| ********** The day had come, and Frodo stood on the shore with his three dearest friends. Behind them towered the enormous gray ship that was to carry him away to the Havens, the resting place of Heroes and elves and kings. The good-byes were short and slightly teary with Merry and Pippin; although they were obviously distressed by his departure, they at least had each other to hold to. As he came to stand in front of Sam, Frodo had to force himself to stand still and not fall into those strong arms and tell him he was forgiven. For, in his heart, Frodo *had* forgiven Sam, but his dignity, his *pride* would not allow any mercy to show through. What was done, was done, he reasoned, and there was no changing it. Anyway, he no longer felt safe and comfortable in Sam's arms as he used to. Sam was like a stranger to him. There was not a word said between them, just the intense lock of two pairs of brown eyes, one dark and chocolate colored and the other soft and light and filled with tears. Sam's lips trembled and Frodo had the urge to soothe them with is own. 'No!' his dignity spoke up, 'Remember what he did to you. He deserves this!' Deciding to listen to the harsh, abused part of himself that seemed to speak it's mind too frequently lately, he kept his lips away from Sam's mouth, and restricted himself to the sorrow lined forehead. 'Goodbye.' His heart whispered. As soon as he turned his back to Sam, he allowed the salty betrayers of his pride to fall to the sand. He boarded the elven ship regretful, and achingly hollow inside for some reason. |
| CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 3: Spring after Winter |
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