Frodo woke up screaming. It was so dark in his room and he was so lost in the realm of his nightmares, he did not realize that he had been dreaming and was now awake. Instead, he jumped from his bed and continued to scream out into the nothingness. The darkness was all around him. He was burning too, and his shoulder hurt, it felt icy cold.

The floor was made of stone and the walls were the same. He was still here, still here in Cirith Ungol. A prisoner. The Ring lost to him, Sam lost to him. He was alone, completely and utterly alone.

Gasping for breath, Frodo stumbled against something hard on the ground and found himself crawling on all fours.

He must be quiet, the orcs will hear him. Already he could hear running footsteps.

*The smell, oh the place is rank with the smell of Orcs.*

They would come for him now, come with whips and swords. They would beat him again, hurt him, lash him! Do horrible things, such horrible things---

“NO!”

Flinging himself forward, Frodo finally grasped for the wall and found instead a door.

*Where did that come from?*

No matter, he banged and tried to open it but it wouldn‘t budge. Maddeningly, Frodo felt all round the door trying to find some grip to pull on. With some surprise, Frodo found a knob and twisting it and pushed, and then dashed out into more darkness. A faraway torch was hanging on the wall and it seemed to call to him. Frodo ran towards it and away from the coming feet, the swiftly approaching orcs.

*I must get away, I must!*

But how would he escape them? Their were so many of them.

Crying, Frodo once again stumbled, so in haste that he didn‘t see the large crack on the stone floor, which hooked onto his feet. Frodo got back up and ran onwards towards the light. He had to get free, he had to find Sam.

“Sam! Sam, where are you? Save me! Help me! SAM!” He cried out his name, knowing that this time there would be no last minute rescue, no escape. He had lost the ring and soon he would be brought before the Dark Lord.

*Oh Elbereth, please let me die before they can touch me! Have mercy!*

Stumbling again and again, Frodo rose and ran. Their were more feet coming now, behind him, beside him, around him. They were everywhere! Almost reaching the light, Frodo stopped dead in his tracks, when a large looming shadow appeared in front of him. Turning, Frodo tried to run back, only to see more shadows coming up from behind him.

Terrified, Frodo slammed himself up against the nearest wall. Slowly, he sunk to the ground in helpless terror. Tears streamed from his wide blue eyes and Frodo stuffed his hand into his mouth to try to stop the scream clawing at his throat. To no avail. The fearful wail carried out of his throat and to the corridor. Weeping, Frodo tried to curl himself into a ball and backed away to find someplace to hide, knowing all too well it was futile. They had him now, and this time there would be no escape.

He would never see the Shire again, or Sam- *If only he had told Sam when he had the chance to tell him. How much he had grown used to having his gardener around him. How much he needed Samwise Gamgee. How much he loved him. He was lost now, lost forever, lost in shadow.*

Sobbing pitifully, Frodo felt the shadows coming closer to him, they were moving slowly, but they were coming. It wouldn’t be long now, it wouldn’t be long. Soon, he would feel the burning lash of the whip!

“Master? Mr. Frodo! It’s all right, your Sam is here. Your safe now, it was a dream. Mr. Frodo!”

A gentle hand reached out to him, out from the shadows.

A low voice spoke out a warning. “Careful Sam, he is frightened. Take it slow. Frodo…Frodo you are safe, here in Minas Tirith. Please my old friend--do you not recognize me? It-it is I, Aragorn…Strider. You are among friends.”

More Torches were lit and the shadows pressed back and a few familiar faces surrounded him. One was of a human dressed in royal clothes, another dressed all in white and still another, before him with blond curly hair and a beautiful soft and loving face.

For a moment Frodo hesitated, not trusting his eyes and then, staring at the one face he had known for so many years, he began to weep anew. Throwing himself into the outreached arms, Frodo continued to whimper and Samwise held the trembling form tightly to him, whispering soothing words in the hope of bringing his master comfort.

