Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: Return to Valinor (#835)
Author: Aibrean
Chapters: 28

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Alternate Universe (AU)
Description: Frodo Baggins travels to the Undying Lands and discovers his trials are not exactly complete. There he meets Carantaliel, granddaughter to Elrond and great-granddaughter of Galadriel. Together they weather the tide of unexpected discord in Valinor. **Now complete** ******VOTED 1st PLACE FOR MPA2004 - Best Hobbit Story******
Published: 19 Apr 2004
Updated: 12 May 2004
Warnings: scenes of intimacy and mild violence
Type: Drama
Characters: Frodo; Elrond; Galadriel; Bilbo; Gandalf; Figwit;


Chapter 1 - Chapter One

Disclaimer*****
The following represents a work of fiction based on the events and characters of JRR Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings and well as the acting performances and cinematic choices of Peter Jackson’s movie based on the same trilogy. I do not seek to benefit monetarily for my efforts here, and I freely give as much credit to the Professor, PJ and the actors as is due and do not wish to infringe on any copyrights. This is as much a tribute to their talents and imaginations as it is a wish to continue the story in my own imagination. That said, while I stick to “canon” as much as possible, I am not afraid to shape the circumstances in the story to suit my own needs, so I ask the reader’s indulgence if it veers from generally held beliefs about the original story.

Chapter One

From the shallow beach Carantaliel gazed upon the graceful Elven ship as it hove into the bay bearing another group of exiles home to Valinor. Her great-grandmother would be on the ship somewhere, the beautiful Lady of Light, Galadriel. Yet, the she-elf did not see her kinswoman present on deck.

The Lord Celeborn was in evidence, however, standing regally next to the seafaring Círdan. Both elflords scanned the shore ahead and the Lord of the Golden Wood smiled briefly and waved to Carantaliel, who acknowledged her great-grandfather with a grave smile.

“Who is that, I wonder?” she murmured aloud when she noticed a smallish figure standing aft looking back towards the sea.

“That is Frodo Baggins of the Shire,” replied the elflord at her side. His dark, handsome looks were in stark contrast to her red-gold hair and sea blue eyes, and he towered over her slighter form.

“How do you know this Frodo, Figwit?” she asked not taking her eyes from the ship.

His voice barely masked his impatience with her, “My lady, I have told you the story often enough. Master Baggins was the Ringbearer. I was at the Council of Elrond where it was decided he should bear the One Ring to Mount Doom to destroy it.”

“Ah…” was all she said for some time, but then added wistfully, “He looks back towards home. This place will not be a refuge for him.”

“Has it been for you?” he challenged her softly.

Calmly she turned towards Figwit, but brief anger flashed in her eyes like lightning streaking through stormy skies.

“I must go greet The Lady,” she stated blandly and walked away towards the disembarking passengers.


Galadriel quickly spied her great-grandchild on the beach as she glided down the gangplank towards shore. Carantaliel did not have the dark coloring of the House of Elrond like her father Elladan. Bright hair and bright eyes told of her kinship to Celebrían, Galadriel’s own ill-fated daughter and Elladan’s mother. Carantaliel had her own sorrows in her lifetime and early on made the trip over the Sea, having no desire left to remain in Middle-earth.

Carantaliel smiled up at Galadriel with sudden brightness and the Lady of Lothlórien returned the smile in full measure. How she had missed this elfchild!

There were several dignitaries to greet first, but soon Galadriel was stretching out her arms to her great-granddaughter.

“Ah, my darling girl… You are a sight for weary eyes,” she hugged her close. “You have been missed in Lothlórien.”

“It is you who have been missed here in Valinor, Lady,” the younger she-elf replied warmly. “Welcome home.”

“And where is Celebrían? Is my daughter still ailing?” she asked with anxious concern.

“She is much improved. You will be delighted at how well she is doing,” Carantaliel assured her. “There was much to be done for your arrival and my grandmother would not be satisfied until she did it all herself. She sent me in her place, poor substitute that I am, Lady.”

Galadriel detected a wistfulness in the she-elf’s voice, though a delicate smile still graced her face. “Nothing could have pleased me more, my child,” she told her fondly and caressed Carantaliel’s cheek with a tender fingertip. “But how are you, dearest? You still look so sad. Your return to Valinor has not helped to heal your wounds?”

“I fear they will never be healed,” she replied solemnly.

The erstwhile Queen of the Golden Wood gave her a searching look, mindful of Carantaliel’s sufferings, then drew her close again and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Then we will have to work on that now that I am here,” she murmured then added brightly, “Come, I have an agreeable task that may distract you. Bilbo… Frodo… come meet someone who is quite dear to me. She will be helping you get settled here.” She turned slightly and beckoned to the two hobbits waiting patiently at the rear of the group.

The older of the two, while quite elderly, nevertheless moved eagerly forward to meet Carantaliel. He gave her a pleasant greeting, which she returned, but he soon moved off again to talk with the wizard Gandalf the White.

At Frodo’s introduction, Carantaliel extended her hand as she had with Bilbo. Frodo moved to take it with his right hand, but checked the movement and used his left instead, plunging the other deep in his trouser pocket. “It is an honor to meet you, my lady,” he spoke softly with untold weariness coloring his voice as he kissed her hand.

“The honor is mine, Master Baggins,” she replied with a sympathetic smile. “I know this isn’t home for you, but we will do our best to make it so.”

“Thank you. That is very kind,” he murmured.

Before the hobbit released her hand, Carantaliel gave it a gentle squeeze. He looked up quickly, making eye contact for the first time. Sea met the sky in that fleeting glance, and he smiled briefly and nodded then stepped back into the retinue.

The Elven princess watched him for another moment with consternation. His eyes were moist when they broke contact from hers, but more surprising was that she found tears filling hers as well. It had been some time since emotion touched her that deeply.

Movement from Galadriel caught Carantaliel’s attention when the Lady made signs of leaving the shore for the road. Again, the younger she-elf was bewildered.

“Is not Lord Celeborn coming, Lady?” she asked, glancing back up at the ship where Celeborn remained with Círdan on deck.

“No, my dear. He is remaining in Middle Earth awhile longer,” she replied. “He will join us when he is ready… perhaps…”

Carantaliel did not understand, but she had no choice but to follow her kinswoman.


Frodo buried his hand deeper in his pocket. Why had he been embarrassed to use his four-fingered hand? It had never caused him humiliation in the past.

He looked at Carantaliel again as she gazed up at her great-grandfather on the deck of Círdan’s ship, distressed that he would not be joining them on shore. She had much sadness in her heart, the hobbit sensed. Perhaps as much as he…

“Welcome to Valinor, Master Baggins,” greeted a dark elf gravely.

“Lord Figwit…” Frodo tore his glance from the lovely Carantaliel. “This is a pleasant surprise. It is good to see you.”

“I think yon lady was a fairer sight,” he nodded over at Carantaliel.

“She is quite beautiful,” he agreed. “She rivals even Queen Arwen and The Lady herself, I think…” he drifted off and stole another glance at her. “Still,” he offered his right hand unselfconsciously to the elf at his side, “I am happy to see a familiar face nonetheless.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Figwit replied blandly. Looking back the princess he stated, “She is spoken for, you know.”

“That is good news,” Frodo answered earnestly. Yet, when he too turned his attention back to her, he felt a strange stab of disappointment. “Are you the lucky elflord then?” he tried to sound light.

“I am,” he stated then demurred, “At least I hope I will be. The lady has not yet accepted my offer.”

“Then I bid you luck in your endeavor,” he replied graciously, though he felt a slight lift at the news of her refusal.

“Thank you, mellon nin ,” said Figwit. “Ah, it looks like they are ready to go. If you will excuse me? I am to lead the company to Enedvása, the Palace by the Sea.”

As Figwit hurried off to help, Frodo rejoined Bilbo and Gandalf who greeted him with a fond slap on the back.

“So what did Lord Figwit have to say so seriously to you, dear Frodo?” the wizard asked with a sly grin.

Frodo laughed shortly and answered, “I do think I’ve been warned off!” and nodded in Carantaliel’s direction. “Imagine that…”

“Indeed,” Gandalf chuckled while Bilbo slapped his knee in delight.

“That’s the best joke I’ve heard in a long while!” laughed the older hobbit.

But Frodo thought perhaps that it was not a joke at all.


-end of Chapter One-


Chapter 2 - Chapter Two

The journey to their new home took no time at all, but the afternoon was busy with getting settled in to their lodgings. Carantaliel led Frodo to a spacious room on the second floor with a balcony that faced the Sea.

