Epilogue:

Sam leaned on the rail of the ship’s deck, straining his eyes to see the glistening white shore. He could just make out what seemed a multitude of Elves bustling here and there, making ready for the ship that would soon arrive, the ship that bore him; but the figures were as yet small and unrecognizable. Oh, if we could just get closer, I could see him! He is still there, I hope. Oh, he has to be!

He heard a laugh inside his head and nearly burst with joy. Of course I'm here, mell min. And don't you dare jump off and try to swim to get here faster! I can feel how much you want to do that. It’s just as hard to keep myself from swimming out to you!

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Cirdan standing by his side, smiling down at him. “Patience, mellon nin,” he said, just as if Sam had spoken aloud.

Sam looked down and blushed. “Oh, sir, I didn’t mean…”

“Nay,” Cirdan interrupted gently. “Do not apologize. I, too, am eager to reach the shores of the Blessed Land, and even from here I begin to make out the faces of my kindred who wait there. I am not near enough to see one of Iorhael’s stature, but he is there, I assure you. Soon, soon...”

Sam sighed inwardly and turned his eyes back to the shoreline, willing the boat to move faster, clutching the rail tightly to resist the urge to jump overboard and start swimming ahead.

At long last the sails were furled and the ship came into port. To Sam’s own shock, all the Elves aboard it stood back, that he might go before them. For a moment he was uncertain, but then he forgot his embarrassment and ran forward; for there on the dock stood a small figure with silver curls and shining eyes.

“Mr. Frodo!” cried Sam, nearly falling into the water in his haste.

Frodo laughed and caught his friend in his arms. “Easy, my Sam, easy! You must find your feet on land again, after being so long on the water. Oh, my dearest, I’m so very glad you’re here at last!” He covered his brother with kisses.

They held one another, beaming, as if they would never let go. Frodo smelled the Shire for the first time in over 60 years and Sam smelled tea and ink and sunshine...and pipeweed! He was so glad that his brother had healed enough to want to smoke a pipe again. He had not been able since they had returned from the Fire. And to hear his brother laugh again, so full and deeply! He could have burst from such joy.

At last Sam drew back so that he could look more closely at his Frodo. The brother of his heart had not changed in body, save that he shone more brightly than ever he had in Middle-earth. His eyes were still amazingly blue. The radiance that emanated from him made his smile seem yet more beautiful and full of joy.

“Well,” Frodo said in a light, teasing tone, “has a little time among Elves improved my looks?”

Sam laughed. “A little time, sir? Why, it’s been sixty years! I would have never thought your beauty could be improved upon, but you look splendid, more than splendid! More…more...I don’t know how to say it... more full than you ever looked back there.” He waved a hand vaguely behind him. “And especially since…since…”

“Since the Ring came to me, and especially since it was destroyed,” Frodo volunteered, growing serious but still seeming unperturbed. “It’s all right, Sam. Evil things cannot come here and that evil is gone from the world.”

Sam smiled in relief. “Oh, Mr. Frodo, you look so much better…and it goes deeper than looks…I don’t know how to describe it,” he murmured, embracing Frodo again.

Frodo returned the embrace and smiled. “I have been healed, Sam.”

They let those words sink into their shared heart and soul, then Frodo held his brother at arm’s length, just to look into that shining face. “And now to matters at hand,” he said with a mischievous smile. “First, I’ll have no more of this ‘Mr.’ and ‘sir’…and especially not ‘proper!’”

Sam laughed. “Now you sound like Merry and Pippin! They made me stop that right after you left.”

Frodo pretended to be hurt. “Do you mean to tell me you did it for them just like that and never would stop when I asked you? Oh, Sam, I’m shocked!”

Sam laughed again, knowing his brother was teasing. “I didn’t stop right off!” he said in his defense. “It took a long while. Old habits die hard, but I suppose I could get used to saying ‘Frodo’ instead of ‘Mr. Frodo.’”

“Excellent!” said a deep, beloved voice from behind Sam. “Well, my lads, if that is settled, it is high time you both prepared for the feast.”

“Mr. Gandalf!” cried Sam, turning and throwing himself into the Maia’s arms.

Gandalf laughed as he embraced the hobbit. “Ah, my dear boy! It gladdens my heart to know that you are again at Frodo’s side.”

“‘My boy,’ sir?” laughed Sam, emboldened by Frodo’s teasing admonitions about honorific titles.

Frodo laughed. “Well, I haven’t been successful in breaking him of the habit, though I have tried. He still calls me ‘my lad’ and I’m...I’m...” The former Ring-bearer craned his neck up and squinted into the sun to look at his friend. “How old am I, Gandalf? Time goes by so differently here.”

“You are 114, my lad,” Gandalf said with a twinkle in his eye. “And I can call you that because I will always be much older than you, no matter how long you live.”

“I didn’t miss wishing you a happy birthday each year,” Sam said. “Thank you for all your wonderful gifts.”

Frodo smiled lovingly at his friend. “You’re welcome, dearheart. I was so amazed when Gandalf said I could still talk to you and so grateful.”

Sam returned the smile with just as much love. “Must be that bit of Elvishness in you, dear. I remember you telling me they could do that over distances, but I never understood or believed it until I heard with my own ears, or my heart or...or...oh, I don’t care how they do it, I’m just glad they can and you could! I think I would have gone mad without it, though I wondered if I was getting cracked the first times I heard it. I didn’t know if it was real or not.”

