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A Small and Passing Thing  by Lindelea

Note to readers: there is supposed to be one more chapter, a wrap-up with Sam and Elanor. However, I am reconsidering and thinking of leaving the story as is. Tell me what you think? Does it leave you wanting? You know that Sam's leaving for the Havens when the story is finished, does it need to be spelt out? Or is this ending a proper closure for this very long story...? Your opinions will be taken into serious consideration, as I am quite undecided on the matter.

Chapter 68. Farewell Words

The Gamgees had a second supper with the travellers, Sam and Farmer Linseed talking about the harvest while Freddy and Budgie sat silent, for the most part. After supper, Farmer Linseed excused himself; a farmer goes early to bed, after all. Rosie deposited Elanor in “Uncle Freddy’s” lap, and they played “peek-boo” while she and Sam stacked dishes for washing and Budgie finished his tea.

’I’ll get to these soon enough,’ Rose said when the dishes were ready. She came over to take Elanor from a reluctant Freddy. ‘Time for wee ‘uns to seek the pillow; the Sun’s already found hers.’ She settled in the rocking chair by the hearth and began to croon a song to the little one; she’d nurse Ellie as soon as the others were out of the room.

’Come with me to the study, Mr Freddy,’ Sam said, a hand on the gentlehobbit’s arm. Budgie trailed along.

The large book with the cover of red leather reposed in solitary splendour in the centre of the desk. Freddy could not remember a time when the desk had not overflowed with papers: scribbled pages, maps half-drawn, notations and sketches. Freddy opened the front cover slowly and began to page through, in wonder, stopping on occasion to look at a drawing or to read a phrase. Bilbo’s spidery scrawl gave way to Frodo’s firm flowing script. He stopped, transfixed, his eyes drawn to a sketch of the witch king as Frodo had seen him on Weathertop.

’I dreamed...’ he said, beginning to tremble.

Sam pushed the chair up behind him. ‘Sit down, Mr Freddy,’ he said firmly. Freddy sank into the chair, and Budgie started forward in concern, but Freddy waved him away.

’I dreamed that the—the Dark Captain came with the shadows to take Frodo,’ Freddy said faintly.

’Why Mr Freddy, I thought you knew better,’ Sam reproached. ‘He’s dead and gone, cast out of the world when Mr Merry’s sword broke the spell that knit his will to his body.’

’Shadow’s not gone, though,’ Freddy said, looking up from the picture. ‘Gandalf said it always returns to take shape again...’ The memory of Shadow that threatened Frodo—had it found him and dragged him down at the last?

’Mr Frodo’s beyond that now,’ Sam said, as if following Freddy’s thought. ‘He’s gone out of Middle-earth completely, where Shadow cannot reach, where all is light and light is all.’ He smiled. ‘Master Elrond gave him something to drink, when we reached the Havens. He said it would make his heart strong again, and that he’d have a good, long time to enjoy Elvenhome.’

'Then he could have stayed!' Freddy exclaimed.

'No,' Sam shook his head, casting down his eyes. 'The shadow would only have dragged him down again. What Saruman said was true... not long life, and not health, not so long as he remained in Middle-earth.' He raised his eyes and said wistfully, 'He wanted to stay, how he wanted it... but he thought he'd grieve us less by going, than by staying and cutting his life short. He'll live long and well where he's gone... and someday, perhaps...'

Freddy nodded. 'Someday,' he said softly. 'A fine promise, something to look forward to all your life.'

'And no worries that his heart will give out on him, in the meantime,' Sam said.

’You knew about his heart?’ Budgie asked.

Sam chuckled. ‘We had a long ride to the Havens, Mr Frodo and I,’ he said, ‘and a lot of time to talk.’ He cocked an eye at Freddy. ‘I know all about your little plan,’ he said. ‘Did you think you’d get me away from Mr Frodo so easily?’
 
’I was going to deceive Frodo,’ Freddy confessed. ‘I was going to have you wait in the kitchen until he was under the shadow, ready to come the moment you were needed.’ He stared down at the witch king again.

’If only to say good-bye,’ Sam said quietly. ‘I appreciate that, Mr Freddy.’ He smiled. ‘You’re going to have to get out of the habit of deceiving folk.’

’I’m out of the habit,’ Freddy said. ‘Believe me, I aim to have no secrets from anyone, anymore.’

’Mr Frodo left you a letter,’ Sam said, turning the page with the witch king over, turning more pages, passing illustrations of Rivendell, Caradhras, Moria, Lorien, Minas Tirith under siege, as well as people: Men, Hobbits, Elves, a Dwarf, Orcs. He stopped finally at a place near the end of the book, marked by an envelope. As Sam lifted the letter and extended it to Freddy, the picture underneath was revealed: two small figures, drawn in silhouette, one crouching under a low rock-face, the other standing looking at the sky, where a single star peeped out from a small opening in clouds. The text beneath the drawing caught Freddy’s eye.

Far above the Ephel Duath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.
 
’Forever beyond its reach,’ Freddy said softly, and Sam nodded.

’Yes, Mr Frodo is forever beyond its reach,’ he said. ‘He left this for you, Mr Freddy.’

Freddy opened the envelope, extracting several folded sheets, and began to read.

My dearest cousin,

I have sent off my birthday presents in good time, I think. They ought to reach you on the proper day, for my timing is as ever impeccable. Not bad for a half-senile, ancient and venerable cousin, eh?

Our plan remains unchanged, I hope. Sam suspects nothing, though I find myself sleeping a little more than I was. My health continues as it was when last I saw you, thanks to Budgie’s good advice and strengthening tonic, I’m sure. Perhaps our worries are overblown, at least for this anniversary. We shall have a good laugh afterwards if our plans come to naught!

Here the writing changed, as if the writer had been interrupted.

A most extraordinary thing has happened, Freddy, and I hardly know how to break the news to you! A letter has come from Gandalf, via Barliman Butterbur... Bilbo is sailing with the elves, and the decision is upon me. Do I stay, to die and lie in the soil of the Shire I love, or do I go with Bilbo, to live the rest of my days far from my home and those I love, save one beloved elderly cousin? Is there really any choice to be made?

And so, Freddy, this is farewell. There is no time to send word to anyone—I must be leaving on the morrow, or the day after at the latest, and there is so much to be done, yet I must not strain my heart in frenzied activity, lest I never come to the Havens at all! I cannot give you a farewell hug, but only write notes to you, Merry, and Pip, and my faithful Samwise will bring word to you after he sees me off. I’m glad, so very glad that he can see me off, into light and not into shadow...

I am tiring, I fear, and have yet to write to Merry and Pippin, so I must close. What shall be my last scrap of cousinly advice? I do so wish I had been able to stand up with you at your wedding, as you asked me before the Quest began—that’s it! “Laugh long, Live long, Love forever!” Go, and marry the girl... but do not burden any of your little ones with “Frodovar” or “Frodogar” or any such absurdity. And think sometimes, when you hold a little one in your lap, or sip a mug of a fine brew, or see the Shire clad in her finest gown, yes, dear cousin, think of your ancient and venerable cousin, who will surely be thinking fondly of you,

Frodo





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