, and she all the way over there, and I’m happy for her, if you understand me, but now I won’t never see her again, nor Rose neither.’ Then Sam put his head in his hands and began to weep.

Frodo halted beside him, and tears were in his own eyes, and he looked with pity at Sam; then he reached out and with his broken hand gently raised Sam’s face to the light. ‘My dearest Sam, friend of friends, of course we shall see them again! And Merry and Pippin and Bilbo too, and so many others, beyond the circles of the world.’ And then Frodo smiled.

But Sam said, ‘Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I don’t know what you mean. Ain’t these the Undying Lands? But Rose, she’s already gone on, if you take my meaning.’

‘I do indeed, Sam,’ said Frodo softly. ‘And these are the Undying Lands, but not for us.’ Then, seeing how Sam’s face changed in fear, Frodo laughed, but his laughter was gentle, and he said, ‘Do not give up hope! It is not for us to despair, Sam Gamgee. For we have walked in the heart of the darkness, and known it to its very depths, and yet were not overcome. And that was because your heart did not quail before the Shadow, but you clung still to hope, even at the very Crack of Doom. And you saw that Shadow for what it is: only a small and passing thing. Then do not let us be overcome at this last test, for beyond the passing shadow of death lies Joy, and a merry meeting beyond the walls of the world. And death is the Gift of Ilúvatar.’

Sam stood silent for a time and gazed at the golden elanor beneath his feet. Then he smiled, and he said, ‘I’m not sure I understand all that, Mr. Frodo, but I do believe it.’ After a moment, he added, ‘Is that what you meant, then, when you said Mr. Bilbo’d gone on, on his last journey?’

‘Yes, he’s gone on, beyond the world,’ said Frodo. ‘He seemed very happy somehow, and peaceful.’

‘I’m glad of that, Mr. Frodo,’ Sam said, but he found nothing else to say.

They walked then for some time in silence, and Sam gazed ever about him in wonder, for though he had been many days in the land of the Valar, all things there are ever new. And in truth Sam could not have said how long he had dwelt there with his master beneath the mallorn of Lórien, for time seemed to have no hold upon the land, and it was utterly without stain.

And after they had gone on for some miles they came upon a circle of birch-trees, old yet hale, and very tall, in the midst of which stretched a fair green lawn. A fountain sprang up, glittering silver beneath the sun, from under the ancient bole of a mighty mallorn at the lawn’s center, and there was spread upon the grass a great array of provision as for a feast. A tall man stood beneath the tree, but they did not know him, for he was clad all in white, and his face shone so that they could not discern it. But suddenly he laughed, and the light about him seemed to be dimmed, as though a veil were cast about it, and they knew him.

‘Gandalf!’ they cried out gladly, and sprang forward. Then Gandalf welcomed them, and invited them to eat with him, and he said, ‘Well, my dear hobbits. You have dwelt now together in the Blessed Realm for nigh on three years. I asked you once before, Frodo, when first you arrived, how it seemed to you, and you replied that here at last you might find rest. And it seems to me that you have indeed, and been blessed beyond measure, and Sam also.’

Frodo did not speak, but his eyes shone, and he smiled. But Sam said, ‘Three whole years! I’d never of guessed it was beyond a few weeks! And yet, somehow, I do feel changed, if you understand me. Healed, you might say, Mr. Gandalf, though not quite the same. Almost I’d say I’m new, like being made all over again, only that don’t make no sense. Still, that’s how it feels, and I can’t explain it no other way.’

‘You’re right, Sam,’ said Frodo. ‘It does feel like that. Or like finding a home you have long known and missed, but never seen.’ Then he looked at Gandalf, and he said, ‘Nei envinyanta.’*

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When their meal was ended, the three rose and walked at length in the soft grass near the fountain, and they wandered about the grove and wondered at its beauty. And as the Sun was sinking beneath the rim of the world, they sat once more at the foot of the great mallorn near the well-spring of the fountain, and each was silent, thinking his own thoughts and watching as the Sun dipped under the last wall of darkness, and the stars of Elbereth appeared one by one in the vault of the sky. A cool wind arose out of the Sea and blew in their hair, and the leaves of the mallorn seemed to sing above their heads, though the hobbits could not understand the song. Sam looked at the stars reflected in the waters of the fountain, and he thought of his dear Rose, and he smiled, for he knew then that he would see her again. He did not know how long he sat there thus, but of a sudden he became aware that beside him Frodo was singing in a soft clear voice, and his face had a far-away look about it, but his eyes were bright. And he sang:

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
Beyond the Moon, beyond the Sun.