Frodo laughed and hugged his friend tight. “It was real, my Sam.”

Sam returned the embrace. He didn’t want to ever let go.

Gandalf watched with great satisfaction and contentment. “Well now,” he said after a long while. “Are you going to attend your welcome feast, Master Samwise?”

Sam looked at his brother’s shining face. He would never, ever tire of looking at that. “A feast? For me? What for? I don’t need no feasting...”

Frodo chuckled. “What for? What for? What kind of talk is that, coming from a hobbit! I assure you, my dear Sam, you won’t want to miss this. Feasts here are always enjoyable, and I myself had a hand in the preparations for this one. As to what for...” Frodo took his brother’s hand. “You are here, dearest,” he said softly. “You are here.”

That evening, after much feasting and merrymaking, Frodo took Sam to the little house in which he lived. It was built after the manner of a Shire dwelling, but much smaller than many, having only a kitchen, a sitting room, and two bedrooms.

“Bilbo and I shared this house for as long as he lived,” Frodo told Sam as they entered. “But we never spent a great deal of time here, so we didn’t need it to be very large. We stayed mostly by the Sea. And even now I don’t often stay here, even at night. There is never bad weather to worry about and it’s so pleasant just to lie under the stars and listen to the singing of the Elves.

“But tonight we shall stay here and have a cup of tea and a good talk, Shire fashion; for I have missed it sorely at times. Have a seat, my Sam, and I’ll put the kettle on and find us something to fill up the corners with.”

Sam grinned. “What corners?” he asked as he sat down on a cushioned chair before a low table in the sitting room.

Frodo laughed, and Sam thought it sounded even more melodic than it had in Middle-earth, even before the Ring. He would tire of listening to it.

Soon both hobbits were comfortably seated with cups of hot tea and small dainties to nibble on. They fell to talking of the years they had spent apart. Frodo told of the glories of this land. Sam told of all his children, of their childhood adventures and misdeeds, of their spouses and children. Then they began to talk of their healing. Frodo told of how the illnesses had suddenly ceased, and even the nightmares had quickly grown less and then abated altogether. Slowly he had strengthened, both physically and mentally.

“But it isn’t the same as it was before the Ring, Sam,” he said. “I feel…new…as if my soul had been gently disassembled, all the poison leeched from it, then refined and put back together. And I dare say that’s very nearly what did happen.”

“Frodo,” said Sam in a moment of silence, “remember in your last letter, you told me there was no way round grief, that you had to go through the flames?”

Frodo nodded.

“I understand what you mean now. Of course, as time passed and my little ones were born, I began to heal; but I always felt something was missing…you were missing. But now I’ve really come through and found you on the other side.”

Frodo reached across the table and took Sam’s hands. “I was always there with you in spirit, my dearest, every step of the way. Just as I knew you were with me. But I wished that I could have been there physically many, many times...far too many to count.”

Sam thought for a moment and then said reflectively. “You know, when I woke up in Ithilien after Mordor and all, I asked Gandalf if everything sad would come untrue. I thought, that day at the Havens, saying good-bye to you, that a tale couldn’t have a sadder end. But the truth of it is that in the end, when we get to the Presence, it don’t matter how our tale ended here, as long as it ended well, because we’ll all be together, and we’ll all come through.”

Frodo squeezed his brother’s hand. “That’s very true, my Sam. And it will end well.”

Sam stood for a long time at the threshold of Frodo’s small bedroom that night, watching his friend sleep as he had longed to do for over sixty years. Frodo lay perfectly still, his hands folded upon his breast, his face serene and smiling even in slumber. He now seemed not only to shine softly but to glow. He could just as easily be a star up there among all the others, Sam thought. But the thought chilled him; for in body Frodo looked so fragile that a strong wind could bear him away. But he had always looked that way and Sam well knew how strong he truly was. Still there was a brush of fear against his heart.

“Don’t go yet, Frodo dear,” he whispered. “Not again without your Sam.”

Frodo opened his eyes and smiled gently. “I won’t, Sam. I’ll be here until you are ready to depart, then we’ll go together.” His smile widened and became a little mischievous as he added, “You can’t stop worrying about me even now, can you?”

Stepping to the bedside, Sam bent to brush back the curls and bestow a kiss upon the fair brow. “No, I can’t, me dear. Rosie told me once that I had been loving you and taking care of you so long, that I couldn’t have no peace while I wasn’t doing it. So I haven’t stopped for one moment. I love you too much to ever stop.”

Frodo’s smile grew more tender. “I love you, too, my Sam. Thank you. Thank you for all you ever did for me, and for being willing to let me go when I could not stay. I didn’t want to leave, you know. But…”

“But you couldn’t heal there. I know now. I know. Sleep now.”

Sleep now. Oh, those words brought back so many memories! Sam closed his eyes and began to sing very softly. The tune was as familiar as the memories it stirred, but the words were new, straight from his heart.

“Sleep now,

And know that I love you.

Pain and care are gone.

I am with you.

“Sleep now,

And know that I love you.

I’ll never leave you.

I’ll always be by you.”

“Sleep now,

And know that I love you.”

  Frodo smiled and closed his eyes, slipping almost at once into a light but sweet slumber. When Sam had ended his song, he gazed down at his sleeping brother, rejoicing in the peace in that beloved face. Yes, they had both come through in the end.