In the distance he could see Círdan’s ship as she elegantly waited in port to sail back towards Middle-earth. The hobbit felt somewhat melancholy at their going, but found there was little to miss apart from Samwise and his family and Merry and Pippin. His friends had gone on with their own lives, however, and Frodo believed there was little room for him now in them.

Bilbo had the room across the hall and quickly announced he wanted a bite to eat and a nap, which their hosts were eager to provide. Gandalf disappeared, as was often his wont, so Frodo was left to his own devices.

He was weary as well, but Frodo felt restless and did not think he could sleep. Instead he unpacked his luggage, meager as it was, and took his time arranging his belongings.

Much to his surprise he discovered Galadriel framed in the doorway sometime later, watching with interest while he paced the chamber with his things.

“Lady…” he nearly stumbled, “I did not see you there…” and bowed awkwardly.

“Forgive me, Frodo,” she smiled, “I did not mean to spy. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly a hobbit can make himself at home.”

He swept his azure gaze around the room tentatively and sighed, “It is not exactly a hobbit hole, my lady, but I’ll make do.” She cocked her head at him, and Frodo suddenly realized his faux pas. “Not to be insulting, Lady,” he added quickly. “I just meant that it’s rather grand for a simple hobbit such as I am.”

“No insult taken, Frodo,” she answered. “Whatever you need to make yourself at home, please seek out Carantaliel. She will provide all that you require.”

“That is gracious, Lady,” he replied, “but I find after all that I need very little to make me content.”

Galadriel gave him a searching look that made him edgy, rather like the feeling he got so long ago in Lothlórien. “Content is different from happy, Frodo Baggins,” she finally said.

“I dare not hope for more, Lady.”

She was silent a moment longer, still appraising his mood, then commented, “My great-granddaughter said much the same thing to me earlier.”

“Carantaliel is your great-granddaughter?” asked Frodo with some surprise. “Surely you are hardly older than she, Lady?”

“You are gallant, Frodo,” she laughed lightly, “and you are trying to get me off the subject.”

“What subject is that, Lady?”

“That both you and that silly elfchild are determined to live out the rest of the days in gloom and sorrow.”

“I cannot speak for the lady,” he replied gravely, “but I do not seek out gloom and sorrow. They are with me all the time and there is little I can do about that.”

Realizing it was futile to make him see otherwise at present, Galadriel merely answered, “I hope in time you will be able to feel differently, Frodo. In the meantime, there is a feast planned for later. It is hoped that you and Bilbo will feel up to attending.”

Frodo did not really feel up to the feast, but went anyway. It did not seem right to refuse Galadriel’s invitation. Bilbo, after his long nap, felt quite up to the challenge, however. Eagerly he led his nephew to the Great Hall where they met Gandalf at the door.

“My dear Frodo, do you feel quite well?” asked Gandalf seriously.

“Just weary, Gandalf,” he replied. “I could not sleep earlier.”

The wizard pursed his lips considering the hobbit’s answer. He did not quite believe him, but said, “That’s too bad. The party will go on early into the morning. The singing and dancing don’t really get started ‘til moonrise. You’ll miss all the fun.”

Frodo’s smile was wan, “I’ll do my best to keep up.”


Carantaliel noticed the hobbits enter the hall with the great wizard, but could not go to them right away as she had finally gotten to greet her grandfather, Lord Elrond.

The Lord of Imladris had made the crossing as well, but had been busy overseeing the unloading of the ship all afternoon. Now Elrond was brooding, standing near but apart from his wife Celebrían. Yet, on seeing Carantaliel his face lit with an affectionate smile.

“Ah, my child,” he kissed her lightly on the cheek, “I am ashamed to say that I did not know how much I have missed you until this very moment. Step back now and let me take a look at you…” he held her out at arm’s-length and gave her an appraising look. “More beautiful than ever, I see, though the sadness still clings stubbornly to your expression.” Sadly, he shook his head, “It is the same with your father and uncle, I’m afraid.”

“Why did they not come with you, my lord? I was so hoping…”

Again, Elrond shook his head and said, “I would not look for them any time soon, my child. They are not ready to abandon King Elessar. He is like a brother to them and Elladan and Elrohir will not leave while they may yet serve him.”

Carantaliel blinked back tears she refused to shed, “It’s all well and good for the man to fight in the name of the king, but when the woman wants to do the same…” she trailed off bitterly.

“Let us not quarrel on my first night back, Cara,” he urged. “We had this argument too often. No one questions your abilities, but your path did not lie in the same direction as Tellonnion. You could not save him from his fate any more than I could have saved Celebrían. We both had other duties.”

“And mine is to languish here alone?”

“The only person who is forcing you to languish is yourself, Carantaliel,” he responded sternly. “You have not been alone nor did you need to return to Valinor when you did. Celebrían would have made the journey with or without you. To go betimes was your choice and you must abide by it.”

Chastened, she replied, “Nai … Perhaps if I had your foresight, I might not have been so hasty.”

Fondly he caressed her cheek, “Perhaps it was your foresight that sent you too soon, not wanting to see more death.” Her only answer was to smile wistfully with a slight nod. Changing the subject he asked, “How are you getting along with your new charges?” He nodded towards the hobbits who were conversing quietly with Gandalf at the side of the hall.

Her smile brightened, “They are easy enough to get along with. Neither asks for much and they are astonishingly self-sufficient.” Suddenly her face clouded over, “I worry for Master Frodo though, my lord. He says he is just weary from the trip, but I can sense he is not well.”

“His scars are deep, my dear. It is hoped that they may heal at last here in Valinor.”

“What can I do to help?” she asked eagerly. “I tell you, it breaks my heart to see him!”

“Ah, my lady, always the compassionate one,” greeted Figwit cheerfully, though Carantaliel sensed a subtle current of annoyance. “I wonder if yon hobbit knows he has such a concerned protectoress among the First Born.”

Her anger flashed, “Do not belittle him, my lord. From your own lips I have heard of his bravery. Ten of you could not match his valor and I will gratefully help him however I may. Excuse me.”

Carantaliel stalked off leaving Figwit speechless as Elrond said to him, “If you ever thought to woo my granddaughter, Figwit, I fear you’ve lost your chance now. Just because she has been consumed with sorrow does not necessarily mean that she has no room for other emotions.”

“She will tire of it soon,” Figwit said. “The hobbits are a novelty to her. Once she sees their limitations, she will return to other more appropriate interests.”

Elrond crossed his arms on his chest and asked, “Namely, you?”

“Well, that is my hope, of course.”

“I see. I wish you well,” Elrond said blandly. “You must excuse me.”

As the Lord of Imladris moved off, Figwit stood tall and proud, knowing he had the better claim on Carantaliel’s affections. No stunted, weak hobbit would be a match for him in the end.


Gandalf and Bilbo were chuckling over some long remembered escapade when Frodo looked up to see the Lady Carantaliel toss her red-gold hair angrily and walk off across the chamber. He could see fire in her eyes and remarked absently, “I wonder what Lord Figwit could have said to anger her so.”

“What, my boy?” asked Bilbo. “What did you say?”

“Oh! Nothing, Bilbo,” Frodo started, not realizing he spoke out loud. “It’s not important. Go on with your story.”

“My story? Sticklebats! You made me lose my train of thought…” Gandalf gave Frodo a wink over Bilbo’s head. “Oh, nevermind. When’s dinner, Gandalf? I thought this was supposed to be a feast.”

“Indeed it is, Master Bilbo,” answered an amused voice. Carantaliel had regained whatever composure she lost at the hands of Figwit and continued sweetly, “Let me show you to your table…”

Bilbo took the lead with the Elven princess and talked animatedly with her while Gandalf contributed a few witty comments at their backs. Frodo fell in behind, thoughtfully watching the others, and Carantaliel in particular.

She got them settled at a table near the front of the hall and was starting to leave when to everyone’s astonishment, including his own, Frodo asked, “My lady, must you go? We would be delighted if you would join us at our table for the feast.”

“I haven’t had such a charming invitation in many a year, Master Baggins,” she replied cheerfully. “Thank you. I would be delighted to accept.” And with that Carantaliel made a great show of letting Frodo hold her chair and sitting next to him.

The response from across the great hall was as she expected, though it gave her no joy. Her intent was not to excite jealousy in the elflord. Rather, Carantaliel hoped to discourage his advances. Figwit’s expression was sulky as he sat at the table with Lord Elrond. After she saw his reaction, the she-elf gave him no further thought.

Instead her attention continued to be drawn to her pensive halfling companion. Frodo made every effort to join in the merriment, but grief still clung to him as if he was wrapped in a sorrowful mantle. It was obvious he had much affection for both Bilbo and the great wizard for he indulged them in every joke by laughing gently and he listened attentively to every repeated tale as the evening wore on.

