ACROSS THE SEA
by K.N. SENKO (a.k.a. Luinel Andúril)

Disclaimer:  Lord of the Rings, Frodo, and the other Ring-bearers are the creation of Tolkien:  i borrow them only because he has inspired me, though i can never hope to do these beloved characters justice.

Note:  It's still set after Return of the King...  Though this series is largely written after several viewings of Peter Jackson's Return of the King i have chosen to remain true to the book as much as possible, though it's impossible to say that his work hasn't inspired me (if it wasn't for him and Elijah Wood i wouldn't have seen or read Lord of the Rings at all, let alone written this).  I haven't finished reading the Sil yet, so this is mostly just from my imagination rather than Tolkien's.  I'm uncertain as to how true to his world and vision this really is... and am half afraid to find out before i get all of this out and finish writing my tale.
 
 
 
CHAPTER I - A LONG AWAITED PARTY

She stood on the cliff in silence, her hair whipping behind her in the wind as if it were a proud flag or a flame that refuses to be spent.  The wind was chill, and forebode a storm, but she stood with her cloak cast behind her and caring not for its sting, her arms embracing the wind as if it could pick her up and carry her away in flight.  Long had her eyes searched the horizon for that which she hoped above all was yet to come, and now at last she finally saw that which she had long longed for.

Rain was beginning to fall on the horizon.  So far away and yet so near, she could see it slowly coming down in pale curtains and thick sheets upon the ever-ebbing waves, slowly drawing nearer with promise.  She turned from the clouds now and pulled her cloak about her as she approached a horse that waited nearby, its coat dappled in greys and shining in the failing light.  She mounted with practiced ease, but held no rein in her hand, nor used a saddle, for she rode as the elves do, and together as one they swiftly descended into the growing darkness.

She knew she would not sleep this night; her heart lept with joy so great that it felt as if it could not be contained lest her heart burst.  For she can see into the future even as her father can--nay, maybe even farther yon and away--and she knew in her heart that at last the one had finally come.  Perhaps her hopes would come true at last and all the sorrow in her life would finally be undone.
 
 
 

Never had Frodo heard such silence.  All the sea seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation.  A light rain began to fall about them, yet it held no power over their course.  There were no clouds thick enough to drown out these stars, nor waves high enough to break over the sides of the ship, nor wind strong enough to blow them off course.  The grey rain fell in gentle curtains about them, kissing the faces of all who passed through, blocking out all sight of what was to come, and still they sailed on.

A voice came out of the darkness... or perhaps it was many voices.  A sweet singing ran through his mind, slowly turning the rain-curtain into light, banishing the last of the dark night that still encompassed them.  A single voice grew stronger, rose above the rest of the melody.  He felt as if he knew this voice and its song, but still he could not make out what the voice said:  it was so near and yet so far away.

The ship's sails began to slowly burn red in the growing light, the sky brightening first to blue and silver, then pink and gold.  The stars were fading to a distant memory beneath its hemisphere as the sun slowly lifted itself over the horizon, and suddenly the veil of rain that was still before them turned into silver glass and was rolled back, opening to reveal a far green country before him under a swift sunrise.  White gulls flew about the ship, calling out in clear notes across the water, greeting them as they drew nearer to this new world, to their new home...  At last they had come.
 
 
 

But her clear blue eyes were not on the star that her ring bore:  nay, for the ship had come at last.  Before her now arose its strong mast as its smooth bow glided to a halt, its sails now furled for the last time.  A plank was set upon the dock before her and its company now began to disembark.  Each face mattered little to her compared to the ones she had longed to see again the most:

He stood before her at last, whole and cleaner than when last they had seen each other, his face breaking into a smile at the joy on her face.  He pulled her into his arms and set his bearded cheek upon her forehead.

'Ga-da,' she whispered, breathed out at last the breath she hadn't known she had been holding. His lips puckering just long enough to kiss her before he pulled away to gaze at her again.

'Yes, I am home again at last,' he smiled, wiping the tears from her cheeks, not stopping long enough to wipe the tears of joy from his own eyes.  Her hands clutched at his as he stepped back from her:  so bright was his array that a part of her was afraid that he was a ghost or a trick of light that would be blown away on the wind.  But as he fell into place beside her, his Narya pressed to her belt of Menelvagor, she knew that it was true:  he was here at last.

