„ You want another one? “
The four hobbits were
sitting at their favorite table in the Green Dragon, the one they always used to
sit at before. Around them there was cheering and laughing and merriment. Once
they would have been amidst all that, but things were changed. The four friends
exchanged meaningful glances. They had each other and that was more important
than everything. Suddenly Sam heard someone call Rosie’s name. He took a big
gulp and then he went up to her. Pippin grinned amusedly, Merry looked like “uh
oh” and Frodo beamed all over his face. He was so happy for Sam.
The Fellowship stood on a narrow ledge, gazing
into the abyss. It was pitch dark but in the infinite dephts they could see a
faint cold glimmer like a distant star in the night sky. Gimli’s heart began to
beat faster. Mithril ! Though he never had been to the Mines of Moria before and
never actually seen Mithril, he had a strong feeling as if the threads in the
rocks were somehow like the veins in his body. He could feel the metal. His
heart beat like a hammer on its anvil. The rhythm of an old Dwarf song.
The old dwarf sat on the quay. His withered hands caressed an axe. Its blade had many notches and the wooden handle had become smooth as silk from countless years of usage. Centuries ago his father had given him this axe. It had been of good service to him – he had killed many an orc with it. It had been his companion in the War of The Ring. The only other companion of that time that still remained in Middle Earth. And now they both would leave. A hand was lowered softly on his shoulder. “It’s time to go, Gimli”.
“ You miserable little maggot !” Sam cried out loud. He just had discovered an abominable threat. But being the hobbit he was he would not be defeated. He scowled, his eyes flickered. “You’re not going to kill what I love most, not this time” Sam clenched his fist, his body poised to attack. He would need no sword here, his hands would be effective enough. With a quick movement he grabbed his enemy and putting all his strength in his fingers he crushed him between his thumb and his forefinger.
“You won’t eat my beloved roses any more, mean old grub.”
Torn in Two
He stood there at the shore, the sinking sun giving his locks back a golden hue that had long since left them. He gazed at the horizon. Before his dazzled eyes emerged a fair face with delicate features framed with dark hair. He felt his heart being tugged towards the lowering sun. Tears welled up in his eyes. He was not sure why he had come here anyway.
With an effort and a sigh he turned around. As he took step after step upcountry other faces emerged in his mind. A sweet rose-cheeked one with little wrinkles about the eyes, a young and beautiful one with masses of golden hair, many more, eyes hazel and blue – all happy. His step quickened driven by the wish to see them again as soon as possible.
“ You cannot be always torn in two” his master had said long ago. He was wrong.
My lungs are pierced with thousand little daggers. My skin feels like it’s on fire, burnt by the icy wind. My hands ! I must have lost them somewhere, I can’t feel them anymore.
Something grabs my feet, gets hold of them and doesn’t let them go anymore. I am weary, I will lay myself down for a while on this soft feathery blanket. Everything is warm again…
Frodo, I had a dream, I went for an adventure with you. Gandalf wouldn’t let me go but I did and then …
“This will be the death of the Halflings, Gandalf”
His eyes. There was something amiss, she could sense it. She looked deep into his eyes, those strange blue wells, but found no answer. Then she looked into that pair of hazel eyes she loved so much. “Goodbye, lads, and save journey !” “Goodbye, Mistress Rose” – he stepped up to her and squeezed her hand very gently. And then she understood - and was afraid, but there was a whisper in her ear “ He will be back, I promise”. Yes, she knew he would, but she was afraid of what look this homecoming would bring into the hazel eyes.