Disclaimer: I don’t own Tolkien’s characters, just borrowing them for fun in the world of Fanfiction.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Gollum, Rosie and Galadriel.

Chapter Three: The beginning of all things

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13, April, 3020

It’s been a month since the last time Mr. Frodo was ill. I’m happy to see he’s doing better. The terrors have left him alone. I was going to leave and go back home but then he told me after Rosie and I are married, he insisted we stay with him, and so that’s what we’ll do. I said to him, see Mr. Frodo, you’re getting better. You just need time. We have been through so much. How can we expect these things to go away in a day, a month or even a year? I remember when he told me, I’m not the same Frodo Baggins you knew once. I know he has changed and I also know he can come back. He’s sleeping now. I’ll go check on him. Sometimes I go into his room and just sit beside him, watch him sleep. And when he’s sleeping peacefully, I smile.

Frodo opened his eyes. He squinted, trying to make sense of what lurked near the door. Moonlight was not its friend, for what ever it was seemed to despise the light that exposed its misshapen form.

Frodo gasped and bolted upright from his pillow.

It slinked closer, like a menacing shadow across the room.

When it reached the end of his bed, the familiar bulging blue eyes glared at him in the moonlight. And a voice growled from out of the shadows.

“My Preeeecious.”

Frodo trembled.

“Smeagol? No, it can’t be!”

Gollum’s mischievous grin revealed his foul arrowed teeth. “Yes, it’s me, master. Come to Smeagol.” Inching closer, he added, “I knows what you go through. Smeagol knows.”

Frodo slid away from him, backing up against the oak headboard.

“Get away from me!”

Gollum knew he couldn’t fool him like he had done before. His entire demeanor had changed from the timid Smeagol to the hideous Gollum. His eyes blazed and an odious rage mangled his features that had already been deformed.

He bounded toward Frodo with frantic hands that wrestled for the chain around his neck.

“It’s ours,” He snarled. “We wants it!”

“No!” Frodo screamed, mustering the strength to shove him off. He managed to protect the chain with his left hand and with his right, Frodo’s fingers dug into the slimy flesh on Gollum’s face.

A scream blared into his hobbit ears, but it wasn’t from Gollum.

“Mr. Frodo!”

Like the waves of the ocean receding from the shore, so did the darkness roll away from him and out of the room.

Now there was light, beaming from the lantern that sat on his desk.

And when Frodo looked up, he realized his fingers dug into Sam’s flesh, not Gollum. Just another delusion that returned, and here he was, hurting Sam…his beloved Sam.

Frodo released his grip on Sam’s face. His heart sank when he saw the scratches. Some that were deeper had begun to bleed.

“Sam!” he uttered, a quivering whisper.

Nauseated by the horror of what he had done, Frodo leaped out of bed and raced out of the room.

Sam plopped onto the bed. He winced from the pain that stung his cheeks. Then he heard the sound of Frodo retching inside the bathroom.

Weary, Sam cradled his face in his left hand. He hated to hear Frodo sick again. Every time Frodo suffered, he also felt the pain. It infuriated him and in his mind, he screamed at the ring, at everything that had happened.

Footsteps shuffled back into the room.

Sam looked up to see Frodo leaning against the door. He saw the shame etched onto his face for being sick. Again, his skin was a pasty white and under his eyes…puffy, dark circles conveyed the restless sleep he had been having.

Frodo moped toward the bed. Drained from the nightmares, delusions and being sick a few moments ago, sluggishly, he sat beside Sam.

The gardener didn’t look at him. Instead, his melancholy eyes were fixated onto the tiled floor.

“Sam…”

Fighting to stop himself from shivering, he answered, “Are you okay, Mr. Frodo?”

“Sam, look at me.”

Slowly, he turned and when he gazed at Frodo, he saw not only the shame of being sick, but shame of what Frodo had done to his face.

“What have I done to you? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right. You didn’t mean to.”

“No, Sam, it’s not all right. I won’t go back to sleep. If I do, I may hurt you again.”

“You have to sleep, Mr. Frodo.”

He shook his head. “No. I won’t. I have to keep myself busy.”

Frodo stood and walked gingerly toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

Frodo hesitated.