“Oh Sam! Sam you were gone--you-you left me! I was alone, lost in shadow.” The words echoed its accusation and Frodo stared into the brown eyes and saw the sadness within them.

“Yes Mr. Frodo, but I won’t leave you again--not ever again. I promise. Your Sam is here!”

Only then did Frodo stop trembling and allow himself to slowly be led back to his room. As he was laid in bed and Sam crawled in next to him, Frodo heard Aragorn speaking to someone.

“I gave orders that this room is to always be lighted with candles and the fireplace…why is it out!”

“But your majesty, I only left the room a few moments ago and the fire was roaring and the candles were lit all over the room. I swear to you by my honor!”

The next voice that spoke was also familiar and aged. “It was not his fault, Aragorn. I sense something, some evil at work. I think the fire was purposely put out.”

“By whom? Surely you are not suggesting--Gandalf, he is dead!”

“Perhaps, physically but not spiritually. Sauron's hatred for Frodo holds no bounds and it seems that he has and will probably try again to cast Frodo into the darkness of shadow--even from the void. All in his attempt to exact revenge.”

“Surely there is something that can be done. This is the fourth night in a row that Frodo has been sleep walking.”

“No, Aragorn. Night terrors. That is what they are called. I will cast a spell in the morning. A light spell of protection. It should do the trick.”

The silence that followed told Frodo that the others did not truly believe the spell would work. For a long time he laid against the pillows, unable to sleep. Eventually, however, sleep did overcome him and he drifted back into the world of shadows. Sam remained beside him, watching and holding him though the night until he, too, fell into an uneasy sleep. The words of his master followed him in his own dreams with the whispers chanting in his ears.

“-you left me.”

Those words would haunt him for the rest of his life.

When morning came and the sunlight peeked into the window, casting its warmth onto the two small hobbits, it brought with it hope. Opening his eyes and realizing it was morning, Frodo sighed in relief. No more shadows. Then, trembling slightly, Frodo realized that with the morning, night would come again. Soon the shadows will be waiting--waiting to claim him. For even in daylight, Frodo could still hear the malicious laughter of the Ring.

2/3

After second breakfast, Frodo escaped out of his bedroom and made his way outside to the courtyard. Finding a stone bench, he sat down and tried to figure out why these night walks were happening to him. Here in broad daylight the present was real to him, but in his sleep, he seemed lost in the past.

He and Sam had survived the journey to Mount Doom and reunited with the Fellowship. Merry and Pippin were safe, although slightly taller and a bit more mature, they still held that eternal passion for life. It amazed Frodo how well things had turned out for everyone. Gimli and Legolas were now friends, Gandalf was alive and well and their was talk that the Lady Arwen was on her way to Minas Tirith to be reunited with Aragorn. Everything was wonderful. So why did he feel as if it was the end of the world? Why did his heart feel so cold?

Glancing at his four fingered hand, Frodo winced as he was struck with realization. He still longed for the ring. Even after nearly destroying everything by claiming it in Mount Doom, even after knowing how evil it was, he still longed for it. Needed it. Sighing, Frodo curled further into himself. The sun’s rays were beating down upon him and instead of feeling warm he felt so unbearably cold. So very cold.

***

Gandalf watched him from the doorway. For almost an hour now Frodo had stood by his bedroom window, staring up at the darkening sky, until the sun finally sank low and at last disappeared into the horizon.

Frodo’s four fingered hand was pressed into a fist and raised to his chest, while his other hand lay loosely against his side clenching and unclenching in a slow and almost agitated way. Other then a few chest movements of breathing, Frodo was as still as a stone. His eyes did not even blink. What worried Gandalf was that Frodo was staring directly into Mordor.

Earlier in the day, Gandalf had joined Frodo in the courtyard, while he sat on the stone bench, and had tried casting an ancient protection spell against evil spirits. But something had gone wrong. As Gandalf had spoken and lifted his staff over Frodo’s form, a bright red light seemed to appear out of nowhere and repel his staff to the point that it flew from the Wizard’s hands, falling to the ground at his feet.