Unlike Bilbo, Frodo ate sparingly and drank only water. Even Gandalf partook of more food and drink than he did. When the plates were cleared, the wizard excused himself to join Galadriel and Elrond, while Bilbo hopped from table to table visiting with others who had made the trip over the Sea with them.

Left alone together, conversation ceased awkwardly for a moment until Carantaliel made an attempt to put Frodo at ease by commenting, “You are fond of your kinsman…”

“I am,” he agreed as he sent an indulgent glance over Bilbo’s way. “He took me in when my parents were drowned in an accident. In many ways he is like a father to me, albeit an odd one from time to time.”

The Elven princess also looked up at the older hobbit and said, “He has great affection for you too, Master Frodo. He told me he is quite worried about you.”

Sighing, Frodo nodded, “I know. I’ve tried to convince him I’m all right, but he worries anyway. I don’t know what more I can do.”

“It seems we have much in common,” she murmured.

“Yes. I’ve noticed your own family keeps a close eye on you as well. You, too, have a sad story to tell?” he cocked his head with interest at her.

“It’s sad enough,” she said with a delicate shrug, “though only to me. I will tell it to you someday when you have nothing better to do.” Carantaliel caught movement from the high table and said with forced brightness, “But look, the ceremony is about to begin.”

“Ceremony, my lady?”

“Did no one tell you?” she asked surprised. Frodo shook his head with a puzzled frown and she added, “Well, perhaps they thought it for the best, Master Frodo.”

Frodo felt a strange foreboding and he asked anxiously, “What is going to happen?”

“The Rings of Power…” she nodded towards the center of the room where Elrond, Galadriel and Gandalf had gathered. “They are going to give them up.”

“But why? I’ve been told they’ve lost all their power since the One Ring is gone.” Absently his good hand sought the milky white gem around his neck in place of the Ring.

“So I understand as well,” she agreed, “but it is thought that to avoid any sort of corruption even now of the rings, they should be delivered up to the Ainur.”

As if her words should summon them, Manwë and Varda, the greatest of the Valar, appeared in a burst of pure light. Frodo felt his breath desert him when he looked upon their absolute beauty. He sensed the profound goodness in them and despaired in his own flaws, not feeling worthy to be among them. Closing his eyes, he struggled to regain his breath while listening to the proceedings.

Gandalf stood before Manwë and Varda and began, “Holy Ones, I give up the Ring of Fire, Narya. May its stone of red be quenched now and forever in the goodness of the Valar.”

With that the wizard offered up the ring and it vanished with a wave from Manwë’s hand. Frodo felt rather than saw the ring disappear as a sharp stab in his wounded shoulder coursed more painfully than it ever had in the past.

Galadriel spoke next, “Holy Ones, I give up the Ring of Water, Nenya. May its stone of white be drowned now and forever in the love of the Valar.”

Again, Manwë waved his hand and Frodo felt another sharper stab in his shoulder.

Last of all, Elrond stood before the Ainur, “Holy Ones, I give up the Ring of Air, the greatest of these Elven rings, Vilya. May its sapphire stone be smothered now and forever in the grace of the Valar.”

The pain in Frodo’s shoulder this time was worse than the actual wound from the Morgul blade itself. The Ringbearer gasped for breath and collapsed back in his chair with a quiet moan.

The three together recited, “By Fire, Water and Air we relinquish these Rings back into your safe keeping, O Holy Ainur, and we praise you for your goodness, love and grace.”

Carantaliel watched as Manwë and Varda acknowledged the Elven ring bearers’ praise with a silent blessing of farewell and then disappeared with another burst of radiant light. She sighed with contentment and awe, taking a moment to savor the rare appearance of the Valar among them.

Her joy was disturbed, however, at the sound of Frodo’s low moan next to her and she quickly turned to find him near fainting in his chair.

“Frodo!” she gasped and knelt at his side.

“The pain…” he groaned as he clutched his shoulder. “It is too great… I cannot bear it…”

Quickly Carantaliel dove her hand through vest and shirt to reach the old wound and murmured a quiet Elvish prayer of healing. The touch of her slender hand was cool and gentle, seeming to quench the fire in Frodo’s shoulder. As she continued to recite her prayer, he found his breath returning and he struggled to sit up in his chair again.

“Thank you, my lady,” he whispered weakly. “That is much better…”

Slowly Carantaliel removed her hand from under his shirt only to lay it on his chest with gentle pressure. “Do not try to move just yet, Master Frodo,” she said with anxious concern. Frodo was aware of her nearness, of the bewilderment in her sea-blue eyes and of the subtle scent of jasmine that surrounded her to make him feel a little dizzy again.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “Perhaps I should go back to my chambers.”

“Let me help you…” she offered.

“No, no… that is kind of you. I’ll make it on my own…”

But his body betrayed him again when he stood, a wave of true dizziness sweeping over him to make him sway on his feet. Quickly he grabbed the arm of his chair to steady himself.

“If you will not let me help you, then please let me get one of your friends, sir. Perhaps Master Bilbo or Gandalf…” she pleaded.

“I will escort Master Baggins back to his room,” said Elrond to their surprise. “I know this wound from of old, do I not, Frodo?” The hobbit nodded wearily and the elflord supported Frodo as they prepared to leave the great hall together. “Come then. I should have guessed this would cause you some distress. Thank you, my dear, for coming to Frodo’s aid,” he spoke gravely to his granddaughter. “I see that not all of your lessons are lost since you left Middle-earth.”

“None are lost, my lord, though they may be seldom used,” she replied. “I hope you will let me know if I may be of further assistance to Master Baggins.”

Lord Elrond nodded, then he and Frodo made their slow progress to the hobbit’s chambers.

“Why he does not just pick him up and carry him is beyond me,” commented Figwit as they watched Frodo struggle across the room.

Carantaliel rounded angrily on him, “Do you think he is a child or some sack of potatoes, my lord, to be carried off in such a manner? He is a man for all his small stature. Leave him his dignity, I beg you! And if you have any affection for me at all, Lord Figwit, you will show Master Frodo and his kinsman the respect and honor they deserve.”

That was twice in one evening that the she-elf had upbraided him in public and Figwit was stung by her harsh words. He checked his angry retort, however, realizing that he would be the loser in this fight. Instead, he bowed stiffly and replied, “I beg pardon, my lady. No insult was intended.”

“It is not my pardon you need beg, my lord,” she answered just as stiffly. Turning to the wizard, Carantaliel asked, “Mithrandir, I only know bits and pieces of Master Baggins’ tale. Will you not tell me the whole story? Why does Lord Elrond say he knows of this invisible wound? Did he heal him of it?”

“Healed him as best he could, my dear,” answered the wizard. “In taking the One Ring to Rivendell Frodo was stabbed by the Lord of the Nazgûl with a Morgul-knife. If memory serves, it is the anniversary of that wound. I had hoped on reaching these shores it would no longer trouble him. Lord Elrond is right, we should have considered Frodo in our timing of tonight’s ceremony.”

“I am sure, Master Frodo does not blame you, Mithrandir,” she replied.

“No… no, he doesn’t, you’re right,” he agreed. “Though perhaps he should. Come, my dear, and have a seat. I will answer all your questions about Frodo and the quest of the Nine Companions.”

Gratefully Carantaliel sat with the wizard and the two of them talked long into the night of the adventures of Frodo and his friends. Lord Figwit, knowing as much as he wanted of the whole affair excused himself, while Bilbo popped in and out adding his own comments but much preferring the merrymaking elsewhere in the great hall. By morning, Carantaliel knew as much as anyone about the destruction of the One Ring.

-end of Chapter Two-

Nai - Yes


Chapter 3 - Chapter Three

Frodo stirred several days later, feeling drained but no longer in pain. Elrond had done much to dispel the searing attack to his already wasted body, but the ache lasted throughout that night and into the next day. The hobbit was aware that others were with him too while he was ill: Gandalf and Bilbo and most especially the lady Carantaliel. Elrond cared for him with the healing grace of the Elves, but it was the lady who tended him with the compassion and tenderness of a woman as well.

The sea breeze wafted gently over the coverlet to stir his hair softly. He turned to face the open terrace and found a small vase of elanor flowers next to his bed. The delicate golden sun-stars reminded Frodo of Samwise and his dear little family.

“Poor old Sam…” he murmured. “I hope he is not as sad as I that we are parted.”

