One Last Look
The sky was clear and only the sounds of gently crashing waves could be
heard as Frodo stood on the deck of Círdan the Shipwright's
White Ship while it sailed away from the harbor. Frodo could hardly see
over the deck's banisters, but from where he stood he could see well
enough. His friends, his companions, all stood still on the harbor,
watching the ship go further and further into the West. Gandalf came up
beside Frodo and put an assuring arm on his shoulder.
"Shall I ever see them again, Gandalf?" asked Frodo. His eyes were a bright blue, softened by his tears.
"We'll all meet again some day, under the same night sky," said Gandalf
softly. "When that is, not even I can know, but if you keep looking now
Frodo Baggins, you can keep seeing them again and again."
"Yes, you're right." Frodo turned back to the harbor, his heart aching
to seeing his friends, his Sam. They were still there, waving slowly
into the breeze. Frodo had to smile. Gandalf was right; they would see
each other again, and when they did it would be the greatest of days
for the Hobbits.
"Come Frodo, let's go down below and have ourselves some rest," said
Gandalf. "We have a long journey ahead." Gandalf looked out to the
harbor, watching it grow smaller and smaller, then turned and walked
away. He paused at the cabin door and looked at Frodo. The Hobbit wiped
his eyes, walked over to where he was, and quickly paused. Frodo turned
around and took one last look out to his friends. Only the sounds of
gulls in the sky and the tossing of waves could be heard.