end of the fellowship of the ring
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The end of the Fellowship of the ring.
At last the glad day ended; and when the sun was gone and the round moon rode slowly above the mists of Anduin and flickered through the fluttering leaves, Frodo and Sam sat under the whispering trees amid the fragrance of fair Ithilien; and they talked deep into the night with Merry and Pippin and Gandalf, and after a while Legolas and Gimli joined them. There Frodo and Sam learned much of all that had happened to the Company after their fellowship was broken on that evil day at Parth Galen by Rauros Falls
A silence had fallen among them, silent except perhaps for the quiet crackling of Gandalf's pipe as he sucked in another lung-full of smoke, and of course the ever-present whispering of the leaves above and around them. Sam almost fancied they were trying to tell him something, calling, whispering softly he strained to understand.
Frodo was unmoving in his lap. Unconsciously, Sam now realised with a slight blush, they had assumed the positions taken up by both of them in the later parts of their journey - Sam sitting upright and alert, his hands curled protectively around Frodo, whose head rested in his servant's - friend's - lap. Sam quickly looked up at his other companions, but Merry was fingering the small brown scar on his brow, head bowed, and Pippin was lying back on the grass, spreadeagled and staring at the winking of stars between the boughs, reflected by the glimmering sable-and-silver standard on his tunic. Gandalf seemed to be thoughtfully staring into space, the warm glow of his pipe lighting his face ruddily from below - a sharp contrast to the silvery sheen that stained the four hobbits.
Frodo's eyes closed, an oh so slight movement that Sam nevertheless detected, and he looked down with concern at his master's still face. Gandalf smiled softly...