.

Moonlight


Even though he'd never seen an Elf, Sam had always thought Mr. Frodo resembled one, and in the rounded, sunlit contours of Hobbiton, that made him odd to look at. He was fair all right, fair and fair, as might be said, and that beauty alone set him off. Hobbits were not, as a rule, beautiful.

But here in the light of the eldritch moon, Sam gazed on his master transformed. What were once shy shrugs and diffidence had become long silken lines, a glowing vision arching above him, one hand clutching his. A face beloved and familiar, now changed as all the world had changed, into something strange and magical, dangerous to such as him. The sight washed over him, as blue as the fabled sea.

"Sam," Frodo whispered, opening his eyes to gaze up at the stars. His hair moved in the breezes that floated through this place, and the sound of the water was as one with the light filling his eyes as he fell slowly, smiling, down to Sam's waiting mouth.