Those days in Minas Tirith were the happiest Sam had ever known. Everything he'd wished for when he and Frodo had gone into Mordor had come true. Their quest was successful; the Ring was destroyed, Middle-earth freed from its evil, and both of them had gotten out of it alive. They were celebrated as heroes now. All the city was telling stories and singing songs in their praise. And more than this--he had the one thing he wanted most in all the world, but had not even dared to wish for: Frodo's love.

Sam couldn't say exactly how something so extraordinary had come about. It seemed too incredible to be true. They hadn't begun under the most promising circumstances, but in the tower at Cirith Ungol when the Ring had completely overtaken Frodo and tried to delay them from leaving by tempting Sam with something he could hardly refuse. It had offered him all he desired--Frodo, kneeling before him, naked skin red in the lamplight, holding out a hand to draw him down--and he had almost given in. He'd seen through the trick at the last minute, but he'd come close enough to falling for it to terrify him.

Once they were safely out of Mordor, he'd considered that inci-dent best forgotten... but Frodo had not. The feelings that had been awakened between them that day in the tower were too much for Frodo to ignore and, one afternoon out on the terrace, he'd spoken to Sam about them. Frodo had made him see that, no matter how it had begun, what they felt for each other was nothing to be afraid of. He'd asked Sam to come to his room that evening, and Sam had gone.

Of all the things to happen to him in Minas Tirith, that first night with Frodo had been the most wonderful.

Every morning when he woke up, Sam reached out drowsily. Since Frodo had first invited him into his bed two weeks ago, he needed to reassure himself that he wasn't dreaming, and that Frodo was really beside him. But this morning, his outstretched fingers met only empty sheets. Frodo wasn't there.

Sam opened his eyes and lifted his head. "Frodo-?"

He was relieved to find Frodo sitting in the corner against the bedpost at the head of the bed, half-hidden in the shadows of the heavy brocade curtains and hugging a pillow to himself; bare arms and legs emerged from around the sides, and his chin rested on the top. Frodo seemed to be lost in his thoughts, but his eyes flickered when Sam spoke.

"What're doing?"

"Watching you sleep."

"Can't you watch me from here? Come and lie down." He reached up to grip Frodo's ankle and tugged gently to try and bring him back under the covers. "What is it you're thinking about? You aren't brooding again, are you?" If there was a blot on these dream-like days, it was that Frodo seemed troubled. Even when he was laughing or smiling, Sam sometimes caught a strange sad-ness in his eyes. And this wasn't the first time he had awakened to find Frodo up before him, deep in thought.

"I'm not brooding," Frodo answered. "I've been thinking about home, and what we'll do when we get there. There's something important I have to tell you, Sam, but I don't know how to say it."

Sam raised himself up on one elbow, fully awake now. He could think of only one thing that might Frodo be speaking of. They would be going home after Midsummer, and that was just a few days away. What were they to do then? Frodo had asked him to come and live at Bag End, not as a servant, but as the time drew near, perhaps he was reconsidering this offer.

The thought was like a slap in the face, but Sam could see why it might be so. It wasn't going to be easy for them to live together as lovers in the Shire. They could keep their secret here in the city, where they were left to themselves for so much of the time, but once they were home-? Things were different there. Once people knew about it, the scandal would be terrific. The prospect of that might be too much for Frodo to bear.

"Is it bad news?" Sam could scarcely dare to ask.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is. I wasn't going to say anything until we were home, but perhaps it's wrong of me to put it off. You have the right to hear it." Frodo took a deep breath and told him, "Sam, listen: you have to know that this won't go on for very long. It can't."

He'd been half-expecting this. Something so wonderful couldn't last. "I know," Sam said quickly, to stop any well-meant ex-planations or apologies that would only make it worse.

Frodo was amazed. "You know?"

"I guessed. I could see how it's been worrying you. But it doesn't have to matter yet, does it? Why let it spoil what we have here and now?" If this happiness, which had begun in Minas Tirith, must end when they left it, then he would rather not have a shadow cast over their last days together. "We'll worry about the end when we come to it."

"I'm glad you feel that way about it," Frodo murmured in bemuse-ment. "You've taken this much better than I thought you would."

"Did you think I wouldn't understand? If you have to break off with me when we get home-"

"No-" Frodo's mouth dropped open. "Break it off? No, Sam, I don't want to break with you! I couldn't."

"Then what-?" They stared at each other, and Sam realized that they were talking at cross purposes. "If it's not that, then what d'you mean? Why can't we go on?"

He thought he had braced himself for the worst, but Frodo's answer was far more awful than anything Sam had imagined:

"I mean that we can't go on because I can't. I've been wounded, Sam, mortally. I don't have much longer to live."

"No!" He'd known that Frodo was ill. He saw for himself that while he had recovered swiftly from their ordeal in Mordor, needing only food and rest to restore his health, Frodo remained peculiarly fragile weeks later, But he'd never thought that it was this serious. It couldn't be. "It's not true!" he insisted. "Your wounds are healing. You'll get well again in time."