Gandalf had hid his worry from Frodo, who looked on mystified at the strange happening. Gandalf quickly concocted a soothing lie, telling Frodo that he had used a stronger spell then intended and would try it again at a later date. In the meantime he walked away, leaving Frodo in the hands of Samwise, who had returned with second breakfast for his Master.

Something was amiss and Gandalf wasn’t altogether sure if he was strong enough to counter what was happening. He had his suspicions, but that was all he had at the moment. He needed more time and more information before he could conclude what exactly was befalling Frodo. The problem was, would it be too late to save the dear Hobbit in whom he had grown to love as a son? Too much pain and sadness had fallen on this gentle soul and Gandalf felt to blame. If only he had been strong enough, if only he had taken the ring and allowed Frodo to remain oblivious to all the rest of Middle-Earth and Sauron’s tainted evil. Then Frodo wouldn’t be suffering in such terrible silence with wounds that would never mend.

This was the price Frodo paid, and Gandalf wondered how much more Frodo would have to give up to end the Dark Lord’s evil. Sighing, Gandalf took a step forward and, remaining behind Frodo's form, he softened his voice and tried to hide the fear that was so clearly seen within his eyes.

“Frodo, it is late…why don’t you try and get some rest. It has been a long day.”

Silence.

Gandalf cleared his voice and smiled. “Ahem! Frodo my dear hobbit, it is time to sleep. Shall I tuck you in and perhaps tell you a story? About Elves of course.”

The Silence caused Gandalf to drop his smile and that was when he felt the icy wind run through his body and he felt a great evil had entered the room. When Frodo spoke the voice sounded odd and not his own, and Gandalf swallowed, unable to move or speak, stunned by the tone of voice that was speaking.

“All is empty, and all is gone. What a heavy burden, so heavy a burden, laden with guilt and remorse. How cold the night becomes, no sunlight to warm thy face. Darkness breeds fear to one so small and weak.”

It took a moment for Gandalf to collect his words, but when he did he tried to put a force behind it and yet for all that it still cracked with an edge of fear. “Small you may be, weak you are not, Frodo. A heavy burden you carried, but no longer. You are free.”

“Freedom…freedom of the pain, my precious, my sweet, my birthday present.”

“Frodo--”

Gandalf reached for the small hobbit, but Frodo took that moment to turn and confront Gandalf and what Gandalf saw caused him to take several startled steps backwards.

Frodo’s eyes, that were the color of the sky, were now as black as a starless night. Within those eyes, Gandalf saw a glowing red eye.

“No!”

Slowly an evil smile came to the small Hobbit's face, and when he spoke the words that emanated from Frodo were eerie and full of malice.

“My Ring is gone, I still live, Wizard. I, the nameless fear, The Power, The Lord of Mordor, and Shadow. Lord of the Rings, I am Sauron!”

“It cannot be!” Replied Gandalf, as he watched the malevolent smile on the Hobbit's face increase as he took a few steps to circle the wizard. When he spoke again, it was in a tongue that only a select few would know and certainly no Hobbit of the Shire. The Black speech.

“Cannot be-- it can. You, Istari, sent by the Valar to stop me from coming into being. Though my ring, my precious, is gone, I still survive in the void. I will always exist--even death has not stopped me.”

“Leave, leave Frodo alone. Be gone at once!”

But the creature continued to pace around the wizard, slowly and carefully as one would prepare to pounce on one’s prey.

“Fear? You fear for this little one? Oh yes, but not enough to take upon the responsibility in taking My Ring for yourself. I see the guilt in your eyes, Olorin. Yes, I know your true name. I know everything about you. Istari. Even about this one, so fragile and gentle…innocent, so sweet, so pure of heart and for all that he still surrendered to the power of the ring at the last moment, in the heart of Mount Doom. My Ring! You did not protect him as you so vowed, nor can you protect him now that he is mine, given to me by his own free will.”