With his back toward Sam, he replied softly, “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving the house. There’s still more I need to write.”

And then Frodo left Sam alone.

After Sam tended the few scratches on his cheeks, he went back to his room. There, he lay on his bed and stared listlessly at the ceiling. Numbness spread to every limb in his body. At first, he didn’t blink, but how long could he hold back the reflexes that were unavoidable. Finally, he blinked several times.

Usually he would visit his journal and pour out all his feelings to it. Instead, his exhausted, sprawled body remained on the bed. His mind raced. So many thoughts, some that frightened him. And then they became voices, assaulting him.

Do you really think you can help Frodo?

The lad is sick, too far gone. There’s nothing you can do for him now.

Time you say? How much more? He’s a burden to you. Can’t you see that?

Look at what he’s done to your face. It’s getting worse, Samwise, not better.

You are only fooling yourself.

Let him go.

There’s nothing you can do, Samwise.

Nothing.

Sam threw his hands against his ears, squeezing them as hard as he can to silence the voices. Suddenly, they stopped. Sam peeled his hands away from his ears and now he felt shame, the shame of doubt.

He plunged his face into the pillow–the pillow that muffled the cries of a hobbit torn in two.

14, April

It’s morning. I never thought it would come. The nights seem so long. I wonder what this morning will bring for Mr.Frodo…for us.

The morning sun retired behind angry dark clouds. Torrential spring rain had decided it was its turn to visit Hobbiton. In the dining area of Frodo’s home, the two hobbits sat at an oak table, eating their first breakfast of the day. Sam cooked a hearty meal of eggs, tomatoes and bacon. They sat across from one another, eating in silence. The only thing that distracted them every now and then was the rain plummeting against the windows.

Sam peeked up from his plate and studied the way Frodo ate, picking at his food. A month ago he gained the weight he had lost, and now he was frail again. His master appeared so anemic.

Breaking the silence, Sam said, “Mr. Frodo I hope you were able to go back to sleep.”

Frodo didn’t answer. He stared at the scraps of food that nauseated him.

“Mr. Frodo…oh no, you didn’t stay up all night?”

“I tried. Sometime during the night, I must have fallen asleep because I had another dream.” Frodo cringed at the food. He wanted to avoid being sick again and pushed the plate aside. “I’ve had enough.”

“But,” Sam started, “You hardly ate anything?”

“If I have anymore, I won’t be able to hold it down.”

Sam sensed Frodo was irritated by his persistence in wanting him to eat, and so he nodded solemnly.

Changing the subject, Sam asked, “You had another dream?”

“Yes, but…this dream was different. It didn’t frighten me like the others. Shall I share it with you?”

“I want to hear it,” Sam replied eagerly.

And then Frodo began his tale about the dream…

He awoke and found himself in the woods bathed in brilliant sunshine, but he knew these woods were not of the shire. He had been there before. Trees towered above him-a canopy of autumn gold and rustic brown. And when he turned, there she was, standing by what looked like a fountain.

The Elf Queen…Galadriel.

Waves of her blonde hair flowed delicately down her back. She glowed like the light of the moon. Even the white dress she wore was a reflection of light and beauty to Frodo’s eyes. Her smile…

Gentle.

Radiant.

Inviting him closer to where she stood, which now he recognized was Galadriel’s mirror.

“Frodo,” she spoke softly, “You look so troubled.”

Galadriel extended her arms to him. “Come.”

He didn’t hesitate, gliding toward her arms. And as he walked, Frodo felt the chain loosen. It slipped from around his neck, falling like a feather. He looked down and saw it on the ground. His first instinct would be to pick it up and it surprised him that he left it there, walking past it.

Frodo was lovingly cradled into Galadriel’s embrace.

“Rest now, Frodo.” Her voice seemed to sing to him, elegant whispers that wafted in the tranquil breeze.

“I’m frightened, Lady Galadriel.”

“I know, but you’re in my arms now. The shadows are no more, only light. Rest…Frodo of the Shire.”

Tears flooded his eyes as he reveled in the peace that stilled his tormented soul. A peace he never thought he could ever feel again. And then he closed his eyes.

