Disclaimer:Ah…I think it's pretty clear that J.R.R. Tolkien wrote The Lord of the Rings and created Middle-earth and all its inhabitants. We're all good with this, right? Okay, then.
Author's Note:Well, I wanted to do something with that last gleam of the Light of Galadriel that Sam sees before the dark form of the ship vanishes in the night. Plus, I just love Frodo and like writing his thoughts, emotions, etc.
As the ship from the Grey Havens prepared to depart, as the anchor was lifted and a fair new dawn rose in the far West even as the sun set in the same sky, Frodo looked back.
Sam, Merry, and Pippin watched the ship from the shore. Tears gleamed in their eyes and ran freely down their cheeks. Frodo smiled, a sad, yearning smile, as if to tell them once again: "You must be whole for many years to come." But he himself felt torn in two. A part of his heart was being left behind, if not in the Shire, then with the Fellowship that had carried him through the darkest of times in his journey. Especially with Sam, who had soldiered on with him to the very end of the quest, to the top of Mount Doom, willing to face with him the fires of Mordor.
I am wounded,he had just said; I will never really heal. Frodo always felt a discontent emptiness in his heart, caused by the wounds that the Morgul-knife had inflicted on his shoulder and that the Ring had inflicted on his soul, that he was sure the Uttermost West, the Elvenhome, would cure. The Shire could not be his to enjoy, although its prosperity was the fruit of his labors as well as his friends'.
And yet…while he was glad to leave the sorrows that Middle-earth still held for him, he was not happy to leave those who would have him stay. He wondered – if he suddenly changed his mind, ran down the gangplank, and was tearfully reunited with Sam, Merry, and Pippin, if all would be well and the heartache that with their silent weeping and stoic smiles called after him would end.
Instead, Frodo drew Galadriel's phial of starlight from within his vest, close to his heart, where it was kept. He held it up, a lamp in the darkness, a last gleam to forever remain in the memories of the three dear companions he left behind on the shore. Remember me, it said. Remember me always, and tell my tale, but do not grieve, for it ends in endless light.
May it be a light to you in dark places when all other lights go out.
When the darkened shore disappeared from view, Frodo turned towards the West to which he sailed, and saw the curtain of starless night and bitter rain turn shining and silver before him, parting to reveal the day new-risen when he would find nothing but healing and peace in a sun-kissed promised land, in green and golden and light.