“How can he not be sad, Master Frodo,” said a voice that was growing sweeter to his ears with every passing hour, “when his best friend is ill and seemingly alone in a new and unfamiliar place?” Carantaliel passed a smooth hand over his brow, checking for the fever that was quelled at last. “But he has his family to comfort him, and I hope you will let some of your new friends be of some comfort to you.”

“If they are all as kind and sweet as you, my lady,” he replied gratefully, “then I will count myself blest and comforted both. Thank you for the flowers. It was a thoughtful gift indeed.”

She smiled, happy that it brought him some little joy. “I was glad to do it. Is there anything else I may get to make you more comfortable?”

“I’m actually feeling quite a bit better,” he said struggling amidst the mountains of pillows to sit up in bed. “The breeze woke me and I feel like I could use a breath of fresh air. Do you have time to sit with me on the veranda?”

“As much time as you please, Master Frodo,” she answered.

Throwing back the coverlet, Frodo swung his legs to hop lightly to the floor and reached for the dressing gown stretched across the foot of the bed.
Carantaliel watched with consternation as he threw the robe around his slender shoulders. The hobbit’s nightshirt clung to his body with the movement and she saw how frail he actually was. Vest and frock coat had hid much, but the thin linen of the bedclothes did little to disguise Frodo’s wan health.

He walked slowly to the veranda and looked out to the Sea. “It seems like only yesterday that I left my friends,” he mused wistfully. “I wonder what mischief Merry & Pippin are getting into… and how little Elanor is growing… and how Sam and Rosie are getting along…”

The Elven princess seemed strangely quiet and Frodo turned to find tears streaming down her face.

“My lady?” he asked anxiously. “Is something wrong?”

Quickly she wiped the tears and said with forced enthusiasm. “Not at all, Master Frodo. I’m perfectly fine.”

He gave her a skeptical look, but as she smiled warmly he let it go. Instead he said, “I wish you would call me ‘Frodo.’ It’s much easier, don’t you think?”

“Then you must call me ‘Cara.’”

“I will be glad to,” he reached out his left hand to her. “Come, Cara, and see what beautiful day it is.”

Softly Carantaliel took his proffered hand and walked out onto the veranda with him. The day was indeed beautiful. It had been many years since she took the time to notice just how breath-taking the Undying Lands were, and on this day they seemed particularly so. Carantaliel would remember its loveliness for some time to come.


“Well, my boy, you have found yourself a pretty nursemaid,” commented Bilbo as he watched Carantaliel leave sometime later that afternoon. The elder hobbit had popped by to check on his nephew just as the Elven princess had excused herself due to a summons from Galadriel saying she was needed elsewhere.

“It was uncommonly nice of her to pass the time with me,” said Frodo. “I daresay she had many other things she should be doing this afternoon.”

“Probably,” harumpfred Bilbo. “Elves are always busy doing something.”

“Say, you’ve been awfully busy yourself since we got here, Bilbo,” the younger hobbit said. “What have you been up to? You look like a fifty year old again.”

He waved carelessly, “Oh this and that… nothing of importance. But I tell you, I almost feel like I’m fifty years old again. I rather wish Gandalf would give me a nudge out the door on some new adventure, for by Bullroarer’s Spear, I feel up to the task.”

Frodo smiled, but his voice betrayed his weariness as he said, “Yes, but look where the last one got us?”

Sobering, Bilbo replied, “Quite right, my boy. I certainly had a lark, but the adventure was hard on you.”

“Have as many adventures as you like, Bilbo,” said Frodo. “Just don’t bother about leaving me any magical trinkets you find along the way.”

Laughing heartily, Bilbo sat in a chair next to Frodo on the veranda. “These Elves build nice houses,” he looked around the structure, “but I have to say that a cozy hobbit hole would be much preferred. I rather miss Bag End… Do you think we could get someone to build one for us?”

“I daresay…” answered Frodo absently. Below the terrace he noticed Carantaliel with Galadriel, Elrond and Figwit. She was now dressed for travelling and Figwit held the reins of her spirited horse, the golden steed Thaurrant.

He could not hear their conversation but the younger she-elf listened attentively while she was apparently given instructions from the Lady Galadriel.

“I wonder what that is all about?” he murmured as he continued to watch the proceedings on the lawn. Carantaliel prepared to mount her nimble horse and Figwit stooped to give her a leg up into the saddle.

Carantaliel sat gracefully atop her mount, obviously accustomed to riding a great deal. Figwit then kissed her hand gallantly and she nodded with a gracious, if brief, smile.

“Looks like she’s going on a trip,” answered Bilbo speculatively. “Did she mention it while she was here?”

“Not a word of it,” replied Frodo. “Do you think there could be some sort of emergency?”

“In Valinor?” scoffed his cousin.

The younger hobbit shrugged. “It just seems odd that she was here only a few minutes ago and suddenly she is off to parts unknown. I think she would have told me if she were going away. In any case, it seems like she’s made up with Lord Figwit.”

“More likely he made up to her. She’s fierce, that elfgirl! And very protective of you, lad. I thought she would take Figwit’s head off the other night when she felt he insulted you.” Frodo raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “No, it’s true. If she were a hobbit lass I’d say she’s set her sights on you.”

Mirthlessly, Frodo laughed, “I’m hardly marriageable material now.”

“We Bagginses were meant to be bachelors, I suppose,” chuckled Bilbo, not grieved in the least at the thought of remaining single.

Frodo, on the other hand, was wistful. “It was selfishness on my part,” he admitted. “Before the quest, I rather liked doing whatever I wanted to do, not bothering necessarily about what another might prefer. I’ve waited too long, and now…”

He looked down at Carantaliel again and she just happened to glance up at that moment. Her expression had remained sober throughout the discussion with her elders and Figwit, but now the smile that lit her face was warm and genuine. At his returning smile, Carantaliel gave him the traditional Elven bow, her right hand placed lightly on her chest and then a respectful nod of the head.

Walking to the edge of the veranda, Frodo returned the Elven bow and then raised his hand in farewell. When he realized it was his four-fingered hand in the air, the hobbit quickly lowered it to his side with a half-hearted wave.

She waved in answer then turned her mount to walk it towards the road. Galadriel and Figwit remained on the lawn below the terrace, but Elrond walked further with Carantaliel.

“He hides his hand from me, “ she stated. “Even the other night he had it clenched so tightly I could not see it.”

“Give him time, my dear,” said Elrond. “We’re all used to seeing what Gollum did to it, and so there is no longer any curiosity about it. When he senses you no longer pity him, he will not be so self-conscious.”

“Pity…” she repeated. “How can I not pity him, my lord? Did you see how frail and wasted he is?”

The elflord reached up to the horse’s harness to stop them. “Cara, he neither needs nor wants your pity,” he said gravely. “Frodo has been ill and scarred, but he is not pitiable. Do not make the same mistake as Lord Figwit and think this small, wan hobbit is inconsequential. He has accomplished an almost impossible task. One that I’m not sure any of the rest of us could have done.”

Ruefully, Carantaliel replied, “I deserve your reproach, my lord. I had forgotten the Evil he has conquered. Still, even more do I want to help him and to heal him somehow. He at least deserves our compassion, does he not?”

“I did not intend to reproach you, Cara. Frodo needs and appreciates your compassion. I see how well he is responding to it, but you must be careful, my dear.”

“Why? Careful how?”

Elrond’s brow furrowed deeply and he started them walking again while he considered his answer. He had already counseled his daughter about loving a man outside her race and Arwen Undómiel chose to follow her own heart despite his misgivings. What should he tell his granddaughter now?

“Just be wary of letting Frodo think you feel more than you do,” he finally said. “Hobbits are warm and merry companions on the surface, but they can also be passionately loyal.”

“That does not sound like any reason to be cautious, my lord,” she replied, sensing he was not telling her what he really meant.

“I don’t think you should let him feel more for you than he does already,” he said flatly. “He’s had enough sorrow in his life…”

Now Carantaliel stopped her mount. “Are you telling me not to love Frodo?” she asked, pique rising rapidly in her.
He held up a hand and replied, “I just think…”

His granddaughter reined her growing anger but said, “How is that fair to Frodo? Or to me for that matter? You bring him all the way to the Undying Lands with only his kinsman to keep him company, leaving all his loved ones behind at home. You bring him among strangers to heal and be whole again, and then you isolate him, not wanting him to form relationships with any of the rest of us? What kind of honor is that for him who has done this marvelous thing for Middle-earth? Is he meant to live out eternity alone? Why not let him live out his days at home then where he would at least pass away among all those who love him?”

“I did not mean…”

“And am I not allowed to choose for myself? Do I not deserve some happiness after Tellonnion? You know how his fate has tortured me… Am I to be punished so forever too?” Tears glistened in her eyes, but she remained steadfast.

