Chapter 2: A New Home

Sam woke to find Frodo already gone, but found a note that his brother had left him.

Dearest otorno, I woke this morning and you were still here! It wasn’t a dream! I could have shouted my joy, but I didn’t want to wake you. I will be back soon. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you get too hungry before I can make you a proper breakfast. Elen sila lumenn omentielvo! A star shines upon the hour of our meeting!

Ever your Iorhael

Sam smiled as he fingered the elegant writing. "No, dear, it wasn’t a dream," he murmured. "I’ll wait for you, but I’ll be making you breakfast. It’s been far too long since I’ve been able to do that."

He got out of the nightshirt Rose had given him on her last birthday and dressed in the shirt and breeches she had given him at Yule. He wiped at a couple tears, but he couldn’t truly be sad here. He was with Frodo and Rose was waiting. He knew she was happy and had blessed his choice to come here. He looked out the window where the sun shone in so brightly and stared out for a little while at the elanor and morning glory’s.

The exhaustion of the previous day had already left and the old hobbit felt curiously more energized now than he had for years. Already he was feeling younger in the peace that was here and the easing of the ache caused by the long absence from his brother’s side.

He decided to explore more of his new home while he waited. He smiled when he entered Frodo’s bedroom. There was no doubt that the large, circular room belonged to a Baggins. A very comfortable looking bed with many pillows was off to the right. Under the many windows that encircled the room, there were several hobbit-sized bookshelves around the entire perimeter filled to overflowing and more books on the large table in the center, on the nightstand and a dozen or more stacked on the three chairs placed around the table. A large lamp stood alongside the table which was also filled with quills, bottles of ink and piles of parchment, that held Frodo’s own writing in both Westron and, Sam supposed, Quenya and others that were written by Elves. The hobbit noticed that his brother’s writing was definitely looking more Elvish than ever. The room smelled just like the study at Bag End had, just like that entire smial had.

It smells like home, Sam thought. His smile widened as a great contentment filled him.

He looked down at two open pages and saw it was the beginning of a translation of some sort. On the top of the page in Westron, Frodo had written, "For Samwise". The other page was the story that was being transcribed. The old hobbit touched the pages, moved by the gift, and eager to learn more of the language, to be at his brother’s side once again like they had been as child and tween, dreaming of adventures while Frodo taught Sam how to write - and he and Mr. Bilbo had taught him how to dream, back when they had been carefree and innocent and filled with light and joy and excitement and no Ring had come to so scar their lives.

The next thing he noticed was the framed pictures that lined the walls. When he stepped closer, he realized they were the ones Elanor had drawn of herself, her siblings and children and Rose and himself.

"I kept them all and looked at them often and dreamed many a daydream what they were all like growing up," came a soft voice behind him.

Sam turned and embraced his brother once more. For a long time they just held each other without speaking, without needing to speak.

Then Sam took Frodo’s hand and continued his tour. They came to a third bedroom. The bed was neatly made with a book on the nightstand and a fresh flower in a small vase on the table. It could have just been waiting for its occupant to settle in for the night, but the younger hobbit knew that wasn’t the case. He wondered how long it had been that Mr. Bilbo had died, how long his Frodo had been alone with his Sam to comfort him and share in his grief. It had probably been decades and that made it hurt all the more and he suddenly began to cry.

Small hands drew him into an embrace and the younger hobbit wept for his former master in his brother’s arms. Frodo held him for a long time, stroked his curls and murmured what comforts he could. "It’s all right, my Sam, it’s all right. Ilya vanima."

He continued to hold him until the younger hobbit broke away and Frodo wiped at his guardian’s tears which almost had Sam crying again, this time from the joy that he could feel that beloved touch again. He took that caressing hand into his own and kissed it.

"How do you say, ‘I’m sorry,’" he asked.

"Nanye nyerinqua."

"Nanye nyerinqua then, more sorry than I can tell you. I shouldn’t have left you. You’ve been alone all this time. I...."

Frodo placed two fingers over Sam’s mouth to silence him and then kissed his brow. "If you had gone with me, then you would have never had many of those wonderful children or seen Elanor grow up or Frodo-lad born. No, my Sam, you were right where you should have been. And I wasn’t alone. Gandalf has always been here and many more than I’ve been privileged to call my friends for many years now. And now you’re here."

