The Heart of the Matter

 

CHARACTERS:  Frodo and Gandalf, with appearances by Sam, Bilbo, Ted Sandyman's dad, and some cats. 
 

PAIRINGS:  F/S of course, but this chapter focuses on a conversation between Frodo and Gandalf.  
 

RATING:  Somewhere between a PG-13 and an R.  The story is sweet, but has some painful moments having to do with pets.  
 

WARNINGS:  First of all, I don't publish a lot of fic, so I hope I don't miss anything here that I should be mentioning.  Feel free to upbraid me if I do.  Overall I feel this chapter is quite sweet, but there is some angst here, and a very brief hint of bitterness between Sam/Frodo and Sam/Rose, though I will add that this problem does get resolved in a positive manner later on in the fic.  Especially deserving of warning is an extended conversation about the Halls of Mandos, what it's for, and the nature of death in Arda, including animal death.  There are two brief references to Ted Sandyman's nasty dad treating animals badly.  
 

Did you know Tolkien included the Rainbow Bridge in his work?  I didn't  until I read "The Book of Lost Tales!"  It's called Ilwerin, it spans the sky between Middle-Earth and Valinor, and can be used to travel from one realm to the other.  The Professor used it for people, I use it here for animals.  

 

 

 

 

The next day was a slow one, for a gentle rain had begun to fall, and the island was shrouded in a silvery mist.  Frodo and Sam did not get up until nearly noon, and even then, both were pleasantly tired from their adventures of the previous day.  Neither of them wanted to do anything except eat and rest.  
 

As was typical, their hosts knew their needs, and no one disturbed them; but along toward tea-time, Frodo, feeling restless despite the lingering warmth in his heart, left their chamber for a walk.  Almost immediately he spied Gandalf, who was standing as if waiting for him on a nearby balcony, overlooking the rushing waters that tumbled down the mountainside toward the Bay of Eldamar.  
 

"Good afternoon, Frodo," the ancient wizard said, turning to him with a twinkle in his eye.  "Are you finally rested?"
 

"A little, anyway," laughed Frodo, catching his old friend's hand and squeezing it.  "Oh, Gandalf!" he exclaimed, "What a time we've had here, haven't we?  First my long sleep, and then Sam's arrival, and then all these wonderful beings coming to visit us from who knows how far away!  And now the prospect of entering the land of Valinor itself!  It seems like wonders truly never cease here."
 

"They never do," Gandalf affirmed, turning back to the waterfall as he spoke.  "You may take that as fact, from one who has been around since the world was young.  But Frodo, I must admit to having a certain curiosity.  I could not help overhearing your dinner conversation yesterday, and I would know what is it that you and Sam wish to ask the Valar?  For I am their servant on earth, and I may know some small portion, at least, of the answer to your question."  
 

Frodo moved to sit down on his favorite viewing bench nearby.  Its legs had been kindly shortened by Elrond's craftsmen, and when Gandalf sat down with some difficulty beside him, the wizard's knees were bent at an awkward angle.  Looking apologetic, Frodo made as if to rise again, but his old friend shook his bearded head, staying him with a hand on his arm.  "That little frown on your face tells me it must be a taxing question indeed, my dear hobbit." 
 

"It bothers me, Gandalf, and it bothers Sam even more.  Why the Halls of Mandos?  Why must the dead be kept imprisoned in that cheerless place?  Sam feels very badly about Rose, you know-- not just her death or where she is now, but about their life together; for he was always bitter about my deceiving him."
 

"You paid a heavy price for that as well," Gandalf replied solemnly. "All of us have suffered from your error, Frodo; but I can't help think that even this may have been necessary to the larger  scheme.  As to Mandos, he and Nienna keep their secrets to themselves.  I do know, however, that once upon a time there was a black ship called Mornië, which would ferry fallen mortals to the plains of Arvalin, where their shades still camp today beneath the stars and await the final doom of Ilúvatar.  Not all the dead are prisoners."

 

"A black ship?" Frodo asked with interest.  "What happened to it?"
 

"That I know not; nor do I know Ilúvatar's ultimate purpose in allowing Mandos to create his vast penitentiary.   But oh, you are bold indeed, you upstart hobbits, to think of questioning the grand order of things in this manner, and I cannot guarantee that your question will be well received."
 

"Not bold!" Frodo replied.  "We would not be so presumptious as to question the order of things, Gandalf.  We only want to know the truth of the matter; for on the surface it seems so unfair that every man, woman, child and babe, and even the elves themselves before they are reborn, should be imprisoned in that fortress as though they are made criminals by dying."
 

"I must admit, Frodo, I hadn't thought of it in quite that way before."
 

Frodo smiled kindly at his friend.  "That's because you're always thinking of the welfare of the living."
 

"My dear Frodo."
 

They sat in silence for some time, listening to the steady song of the rushing cataract as it raced and foamed down the mountainside. 
 

"Gandalf?"
 

"Yes, Frodo?"
 

"Where do the animals go when they die?  Do they go to Mandos too?"
 

"Ah!  That is surely Sam talking."  The wizard's smile flashed bright.
  

"Sam did broach this recently, but I would know, too, because it's important to him-- and to me."
 

"Know then that the animal spirits are considered innocent by the Valar, and go freely after death to the floating cloud-pastures in the sky beyond Ilwerin, the Rainbow Bridge."
 