“My dear, I am sorry,” said Elrond, realizing his words were ill timed and ill spoken. “I know how you have suffered and how Frodo has suffered. I did not mean to imply that you should remain aloof from him. Of course I encourage you to be friends with him.”

“And nothing more? Would you tell any elfmaid the same or do you caution me because you disapprove the Evenstar’s choice?”

Elrond checked a hot retort, saying evenly, “My daughter is not the issue here. Are you determined to love this hobbit, then?”

”I am determined to make my own choice, my lord,” she replied proudly. “I do not know how I feel about Frodo Baggins at this point other than to want to help him. We have only just met. However, should my feelings for him grow deeper I do not plan on denying them.”

“Very well,” Elrond sighed deeply. “I truly only want your happiness, my dear. If Frodo is the one who eventually helps you to that, I will not gainsay him.”

Carantaliel released her anger slowly and gave Elrond a brief smile, “Thank you for that, my lord. I do not want to be at odds with you.”

“Nor I you, Cara,” he answered. “You had best be off. Safe journey, my dear.”


-end of Chapter Three-


Chapter 4 - Chapter Four

Carantaliel thought a great deal about what Elrond had said to her while she rode to Valimar, the great city of Valinor. Why she was chosen to go was not made known to her and she was beginning to wonder if there was an ulterior motive behind it.

When Galadriel had sent for her from Frodo’s room, she did not think much of it. The Lady of Light did ask her after all to look after him and Bilbo and it was natural that she would be found there.

When she answered the summons, Galadriel told her that a message needed to be delivered to her from Valimar and it had been requested that Carantaliel be the message bearer. Carantaliel, of course, agreed without question.

She was questioning now. Why was everyone so concerned with her feelings for the hobbit? They had only just met a few days ago. “Was it really less than a week?” she mused. “It seems longer…”

Truth be told, her affection for Frodo was growing stronger with each passing moment. She could not explain it and so she refused to try. She had not given in to deep emotions for such a very long time and there was something about Frodo that stirred them in her once more.

She hoped Frodo would be all right now she was gone. The she-elf had not had much time to pen a note to him to explain her absence. Carantaliel would have to trust that her kinsmen would provide that explanation for her.



Frodo studied the beautiful Elvish script on the front of the parchment Elrond handed him. The lines were graceful and feminine even in the haste with which they were penned. Carefully, he unfolded the note and read, “Frodo, forgive the dispatch with which I must write to you now. I am sent to Valimar. For what purpose I cannot even tell… I hope it will be a brief trip, but I cannot be certain until I know my errand in full. I hope this finds you well and that you will continue to grow in strength in the time I am gone. Please convey my best wishes to Bilbo as well. Until I return… Cara.”

“Is everything all right, Lord Elrond?” asked Frodo as he folded the letter again. “The lady seems as bewildered as I at her sudden departure.”

“As far as I know all is well,” he explained. “Carantaliel was called by the Valar to Valimar to deliver a message back here to the Lady of Light.”

“I see,” answered Frodo, although he really did not see at all. “The Valar, you say? It must be a very important message indeed to send for her for this one task.”

“I suppose we shall see when she returns,” was Elrond’s only reply. “Come now, Frodo. How are you feeling today? You seem to have a little more color.”

“I am feeling much better, my lord. Yet, I must say that I am tired of feeling poorly. I haven’t felt myself since before I left on the quest. Do you think it’s possible that I will gain any measure of my health back?”

Elrond shrugged lightly, “I am rather surprised that you do not feel more like your old self already, my friend.”

“What can I do to get it back?”

“Honestly I do not know, Frodo,” Elrond’s brow furrowed deeply. “I would suggest trying to get into a routine of sorts. What you might do at home in Hobbiton.”

“That’s funny you should mention that,” the hobbit said thoughtfully. “Bilbo and I were just talking earlier how we rather missed living in our hobbit hole. If I were stronger, I’d dig it myself…” he sighed.

“There is nothing like that here,” mused the elflord. “However, I cannot imagine that it would be out of the question to come up with something similar. In the meantime, why don’t you start with something a bit less ambitious? Some gardening perhaps?”

Frodo considered the idea for a moment then replied, “Sam used to do all the gardening, but I think I could give it a try.”

“Pick a spot then,” Elrond offered. “Anywhere you like. There are plenty of plants and flowers in the area from which to choose. Find what you need and get started whenever you are ready.”

“Perhaps I will,” said Frodo. “Thank you, my lord.”

Elrond left Frodo’s chambers feeling relieved to have distracted the hobbit from further thoughts of his granddaughter so easily. He did not want to interfere with either of the pair, for his affection for both was deep and abiding. However, the Elven lord did not see how a deepening relationship between the two would be beneficial to either. In helping Frodo to regain his health, the hobbit would then not need to rely on Carantaliel as he had so far since coming to Valinor. Nor would the she-elf then be moved by Frodo’s wounded and flagging spirit.



The next day Frodo felt a great deal better and decided that it was time to start his new routine. He figured that he should first walk around the area and get the lay of the land, seeing if there was a good spot for a garden and where he might find plants and flowers to put in it. He asked Bilbo and Gandalf to join him, but neither the hobbit nor the wizard was interested in accompanying him at present.

So, alone, Frodo set out on his walk taking a path that led away from the Sea and into the woods. He did not have to walk very far. Within a half an hour, the hobbit found a glade in the middle of the woods. It was unexpected and rather large with a sloping hill on the left leading to another copse of impressive trees. On the right was a winding brook, bubbling with happy music as the water washed over the rocks and down a little waterfall. It was the most charming spot Frodo had visited in some time and he sat down in the middle of the glade to enjoy the sunshine as it bathed the lawn in bright light.

“You know,” Frodo mused to himself, “this would be an ideal spot for a hobbit hole. When I’m strong enough…”

He considered that thought for a long time. Would he ever be strong enough for such a large undertaking? Lord Elrond seemed to think he should be getting healthier now he was in Valinor. He had to admit he did feel rather hopeful for the first time in a long time.

Not feeling any need to search longer, Frodo settled in the grass and closed his eyes. Having seen the beauty of the glade, he now drank in the fragrance of it, the scent of the grass beneath him, the earthiness of the trees and the headiness of the wild roses that grew over the brook. Between the redolent blossoms and the melodious stream, Frodo grew drowsy and was soon fast asleep.

While slumbering, Frodo had the most amazing dream.

He dreamed he was walking in the woods again, this time in a different part of the forest. It felt safe and familiar although Frodo did not recognize where he was in particular. Above him the trees seemed to be whispering, communicating with one another excitedly in a way that he did not understand, yet instinctively knew was not harmful to him.

In a way, the murmuring trees seemed to be leading Frodo, directing him onward to some unknown place. Yet, Frodo was not concerned. He knew the trees would not betray him.

He walked a long while and enjoyed the time he spent wandering the forest. Finally, though, Frodo stopped at the edge of a clearing. It was not the same glade he found earlier, for this one was ringed with Elven statuary. The spot reminded him a bit of Lothlórien, for the area was not bright with sunlight but was glowing with starlight. In the center of the clearing was a basin similar to Galadriel’s mirror, though it was smaller with a gurgling fountain in the center.

Frodo approached the basin and as he drew nearer a sudden thirst came over him. Yet, he did not know if it was permissible to drink the water. He looked at the water longingly, parched and suddenly weary, when he heard a familiar voice say, “Are you thirsty, Frodo Baggins?”

Turning, Frodo found Carantaliel near the fountain, ewer and vessel in hand. She was tantalizingly close to him, but the hobbit could not bring himself to touch her. The Elven princess was even more beautiful than he remembered her. She was a radiant star in the midst of the glade’s quiet glow, her blue-green eyes glittering like deep gemstones and red-gold hair smoldering like newly stirred embers in a banked fire. Clothed in indigo blue, the filmy gown lifted teasingly in the slight breeze, the bright silk parting slightly to expose the perfection of her alabaster skin.

Frodo found himself saying, “My lady, I am, but I did not know if it was safe to drink the water.”

Carantaliel began to pour water into the cup as she said, “It is not safe for all, Master Baggins. Few are allowed, but you have been chosen worthy enough to take all that you require from this vessel.”

As she handed Frodo the cup, their fingertips met and a physical spark seemed to pass through them. He quickly looked up at her and Carantaliel’s gaze seemed to urge him to drink his fill.

Drinking slowly, he did not let his eyes waver from hers. When the first cup was finished, he drank another… and another… and another until the ewer was empty.

“Is there more?” he asked.

