“Aur Onnad Meren, Frodo”

Disclaimer: Tolkien created everything. I own nothing.

A/N: To some people some of this may sound like SLASH. I assure you that it is NOT, it is brotherly love, plain and simple.

Valinor. September 22, S.R 1492

The pleasant aromas of greasy bacon and sausages, eggs, toast, pancakes, and various other mouth-watering foods drifted towards the figure sleeping comfortably on the small feather mattress. Frodo’s nose twitched at the delicious scents, and slowly he began to awaken. His eyelids fluttered and gradually opened, revealing a beaming, cheerful Samwise bearing a tray laden with the sources of Frodo’s awakening aromas.

“Mornin’ Mr. Frodo!” Sam said happily, “Happy Birthday!”

Frodo blinked blearily, and shook his head to clear the remaining drowsiness from his eyes. He grinned back at his friend, and laughed despite himself.

“Samwise Gamgee, it has been ten years since you have come here, and still you insist on this ridiculous annual ritual!” he said, and then, seeing Sam’s bemused expression burst into laughter, and was soon joined by the younger hobbit.

Wiping mirthful tears from his eyes, Frodo said, “Really, Sam, you can’t possibly expect me to eat all of that.” He nodded towards the silver platter, piled with food and drink.

Sam grinned. “Of course not, Mr. Frodo, I’m gonna help you with that.”

Frodo chuckled. “That you are, Sam, that you are. Tell me,” he said, as the other hobbit took a seat on the bed next to his master and began serving food onto silver plates for the both of them, “how old am I today? I have spent so many years among the elves I have stopped bothering to count.”

“A hundred and twenty-four,” Sam said, “But you don’t look it at all, if you don’t mind my sayin’ so.”

“Of course I do not mind! You have been saying that every year since the day I met you. I did not mind it then and I most certainly do not now,” he said, taking a bite of crispy bacon.

“Well then, Mr. Frodo, what do you wanna do today?” the gardener asked.

Frodo considered. “I’m not sure,” he said, “Why don’t you decide this time?”

Sam looked surprised. “But, Mr. Frodo, It’s your birthday! You should get to do whatever you want!”

Frodo smiled. “Exactly, and I think you should decide what I want to do, for me. Truly, Sam, it is not always about me, you know. You deserve just as much respect as I do, and I think it’s time you realize that.”

“But, Mr. Frodo-”

Frodo interrupted him. “I never … I never truly thanked you, did I?” he said.

Sam looked at him confusedly. “For what?”

Frodo searched his friend’s face a moment, shook his head, and said, “Come on, Sam, let’s take a walk, shall we?”

Sam nodded, still unsure of this sudden change of subject. They finished their breakfast quickly, and while Sam took the tray back into the kitchen, Frodo dressed into something comfortable, and then met Sam in the garden, from where they set out.

A comfortable hobbit hole had been built into the side of a hill shortly after Bilbo and Frodo had arrived in Valinor, and Frodo had made sure there was an extra room, as well as enough space for a garden; things he knew would be necessary when Sam arrived. He had not been proven wrong, for now there was a garden to rival his old one at Bag End outside his new home. The years until Sam had finally arrived it had lain bare and empty of flowers, but as soon as he was settled (which had not taken long), Sam and changed that completely.

“I wonder where Bilbo is today,” Frodo thought aloud. “With Gandalf, I assume?”

“Aye,” Sam said, “He said he was goin’ to make preparations for the party this evenin’. Nothin’ spectacular, as usual, just a plain, simple, relaxed-like party,”

Frodo nodded, and changed his course to lead Sam into the forest. Sam followed loyally, and thus he was taken to one of his and Frodo’s favorite places.

It was a small clearing, in the center of which there was a pool of crystal water, clean enough to drink. There was a willow tree on its bank, and they sat beneath it, leaning against the trunk and swirling their feet in the cool water, watching the breeze cause the boughs of the tree to dance on the water, like a puppeteer and his marionettes. They were silent a long while, until at last Frodo spoke.

“Sam, do you ever regret following me here?” he asked, much to the gardener’s surprise.

“Of course not, Mr. Frodo. There’s no place I’d rather be than with you, and anyways, I like it here. It’s not the Shire, aye, but it’s home,” he said.

“What about your children, you must miss them terribly.”

Sam nodded. “That I do, dearly. I love all of ’em more than anythin’. But I don’t regret leavin’, Mr. Frodo, not in the least bit.”

When Frodo did not respond, Sam asked, “Do you regret it, Mr. Frodo?”

Frodo shook his head. “Not anymore, but I did. When I came here I was healed, but your absence each day caused pain nearly unbearable, and waiting for you was complete anguish.” He paused and smiled. “But you came, Sam, and now I would not have it any other way.”