His voice faded softly into the darkness, and no one spoke for a time. Each was content simply to sit with the others in quiet joy, and to listen to the soft music of the chirping insects in the grass about their feet. The stars shown above like bright jewels, and Sam remembered the tales of Eärendil and the Silmaril that Bilbo had told him so long ago. And as he was thinking of these things, Frodo turned to him and said, ‘Do you remember, Sam, the star in the darkness of Mordor, and how it shone so beautifully above the tortured land?’

‘I do indeed, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam, ‘but I didn’t know that you’d seen it too. I thought you were asleep, so I’d sat up to watch. But when I saw that star, it put me at ease, somehow, knowing that the darkness couldn’t conquer for ever, and seeing how something so high and beautiful could be even in that terrible place.’

‘Yes,’ said Frodo, ‘I thought of it often, when the darkness came on me and I thought I was lost. I remembered what you told me, Sam, about the star of Mordor.’

Sam was quiet for a moment, and then, in a soft voice, he confessed, ‘We was right worried about you, sir, after you first left. And we didn’t like to talk about it much, ‘specially not me, because I weren’t too sure. It was Mr. Pippin who first started talking about you again. He said as how we shouldn’t forget you, especially after everything you done, and that not talking amounted to acting like you’d never been, and that cut me right to the quick. But at any rate, he said, he was always sure you’d find what you was looking for, so we didn’t have nothing to worry about.’

‘And what was I looking for, Sam?’ asked Frodo with a bemused smile.

‘Well, to find healing, of course!’ laughed Sam, but he faltered when he caught sight of his master’s face. ‘Wasn’t that it, then?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘Well no,’ said Frodo, with only a hint as it were of regret in his voice, ‘at any rate that was not the reason I left. But I am glad, all the same, that you thought so, for it may be that you were spared the greater sorrow, and I did not wish that any should mourn on my account. But Pippin knew, I think. And perhaps Merry. But they would not have told you, and your head guarded you, for your heart could not have borne it.’

Sam was looking hard at his master, and he felt suddenly a swell of uncertainty and fear, as though he stood upon some awful brink, and all was dark before him, but there across the abyss stood Frodo waiting for him, with a light like stars on his brow. But he knew not how he might cross that gap.

At length he spoke, and he heard his own voice tremble: ‘But if that weren’t it, Mr. Frodo, why was it then you had to sail? For I’m sure you did have to, though I can’t say why, if it weren’t to be healed.’

Frodo seemed to consider this for a time, and his thumb rubbed absently along the stump of his missing finger. To Sam it seemed as though the stars themselves had grown dim, but whether from sorrow or from awe he could not say. He saw that Gandalf was watching Frodo intently. At last Frodo closed his eyes, and with a soft sigh began to speak.

‘The Third Age was the age of the Rings, Sam. The Three held back the darkness and preserved for a time unstained the beauty of their realms and the courage of men. And the One, which had been lost, sought again the hand of its master. The Elves knew that, should the One be destroyed, the Three would fail, yet they were willing to risk all rather than submit to Sauron. And so were we all. Gandalf said once, Sam, that the Third Age was his age, and he was the Enemy of Sauron. I do not claim any such title for myself—I am only a simple hobbit. But by no merit of my own, as Gandalf pointed out, I was chosen to bear the Ring. I was chosen, and I chose. And when the Ring was destroyed, the Third Age was ended, the Age of the Rings and their bearers. And they could not remain when the Age had ended. That was why the wielders of the Three took ship, for their time was ended, as they had known would be, should the One be destroyed, and yet they defied Sauron. And I, though my burden was destroyed, was nevertheless a Ring-bearer. But you were granted a reprieve, I think, for you bore it only a little while.’

‘And you knew, didn’t you, sir?’ said Sam, with tears in his voice. ‘You knew ever since the Council that it would have to be that way, and you bore it anyway.’