They looked at the book on the nightstand. "I was reading that to him the night he died," Frodo said softly. "I can still feel him here, hear his voice, his laugh, his hand on my cheek or stroking my curls. It’s hard to believe sometimes even now that he’s not going to come in the door any moment and we’ll be off on another adventure walk. We had so many of those."

As Sam listened to his master’s wistful voice, he let himself get lost in his own memories of eagerly walking with his masters as a child. "He could barely walk onto the ship when you left," he murmured. "You mean he got better here just like you?"

Frodo smiled through bright tears and Sam knew he would never ever tire of the joy of seeing that. "Yes, Sam, just like you will too. You’ll probably feeling it already."

"A bit," the old hobbit said.

Frodo smiled. He squeezed his brother’s hand. "Now about breakfast. Another omelette, perhaps?"

Sam returned the smile. "Yes, dear, but this time I’m making it and I’m going to make it every morning you or I want one."

"You have a complaint with my cooking then?" Frodo asked and Sam blushed and began to stammer an apology then he saw the mischievous smile and glint in his brother’s eyes.

"It’s just not proper, me dear," he said, recovering his dignity. "I’ve made you breakfast almost every day since Mr. Bilbo left and I would have continued to do it if I had come with you. I’ve waited a very long time to make it for you again and I’m not going to wait any longer."

Frodo smiled at the firm tone and stubborn stance. Sam had crossed his arms and planted his feet slightly apart as he did whenever he wanted to out-stubborn a particular Baggins, which made that particular Baggins rise to the challenge. "You let me make it for you yesterday."

"I was too tired to think straight then."

"I still want to do it for you, Sam. You are no longer my servant and haven’t been since long before I left. You are my equal, my better in fact. I owe you my life and my soul. I should be serving you."

Frodo knew he had made a mistake when his brother’s features quirked into a mischievous look of his own. "I thought you would have realized long ago the futility of trying to win an argument with me."

Frodo laughed out loud, a full, deep one that made Sam’s heart soar with such joy he was sure it would leave his chest entirely.  "Oh, my dearest Sam, how I have missed everything about you, even this! All right, I will concede..." Sam’s smile widened, then froze slightly when Frodo held up a finger. "...for this time. Tomorrow is a whole another matter entirely."

The younger hobbit’s smile unfroze. "Then you must still like to lose."

Frodo hugged his brother again. "Since it means that you are here, dearheart, then, yes, Ilovelosing."

Arm-in-arm they walked into the kitchen where the younger hobbit forbade the elder from lifting a finger and soon shooed him away entirely. "I’ll set the table then," Frodo said with half a glance at his Sam, as though afraid even that would be refused him, but it wasn’t.

When all was prepared, Frodo paused a moment and bowed his head. The younger hobbit watched his lips move in silent prayer, then look up at him.

"Oh, my Sam, it looks and smells so wonderful," he said as he surveyed the mushroom omelette, the bread slathered with his favorite jam and the tea with just the right amount of honey in it. "I think it’s more delicious because you made it.  I can't believe you still remember how to make all my favorites, though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

The younger hobbit smiled. "No, you shouldn't be.  How do you say, ‘Where did you go?’"

Frodo swallowed a huge bite and wiped his mouth with the napkin on his lap. "Manna lendelye?"

"Manna lendelye?"

"To the most beautiful place on the entire island. I can’t wait to show it to you."

"Then I can’t wait either. How do you say, ‘When?’"

"Man lumesse?"

"Man lumesse?"

"As soon as we are done eating I hope. Do you feel up to a bit of a walk or I could get a pony if you’d like."

Sam smiled. "I can walk.  I can run even."

Frodo laughed softly and clasped his brother’s hand. "There is such energy here, Sam. I’m glad you are feeling it so soon. I can’t wait until we go tramping around here just like we did in the Shire. There is so much I want to show you!"

After breakfast, the two hobbits walked along a well-traveled path down to a small building. As they did, Frodo took Sam’s hand and began to sing, first in Quenya, then in Westron.

"Oh, would that I could dance and sing,

In some small way my joy express!

Would I could rise on eagle's wings,

Borne on the wings of bliss!

"What joy, my love, your presence brings,

My heart and home to bless!

Ah, blest reunion, glad and sweet!

Such joy surpasses skill of tongue!

"And e'en while rapture stills my feet,

My spirit, free and strong,

Rises up, the skies to meet,

And joins the endless song.