Again there was silence, save the sound of the gentle wind in the trees and the birds chirping from somewhere above them. Frodo sighed contentedly and glanced across the clear water, and his eyes snagged on a beautiful mallorn. Seeing it reminded him suddenly of the one that had been planted by Sam in the party field. The memory brought back another reminiscence of Bilbo at his 111th birthday party, one moment standing before them, and the next, gone. It had been quite a shock then, but now, looking back and remembering the looks on the other hobbits’ faces, he couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“What’s so funny?” Sam asked.

Frodo shook his head, still chuckling. “Just remembering,” he said simply.

Curious, Sam asked, “Rememberin’ what?”

Frodo turned to him and looked at him seriously, as if he was going to give him his death sentence, and then said cheerfully, “The look on your face when Bilbo suddenly vanished before our eyes at our birthday party all those years ago.”

Sam stared at Frodo a moment, having expected something more, and then his face cracked into an enormous grin, and he was unable to contain his laughter. Frodo’s stern expression also changed dramatically as he joined Sam in joyful mirth.

When they’d both run out of breath and had stitches in their sides, both lay back on the soft grass, viewing the blue sky through the willow branches, still chuckling once in a while.

“Really, Sam, it was not that humorous, was it?”

Sam laughed. “No, not really, but it was more so the way you said it, if you take my meanin’.”

The end of a willow bough brushed against Frodo’s face, and he brushed it away with his right hand. The leaves slid through the gap in his fingers as he fondled them gently. This did not go unnoticed by Sam, and he voiced the question without thinking.

“Does it still bother you?”

Frodo looked at him in surprise, he had not expected Sam to ask anything like that, it wasn’t like him, but he set it aside and slowly shook his head.

“No, Sam, it doesn’t, and neither do any of the other wounds or the memories. I still have them, and can remember them in detail should I want to, but they are no longer there constantly, tormenting my mind,” he said.

Again, Sam asked the first question that came to his mind.

“Do they still hurt?” He remembered well the pain the memories had caused Frodo, and shuddered inwardly at the memory.

Again, Frodo shook his head. “No. Whenever I do look back on them, I know what I was feeling then, but I do not feel it myself nor do I remember exactly how it felt.” He paused, thinking of a way to better explain himself, then, seeing a yellow bumblebee buzzing around a flower, he said, “I suppose It’s like being stung by a bee. It hurts, and you remove the stinger and clean and, possibly, wrap the area. The next day, when someone asks you why there’s a bandage on your finger, you remember being stung, and you remember that it hurt, but you do not feel it anymore.”

Sam nodded. “I get it, Mr. Frodo.” He hesitated before continuing. “Do you think of it very much?”

Frodo shrugged. “Sometimes. If I am simply sitting and thinking my thoughts will sometimes drift in that direction, and I will find myself wondering how we ever did it and made it out alive. Before it was just relief that we did, but since I came here and was able to think about it, It’s amazing that we made it to Orodruin, much less even survived.”

Sam smiled. “I began to lose hope sometime, though I’m not right sure where or when, but I never doubted you, Mr. Frodo, not once. You’re the hero of the story, and the hero always makes it, he does.”

Frodo chuckled slightly. “No, no, Sam. You say you never doubted me, when you are the one who got us in and out of Mordor alive.”

Sam’s sat up as his face turned pink. “Now, Mr. Frodo-”

Frodo followed him into a sitting position and held up his hand. “Don’t you ‘Now, Mr. Frodo’ me, Samwise Gamgee. You know well enough, though you always prefer to remain modest, that if not for you the Ring would never have been destroyed.” His tone softened as he continued. “You were the one who fought Shelob and took the Ring when you thought me to be dead, and rescued me from the tower when you found out otherwise. It was you who kept me moving on those last days in Mordor. Was it not you who remained vigilant when my mind was shadowed by the Ring? Was it not you who comforted me when my dreams turned dark and my despair overpowered my senses? Was it not you who made sure I ate, drank, slept, and was kept warm? Was it not you who carried me up the side of Mount Doom when my strength gave and my will failed? It was you, Sam, not I, who kept us alive and the Ring safe. You saw us through Sam, and whether you lost hope or not, you never gave up.”

Sam was at a loss for words after this speech, and all he could do was begin to stammer a response, but no words could he form.

Frodo smiled, and pulled Sam into a tight embrace. “Thank you, Sam,” he said, “for everything you have ever done. If not for you, we would all be lost.”

Sam was still a moment, and then returned the hug, and smiling, he said, “Happy Birthday, Frodo.”

The End

Aur Onnad Meren: Sindarin: Happy Birthday