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Sam rose early.
The ponies were ready, the luggage was packed, too scarce that he kept worrying, how could it last so long? He didn't even know how long that would be.
Sam goes to pick up your walking stick, and freezes in place, unable to take another step.
A hand drops gently on his shoulder, and he turns, two gentle faces waiting.
"It's time."
He really didn't want to go, to start writing this final chapter of the story. No one really did. Even the kids, they really tried their best, the treasures they were.
But when Sam passed the gate, long hair the color of the sun at his right, and short hair at his left, as warm as the late autumn chestnuts near the chimney, the three of them hear a shout.
And here they are, every one, out of their beds and at the windows, squinting in the dim light, trying to see the travelers, to wave them goodbye.
Their kids, everyone is so very proud of the little hobbits, but this makes everything so much more unbearable.
At last the trio starts their reluctant walk, on feet and hooves, on and on they ride, out of town, and soon they're not alone on the path anymore. More and more figures join the last adventure.
There's happiness, and there's singing, of the roads finally opening, away from the sufferings. Songs Sam never heard before, and some ones he remembers.
There's friendly faces too, who Sam hadn't seen for long, and everyone is smiling, and chatting, hearts light as birds.
He can finally see it, in the distance, the sea! He had wanted to see it since Frodo started talking about it all those years back, and Sam feels it. He feels that call, that rush to get there, that incredible joy.
And he doesn't like it.
He knows it is about to tear his heart into two, again and again for the rest of his life.
The ships are ready in the silver sea, from where the fiery sun is rising in her cradle of red.
Sam stops, feets like stone, he really can't go forward.
Frodo turns, his tired face showing a hint of warmth that hadn't been there since that accursed quest began.
"My dearest of friends"
He leans in, a kiss. On Sam's forehead, as usual. But Sam, always the brave hobbit despite everything, is quicker, this is the only time.
He rises his face, and lips touch, gently closing on each other, lingering.
Rosie hugs Frodo from behind, hot tears shining in Sam's eyes, the three of them huddled close. Merry and Pippin choose that moment to make their move and tackle hug them, hiding their sniffing and sighing, as always keeping their Fellowship together.
Frodo doesn't want this either, but Sam and Rosie both knew his suffering, it was in his breath, in his body, ever present, never getting any lighter.
He won't have to go through this anymore.
A big hand squeezes Sam's shoulder, an impossibly tall and friendly wizard smiles sadly at the hobbits, all close like tiny chicks.
"It's time"
He turns towards the ships and starts walking on the docks.
Everyone else is slowly making their way up.
Sam's throat closes, parched, but he has to say this, he must.
"Áva márië!"
"Melinyel!" Frodo's voice goes straight to their hearts.
Rosie's hand comes them, holding Sam close "It won't be long".
The sea rises, and in its soothing songs, he can only see those deep blue eyes.
The childhood friend, the master, the companion, the one Sam shared life and death with. The one he'd never part with if it wasn't for his well-being. The one Sam will never stop searching for, joining him again and again.
"Frodo!"
"... Sam." His voice is so faint, already too far away.
"It won't be long"