Flickers by Meril

Strength to Save

Strength to Save

Sam had spent a week wandering the city of Tirion, among magnificent streets and houses, blushing at how elven-folk honored him at every turn. On the last afternoon, he lost his way in a web of narrow alleys, and finally stumbled into a statue-filled courtyard.

"Master Hobbit?"

He looked about wildly, and saw an elven-woman emerge from an open door. Her face was stern and angular: she had little of the beauty of the silver-haired Lady of Tirion. But there was something so striking, so arresting about her starkness that he found himself speaking.

"My lady, I never meant to come here, please forgive me," he stammered. "Should've stayed to the main street—"

"You are Frodo's companion," she interrupted, studying him. "He spoke of you often, before you came. He says you saved him from a terrible fate."

Caught off guard, he mumbled, "If I'd been stronger, I could've saved him for the Shire."

She smiled, and her expression was all at once despair and a thousand reborn hopes. A vague thought took shape. That's like my smile. Who couldn't she save?

"Let me tell you of a King's son, and the smith's daughter who loved him…"

Chapter End Notes

Note: There's some quibble about whether the hobbits could set foot in Valinor proper, but for the purposes of this drabble, let's assume they could. :)