A/N: This is just a very short piece I've been working on for some time now, but could never find the right words needed to completely express/convey my feelings on the subject. So this evening I opened the document and wrote some more, and changed some things, and it feels right to me now. :)

OT: For those of you who may read this and have also read other fics I've written, I am going to try my hardest to finish the next chapter of "September" this weekend, and completely finish my first fic as well. Terribly sorry for the lengthy delay in updates! :( I've been busy. *Sigh*.


"Will they remember me?"

That was the question that lurked at the back of Frodo's mind as he began saying his goodbyes at the Grey Havens.

He did not wish for his memory to be dwelt upon, nor did he desire to be remembered as a great hero. Frodo simply wished for his dear friends, former members of the Fellowship, and companions on the journey that changed them all, and Middle-Earth, forever, to remember him for the Hobbit that he was. Or rather, remember him for the Hobbit that he was in the days before the peril of the Ring darkened and changed him with its evil.

Deep down he knew that they would never forget him or his errand. He already missed them, and his home, so much that it was nearly unbearable to stand there bidding them all farewell. He knew that it was not goodbye forever; they would be reunited someday. The reunion would take place after a short time-- in relation to the years mortals are given on Middle-Earth. And until they were all reunited again, he had his dear uncle Bilbo, and good friend Gandalf.

"All is well now, it's over and I can finally rest."

Frodo realized that that was where his resolve to leave had come from: the Ring was destroyed and the Shire was safe once more. Frodo had accepted that no mortal would be able to recover from the physical and emotional wounds that had been dealt him under circumstances he should never have had to endure. He knew it was time to seek healing on a higher level, as it was becoming more and more difficult to live with the haunting memories of his dark journey.

In his mind, he thought that he was no more designed for the task he had undertaken than a fish was designed to fly, or a bird to swim. Alas, he was destined to take on the task; and by completing it he fulfilled his part in the grand design set in motion by Iluvatar ages ago.

"Will his memory fade with the Elves?"

Samwise Gamgee knew no one would forget his dear Master or his quest, least of all anyone who ever had the good fortune of knowing Frodo Baggins. Samwise's concern was that Time would soon forget Frodo, as it did all things.

Time flies, years pass, and memories of heroic deeds wan during periods of peace and prosperity, only to be rekindled when the need for valor arises once more. Sam knew he could no more change that fact than the fact that his Master was leaving; nonetheless he would do everything in his power to keep Frodo's memory alive.

Change does not come without loss, and unfortunately some of what is good must fade with vanquished evil. In turn, a new age begins, forming its own goods and evils, realizing its own struggles and achievements, and the river of Time flows swiftly and silently, ever-onwards.

"I'll join him someday."

Sam knew he would, having borne the Ring for a brief time himself. But for now he had Rosie, and little Elanor, to care for. Not to mention Goldilocks, Frodo-lad and all of the other children that his Master had promised would come. But when his story drew near its close, and the memories of his and his Masters' perilous journey lay preserved in the minds and hearts of the Shire folk, on the aged pages of the Red Book, and in the history annals of Gondor and Rohan, he would join Frodo across the sea.

Though magic was departing the shores of Middle-Earth; it left its mark on everything that had survived the rise and fall of the Shadow. From the seeds that sprouted in Bag End's gardens, to the light that danced in little Elanor's eyes, to the Sun and the Moon that kept a constant vigil in the infinitely blue sky.

"And may the Book's pages never collect dust," thought Sam, "For how foolish it would be to lose the knowledge so hard earned through the sacrifices and sorrows of war."

Reluctantly, Sam released his dear Master from one last embrace, and the final casualty of the War of the Ring stepped hesitantly onto the gangway of the waiting Elven ship.

Through eyes misty with bittersweet tears of happiness and sorrow, Frodo watched the shores of Middle-Earth until they disappeared from view, swallowed up by the Sea.