When Frodo finished telling Sam about his dream, he noticed Sam’s expression, like that of a child riveted by a bedtime story. He knew that look very well, how Sam was awed by the elves, especially Galadriel.

Frodo asked, “What do you think of it?”

“It’s beautiful. You need to have more of those kinds of dreams. I’m hoping you will, Mr. Frodo.”

Frodo stared at Sam and sighed.

The gardener’s face scrunched into a puzzled frown. “What is it?”

“What will your old gaffer think when he sees those scratches?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll tell him a cat did it.”

“A cat? I don’t have a cat.”

“Well, I’ll tell him I came across one in the woods.”

Frodo arched his left brow. “Do you really think he’ll believe that story?”

Sam thought for a moment and then he came back with a swift and brief…

“No.”

Frodo chuckled, shaking his head.

It pleased Sam to see Frodo smile, even if it was just for a moment. He wished it lasted longer. Silently he sighed at the somber blue eyes that met his.

“The gaffer will suspect I had something to do with it. He already thinks I’m mad.”

“Now, Mr. Frodo, I don’t want you worrying about what my old gaffer or anyone thinks.”

“I try not to, Sam. Believe me. It’s not easy.”

Frodo suddenly perked, growing tired of ‘him’ as the topic of conversation.

“Well, you and Rosie will be married in two weeks. I’ll help with the preparations. Oh, Sam, that day will be a beautiful day!”

A cheery smile lifted Sam’s pink cheeks. “Yes, it will, Mr. Frodo. It will.”

14, April

It is evening now. The rain has stopped. Mr. Frodo is writing in the red book again. I’m in my room and I figured I’d tell you more about what happened today. While we were eating breakfast, Mr. Frodo told me about a dream he had. A beautiful dream it was about Lady Galadriel. He asked me what I thought. Well, I don’t know what to think, other than maybe he wishes he could see her again. I know I wish I could go back to Lothlorien. I never thought I would see anything so beautiful outside the Shire. I’ve also been thinking about Rosie. We’ll be married soon…my beautiful Rosie.

1, May

I’m in my room again, but this time it’s not mine, it belongs to Rosie, too. Oh what a beautiful day it was, just like Mr. Frodo said it would be. Everyone attended the wedding. Rosie looked so pretty with flowers in her hair. Before we kissed, I thought about the time when Mr. Frodo and I were laying on a rock at Mount Doom. We were surrounded by lava and I thought, well, this is it. I’ll never see Rosie again. And so when I kissed her, I also embraced her close to me, holding on as tight as I could. Everyone cheered and clapped. I turned, smiling at the crowd and when Rosie tossed her bouquet, I smiled again when Pippin caught it. And there was Mr. Frodo. The quest, the night terrors and his anniversary illness had drained him so, and yet when I looked at him, his face glowed, like it did before the madness. He’s happy for me. And I still hope he can find the happiness he once had.

“Sam?”

Sam looked up to see a beaming Rosie in a white, ruffled nightgown. She stood by his desk, smiling down at him.

Sam returned the smile, closed his journal and dunked the quill back into the jar of black ink.

“Rosie.” He stood and locked his arms around her waist. Sam pressed his forehead against hers and gazed lovingly into her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Samwise Gamgee.”

Suddenly, shrieking cries had broken the rapturous moment between them.

Sam spun on his hobbit feet and listened as Frodo’s cries pierced the door.

His looked at Rosie and saw the concern in her eyes, for Frodo and for him. And even though it was their honeymoon night, she nodded, insisting he should go to Frodo.

Sam crossed over to the door, and just as he was about to entwine his fingers around the brass knob…

Silence.

He listened for a few moments, straining to hear the cries. All he heard was the frantic beating of his own heart.

Sam let out a deep, relieved sigh and started back to Rosie.

She guided him to the bed and there they sat on its edge.

Sam relaxed in her comforting embrace. As he laid his head against her chest, tension that tightened every muscle in his body had ebbed away. Silently, he thanked Rosie for that, because he knew she had been aware of what he was going through. Her fingers stroked his golden-brown hair and gently, she rocked him in her arms.

