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The Letter  by Antane

Chapter Twenty-Three: Into the West

My lord king,

I can’t hardly write this without ruining another one of Mr. Frodo’s fine papers, but he won’t stop me if I write this time, because he’s gone, gone over the Sea, this last month. I still find it that hard to believe that I won’t see him hunched over the book he labored so long to finish or wrapped up in reading another in his favorite chair or going on a long tramp with him across the fields. He always got restless this time of year, especially after Mr. Bilbo left. Sometimes I think I still hear the soft tread of his feet, but he’s gone where I can’t follow, leastways not straightaway. Other times I half turn in answer to his dear sweet voice, but then it’s gone, leaving only an echo in my heart and mind that I want to hold tight against me so it don’t leave, but fearing to crush it. I heard his laugh just yesterday, behind me, and I just stopped and stood there in the middle of the market, close my eyes and listened. I dared not turn around and see who it truly was, since it wouldn’t have been him then. Yet it was there. My heart almost burst from pain and joy and I cried all the way home. I know everyone’s whispering that I am cracked as they always said Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo were, and they’d be right, for me heart is cracked wide open.

Mr. Frodo’s will was read out after we returned from the Havens, but he ain’t dead. No more than Mr. Bilbo was when he went away and Mr. Frodo still insisted on observing their joint birthday in grand style, though everyone thought him cracked. Everyone but those who knew him and loved him well enough. And I’m not going to stop celebrating neither because they ain’t dead, neither one of them, because now Mr. Bilbo is gone too. And Mr. Gandalf and the Lady and Lord Elrond, and our Lady Queen’s mum is already there, so I as knows Mr. Frodo is in the best company he can be and that does help.

But it hurts me heart sore that Mr. Frodo never did come back down the Mountain, and that’s why he had to leave. It was that hard to let him go, but he needed more than the Shire could give him. He needed Elvish medicine and now he’s gone to get it. We went slow on the way to the Sea so as he could enjoy every last bit of home as he could. Sometimes we’d walk and guide our ponies so he could feel the grass between his toes. He held my hand and looked about him and breathed in deep as to draw everything into himself. He spoke nary a word that whole time there, though he smiled each morning the Elves brought him a wafer of their bread and I know that strengthened him more than anything for he’d shine brighter. I can’t tell you truly how he looked on the way, blessed is the only word that sounds right. He was just that beautiful, shining like he was but an Elven child, sad but not hopeless. I held each him each night and spent half the night just watching him sleep against me heart as he had on the way to the Mountain. One night he was smiling the sweetest of all smiles and I fair burst with the joy of that and the sorrow that it would be long ere I see that again. Now I thinks I finally understand why looking upon and holding Elanor caused him the same things. I think of that smile, though, and all that love that was wrapped up in his gazes that he stored up just for me and Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin and for you and our Lady Queen and Lord Faramir.

I’ve been thinking too about the Mountain, and the Star I saw in the Black Land and all and that is bringing me some peace too. Even though I’m torn right in two, I know he’s going where he’s meant to be. I think it’s good perhap that he’s still where he is because being atop a Mountain is the closest you can get to the Stars and I just have a feeling that they could help him, him being made part of starlight hisself, and they won’t have so far to travel down to him, if he’s already on top where they can reach him the soonest. I told him when him and me were all alone on our terrible Road that the Stars seemed Elvish to me and that’s what he needs. That Lady of the Stars who was in Mr. Bilbo’s books has helped him already and I know she will keep doing that.Me head makes naught sense of how the stars could help, but it does seem right in me heart, if you take my meaning, and that’s where he’s always dwelt and always will, and that’s the only place it needs or can make sense. And I thought with you having an Elvish wife and all, you would understand. I’ve tried to tell my Rose and bless her dear heart, she wants to understand, but I don’t think she do and I can’t blame her, but she’s got her own understanding and that is enough for the both of us.

I know it’s right that he went where he did as I remember that I came to bring him his tea one day in the study when he was near to leaving and he was sleeping with Mr. Bilbo’s book open on his lap. He was shining as he always did and his face was strained not nearly as bad and still just that fair. I picked up the book so as it wouldn’t fall and saw where he had been reading. All ’bout the Lady Este and Lady Nienna and how they provided rest and endurance with hope and ain’t it interesting that was so close to what Mr. Gandalf had called Mr. Frodo, Endurance beyond Hope? I don’t rightly understand who these folk are, maybe even higher than the Elves, if there could be such a thing, but I knows as they can help him, just as much as the stars, if not more. I know they already were, because that is just what he was doing, resting and enduring and having hope. He wouldn’t have left or looked as fair as he did on the way if he hadn’t had that and we wouldn’t have let him go if we hadn’t had it. I think of that day and the way he looked whenever I need some hope myself. He hadn’t none of it on the way to the Fire, but he’s got it now and that gives me peace even in the midst of all else.

He told me that perhap I could join him one day, and I will. I had to live without the half of my heart that Rose had claimed while we were away on our Quest, and now I am going to have to learn to live without the half that was his, but I can’t live without no heart at all. Rose’s told me about that garden she saw and Mr. Frodo standing in the midst of it and shining brighter than ever and that I was there too. So I will go one day and return to looking after him, if he still needs any looking after, and I think he will, no matter what. He’s an Elven hobbit, but still a hobbit, and even though Mr. Bilbo will be there, he’s that old, and won’t last that much longer I’m guessing and Mr. Frodo’s going to want and need someone of his own kind with him.

