• “What can you see on the horizon? Why do the white gulls call? Across the sea a pale moon rises. The ships have come to carry you home… into the West…”

    “It is time, Frodo.” Gandalf looked down at the Hobbit who had seen so much, done so much for his world. He must now pass into the next. May he find peace at last.

    “What? What is he talking about, Frodo?” asked Pippin, his young face torn between the grief of losing Gandalf and the confusion now placed before him.

    “What does he mean, Mr. Frodo?” Sam’s voice quivered in anticipation.

    “Middle-Earth has been saved, Sam,” replied Frodo, choosing his words carefully, “but not for me.”

    “You can’t mean it, Mr. Frodo!” “Frodo, no!” The other three Hobbits choked back their tears. They had seen warriors, brave and tall die alone, but they could not bear the parting with their friend.

    Frodo bid his farewell to each of them in turn. He then boarded the boat that would send him across the sea… into the West. As the boat sailed silently away, Frodo turned back to his companions, watching them fade into the distance. The look on his face was indescribable. He had finally found perfect peace, yet he was sad to lose his dearest friends. Not all of them are lost, Frodo reminded himself, looking especially at Sam. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

    “Frodo, my lad, we are now beginning the greatest adventure yet. Valinor…”

    “Why, Bilbo? Why were we allowed to board? Why can’t we bring along Pippin and Merry? Why must we leave those who love us, whom we love so dear?”

    “Do you remember that trinket I gave you when I left? I believe it was my one hundred and eleventh birthday. Eleventy-one years old! I lived too long, I believe. It was time to retire, I figured. Gandalf told me to leave you the house and everything in it. He was especially interested that you receive that Ring.”

    “Yes, Bilbo,” replied Gandalf, “but I seem to remember someone who was also very keen to not let it go.”

    “Never mind that, Gandalf,” rejoined Bilbo. “I did let it go eventually. It seems that little trinket was somehow very important, although Elrond never told me why.”

    Elrond’s eyes twinkled as he stared eagerly in front of the ship.

    “And it seems he still will not tell me,” said Bilbo. Everyone else in the boat laughed. “Well, would someone tell me what’s going on?”

    Elrond turned around and said, “That evil is passed. Let us now look forward to the wonder that is ahead. The Ring-bearers have been given a special luxury: to return with the elves into the Undying Lands. That is why you were allowed to come, Frodo, along with Bilbo and your servant. Sam will know soon enough that he has this chance; he has a life to fulfill yet.”

    “Why cannot Merry or Pippin come with him? Why can he not bring Rosie Cotton along as well?” Frodo had wondered these things from the time Gandalf had first told him of his fortune.

    “They did play an important role,” Galadriel spoke for the first time, “but they were not Ring-bearers. They did not bear the most difficult burden; they did not deal with the temptations concerning this Ring. They did not travel to destroy it; neither were they Keepers of its Power. Eru has allowed only the Ring-bearers from among the mortals to come to Valinor.”

    Frodo continued to watch the horizon disappear behind them. Elrond walked to the back of the boat and sat down next to Frodo. “I too have left someone I love, Frodo. Arwen will never return to the land of the Elves. She is as good as mortal now; that was her choice. I chose the gift of the Eldar; she chose the gift of Men. She will stay with Aragorn until his dying day, and then she will wither. She will never come to the Undying Lands, but pass into the afterworld of Men. I share your sorrow, Son of Drogo. Arise from your grief and watch the next world arrive!”

    Frodo walked with the Half-Elf to the bow of the ship. The boat flowed on without sails, needing only the power of the Elves to keep it going. They would be an odd company when they were received in Valinor: the outcast Elven Queen, a wizard, two Hobbits, and the Half-Elven ruler of Imladris. All were going to Valinor; each bore their own significance. Gandalf’s return signified the completion of his purpose: Sauron was defeated. The Hobbits were of the first mortals to be accepted to Valinor. Galadriel was returning from her exile, one placed upon her many thousands of years before even Gandalf had come to Middle-Earth. Elrond’s return signified for them the end of the Age of Elves.

    All watched the horizon for the signs of Valinor. Galadriel was the first to see it. She gasped at the beauty of the Land, so perfect, so surreal to anything she could ever imagine, even in her Elven mind. Bilbo was the last to see the land, but he found he could now stand without the need of his cane; his wrinkles had smoothed out a little; color had returned to his hair. Frodo stopped feeling the pain of his shoulder. His countenance became clearer, his mind quieted.

    He heard Gandalf mumbling to himself, a look of understanding on his face. “…Under a swift sunrise…” Gandalf appeared to grow, to straighten. He no longer leaned on a staff, but cast it upon the ground with a definitive thud.

    Galadriel fairly glowed with radiance, the morning sun streaming through her long golden hair. Her eyes no longer troubled Frodo, but became a look of reassurance. She laid her hand on Elrond, her son-in-law; and there they stood together, two Elven pillars, living, being, as nothing ever had been before.

    Frodo stared at the grandeur of the land. He imagined Sam’s delight when he would arrive. The land itself seemed to be alive; there was no dead thing in it.

    Gandalf walked over to Frodo. He only said two words, but to Frodo, they meant everything.

    “We’re home.”