“Stop this madness, I command by the powers of the Valar for you to leave this body at once.”

“You were weak, so very weak and for that you must deal with the consequences of actions you sent into motion. This one destroyed my plans, my return to Middle-Earth. For so many thousands of years, I waited and waited and waited. Patience I held dear, for my time was coming. But because of you, and the elves! Oh the Elves! The fate of all Middle-Earth was to be decided, and you placed so much upon the shoulders of one so small. You dared not take that which he so freely offered. Now, he must pay the penalty of your weakness. For I shall have my revenge!”

Raising his staff, Gandalf again shouted angrily into the room around him. “I command you to leave! You will have no further power here on Middle-Earth nor upon Frodo Baggins.”

Laughter erupted from Frodo’s lips, but the laughter was filled with such evil and hatred that Gandalf stepped backed even further from the creature and to his horror watched as Frodo’s eyes now became red with flames dancing within the center of his pupils.

“I shall never regain my body nor the power to wield upon this earth, I shall to the last, make this one pay. He shall die by my hand. Not quickly, and not too fast. No, he must suffer, suffer untold pain and agony. You and all that have come to love him shall watch and know that he dies and endures, not just because he destroyed that which was mine, but because I will it and you are unable to stop it!”

Raising his staff again, Gandalf began to speak in a tongue of old and at once his staff began to glow a bright ray of light. However, even as he cast it, Frodo closed his eyes and then like a clap of a hand, Frodo fell to the ground like a broken puppet.

A cold breeze swept out of the room. The evil was gone, for the moment. When Gandalf lowered his staff, glancing out the window he saw that darkness had fallen and a full moon, and it was blood red.

Reaching Frodo, he lowered his staff and checked the Hobbit's pulse to find it was beating, although very slowly. Picking the hobbit up and into his arms, Gandalf paused over the bed when he heard a scratching noise. Turning, Gandalf saw mysterious letters appear over the fireplace in the runes of the black speech. They read, "three days."

3/3

His cries echoed down the hall, and though the Fellowship was forbidden to enter the room, they remained nearby listening to the suffering of one they had all come to love.

Sam was closest to the door and ready at any moment to leap into the room. It was only Gandalf making him promise to stay away from Frodo that kept him where he was. Tears had long since dried on his cheeks, but the redness stinging his eyes was still present. He felt so torn and longed to be at his master’s side. He was frightened now, more frightened than when he had to face down that filthy Shelob. A promise is a promise.

Gandalf and Aragorn were the only ones allowed to see Frodo, and though they periodically came out of the room to get supplies, they would often close the door firmly behind them. Sam would then follow Aragorn or Gandalf to whereever they went, hoping beyond hope that they would explain what was happening to his master, but they didn’t even give him a look.

After more than two days, Sam was at his wits end and needed answers. “Please, please, Mr. Gandalf!” Sam finally cried, tugging desperately at the wizard's cloak as Gandalf had returned carrying several lanterns and a pitcher of water with him.

Gandalf paused in mid-step as he opened the door and then sadly shook his head at Sam. “Not now, Sam, be strong. We’re doing all that we can.” And without another word, Gandalf entered the room, closing the door behind him.

A loud scream followed and Sam fell to his knees in the horror. Merry and Pippin came and held the frightened gardener in their arms.

***

Frodo screamed and then choked. His throat was so dry; he needed water. Wanted just a little drink to cool the burning in his throat. But the Orcs were standing above him, hovering with whips and chains. Breathing down upon him. Their intent coldly clear. He would find no reprieve, no mercy. He cried out for Sam, but Sam was gone and he was alone. So alone.

***

“He cannot endure much more, Gandalf.”

Aragorn brushed his hand lightly upon Frodo’s forehead and arm. The Hobbit was burning up. The ice he had gotten from the lowered chambers had not countered the fever. No healing herbs or potions had been able to stop the infection from growing inside the Hobbit‘s body. Aragorn had tried everything to help, but nothing seemed to be working. He was frightened now; he was not sure he could endure losing Frodo again. Not like this.