“There is as much as you need, Frodo,” she replied in a sultry voice. “You have but to ask…”

Frodo stood considering her for a long moment. His thirst was slaked for the time being, though he knew not for long. Taking the ewer and cup from her, he set them nearby and then took each one of her slender hands in his. Tenderly, he kissed first the palm of her left hand and then the right in thanksgiving and said, “Cara, I thank you for your kindness and your goodness. You have given me much that I cannot repay.”

Leaning close to him, Carantaliel answered, “No recompense is necessary,” and lifting her two hands to his face she bent to kiss him. Frodo’s heart raced as he awaited that delicate caress of lips…

Suddenly Frodo started awake, his heart still beating excitedly. He glanced warily around the glade, looking to see what had awakened him, but all was quiet.

He sat there for a few more moments, trying to get his heart to slow down, when he noticed a small stone table to one side of the brook. On that table was an earthenware jug and cup and suddenly Frodo was very thirsty.

Without giving his dream a second thought, Frodo leapt up and seized the jug, pouring himself a draught into the cup. He drank the water that was in it greedily, his thirst seeming to grow worse with each drop he drank. The water was sweet and delicious and Frodo drank the entire jug before he even knew it.

It was only afterward as he was walking back to the palace that Frodo contemplated from where the water might have come. Finally, he theorized that someone from Galadriel’s household had found him and left the water to refresh him before returning. It was the only logical explanation and he soon forgot about it.

His dream, however, stayed with him a long time. Why had Carantaliel appeared in his dream? Where was this place? Did the Elven statuary have any meaning? What was the significance of the water and vessels?

Frodo thought about discussing it with Gandalf and Bilbo, but then decided the dream was too personal even to share with the two of them. Perhaps Carantaliel could provide an explanation when she returned from Valimar. He hoped her journey was proving a safe one.


-end of Chapter Four-


Chapter 5 - Chapter Five

Carantaliel, though somewhat anxious about being summoned to attend the Valar, still made the most of her journey to the larger city. The countryside through which she rode was delightful and pleasant, the horse track winding amidst robust woods with spongy green turf cushioning her horse Thaurrant’s footfalls. The breeze was fresh and all sorts of delightful scents wafted past to play with her senses. Each night the she-elf found shelter on flets among the trees, which had been built for just such a purpose, and was amply supplied with food and drink and warm furs to keep away the chill of night.

In other days, Carantaliel would have enjoyed the solitary trip. She missed having a companion along with her now, however. Especially when one night, deep in the middle of the forest, she felt an unwholesomeness lurking nearby and she wished she were not alone. By the next morning, though, everything felt normal again, and shrugging off her disquiet Carantaliel resumed her journey and tried not to give those anxious concerns another thought.

Carantaliel made good time along the road and soon arrived in the bustling city of Valimar. It had been some time since the she-elf had travelled anywhere in the Undying Lands. In the past, seeing other parts of Valinor did not interest her in the least and she did not know what to expect from the great metropolis. Taking in its astonishing beauty, Carantaliel now wanted to explore every nook and cranny of this new place, if only to take back tales of it to Frodo. Suddenly, she missed him desperately and wished he were with her to see these sights in the magnificent city of Valimar. As she rode through its exalted gates, Carantaliel drank in every sight, every building, every statue and every fountain so she could relate it all to the hobbit when she returned. That day could not come quickly enough for her.


Frodo followed through with his gardening plans, each day roaming a little farther from the palace. He returned, however, to his glade at the end of his exploring each day. There he planted what he had found along the way that morning, or rearranged what he had already planted more to his liking.

On his return to the sunny spot, Frodo always found the earthenware jug and cup filled with the delicious water. And he always drank as much as was there.

Soon the hobbit was feeling more like his old self, although his ordeal with the One Ring would come back at the most unexpected moments to haunt him. Still, he felt stronger and took on more ambitious projects until he stood back one day and looked up at the hill appraisingly.

“I think I could do it,” Frodo told himself. “I could build a hobbit hole, but where to start? Perhaps Gandalf has a suggestion of what to do…”

The wizard pondered Frodo’s question thoroughly before answering.

“That is quite an undertaking, my dear Frodo,” he said finally. “Why not give the Elves your requirements and let them figure out what to do and build it?”

The hobbit was equally thoughtful in his response. “I feel like I must take on this project myself… at least at first. I’m feeling much better and I believe that all my hard work is paying off.”

“That is good news, my friend,” Gandalf nodded. “Well, at least we might be able to find you someone with expertise in such things to advise you. Elves are master builders and there’s certain to be more than a few architects in the area.”

Frodo agreed that was a good suggestion and he sought out Elrond to ask him if there was such a person to be found nearby. By the next day, the hobbit was sitting down with a truly ancient elf named Belegcalion.

“Well, Master Frodo,” he said thoughtfully, “you have certainly given me a puzzle.” Frodo had laid out his ideas, improving upon the aspects of Bag End, but the elf scratched his head. “A round door? And round windows? And you want to tunnel directly into the hill?”

“I know it is not what the Elves are accustomed to, my lord,” explained Frodo, “but this is the layout of a typical hobbit dwelling. I lived in just such a place in the Shire.”

“Oh, I do not doubt you, Master Frodo,” he assured the hobbit. “But you are right, Elves are not used to such abodes. Fortunately I have spent time with some Dwarves, so burrowing in the ground is not entirely alien to me. Do you think I might see where you plan to build this home of yours?”

Frodo did not answer immediately. He had not given thought to anyone visiting his glade, and it had rather become a sacred place to him of sorts. Of course, practicality won out when he realized that he meant for Bilbo to live with him and that naturally he would want Gandalf to visit. Deep down he had to admit that he longed for Carantaliel to return to see all his hard work as well.

Finally, he replied, “Of course.”

The hobbit’s reluctant answer was not lost on the shrewd Belegcalion who asked, “Is there a problem?”

“No, no,” Frodo was quicker to reassure the elf this time. “Of course you must see the site. It’s not far, but it is a little bit of a hike. Are you prepared to see it now?”

“I would enjoy a walk in the woods, Master Frodo,” the architect replied. “Do lead on…”


Belegcalion surveyed Frodo’s glade with astonished wonder. “Well, Master Frodo, I have been here for more years than you can count and I must tell you that I have never seen this pretty clearing before in my entire life. How did you find it?”

“I can’t really say,” Frodo shrugged lightly. “I just walked out the door and went where my feet took me.”

The elf grunted amiably then spent the next little while exploring the site, making notes and calculations on a scrap of parchment. Unable to be of much help for the moment, the hobbit sat at the base of an aged apple tree to watch his companion with interest.

Frodo liked the tree. He felt safe beneath its wide boughs, still lovely with white blossoms. Despite it’s delicate appearance it seemed like it could protect him from any danger, though he expected little peril in the Blessed Realm.

Nearly an hour later Belegcalion joined the hobbit under the tree.

“You have a good eye, Master Frodo,” he said amiably. “This is an ideal spot for what you want to do. When do you want to get started? I can have some strong elves here in the morning if you wish.”

Once again Frodo showed reluctance and the architect gave him an expectant look. “I…” he began, “I was rather hoping to do most of the work myself.”

“It’s a big job, Frodo,” said Belegcalion. “I can understand your wanting to work on your own home, but you’re going to need help with the excavation at the very least.”

Frodo looked at the hill for a long moment and sagged slightly when he realized the enormity of the work. “I suppose you’re right…”

Belegcalion put a friendly hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “Never fear, my friend. There will be plenty for you to do even with our help. Here, let me show you how we should begin…”

With that the elf spread out his plans and calculations on the grass between them, and Frodo was soon glad he was going to have help after all. It seems creating his hobbit hole was going to take much more than merely digging into the hill. Being as quick-witted as he was, Frodo quickly grasped the concepts of excavation and asked Belegcalion intelligent questions along the way. By the time they left the glade, the hobbit was again eagerly anticipating the building of his new home.


Carantaliel presented herself at the palace of the Valar as Galadriel instructed her to do and she was greeted graciously by a pair of she-elves. They led her down an airy corridor to an antechamber of sorts. The room was open to the outside with a waterfall gently cascading nearby. Trees also shaded the terrace there, and the effect reminded her very much of Rivendell. The architecture was different, however, and was even more elegant and rarefied than anything even she had seen in her many years in Middle Earth. Carantaliel tried very hard not to gape like a Dunlending at its astonishing exquisiteness and settled on the proffered couch near the open space between indoors and outdoors.

