MATTERS OF THE HEART
Behind the closed shutters of the study in Bag End, a fire lit the darkened night from the old stone hearth, filling the room with a warmth equal to that of a warm summer's day. A figure could be seen sitting before a desk with a book in hand, while a small candle burned steadily at their side. A soft rain was upon the cool autumn air in the Shire, bringing with it the reminder of the winter yet to come. It was September, and with it once again came the sadness that could not seem to part from Sam's heart, when on that day so many years past, Frodo sailed through the grey mist upon the sea from the harbor of the Grey Havens, never to be seen again.
Silence lingered within the halls of Bag End only to be broken by the gentle crackle of flames that rose inside the stone hearth of the study. Slowly the warm amber glow of the fire began to fade, casting long shadows upon the wall from the many stacks of books that rested upon the floor. There they had stayed for many long years, last touched by Frodo's hands only days before his departure to the Havens. Sam turned away from his reading, his eyes falling towards the floor where a small log lay next to his feet. A deep sigh passed through his lips as he looked back to his book now dimly lit from the flame of the candle that flickered nearby. The words upon the pages seemed as through they were a memory brought back from a day only recently passed. Yet, in truth, many years had come and gone since that time. Sam could feel his eyes grow wet with tears as he drew his hand along the elegant stokes formed upon the paper by Frodo's hand. There, Frodo spoke of the scent that was within the air when they first awoke in Ithilien after being carried away from the fires, which surrounded them in darkness at Mount Doom . Then almost as if in a dream Sam could hear his name being called from far away as he read on until he could bear it no more. He drew the deep red leather cover of the book closed setting it before him next to a stack of papers in left in disarray. Sam brought his hands to his face placing them over his weary eyes drying them of their salty tears. He then felt a tender touch fall upon his shoulder and he opened his eyes, turning to a smiling face shining with the glow of the candlelight as the fire burning within the hearth faded to smoldering embers at his side.
“My dear Rose.” Sam whispered quietly taking her hand into his own. “I did not mean to keep you waiting for me so long.”
“Nay.” Rose said with a smile. “You have not kept me waiting for I knew you were here. In time sleep would get the best of you as I thought it had when I came into the study a moment ago.”
“A few more hours of reading could have drawn me to sleep.” Sam replied softly. “But perhaps I got the best of myself holding onto the past as I always seem to do at this time of year.”
“Aye.” Rose sighed placing her hand over the Red Book as it lay on the desk under Sam's hand. “Ten years now have gone by since that day when Frodo sailed over the sea.”
“That they have.” Sam said turning to the closed shutters of the window that looked out over the western gardens of Bag End. “Even now it seems as though an eternity has passed me by.” Sam replied, looking back to Rose.
“Yes time seems to draw on when one so close to our heart is far from our reach.” Rose whispered drying away a tear from Sam's eye. “Much like it did for me when you went away with Frodo.”
“And yet, I so wish the days would not be filled with such sadness as they come to be this time every year.” Sam replied quietly, running his hand along the thick cover of the Red Book.
“One day you shall find what it is you have been missing all along.” Rose said as she drew a small stool away from the corner of the room placing it next to Sam. She sat down beside him watching his face as he took in a deep breath before opening the cover of Red Book once again. He turned the pages aside slowly finally coming to a place where the elegant words ended continuing on in a hand more thick and bold. Soon they too came to and end, followed by many empty pages containing nothing more than a few smudges left behind by tired hands, stained with black ink.
“Many months have since passed when I last took my quill to these pages.” Sam quietly replied. “It seems I have come to a point where I can think of nothing more to write about my dear.” Sam said taking his gaze to Rose. “Frodo has done so well speaking of it on his own, I feel as though I would ruin it since I am not one for writing things as greatly as he.”
“Nonsense.” Rose said placing her hand over Sam's. “You have a way for telling tales unlike anyone else in the Shire. Yet that reminds me of something.” Rose replied as she stood to her feet. She made her way out of the study and in time returned holding a small package covered in white linen. Rose held her hands out before Sam and he looked to her not knowing what to say.