“This is the third day? What shall we do?”

Aragorn could already see the aura around Frodo’s form, and he knew Gandalf did as well. Frodo was starting to fade. His body was still too weak from his trip to Mount Doom to continue under this evil onslaught. By morning, Frodo would be gone forever.

Gandalf swallowed, his voice caught in his throat; he was not sure what else could be done. He had thought about summoning the Eagles and employing their help to fly Frodo at once to the nearest islands of Valar, in some vain hope that the light of the Arda would protect Frodo. That idea left him, as he realized that if he did, and even if it did work, Frodo would never be permitted to return. He would never see his beloved companions and friends again.

Perhaps, a part of Gandalf wondered, would it be better for Frodo to die, surrounded by those that he loved, than to live a life of eternity in protection, locked away, isolated--alone.

Gandalf had led a long life on Middle-Earth, however, only a select few found a special place in his heart. Aragorn, Bilbo--and most certainly Frodo Baggins. The thought of losing Frodo, like this--,caused Gandalf’s heart to fall into a deep despair. The Hobbit was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. The darkness deepened, and the shadows seemed to grow larger around the room. Dawn was coming, and the Hobbit continued to wither helplessly in the bed, lost in torment and pain.

‘Was this how it would end? Was this to be Frodo’s reward?’ wondered Gandalf.

Somewhere in the shadows, evil laughter could be heard, jubilant in his final triumph.

***

He came upon Eagle’s wings. They had collected him on his way to Minas Tirith. Just crossing Lothlorien’s borders. He had not been allowed a quick goodbye to his beloved daughter, nor to give his people any instructions. He was simply picked up and carried off. At first, he had been a bit startled by the abruptness of the Eagles, but Gwaihir explained quickly in Sindarin that his presence was needed. Elrond needed no further information, and allowed himself to be flown at the fastest speed the eagles could go. Time was running out.

***

He touched down upon the stone steps and was not surprised to see that one of his fellow kind was waiting for him. Prince Legolas.

“My Lord.”

The Prince of Mirkwood had been unsettled by the Ringbearer's new suffering and had wandered the high tower to try to seek solace and understanding as to why someone so innocent and beautiful had to endure so much pain in one lifetime.

As Legolas walked, his keen sight caught the flight of two great Eagles and a familiar smaller form being carried upon one of their backs. Legolas did not have to ask any questions and bowed before Elrond and turned and started to run. Elrond followed closely behind him.

***

Ignoring the fearful Fellowship outside the door of the closed off room, Elrond bypassed them and entered the room alone. The White Wizard and King of Gondor turned in surprise at the elf appearing without warning. Despair was replaced with hope when Elrond pulled back his robes and revealed the glowing aura of Vilya upon his finger.

“We have not much time. The power of the last three rings is fading with the power of the One destroyed. It may, however, be enough to save one small hobbit.”

Gandalf nodded and, joining Elrond’s side, he too raised his hand and upon his finger, for the first time, Aragorn saw a ring. A glowing red ruby. But, there were three rings. Would two be enough.

The sound of water filled Aragorn’s ears and in the far corner of the room, a figure shimmering in gold and light walked out of the shadows. Her hand raised to the three, its diamond sparkling and breathing in a life all of its own.

Aragorn swallowed, Lady Galadriel had come. How was this possible?

The three ancient Ringbearer‘s did not speak. Instead they stood together as one, and closing their eyes, they began to chant in a language even Aragorn did not understand.

***

Samwise rose from his place against the wall and walked over to the nearest window. Looking outside, he could see that dawn was coming. It was the third day Frodo had suffered the darkness of Sauron. In Sam’s heart he knew that, with the dawning of the sun, his Master’s lifeforce would be gone. His Master would finally have peace.

Yes, but Frodo would never live to see the Shire again, to see his beloved Bilbo. Frodo would never know the true reason why Samwise followed his Master so loyally along the road of Mordor. Not because of a promise he made to a wizard. The promise he had made within his own heart. ‘Don’t you leave him Samwise Gamgee.’

