Chapter Six: Knitted Souls

Frodo wiped his mouth as he finished his meal. "Ma merilye yulma neno?" he asked Sam. "Do you want a cup of water? Or perhaps some tea?" He began to pour some tea into a cup for himself. "I’ve taken to drinking this particular blend that Mirian, the envinyaro, the healer, made for me when I first came. I’m not entirely sure what’s all in it. I think she holds her secrets closer than Gandalf, but it’s very pleasant, healing and restorative. I was sick a lot when I came here. All my spiritual and emotional ills were magnified at first because everything is so intensified here, and that took its toll on me physically as well. After I got better, I kept drinking it because it’s simply the best tea I’ve ever had."

Sam smiled. "Then how do you say, ‘Fill my cup’?"

"A quanta yulmanya."

"A quanta yulmanya, please and hantanyel."

They drank quietly for some minutes.

"Is there some chamomile in it?" Sam wondered. "I think I taste it, but a little different."

"I’ve often thought that may be something of what it’s in there, but you’re right that Elvish chamomile is different than the Shire version."

"Maybe."

They drained their cups, then Frodo put everything back into the basket, moving quickly so Sam wouldn’t do it. He pulled out a thick book bound in leather from a pack he had brought. He grinned at his former servant. "Now, my Sam, you are going to get your first formal lesson in Quenya." He laid out on his stomach and patted the grass next to him. Sam laughed softly as he lay down. It was nearly a century ago that he and Frodo had done the same thing when the tween was teaching a certain eager nine-year-old lad how to write Westron. Frodo looked just as happy and innocent and carefree and full of light now that he had then.

"I’ve made you a quettaparma, a dictionary," the elder hobbit began, "just like Bilbo, Galian and Ilarion made for me. It includes all the words you need to know and how to make them make sense when you speak them. Once you learn this, then I can teach you the Tengwar, but right now we’ll start out with the tengwanda, the alphabet."

"I saw some of that writing in your room. It’s so beautiful."

"That it is, ammelda, that it is."

Sam touched the book reverently filled with his brother’s handwriting, filled with love. "Hantanyel, melmenya. This was a great undertaking."

Frodo smiled. "Melin teca. I love to write. Especially for the one who taught me how to regain that joy.

"Now here’s how you..."

Galadriel approached from behind them and just watched them for a while quietly as the two bright beings lay so close their heads were touching as they spoke softly together, Frodo pointing out and pronouncing each word slowly and Sam slowly repeating it. "Vande carna, my Sam! Well done!" Frodo said, patting his brother on the back. "You’ll be speaking better than me in no time."

Sam laughed. "I doubt that, meldanya."

Galadriel watched as the long-merged lights of the two hobbits flared in each other’s company. Never before had she seen such in mortals, not even in Aragorn and his kin, though they were close. She had watched the light grow in Frodo from the first time she noticed it in Lothlorien. To Elven eyes, he now burned almost as brightly as any of the Firstborn and had spent time praising and thanking Iluvatar for the gift of knowing such a one. And now Samwise, whose light ever shone brightest in his beloved master’s presence... "Quitin fear," she murmured in wonder at such beauty.

Frodo looked behind him and grinned at his brother. "I think we have acquired an audience, my Sam."

The former gardener and Mayor looked behind and nearly stumbled in his haste to rise and bow. Frodo rose more gracefully and bowed just as deeply and gave his friend a beautiful smile."Herunya," he said. Sam blushed. "My lady," he said, unknowingly echoing his brother’s words.

Galadriel smiled and bent her head briefly. "Vande omentaina, Panthael. Well met. I am glad you have come."

"Hantanyel, my lady."

"How does the Shire prosper?"

"With the help of your seeds, very well, my lady."

"Frodo tells me you prospered very well also."

Sam blushed. Frodo beamed. "Yes, my lady."

"As far as the death of your wife, ai, haryal nyerenya. You have my grief."

A fresh pain of loss stabbed at Sam’s heart for a moment. Frodo felt it in his heart as though it was his own pain and took his brother’s hand. Sam gladly clasped it, but he found he could not grieve long in the presence of such light and compassion coming from the shining Elf lady in front of him. He bowed again. "Hantanyel, my lady."

Galadriel bent her head again. "I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Enjoy your time with your otorno."

Sam’s awe in being in Galadriel’s presence lessened for the first time. "I will, my lady. You don’t have to worry about that."

Galadriel’s smile widened. "We have all looked forward to the reunion of two quitin fear." Then she glided away.

"What did she say?" Sam asked quietly.

Frodo beamed ever wider and squeezed the hand he still held. "Knitted souls, ammelda."

His brother smiled.

They returned to their lessons, but shortly into it, Frodo yawned hugely and only was half way successful in covering it. "Nanye nyerinqua. I’m sorry," he said. "I usually take a nap around now. The air is so rich here, but I think sometimes my body also remembers how old it really is. I had no idea how much time had passed until you told me. Sometimes I feel like I’m aging backward here or at least not changing, but other times, I know very well, I"m not."

"Then rest here, melmenya," Sam said and opened his arms.

Frodo nestled into his favorite place and wrapped his arms around his beloved guardian. "Will you sing to me, Sam? I’ve had such maivoine, such great longing, to hear your lovely voice again."

Sam smiled and began to softly sing and stroke his beloved brother’s curls and cheek.

"Close your eyes, my dear one, and lay down your head;

Slumber, held again close in my arms.

Our path was sometimes dark, but it has oftentimes been said:

The sun shines ever clearer after storms.

"Long our way has been, filled with both joy and pain;

It's true we sometimes walked in blackest night.

And yet those years I'd not erase nor not wish to live again,

For you were with me and after cloud and shadow came the light.

"Now you have been healed, you all the brighter shine,

Ne'er more to be touched by grief or pain.

So rest while joyful watch I keep, O dearest brother mine;

I'm with you, ne'er to leave your side again."

"Hantanyel, otornonya," Frodo murmured. "Hantanyel."

Sam continued his stroking for a while, looking down with tender love at the bright being in his arms. He didn’t know he was shining nearly as brightly. After a long time, he kissed that dear forehead. "A lore vande, ammelda. Melinyel," he murmured, then his own eyes closed.

Gandalf passed by later and marveled at the sight of them, so innocently entwined, so greatly loved by each other and by him and the Elves. He and the Elves that passed murmured prayers of wonder and thanksgiving for such a gift of seeing them, the size of their bodies no indication of the greatness of their hearts or endurance.

A/N: That song was, of course, a masterpiece from the queen.