Frodo shook his head. "It isn't that kind of injury. Some wounds go too deep to heal."

"Can't Gandalf do anything for you? Or what about Strider, or the Elves?"

"No, Sam. This is beyond anyone's powers to heal. It's the Ring."

"But the Ring was destroyed! It can't hurt you anymore. You're free now. We won-" He stopped at the achingly sad look in Frodo's eyes, and had no choice but to face the truth. The quest had been successful, but the dangers they'd faced hadn't ended on Mount Doom. Frodo was still paying a great price for accepting the role of Ringbearer, more than his peace of mind or the finger he had placed the Ring upon in that last moment of weakness.

"I am free of it now, but when I was in the Ring's power, it worked its way into me," Frodo explained to him in a low, gentle voice. "You saw how it took me, mind and body. It became part of me, something I needed in order to live--and when I lost it, it was as if that part had been torn out. I feel as if there's a wound deep inside my heart that never stops bleeding." He hugged his pillow closer to his chest. "The pain isn't so very bad yet, but it will grow worse. There will come a time when I won't be able to bear it anymore. I knew when I agreed to under-take this quest that it would take my life. For awhile, I'd hoped I'd escaped that fate, but now I can see that it's just killing me more slowly than I'd expected."

"No!" Sam couldn't stand to hear another horrible word. "Oh, no..."

Frodo tossed the pillow aside and crawled swiftly over to him. "Sam-" As Sam began to cry, he gathered him up; Sam's arms went around his waist and he held onto Frodo tightly, desperately, as if he could keep him alive by keeping him close. He lay half in Frodo's lap, head on his thigh, sobbing while Frodo curled over him, stroked his hair, and plead, "Don't cry, my dear, dear Sam. Don't cry, please. I don't want you to be sad."

"Not be sad? How can I not be sad? You're dying!" Sam lifted his reddened, tear-streaked face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to upset you before I had to. I knew how hard it would be for you to learn the truth, and I meant for this to be a joyful time for both of us. There's so little time left. We shouldn't spend it all in sorrow."

How little time? Sam wondered. No, he wouldn't ask; he didn't want to know.

He began to understand why this wondrous thing had happened, why Frodo had asked him to come to his bed. He remembered that day on the terrace: Frodo sitting up on the garden wall, looking out in the direction of Mordor--brooding, Sam had thought--and asking him about that incident in the tower. He'd been reluctant to speak at first, but Frodo had pushed him; it had seemed very important to Frodo to know if this was what he really wanted. And once Frodo had had his answer, he'd leapt down from the wall, literally into Sam's arms. Frodo must have known then that he hadn't long to live. He'd decided that this was how he wanted to spend the rest of his life... to spend it with Sam.

It struck Sam as ridiculous that Frodo should have to comfort him at a time like this, when he should be doing everything he could to make things easier for his friend. He sat up, sniffling and brushing away his tears. He felt nearly as torn apart by grief today as he had when he'd seen Frodo fall and thought him dead, but he was determined not to let Frodo see another tear from him.

"What can I do?" he asked bravely.

Frodo seemed to appreciate the enormous effort he was making. "Don't tell the others, not yet," he said as he blotted the droplets from Sam's face with the corner of the bedsheet. "I don't want any more fuss over me than there's already been. It's hard enough to bear without everyone trying to be kind. Other than that, you can only do what you've done so far--make these days happy for me."

"Have I done that?"

"Oh, yes." Frodo smiled. "You have. Very much so." He gave Sam a quick kiss, then drew back to look over his face. "I don't know what I would've done without the comfort of you." He reached up to lay the fingertips of one hand lightly on Sam's cheek as he took more kisses from him. The fingers of his other hand fell on Sam's arm, then moved up to tickle the nape of his neck; as he lay down, he brought Sam down beside him, fingers playing down Sam's back as they went on kissing.

Sam was reluctant at first to return these caresses, afraid of hurting Frodo with too rough an embrace--but if Frodo was ill, then he was no worse off this morning than he'd been when they'd made love last night. He responded carefully, kissing Frodo's face, his throat, his chest. He went lower, using his mouth and his hands, all he had learned these past two weeks, with no thought but to give Frodo pleasure. If he couldn't take the pain away, he could at least do this. And, from the little squeaks and sighs, and the murmurs of his name, he knew that he was doing just as Frodo requested.

"Let's always be like this," Frodo said afterwards, as they curled together beneath the quilt. "Not another minute more wasted in tears or pain or fear of the future. We'll make the best use of the time I have left, here and at home."

"Are we really going home?" Sam asked hopefully. They must have several months at least, if Frodo intended to travel so far.

"As soon as we can. I want to see the Shire again--settle down at Bag End, write the tale of our adventures, and have peace and quiet, at least for a little while." He twisted around in Sam's arms to look at him. "And you'll be with me?"

"You want me to come and look after you, just as you said?"