Sam knew that if his master left this plane--then Samwise vowed he would not be far behind. He would not live one day longer without his beloved Frodo. A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Sam looked up, to see Legolas staring down upon him. His eyes seemed to know what was going on in the gardener's mind. “Do not give up hope yet, Sam.”

Sam turned away and looked over the valley where he could see streaks or red and gold just behind the mountain valley. The sun was beginning to rise. “Whereever he goes--” Sam felt a hot tear fall from his eyes, sealing the vow to any who would hear him. “I will follow.”

***

At first, there was only darkness, and the Orcs. The whips, the screams--the pain.

Then Frodo found himself standing around a circle of light. It seemed to flow around him, like a tunnel. It flowed onwards--to where he did not know. Yet, he could hear singing. Such sweet singing. Singing him home. They were waiting for him. It was time for rest. He had earned it. For a moment, Frodo paused. His thoughts turning to those he loved, to those he was leaving behind. Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Merry and Pippin. They did not need him. They would be all right. Frodo knew they would go on with their lives. All but one. Sam. His Sam.

Ah, but there was Rosie Cotton. Frodo knew in time Sam’s heart would mend and he would find solace in her arms. Yes, everything would be fine. Frodo smiled and turning to the light, he started into the tunnel.

“Frodo Baggins!” A voice called from behind him.

Frodo did not wish to listen to this voice and took another step forward. “Frodo Baggins. It is not your time.”

Frodo finally stopped. He sighed sadly and lowered his head. “The Longing, the emptiness. I am a shell now of my former self. Is it not enough to have given them all my heart and body? Can I not at least keep my soul for myself. You and I both know that as long as I live, I shall never find peace upon Middle-Earth.”

“There are still things to be done Frodo Baggins. Things left to be said. Journeys to take. This is not the end.”

“I wish it to be. I have heard the call of the Sea and know where this new journey shall take me. Far away from those that I love. To be left alone upon a shore. Separated. This is better. Much better.”

“For you, for them? Or for Sauron.”

Finally, Frodo turned and stared at the beautiful white form of Galadriel. “I have been alone all of my life. You did not need to tell me as a RingBearer it is my fate to be alone. I am tired. So weary. Beyond weary. No amount of sleep can I take this feeling away from me. I need peace. Here, I will find it. In the Halls of Mandos. Have I not earned it?”

“Perhaps--Yes. Yet, you may find what you seek in the West.”

“And I have just told you, that I prefer this place to standing upon the shores alone. Waiting for the one that will never come to me.”

“Will you be alone, Ringbearer? Have you always been alone? Truly?”

The face of Samwise Gamgee shot into Frodo’s memory and Frodo felt himself cringe in regret. “He will be better off without me. Without an invalid. He will find happiness elsewhere, with someone else.”

“No, Frodo Baggins. He will not find another’s arms and, with your selfish desire to find peace in death, you will cause another’s journeying after you.”

Frodo met her eyes and fear flooded his veins. “No.”

“Yes. Did he not say, ‘Frodo, don’t go where I cannot follow.’? And he will follow. Each life is intended to walk each his own, but not Samwise Gamgee. His very birth, as was yours had only one journey. Together, as one. Never to be parted. So much left undone, so many hearts shall weep. So many tears, and weeping that even the Valar shall be moved by it. Not since the day of Luthien.”

“I have no more strength, my Lady.”

“That is why you must allow others to give you theirs.”

Frodo closed his eyes and felt the pain wash through him again. He could feel the longing, the desire for the Ring. Still calling him. Forever calling him. He would continue to feel lost. So very lost. Frodo was wrong. He would not be alone.

Would the love of one be enough? Will it get him through the darkness and shadows? Which is stronger: Sauron---The Ring---or true love? Was love worth the suffering?

Opening his eyes, Frodo looked into the Lady’s blue eyes and made his final decision.