‘Yes,’ said Frodo. His voice was very quiet, but it seemed to fill all the clearing with its hushed stillness. ‘I knew. Though I thought, rather, that it would mean my death. But Saruman was right, in a way. When we destroyed the Ring, we brought about our own end as well. But we knew that it must be so, in one way or another, for that is the price of such victories, when things are in danger. Someone has to give them up so that others may keep them, or even, it may be, find them for the first time. And though we sorrowed at all that was lost, it was not a bitter loss, but willing, and we had joy of it, too.’

‘Well, I just don’t think it’s right,’ said Sam. ‘After everything you’ve done! You ought to have been the most blessedest of all, and had great honour, and been able to enjoy the Shire and all, and you ought never to have hurt again.’ Then Sam said no more, for he was weeping.

‘My dear Sam,’ said Frodo, and he smiled amid his tears, and took Sam’s hand in his. ‘I am the most blessed of all hobbits, for I have the greatest of friends. But you needn’t worry about me, Sam. I do not hurt any more. My scars serve to remind me of that which was saved, and they bring me joy. And whatever I gave up, I did willingly, and I do not regret it. Still, I deserve no more honour than any of the others who fought in the War of the Ring. Someone had to take the burden, and someone had to lose all those things for which we fought, so that everyone else could keep them. My path was laid to Mordor, and I did no more than follow and do what I must. But I am glad that the Shire was saved, and that you were able to enjoy it, Sam. I am glad that I saved it for you. And that is my blessing, too.’

‘Oh, Mr. Frodo, I’m sorry!’ cried Sam. ‘I didn’t mean to say that it wasn’t worth everything you did! Only I don’t understand why, well, there ought to have been some other way! You didn’t ought to have suffered so much!’

Frodo smiled, and his smile was only a little wistful. ‘I daresay you suffered just as much as I did, Sam, and Gandalf too.’ Gandalf laughed at mention of his name, but he said nothing. ‘But it was not all suffering. Do you remember, Sam, when all was over and the Thing destroyed, how I said, “I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam”? If we had died that day, and never again seen the Shire, still I would have been happy, knowing that the task was done and you were with me, and that all would be well.’

Sam blushed darkly in the bright light of the stars and muttered something inaudible.

‘But it is more even than that,’ Frodo said. ‘For you were right, Sam, about the star. There is light and high beauty forever unreachable by the darkness, and it shines brightest when hope is dimmest, and smites the hearts of those who walk beneath the shadow. And for my part I cannot regret having seen that high light, in spite of all our pains. Why, just think of all the joy we’ve known here in Valinor, Sam! Surely that is a very great blessing! And we have not yet even taken the Gift. What must it be like, then, beyond the circles of the world? Mustn’t the Joy be so great that it would pierce the hearts of those still within Middle-earth, who have not lived upon the heights nor known the depths?’

‘I suppose it must, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam after a time. ‘Though I’ve never thought of it that way before. I guess it’s like a song, though. In some of the most beautiful songs, all sorts of sorrowful things happen, but somehow, that’s what makes them beautiful. The people in them don’t give up, and in the end there’s joy, though may be not what you’d expect. Like, like waking up with the sun on your face, and your master beside you all healed, and hearing them sing the tale of Nine-fingered Frodo and the Ring of Doom.’ Then Sam laughed, and he brushed away the last of his tears with the sleeve of his jacket. But Frodo only smiled, and he laid his head on the soft grass beside the fountain and lay gazing up at the stars. The wind grew quiet and even the chirping of the insects ceased. Sam thought that he could hear, faint above the mists of the world, the song of the stars. After a time he looked down at his master: Frodo was asleep, his wounded hand resting upon his breast, and peace was in his face. A fair light was revealed in him, and to Sam it seemed that a living star had come down from the heavens and lay beside him.

‘He’s as merry and as bright as any Elf-lord,’ said Sam in wonder to himself. ‘And yet, he’s still my own master, after all, though may be there always was something Elvish about him, somehow.’

At his side Gandalf drew a long breath of his pipe, sending up blue and green smoke rings into the air. ‘Well, Sam Gamgee,’ he said, ‘think what you will. But he is only a hobbit after all! Though it may well be that he is among the greatest of the children of Ilúvatar. But I will say only this, that it takes light to discern light.’ And he was silent then for some time, blowing shapes in smoke towards the stars. At last Sam too fell asleep, smiling, beside his master.

~*~*~*~*~

* Quenya, ‘I am healed’ or ‘renewed’