"Yes, of course." Frodo took his hand and looked solemnly into his eyes. "But you understand now what it is I'm asking, don't you? I'm not just inviting you to share my home. I'd like you to stay by me to the very end, as you did that other time." He gave Sam a tremulous smile. "Remember? There on that rock, with the whole mountain falling down around us? I wasn't afraid to die, not with you at my side, and I won't be so frightened of this if I don't have to face it alone. I know it won't be easy for you, but will you do it for my sake, Sam? Can you?"

Sam gulped at the thought--already, he found it hard to keep his resolve not to cry--but if this was what Frodo needed from him, then it was what he must do. "I'll see it through to the finish," he promised. Only, this time, when Frodo went on, he would be left behind.

---

If the days that followed were not the happiest, they were the most dearly treasured, for both Sam and Frodo were aware of how precious this time was. They spent every moment they could in each other's company and did not speak of the future, except in the most general terms of going back to the Shire.

While Sam showed none of his sorrow if he could help it, the thought of losing Frodo tormented him constantly; it kept him awake at nights as Frodo lay sleeping beside him. He meant to do all he could to make Frodo's last days comfortable and pleasant, but deep in his heart, he could not give up hope of saving his beloved friend. Surely there must be some way to heal Frodo of his wounds and restore his life, if only they knew how.

Midsummer arrived amid great celebration, for Aragorn was wed at last to the Lady Arwen. There were days of festival such as Minas Tirith had not seen in an Age, and when the last of the celebrations were over, the members of the Fellowship and others who would not remain in the city prepared to return to their homes. The hobbits were to ride out with Gandalf, Galadriel, and the party from Rohan, who bore King Theoden's body back for burial at Edoras; from there, they would travel west of the Misty Mountains, and stop at Rivendell to see Bilbo before going on to the Shire.

One morning a week before they were to depart, Frodo was asked to a private audience with new queen. Sam accompanied him as far as the door of the citadel, but did not go inside. Instead, he waited for Frodo on the courtyard, near the fountain and the old tree that had once looked to be dead, but had put out flowering buds in the spring and was just now coming into full bloom.

When Frodo came out of the citadel, he was wearing something on a chain around his neck. The sight of this immediately brought back horrific memories of the Ring, but as Frodo came closer, Sam was relieved to see that it was only a white gem-stone in a silvery elvish setting.

"Did her Ladyship give you that?"

Frodo nodded. His fingers closed around the gem and he smiled in a way Sam hadn't seen for a long time; that sadness had gone from his eyes. "And she's given me something more, Sam. Some-thing wonderful. I won't have to die."

Sam gave a shout of joy and lifted Frodo up off his feet with a hug. There were guards and courtiers around them, but he didn't care who saw. As he spun around on the flagstones, Frodo hung onto him, laughing at his exuberance. "You're not dying! Not dying!" He set Frodo down and gave him a kiss--and he didn't care who saw that either! "I knew the Elves would help!" He didn't know how this miracle had been accomplished--there must be some sort of magic in it--but the Lady Arwen's own father, Lord Elrond, had healed Frodo when he'd been injured before. She must have some of the same skills. "She's made you well again?"

"No, not exactly," Frodo answered. Somewhat dizzy after the spinning, he took Sam's arm as they walked together from the courtyard, down to the gate. "The Lady has given me a way to go on living when the pain becomes too great to endure. I may be healed eventually..." Beneath the cover of the gate's arch-way, he stopped and turned to Sam with a somber expression; his hand, still on Sam's arm, gripped a little more tightly as he said, "If worse comes to worst, I'll have to go away with the Elves."

Sam felt a strange pang at these words. A darkness fell over his happiness. "You'll go away? Can't I come with you?"

"No, I'm afraid you can't," Frodo answered solemnly. "But you may be able to follow, after a time. Lady Arwen said that that might be allowed."

"Who might allow it?"

"The Elves."

Sam didn't understand this, but he didn't like it one bit. "But why must they do it that way? It's not fair. If they're going to save you, why must they take you from me to do it?" Unwanted tears started in his eyes. "I don't ever want to be parted from you."

"I know, Sam. I don't want to leave you either." Frodo reached up to touch his cheek, catching the tears with his fingertips before they rolled down. "You've been so brave 'til now, and you must go on being brave awhile longer. I wish I could ex-plain it to you, but I don't understand most of it myself. We have to trust that this is for the best. If I must go away, that day is still far in the future--months from now, perhaps years. We'll have all that time together before it happens. And don't you see that this gives us hope? Yesterday, we had none."

"No hope at all," Sam agreed, and felt how silly he was being. Only minutes ago, he'd been overjoyed. This gift of the Lady's meant that Frodo wasn't going to die--and wasn't that what mattered most? It wasn't exactly the cure he had hoped for, but if he must choose, he'd much rather have Frodo alive and far away somewhere, then dead and gone for good.

"Can you bear it, Sam?"

"I'll have to, won't I?" He took Frodo's hand from his face to hold it against his heart. "And it'll be all right in the end?"

"Yes." That smile without sadness returned. "Yes, I think it will." Frodo pressed closer to kiss him. "Even if we have to part, it won't be forever. Wherever I go, I will wait for you there for as long as I have to."