***

They walked out of the room one by one. Aragorn, Gandalf and Elrond. The Lady Galadriel’s form had long since vanished at the dawning of daybreak. They did not speak. They simply walked away. Frightened, Sam ran into the room and stared at the bed.

Frodo lay upon it, unmoving. Still as death. Sam felt a pull from behind him, but he shook it off and moved closer to the bed.

Beautiful, Frodo had always been beautiful, but now he looked ethereal, much like an elf. His skin, soft and white. Silky to the touch. His hair like chocolate, and his face perfectly portioned. Slanted eyes, delicate nose and slim peach lips. Pointed ears. Sam, brushed the tears from his eyes and took Frodo’s hand into his own. He kissed the nub of Frodo’s missing finger. Even this could not diminish Frodo’s beauty. His love. Frodo was gone, he knew it. And Sam never felt such despair. It ran even deeper then it did in Shelob's cave. For his Master had died, without his beloved Sam at his side. Alone.

Sam lowered his head and nodded. ‘I’m coming, Mr. Frodo. Your Sam is coming.’ Sam felt the metal at his side and took Sting gently from its place. One quick stroke. And it would be over. He reached for the sword, for Sting. His intent and decision final. He would not stay here, not without his beloved Master.

***

The hand rose and gently stroked his cheek. Sam opened his eyes and stared on at two beautiful sparkling blue eyes. A small smile upon its cherub face. “Hullo, Sam. My Sam. Did I ever tell you, that I love you? I love you more than the grass, and trees of Middle-Earth. Did I tell you, I love you more than the Shire? More than Uncle Bilbo, or Gandalf. That my love for you, was so deep, every day, on our way to Mordor, I tried to think of some way to make you turn back, to be someplace safer than where I was leading you. My love for you so strong--that not even death could tempt me to leave you. Oh, Sam. My Sam. My body is broken. It shall never mend. My heart is ripped to pieces and my thoughts ever turn to darkness. My Soul is empty with despair. What can I bring to thee? What can I give to thee in return?”

Sam smiled and dropped the sword upon the ground, his hands reaching for that beloved face. His body moved forward and his lips pressed gently upon Frodo’s. For a long time everything seemed to stop. When Sam broke the kiss, his eyes filled with tears.

“You give me everything, my Love. You give me hope, you give me happiness, you give me a reason for being. Without you I am nothing. Without you, I could not exist and would not want to. I love thee, and will take all and nothing, whatever you give to me. It will be enough.”

“Will it Sam?”

“Always.” And Sam joined Frodo on the bed and pulled his beloved into his arms, continuing to kiss and touch his master. Alive and breathing, alive and in his arms. His love.

“Oh, Sam, shall you leave me?”

“Never. Where ever you go--I will follow.”

Frodo smiled and allowed his tears to mix with Sam’s. “I will never go where you cannot come.”

And they sealed their vow that very day. A promise that would never be broken.

***

Three weeks later, Gandalf, Aragorn, the remaining Fellowship with Lord Elrond watched the two lovers walk hand in hand in the garden. To all the world, for this moment, it was just the two of them. And in that moment, there was peace and happiness. The sun beat down upon them all, the clouds white and puffy and the blue sky that went on forever. It was a perfect day to celebrate life.

“It was not the power of the Three Rings that kept him here.” said Elrond.

Gandalf nodded. “Only love could keep him, only love could break Sauron’s spell.”

“Gandalf?” asked a small voice close to his side. Gandalf stared down at the small round face that had suffered greatly and yet carried it so well for one so young.

“Yes, Pippin.”

“Will Frodo live happily ever after?”

Gandalf smiled and put his hand gently on the young one’s shoulder. When he looked up, he saw that all had turned to him, as if asking him the same question.

“Frodo and Sam are together--whether in this life, or across the sea or even what lies beyond the curtain. Yes, Pippin., Frodo will live happily ever after--with his Sam.”

THE END.

/