But I know I can’t leave now and I don’t want to neither. He said he wanted me to be one and whole for many years, and I won’t let him down on that. I know he will always be with me, for how could I be whole if he weren’t? But it hurts just that fierce that I can’t see him no more, that I can’t hold him or wipe his tears or make his tea or his strawberry jam and see his grateful smile and the love from those beautiful eyes. Even if they were filled with pain these last years, the love was always there too, and that’s what I will remember more than anything.

I’ve been blathering on long enough, far too long my Gaffer would say. He always wondered what would come of Mr. Bilbo learning me my letters for he never held with letter-writing hisself seeing as there was always more honest work to be done, but Mr. Frodo and Mr. Bilbo loved to write that much and I suppose it’s rubbed off on me. I just wanted to let you know what happened and thank you for coming out to see him, you and our Lady Queen and our Lord Faramir. He was just that grateful that you all did and he had some joy that he wouldn’t gotten otherwise. I am even more grateful than he is that he had that.

It’s getting late now. I think I will go out and look at the stars myself. Mayhap they can help me too. My love to you all.

I remain for ever,

Your obedient servant and his,

Samwise Gamgee

***

Arwen entered the royal bedchamber and heard her husband chuckling as he sat in his chair. She came up silently behind him, wrapped her arms around him and looked over his shoulder. “People wonder when they hear someone laughing to themselves,” she teased. “What has made you so merry?”

Aragorn held up the papers in his hand. “A letter from Sam, and bless his dear heart, he was apologizing toward the end for ‘blathering.’ Ah, the world would be less bright if it weren’t for hobbits!” He sobered. “And that is very true, for he was writing that Frodo left four months ago.”

Arwen closed her eyes, absorbed the pain that stabbed at her heart, and said a quick prayer to the Valar and the One, then came around to stand in front of the man she loved so dear. “It will be well with him, with them both.”

Aragorn sighed. “I know, but it’s still hard. I shall treasure Sam and my little knight and dear Merry all the more now.”

Arwen smiled. “Are you going to ‘blather’ back?”

The king looked up at his beloved wife and kissed her hand. “I shall indeed, for we both need it. And I know just the place to do so also.”

The queen watched as her husband drew about himself the old cloak that Strider the Ranger had worn and then she knew where she was going.

It was in the Garden of the Periannath that Aragorn sat down in the winter chill on a bench closest to the statue of Sam carrying Frodo. It was dark and there were few others in the garden. Under the light of torches, he drew out his stylus and parchment and began to write.

My beloved Panthael,

It was with joy and a sore heart that I received and read your letter this day. Words alone cannot express the grief and hope that we all share with you. But you are very right in thinking that our Frodo has gone now where the healing he needs will be found. The Shadow came from without Middle-earth, so the removal of it from our dear one’s heart must needs also come from without. I rejoice that your own dear heart already understands that and so shall be all the more ready to celebrate the victory that is to come, as I shall also. We must needs be patient, though as a gardener you already know the value of that. Perhap I am saying that more to myself, for as a healer also, I know there are bodies and hearts that will not mend as quickly as we would like, but they do mend. That our wise Frodo, our most beloved Iorhael, will do so, I have no doubt.

Know that you are both, with Merry and Pippin, often in our thoughts and we love you all dear. There is naught we can do to help any of us but what have already done and will continue to do, hold you in our hearts and commend you to the Powers, so that when the day of celebration comes, we can all rejoice together.

And my dearest gardener, nurturer of the fair flowers and fairer hearts of hobbits, and that of a king, do not ever fret that you are ‘blathering.’ The more you do so, the more we shall enjoy to receive all you wish to send, whether from a grieving heart or a rejoicing one. All our love, from myself, our Queen and our Steward.

Your faithful servant and friend,

Strider

Aragorn read it over and grieved anew that words were indeed inadequate to express the love and grief he felt. But as Sam would say, there was nothing for it. Words would have to do. He looked up at the stars himself and drew what peace he could from them. Which ones were Frodo and Sam looking at now? He spoke aloud to his absent friends, knowing he would be heard. “No Iluvatar ah i belain na le, tithen gwedeir. Silo Anor a giliath bo men lin.” [“May God and the Valar be with you, little brothers. May the Sun and stars shine on your Road.”]

Arwen looked out at the stars as well and prayed for the Ring-bearer. “My Lord Manwe, breathe your blessing upon my prayer said upon the wind and speed it along. My Lady Elbereth, light Iorhael’s way so he always has a path to follow through the darkness. My Lady Este and Nienna, continue to hold him close to you, so he knows solace and relief and healing from his ills. My Lord Ulmo, lull him asleep by the sound of your waves. My lord Irmo, wrap him in dreams of peace. Help him, I beg you, just as you did Nana, when she was torn. Nana, le hannon as well for helping him heal.”

Faramir was shown the letter as he joined his king and queen for a late supper. He blinked away tears as he read it over. He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he could do something to help the pain of both his brother and that one’s faithful companion. That evening the Standing Silence had new meaning to him as he thought of where his little brother now was, closer to Elvenhome and that which was beyond, than any mortal of his age. He read the letter again in the moonlight before he retired for the evening, then looked up at the stars and murmured, “May you be well, little brother.”

 * * *

Far away, Frodo turned aside at last from gazing up at the stars. His tears glistened in the moonlight as he felt at once horribly separated from his brothers by a distance his mind could not comprehend and yet at the same time, his heart felt the touch of them, especially tonight for some reason. It was warm enough to sleep under the stars, if he wrapped himself in his cloak, and he strongly felt the desire to do so tonight. He rested there in his cocoon, a chrysalis that one day would become a butterfly.

 





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