"Then come, my love, and dance with me,

And sing with me a joyous lay!

Let peace and rest and ecstacy

Your sorrow bear away.

"And never parted will we be,

E'en to the end of days."

Sam rejoiced to see his brother full of such light and joy.

The building they entered was entirely dark inside except for a red lamp that hung halfway down from the ceiling in the front. Frodo bowed to the lamp and kissed the image of a sun that was illuminated below it. After a moment’s hesitation, Sam bowed as well, though he did not understand why he did, then he was guided to sit on one of the long benches.

He looked up at the light. "What is it?"

He heard more than saw his brother’s smile. "Not what, Sam, Who. That marks the presence of Iluvatar, our Creator."

The gardener’s eyes widened slightly. He had often looked up into the night sky or at a particularly lovely flower in the garden or the light in Frodo’s or Rose’s or his children’s eyes and wondered who or what had created it all. Such perfect beauty had to come from a source he knew not where, but he somehow understood deep in his heart that it had been created, willed - it hadn’t appeared by accident or random chance. He could never explain to himself how he knew that and had long given up even trying to understand it. He just appreciated it and somewhere in his soul, it gave the thanks he did not know how to express. He looked up at the lamp, feeling awed and humbled and very small. Had he found the source at last? He felt a peace and a welcome and a love he tried to express in words, but knew not all the words in the world would suffice. Frodo squeezed his hand, knowing exactly what his brother was feeling.

"Can you talk to it?" the younger hobbit asked in a nearly inaudible whisper, still lost in looking at the lamp.

"Him, dearest, not it. Sometimes I do. The Elves sing to Him every morning and every evening as the sun rises and sets. I often join in. Perhaps tomorrow morning you will wake soon enough to hear their morning praise. They also spend time here in silence. I have spent much time here myself and it is usually spent looking at that light and knowing that He’s looking at me. No matter where I go, I know He’s watching over me and that makes me feel very safe, very loved. I’ve felt the same way when I’m around you, meldanya, but He’s always been there, too, watching over and loving both of us beyond anything I can describe to you.  Your love would come the closest.  He's blessed me all my life and now I've finally been able to say thank you.

"Sitting here and knowing that and how much He loved me and forgave me is how I was able to heal. There’s communication there, deep inside your heart, that needs no words. But each person is different. Gandalf speaks barely above a whisper. Talk aloud if you’d like or listen silently to the Voice inside of you. It’s like the Sea. It’s always been there. We just didn’t know what it was."

"Then He’s watching over all my lads and lasses and their bairns?"

Frodo squeezed his hand. "Always and forever."

Sam looked up at the light. "Thank you for everything you’ve made," he began slowly and shyly at first. "For this place so Frodo could heal, for the Shire and my mum and my gaffer and my brothers and sisters and for Elanor and Frodo-lad and Rosie-lass and Merry and Pippin and Goldilocks and Hamfast and Daisy and Primrose and Bilbo and Ruby and Robin and Tolman and Elfstan and Holfast..." He broke off, a little embarrassed.

"Go ahead, Sam," came the soft murmur beside him, "He’s listening."

"And thank you for Mr. Bilbo and especially for my Rose and my Frodo," he finished.

Frodo leaned his head on his brother’s shoulder. "And thank you for my Sam," he said softly.

They sat quietly for a long while. When Gandalf entered later, he saw from the light outside that Frodo had fallen asleep, his head resting in Sam’s lap, a large smile on his lips. Sam was slowly stroking his brother’s back, a look of joy and tender love shining from his face. Both hobbits were glowing from within. The Maia smiled that at long last these two like souls had been finally reunited. He sat down next to the younger hobbit.

"Hello, Sam," he said quietly. "It is very good to see you again."

The former Mayor started. "Mr. Gandalf, sir! Oh, it’s just that wonderful to see you again, too."

"I see Frodo wasted little time in bringing you here."

"I don’t understand it, but it’s lovely, isn’t it? Even the air here is different, even from Rivendell or the Lady’s Wood. I never knew why it was so fresh and clean there, like it had never been breathed before and it was for the first time just when we came. Oh, that doesn’t make any sense..."

Gandalf nodded appreciatively, pleased and a little surprised, though he didn’t know why he should be, that Sam’s perceptions were so strong. "The air is heavy with presence of Iluvatar," he said. "Welcome home."

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A/N:  Frodo's joyous song is from Queen Galadriel.