Refreshments were also provided and Carantaliel accepted a glass of cool water and a ripe plum while she waited. The Elven ladies were mostly silent, but they answered her questions readily enough. Still, they did not initiate any conversation and Carantaliel finally gave up trying to talk with them after all her topics were exhausted.

The one question the ladies could not answer was how long she would have to wait before the Valar would send for her to come to them. Carantaliel resigned herself to a long, silent afternoon.


Moonrise was moments away when Carantaliel heard singing from somewhere within the palace grounds. Her companions had left her some time before, having been called to other duties. The visitor therefore was left to her own devices and Carantaliel spent the evening mending her worn traveling clothes and trying to meditate.

The singing captured her undivided attention, as it was more beautiful than anything she had ever heard. The song seemed plaintive, though Carantaliel could not understand the words. They were indistinguishable or perhaps even unfamiliar, but she did not need to know their exact meaning. They spoke to her of home and at that moment she wished desperately that she were there.

“You will be home soon enough, Daughter,” a voice spoke softly.

Carantaliel was not easily startled, but she had not expected such grace. Deeply she bowed her head as she sank to one knee before Varda of the Ainur.

“Holy One, I am here as I was bid,” said Carantaliel. “How may I serve?”

“I greet you, Carantaliel Tarsulëwen. There is much I would have you know.”

The she-elf was puzzled, “Tarsulëwen, Holy One? Why do you call me that?”

“Just as Arwen Undómiel was the Evenstar to her people in Middle Earth so you, Carantaliel Tarsulëwen, are fated to be the Morningstar to your people in Valinor. After night falls, dawn must therefore rise.”

“How can this be?” Carantaliel continued to ask bewildered. “I have no special gifts to warrant such a future.”

Varda smiled down at the kneeling Carantaliel and caressed her cheek with a finger then lifted her chin to gaze into her eyes directly. “The answer to your question has not been revealed. However, I may tell you that the direction of your fate has already been set in motion.” Gracefully she brought Carantaliel to her feet and continued more soberly, “But I must add, Daughter, this course will not be an easy one.”

“I do not see how it could be any more difficult than what I have had to endure thus far.”

With a compassionate look, the Valar said, “You have it within you to face these challenges. In the end, you may have much in which to rejoice.”

“I will have to take your word for it, Holy One,” she bowed her head again. “Is this why I am here? Or is there more to my errand?”

“There is more,” Varda replied and stepped back from Carantaliel to turn slightly. “Fimbelis… do join us.”

From the shadows stepped a lithe she-elf that Carantaliel vaguely recognized. She was taller than Carantaliel, as most Elven women were. The blood of Númenor was still strong in Carantaliel, daughter of Elladan of Imladris, and she was slighter than the other females of her full-blooded race.

“Mae Govannen , Cara,” Fimbelis spoke. Her voice was soft and musical and she gazed down at Carantaliel with friendliness in her violet eyes. Raven hair spilled silkily to one side as she cocked her head and asked, “Do you not remember me, mellon nin ?”

“I sense that I should,” Carantaliel replied. “Everything about you is familiar, yet I…” she shrugged helplessly.

Fimbelis smiled, “That is no surprise, Cara. You had been gone from Imladris many years before I left. I have only been in Valinor a short time. I assure you that we were friends once, if only briefly. Do you not remember the summer I spent in Lothlórien when we were no more than children? My mother and I came to stay in the Golden Wood while our fathers went off to battle.”

Carantaliel thought hard. “That time was so long ago,” she answered, though a glimmer of memory began to dawn. “Forgive me, Fimbelis. Much has happened in the intervening years. However, I do remember now that summer. We spent the whole time running after Prince Legolas of Mirkwood who chafed at being left behind because he was still too young to fight.”

Briefly Fimbelis frowned and murmured, “Would that I had never laid eyes on that elfboy.”

Before Carantaliel could ask for an explanation, Varda smoothly interposed, “Fimbelis has asked to join your people by the Sea and she hoped a travelling companion could be found to accompany her back there.”

“Why would you leave this glorious place, Fimbelis?” asked Carantaliel. “If I did not have my family and Fr… and other reasons to return, I would surely remain here.”

“I have my reasons, Cara,” she answered. “Perhaps I will tell you about them on the journey back.”

“Fair enough. You have yourself a travelling companion then, mellonmin . When will you be ready to leave?”

“As soon as you give the word.”

-end of Chapter Five-

Tarsulëwen -- for the purposes of this story it mean "Morningstar"
Mae govannen -- Welcome
Mellon nin -- My friend


Chapter 6 - Chapter Six

Frodo was up early and off to the glade to prepare for the ground breaking of his hobbit hole. When he arrived, however, he was dumbfounded by what he found. The cavity in the hill told him the elves had already been hard at work. At first he was amazed and then he was angry.

As he turned to look for the workers he saw Belegcalion walking calmly into the clearing alone.

“If you thought I was just going to be in the way, my lord, you should have just told me,” Frodo challenged the architect.

“I beg your pardon, Master Frodo,” he replied. “I thought no such thing. Why would you think so?”

“Are you going to tell me that your workers have not already been here to clear out the hole in the hill?” he asked.

“They are all still some minutes behind me carrying their supplies. Most I did not even recruit until this morning…”

The hobbit looked at the elf incredulously, “Then how do you explain this?”

He pointed to the hill where a perfectly round hole led into the hollowed out mound.

Belegcalion was clearly stunned. “I must admit,” he breathed, “that I have no explanation for this wonder, Master Frodo. I swear by the Valar that neither I nor my crew had any part of this.” The architect marveled for a moment at the sight then added impulsively, “Let us go inspect this work, my friend. I would see how it looks inside as well as out.”

Just as curious and rather concerned that Belegcalion had no knowledge of the current excavation, Frodo agreed and the pair hurried off to the hill to check inside the hole.

Some time later the hobbit and the elf sat down under the large tree again to discuss what they had seen. “It’s just as you explained it to me yesterday, is it not, my lord?” asked Frodo.

“Exactly, my friend,” replied Belegcalion. “I am clearly at a loss to explain it, unless Mithrandir decided to have a hand in it?”

“It’s possible, I suppose,” the hobbit said, “but it was his idea for me to find someone like you to help me. It doesn’t make sense that he would have me go through all the motions of speaking with you only to do it all himself.”

“You have a valid point, Master Frodo. I am sorry that I have no answer for you.”

Frodo sighed, “Well, it doesn’t matter now. Someone has done the difficult work and we should probably be glad of it. What is the next step in your plans?”

“We need to replace the temporary supports and start building the rooms. We will need lumber for that.”

Quickly Frodo said, “I don’t want to cut anything down, particularly in this forest. I would like to find lumber that has already fallen if possible. It would feel wrong to harvest any wood from these trees.”

“That could take a great deal of time, Master Frodo,” the elf warned.

“I’m in no hurry, my lord,” he replied. “I may have been eager to start the project, but so long as I move forward on it I do not care how long it takes me. If I am to live here in Valinor I have the time to spare, do I not?”

Belegcalion nodded, “Just so, my friend. Ah, here comes our crew. Well, we can at least get them started on looking for the lumber.”

They had a brief discussion of the next several steps for when the lumber was gathered and each took part of the crew and began combing the forest for the fallen wood.

Late in the afternoon, Frodo returned alone to the glade. They had all spent a wearying day with very little to show for it. All the elves, including Belegcalion, bid him their good evenings and headed for supper.

However, the hobbit had found some elusive plantings he wanted to get into the ground near the hill. The little flowers were athelas, the medicinal plant used by the heirs of Elendil to heal wounds. The fragrance was still heartening, but Frodo did not think it would be of much use in Valinor where neither the humans could live nor where there was any hurt or disease to speak of. He wondered how it had made it to Valinor in the first place since it was said athelas did not grow anywhere but near the camps or dwellings of the Númenóreans.

Still, Frodo had good reason to appreciate the plant’s virtues. It helped to heal him of the wound from the Morgul blade, and Aragorn used it on Merry as well to even better effect. He sighed tiredly as he transplanted the last of his plantings. He had not thought of Merry or Pippin or even Sam the last few days.

“I wonder if they think of me at all,” he mused aloud as he sat under the great apple tree to rest before heading back to Enedvása. “They must have other thoughts to worry over,” he said, “and that is as it should be. How nice it would be to have them here to help though...”

He closed his eyes to rest for just a moment…


Frodo started awake. He thought he had been dozing for just a few minutes, but the sun was setting in the West and he realized he had slept much longer than he intended.

He was not certain, but he thought he might have had the dream with Carantaliel and the water again. As he stood to head off, Frodo noticed the table with the earthenware vessels and a sudden thirst beset him. Hastily he drank all there was again and felt better for it. The weariness he felt earlier seemed to melt away and the thought of the long walk back was not so daunting as it was before he fell asleep at the base of the tree.