18, September, 3021

It’s been a year and several months since Rosie and I have been married. In March, she had a child and she named her Elanor, my beautiful little Elanor. She loves Mr. Frodo. It brings joy to my heart when I see her run to him. And,

A soft knock on the door interrupted Sam’s writing. He heard the door open slightly.

“Sam?”

He turned in his chair and looked around to see Rosie peeking inside the room.

“Yes, Rosie?”

“It’s Mr. Frodo. He wants to see you.”

Sam entered Frodo’s room and watched him standing by the window. He just stood there, looking out thoughtfully.

“Mr. Frodo? You want to see me?”

“Close the door, Sam.”

After Sam had closed the door, he joined his friend at the window. He waited for Frodo to say more and then…

“Autumn is here,” said Frodo. “I love the spring and summer in the shire, but there’s something about autumn that is a beautiful sight to my eyes as well.”

Frodo turned and faced Sam. “Uncle Bilbo has been granted a special privilege by the elves. He is going to the undying lands.”

Sam’s eyes widened. He was always fascinated when he heard Gandalf speak about the undying lands.

“Valinor,” said Sam with awe in his voice.

Frodo replied, “He’s leaving on the twenty-first. I have to journey with him along with Merry and Pippin. We’re going to the harbor at the Grey Havens. Will you accompany me also, Sam?”

“Mr. Frodo, you know where ever you want to go, I’ll be there with you.”

Frodo smiled and then he placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder, squeezing it tenderly.

Sam sat at his desk, immersed in the mid-day sunlight that flooded the room. He stared solemnly at his journal. Tears blurred his vision, and it pained him to swallow. The lump in his throat was like an irritating pest that wouldn’t go away. Sam sighed and decided that writing about it would be the best thing. He reached for the quill and opened the journal…

6, October

I’m back from my journey. I thought I’d left the Grey Havens with Merry, Pippin and Mr. Frodo. But, he didn’t come back with us. He told me Bilbo was going and all along, he knew he was leaving too. At first I was angry with him for not telling me, but now I understand.

Sam stopped to smudge a tear from under his eye, and then he continued…

He was only thinking of me. I wanted him to be happy again and hoped he would get better, but not in the Shire, like he told me. When he held me in his arms, I screamed to myself, why? Why do you have to leave to get better? Don’t you know I’ll never see you again? Then I realized, all the pain he was going through, he had to go. In Valinor, he’ll find peace. That’s the place where he can find happiness again. And when he stepped on the ship, he turned to look at us. I saw the glow on his face again and the smile that told me everything will be all right. And here I am, back in Bag End. Mr. Frodo left a letter for me in an envelope. He said to me, I had to leave Sam. I hope you understand. I tried to stay here in the Shire. I couldn’t. And I believe you also know this. It’s for the best. You have a life with Rosie and Elanor. I want you to move on with your life. I would only be a burden to you if I stay, and I don’t want that. You said time would heal my wounds. I wanted to believe that, but the scars I have are too deep, Sam. Only in Valinor will I find healing. Remember when we were at Mount Doom and I told you I’m glad you’re with me, here at the end of all things? Well, now this is the beginning of all things. Sam, we will see one another again. This is not the end. I have always known you loved me, and I love you, too, Sam. Don’t you ever forget.

That’s the end of what Mr. Frodo wrote. Inside the envelope, he left the chain behind. I’m holding it in my hand. And then I remembered the dream he told me once about Lady Galadriel. I understand now. She wanted him to know that he will find peace in Valinor where she was also going. And I thought about the chain slipping from his neck. It all meant something now, he would leave one day. And he would be able to leave this chain behind. Although you’re gone, Mr. Frodo, I’ll never forget you, either. And I know one day will meet again.

Sam closed his journal, placed the quill back into the jar, and then he laid his head onto the desk. He stared at the chain in his hand. Hot tears burst from his eyes while his fingers wrapped themselves around the chain, squeezing it firmly in his hand.

After composing himself, he slipped the chain back inside the envelope. His teary eyes looked up and out through the window, past Bag End, over the hills of the Shire and back at the harbor of the Grey Havens. He could still see the ship drifting quietly across the sea, disappearing on the horizon…and into the West.

The End