She turned to face the rest of the ship's passengers now, still hand in hand with the man she loved so much, and regarded each of the Ring-bearers in turn for all were already dear to her.  Elrond stood soberly beside an excited Bilbo.  Galadriel glowed brighter than ever.  And Frodo, the last, regarded her with awe and weariness meshed together in his eyes.  Never had she seen such pain there; her heart ached for she saw no recognition there, only sorrow beyond words.  She bowed her head in respect to all who stood before her:

'I welcome you to the Blue Havens,' she greeted them.  'Each of you have come with your own wounds but all will be dealt with in its own time.'  She smiled again:  'But let us all now be merry and put aside such heartaches if only for a short time.'

She turned and led the way, for their horses had been made ready.  Gandalf was soon waiting upon Shadowfax, and set Frodo before him, and after they all had mounted they rode away from the ship and the waves that lapped at its hull.  After no great length of time they came at last to a meadow, for there was set a table which bore a feast amongst the tall grasses and flowers of fall that were blowing in the sweet sea-breeze.  And so at last the ring-bearers came at last to their new home and all--even the horses--had their fill to eat.
 
 
 

Yet Frodo found that his mind was not on the celebration.  He was weary from their trip, short as it had been, and still his heart felt heavy in his chest.  Would his wounds ever fully heal, even here?  Frodo wondered, for even amongst the ring-bearers he felt the sharp emptiness of being set apart somehow, and he hated it yet could not escape it all at once.  He was weary, weary beyond words; it was as if he could not fight the pain anymore.  He wondered at the voice he had heard as the veil had turned to glass but it seemed so far away now... and the only one of them who had mentioned his wounds since their arrival was the one he knew the least.

He still had not heard the name of their hostess, and found himself watching her more and more as the day went on.  Even the aged Bilbo seemed to know her, but all Frodo could do was stare.  She danced like an elf and ate like a hobbit and her dress seemed to be a mix of the two kinds.  Her hair, straight as straw, was constantly caught in the wind and seemed to change colors in the light:  he could not tell if it was dark blonde or red or light brown.  Her array was just as changing, for ever it seemed undecided between a creamy white, pale grey, or a blue that was clear as her eyes.

Her eyes:  more than once he had thought that he had felt the eyes of the Lady upon him, but each time he turned to face her he found her gaze was elsewhere, first on Gandalf, then on Galadriel.  And then her gaze pulled him from his reverie and their eyes met at last.  Yes, they were blue, even as blue as his, and as bright as the sky.  Though in that moment she seemed to him just as fair as the elves her beauty seemed not as ageless, nor so unattainable, nor as untainted by the world outside of the one the elves had fashioned for themselves, shutting out all else.

There in her gaze he saw something which he deemed to be pity, but here there was also something else that he could not describe:  for her eyes glittered as if with their own inner light, and somehow they made him think of the indistinguishable words in the music again.  But he caught only a glimpse of this light, for she closed her eyes for only a moment, and then it was gone.  Suddenly Frodo's own eyelids were heavier that he had ever known, and he felt himself starting to fall asleep.  He tried to fight it, not wanting to insult the Lady, but she smiled and shook her head slightly.

'Sleep now, Elf-friend...' her voice came to him like a whisper.  'Go to sleep; the star is shining.'  He thought he saw a new light, but it was only for a moment, for he was already drifting away.  Frodo's eyes closed and he fell at last into a deep sleep that knew no darkness.
 
 
 

'Well, old friend, I think I'll call it a night,' Bilbo noted.  The wizard smiled and nodded:

'Good night then, Bilbo.'  The hobbit disappeared inside his new home while Gandalf continued to smoke the last of his pipeweed.

'Olórin,' her voice beckoned him, echoing on the breeze, as if it came from far away.

'Mighty presumptious of you,' Gandalf grumped.  'Disturbing an old man while he is trying to smoke and calling him by his given name, thank you very much.'  She smiled and came to him; he took her hand and engulfed it in his own.  Then he took her in his arms and she folded herself into his lap:  it was as if she fit there perfectly.

'Ga-da,' she said aloud.  It was the first thing she had ever called him.

'Yes, it is me,' he answered.  'Ah, my little Wink, I have missed you.'

'And I you.'  Tears filled his eyes, and he pulled her into an even closer embrace:

'I am sorry,' he confessed.  'I did not remember my task would be so difficult.'

'All your toils have ended and all is forgiven,' she assured him.  'Rest now.'

And so it was that Gandalf the Grey, Mithrandir, the Grey Wanderer, cast all of his cares aside at last and was at peace.