"The Rainbow Bridge?  What is that?"
 

"Oromë made it a very long time ago.  It spans the whole of Arda in a single great arch, and we still can see its colors in the sky today, especially after a storm.  In earlier times it was a path to and from Valinor.  The animals travel it still."

 

"I am learning much of value today, but Sam will be delighted to hear that last especially.  He's been thinking on his life again, and some of the littlest tragedies still pain him."
  

"Little tragedies to us, no doubt; but not to Sam."
 

"No.  Not to Sam."
 

"Is... there... a particular creature he is remembering?"  Gandalf broached this question with a peculiar hesitation.
  

Frodo sighed.  "He thinks of all his creatures, of course, but there was a little black and white kitten he had ages ago, when he was very young, who seems to haunt him still.  Every now and then he mentions him.  I still remember him very well-- darling little scrap with a fluffy black coat and a white chest and paws.  Ted Sandyman's dad took him away from his mother after she gave birth to him.  Just threw him out mewling on the garbage heap for the foxes to eat.  Good thing our young Sam saw him do it, for the tiny thing would not have lived long otherwise."
 

"I will spare you what details I know, but I am afraid that miller and his son came to a very bad end, in the end,  Frodo," the wizard said gravely.
  

"That would be no surprise to me.  Ted's father called all cats the Spawn of Melko, and kept that poor mother half-starved to kill the mice at the mill.  Anyway, Sam was just a boy when he rescued that kitten, and he took it straight to Bilbo since the Gaffer wouldn't have it in his house.  Bilbo wasn't at all pleased at first, I can assure you!"  Frodo laughed softly at the memory.  "I was only in my twenties at the time, and at first I took my uncle's side, naturally; but when I saw how young Sam wept and fretted over the poor creature I relented, and let him smuggle it into my room. 
 

"The first thing we did was warm some goat's milk on the hearth and try to feed the kitten with an eyedropper.  He was very tiny, you see-- perhaps as long as my palm, and his eyes weren't even open.  At first he wouldn't drink, and Sam feared that he would die; but he soon caught on.  Sam named him 'Mewlips--' a rather unfortunate choice, I thought, but he would not be dissuaded. 
 

"After that, Sam would come around several times a day to give him a meal and put a new hot water-bottle under his blanket; and twice or thrice during the night I would do the same.  Bilbo soon caught on, of course, but he didn't really mind, and in fact he soon came up with a wonderful little woven basket with a tiny bed in it, just for Mewlips! 
 

"The days went by so quickly, and after twelve of them had passed, our little kitten opened his eyes!  At first they were like tiny beads of jet, but as time passed they grew wide and blue, and his coat became so fluffy and soft!  Before a month was gone he began to toddle about in a most endearing manner, getting into everything, and Sam and I spent hours holding and coddling him as we did our chores.  I must admit--" here Frodo's voice hitched up, and he had to clear his throat before continuing-- "I must admit, Gandalf, that I grew very, very fond of him."
 

The old wizard smiled his understanding, and rested his hand on Frodo's arm.  "What happened?" he asked softly.  
 

Frodo blinked away tears.  "It was my fault," he said.  "Spring came, and with it unseasonably hot weather, and I opened my window without once thinking Mewlips could escape.  But he did.  Not two months old, and he climbed the drapes and disappeared! 
 

"Oh, Gandalf, how hard it was for me to break the news to Sam!  We searched high and low all around Bag End-- in the gardens, in the orchards, all through the Party Field, but we never found him.  We never saw him again.  In the end, we held a little funeral for him and cried together; for we knew Mewlips was not old enough to survive for long on his own."
  

"Whatever happened to him, you and Sam gave him two precious months of life and love and play that he would never have experienced otherwise," Gandalf replied gently.  "That counts for much in the eyes of the wise, I assure you." 
 

"I know.  I made my peace with what happened eventually.  But I don't think Sam ever really did."
 

"Yes, I see."  And the wizard sighed heavily.  "Black with white chest and paws, you say...?"
 

"Yes," Frodo said, dragging his sleeve slowly across his watering eyes.  "And he had an odd, perfectly round white spot on the inside tip of his right ear."
 

"I see."

 

*  *  *

 

"Well," Frodo said at last, after they had sat there awhile, "I had best return to Sam now, and see if he feels like having dinner with our hosts."
 

"Yes, I think you should.  Meanwhile, I shall be leaving on the morrow."
 

"Oh?  How long will you be gone?  Do you need to borrow Shadowfax?"
 

"One does not 'borrow' Shadowfax," Gandalf reminded him.  "But I will not need his company on this errand.  No," he said as he got slowly to his feet, his knees popping one at a time so that Frodo winced, "Methinks I shall need one of the winged ones this time...  Perhaps one of Shadowfax's immortal relatives, or one of Thorondor's mighty sons, or even Manwe's spirits of the air.  We shall see which when the time comes..."  Muttering to himself, he started away.
 

"Goodbye, then, Gandalf!" Frodo called in a somewhat perplexed tone of voice.  "Safe journey!"
 

"Yes, yes!  And happy eating and drinking to you and yours," the old wizard said briskly, before hastening down the wide alabaster stairs and disappearing without further words into the Hall of Stories.