Beyond the Sea

by Lothithil


This story I began about two years ago, (now being 2003), when I thought in my vanity that I was singular in my obsession for more stories about my favourite fictional characters, in the magical world that Prof T had constructed so skillfully in my mind.  I endured the head-shaking of my friends as I read every book I could find by JRRT, every manuscript his son released after his death, and anything on the subject, be it critical analysis, thesis, parody, or thinly-disguised copy.  I still wanted more.

I decided to write a story about the descendants of the Members of the Fellowship, as I could discover who had produced offspring.  But there were too many confirmed bachelors to make the tale that tickled my mind, so I had to backtrack a bit more.

So I guess you could say this is my "What If??" story (, or my "As If!!" story, as those who might be offended by my audacity will doubtless comment) What if there was quite a bit of time before Frodo finally sought his mortal rest?  And what would a Hobbit do in Paradise, given the heart and mind of our beloved Baggins?

I asked myself these and other similar questions, and the answers became this work of my heart, my lingering tale of Frodo and his adventures after the end of the Third Age; that special hobbit who shares a seat with "the elf-friends of old, Hador, and Hurin, and Turin, and Beren," as Elrond commented (FOTR, the Council of Elrond).  I also place him with the peredhil Earendil, and his father Tuor, "who alone of mortal Men was numbered among the elder race, and was joined with the Noldor, whom he loved, and his fate was sundered from the fate of Men"(Silmarillion, of Tuor and the fall of Gondolin).  Why not Frodo? I asked myself.  Has he not earned it?

The Valar are known for taking back their oaths, being Powers above the laws of that world they together constructed.  I have gently bent back a rule or two, but I promise; I asked Their permission first, and I will carry that doom to my own end, and the burden is light.

Read then, if you will, this story, and know that it departs in some ways from the presets that Prof T declared, but that I hold in my heart the greatest respect for that man, who built with words this humble creature who presents to you...