“Ten years ago on the morn before you set out with Frodo he came to me while you were out with the ponies making ready to leave. He said to me that he did not mean to return once you both had set out and that when you returned he knew a deep sadness would be within your heart. ‘ You shall know when the time is right for Sam to have this. ' Frodo said to me, quickly placing that bundle into my hands before opening the front door. As he did you came up the path and stood at the front gate with the reins of the ponies in your hands. Frodo turned to me with a smile and whispered Namarié as he made his way down the front walk to stand at your side.” Rose softly replied, as Sam took the linen covered package from her hands. Sam carefully placed the mysterious gift down into his lap slowly turning away the folds of dusty fabric revealing a small collection of well worn papers nestled between dark brown leather covers that were bound together with a thin cord of twine. Sam opened the small book and began to read the words written upon the first page. He struggled for a moment as they were written in elvish, a language Sam had only learned little about from Bilbo and Frodo many years past. A soft whisper of the word Namarié passed through Sam's lips as he looked to Rose, his eyes wet with tears as a tender smile came over his face. He then let his fingers fall over the words written upon the page as he read silently to himself, as a familiar voice seemed to fall upon his ears from the distance.
“Such a time did pass when I thought I would not hear your voice again, upon many a night when it seemed the end was near. Yet now, over the vast sea I feel you here with me, and I hear your voice upon the distant wind, just as you shall hear my own calling you, until I can see you again.”
Sam pulled aside page after page reading over so many words that seemed hastily scratched upon the small scraps of paper by Frodo's hand. Through the entire journey, it seemed as though Frodo had secretly written a journal, writing the loveliest of prose, even when the foul stench of foreign lands choked the very air they breathed. Sam then stopped for a moment and began to read aloud, his words gentle and soft as Rose listened contently.
‘To smell the fragrant blossoms of the roses that Sam tends to beneath my window each morn is all I could ever long for as the vile air of Mordor surrounds us this very night.' Sam read, noting that Frodo's hand seemed to grow more unsteady with each passing word. ‘Yet he is here with me now, sleeping at my side, and that comfort alone more than makes up for all that I miss within the Shire.'
Sam then thumbed through the last few pages, realizing that much time had seemed to pass from that entry to the next. There the words seemed illegible, almost as if they were written by a different hand. But after reading on, he knew that it was indeed Frodo who had scrawled out the letters with his writing hand that was maimed by Gollum at the brink of Mount Doom .
Sam could feel his face grow wet with tears as he ran his fingers along Frodo's writing upon the thick pages of parchment, again softly reading the words aloud.
‘I have woken from the most horrid dream only to open my eyes to the bright sun and the enchanting smell of cherry blossoms within the air.' Frodo wrote . ‘We are here, in Ithilien, within the presence of the King. Sam still sleeps, smiling now under a canopy of blossoming trees, perhaps dreaming of the Shire I know we both so long to see. It shall not be long now until we are home… back where Sam so rightfully belongs. Our journey has ended, and it is here where I shall end my writing and end this chapter of my life. Namarié.”
“What does that word mean?” Rose asked quietly setting her hand upon Sam's shoulder looking down to the writing on the pages within the book he held in his hands. “That last word there, one that I've heard Frodo speak before in the past.”
“It is an elvish word.” Sam whispered. “It means farewell.” For a moment Sam was silent as he rested his hand over the book before he slowly closed the covers drawing it close to his chest.
“I can not thank you enough for this my dear sweet Rose.” Sam said softly looking to her with tear filled eyes.
“You should not thank me.” Rose replied quietly. “It was Frodo who left this here for you. I was only the one to pass it on and I thought that no moment other than this was the right time for it to come to your hands.” Rose then left a gentle kiss upon Sam's brow and turned away leaving Sam within the soft glow of candlelight that danced upon the walls of the study. The night had grown long as the chirp of crickets echoed out into the night as the passing rain lifted from the lands of the Shire. Sam took in a deep breath as he brought the small book away from his chest, setting it on the desk close to the Red Book. Frodo's words were a reminder that through all the sadness which surrounded them both once before, a light would still shine through the despair to reveal a path to brighter things yet to come. A smile then fell over Sam's lips as he stood to his feet, as he blew a gentle breath to the flame of the candle resting next to the desk, bringing darkness to the room and a new peace within his heart.