“My thanks again to whomever provided the water,” he said aloud. He had asked around the palace to see who was bringing it to him, but no one would admit to the courtesy. Perhaps it was the same being who dug out his hobbit hole, he thought. Laughing to himself, he spoke to glade, “And if you have a mind to go looking for fallen wood in the forest, I could use quite a lot of it!”

To his great and utter amazement, Frodo found all the lumber he needed neatly stacked at the edge of the clearing the next morning.


The first part of the return journey to Enedvása, the Palace by the Sea, was uneventful. The two she-elves spent those early days reacquainting themselves with one another.

Fimbelis reminded Carantaliel that her father was Galion who served as butler to King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. While she grew up in the sylvan setting, Fimbelis was not brought up to hunt and ride as Carantaliel had that had father, uncle and grandfather who could wield a sword and ride like the wind. No, Fimbelis’ father was a courtier and that is where her strengths also lay.

Still, the dark-haired elf had some experience on horseback and her mount was as docile and ladylike as she was. If Carantaliel chafed at the slowness of their progress, she was too well bred to show it to her companion.

One evening they stopped early as Carantaliel knew the next flet was some miles away. They took time to bathe in the nearby rill and don fresh clothing and each felt much better for the little luxury they allowed themselves.

While Fimbelis offered to start a hot meal, Carantaliel fed and bedded down their horses. As she brushed Thaurrant’s golden coat until it glowed like mithril she suddenly felt the unwholesome sensation that bothered her on her way to Valimar. Shivering at its foul presence, the princess tried to put it behind her. However, Fimbelis noticed right away when she returned to the flet that something was bothering her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Again, Carantaliel shivered, “I’m not certain. Do you feel anything strange about this place? Something foul?”

Fimbelis took a moment to answer her question, tentatively searching and sensing the forest beyond their slender flet in the trees.

“Nothing…” she finally answered.

Carantaliel also sent her senses out beyond the trees, and while the strong feeling had abated she could not shake the unwholesomeness entirely.

“Perhaps it is my imagination,” replied Carantaliel with a rueful smile, not wanting to alarm her companion any further. “Come, this is a night for stories, I think. You were going to tell me about Prince Legolas and why you want to come live at Enedvása.”

Sighing, Fimbelis replied, “It is a foolish tale, but I will tell you and hope that you will not laugh at my folly too hard.”

“I promise not to laugh, mellon nin ,” Carantaliel swore with a slight smile. How novel it was to have an elfmaid for a friend once again!

“You did, indeed, remember correctly that we chased Prince Legolas around Lothlórien that summer. It was my witlessness that kept me pursuing him when there was no hope.”

“No hope? There is always hope, mellon nin…”

“Do you truly believe that, Cara? If so, why are you here and why do you walk through life as one dead? Do you have hope in Tellonnion’s return?”

Carantaliel answered warily, “This is not the place to talk about Tellonnion, Fimbelis. Not when I smell such forbidding odors on the wind here. Tales of evil and despair are meant for safer venues. Go on with your story.”

“Very well,” Fimbelis answered seeing her companion was still upset by her perceptions. “There is not much more to say except that I broke the heart of another in order to seek the favor of Legolas who did not want me. Lord Figwit is at Enedvása and I’m hoping I can make amends with him.”

“Figwit, did you say?” she asked with surprise.

“Do you know him?”

“Only too well,” Carantaliel replied. “I will be happy to help you in any way I can.”

“Hannon lle, mellon nin ,” Fimbelis said with a happy smile. “I do not deserve a second chance as I hurt Lord Figwit very badly, but I hope that he will give it to me nevertheless.”

That happy thought kept Carantaliel company throughout the rest of the journey back to the palace.



When Carantaliel returned to Enedvása she felt like she had been gone centuries rather than weeks. Nearing the palace her thoughts turned more and more to Frodo and she wondered how he was feeling and if he had missed her at all.

Giving her head a shake she took a deep breath and called herself hard names, telling herself she was acting like a silly elfmaid with her first crush.

“You are grinning, mellon nin,” said Fembelis. “It is nice to see you smile at last. What are you thinking to make you so happy?”

Carantaliel blushed, appalled to be caught acting so foolishly. Yet, she had just looked up at the palace to see Frodo’s terrace and she was remembering the half-hearted wave he gave on her departure. She longed to run up to his chambers, but knew she had other duties that must take precedence.

“A pleasant memory is all, Fimbelis,” she replied. “Come, let us get you settled in at Enedvása.”

Getting Fimbelis established in the palace took much more time than Carantaliel anticipated. They first stopped to see Galadriel who had many questions for her about her journey and Carantaliel would not dream of rushing the Lady for the world.

Just as she would ask the Lady of Light about the hobbit, word came that Fimbelis’ chambers were ready for her and she begged Carantaliel to come help her unpack. Unable to refuse her friend, the she-elf accompanied the raven-haired elfmaid to an airy apartment several floors above that faced the woods rather than the Sea. Fimbelis wished to settle at Enedvása, but the vast water made her uneasy. Trees and greenery made her feel more at home.

When she could finally detach herself from her amiable companion, Carantaliel fairly fled the apartment to dash through the palace to the second floor. On reaching the closed door of Frodo’s room she forced herself to stop and take a deep breath.

Again, she silently chided herself. “What am I?” she asked. “Some ridiculous elfchild?”

Taking another moment to calm down, the she-elf raised her hand to knock on the door when a deep voice spoke gravely, “He’s gone, my dear.”

“Gone?!” she immediately feared the worst. Finding the piercing eyes of Gandalf meeting hers she asked fearfully, “How? What happened? I don’t understand… he seemed…”

“Calm yourself, my girl,” the wizard put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “That was ill phrased. What I meant is that Frodo merely isn’t here in the palace. He’s been working hard on a new project. I’m certain he will want to tell you all about it when he returns this evening.”

“A project?” she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Indeed,” Gandalf finally smiled, mischief twinkling in his blue eyes. “He’s been quite busy in your absence.”

Relieved, she leaned against the closed door. “Why did you look so grim just now, Mithrandir? You frightened me…”

“I am sorry,” he apologized. “I was pondering something else when I came upon you. Rest assured, Frodo is doing just fine. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

Carantaliel gave him a fleeting smile and said, “Well, now that I’ve got Fimbelis settled and have checked in on Frodo, I am going to have a bath. I feel the need for lots of warm water and plenty of sweet smelling soap. I will see you perhaps at dinner, Mithrandir?”

“Of course, my dear. Enjoy your bath.”

The wizard watched her go, much calmer than when he found her. He did not have knowledge of the conversation between the Elven princess and Varda, but he sensed more trouble ahead for Carantaliel.

Even more disturbing was that he feared Frodo, too, had difficult times ahead of him.

-end of Chapter Six-

mellon nin - my friend
hannon lle - thank you


Chapter 7 - Chapter Seven

Bilbo found Frodo dozing in a chair by the open terrace. Another day had brought even more miraculous help from the unknown source. Still, Frodo worked very hard on his new dwelling and he nodded off before he even realized he had settled in his chair.

“Wake up! Wake up, my boy! It’s almost time for dinner…”

“Wha…?” Frodo started. “Dinner?” Shaking the cobwebs from his mind, he realized his kinsman stood before him, jostling him awake. “Oh! Bilbo… you go on ahead. I’m very weary and not really that hungry at the moment.”

“Gandalf said not to take ‘no’ for an answer,” the older hobbit said pulling Frodo out of the chair. “He said there is a surprise waiting for you in the dining hall.”

“No thank you. The last surprise I got there I ended up in bed for several days.”

Bilbo looked him squarely in the eyes, “Humph! Don’t be an old stick in the mud. You haven’t joined us for dinner in weeks. You’ve been missed.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Bilbo, but…”

“What if the Lady Galadriel asked?”

Frodo raised an eyebrow, “Did she?”

“Well… no…” Bilbo blustered, “but I will get her to!”

The younger hobbit was ready to challenge his kinsman to do just that, but suddenly he gave in and said, “Very well. But I won’t be staying up singing into all hours of the night with you. I need to get back to the clearing early tomorrow.”

“Whatever you say, my boy. Just get cleaned up and put on a nice suit of clothes. Really, you’ve been looking quite disreputable lately. Those trousers of yours have shrunk!”

Frodo looked down at his trouser legs and suddenly discovered they had gotten quite short on him. As if he did not already have his hands full bartering with the different artisans on designs for his home, now he had to find a tailor?

With assurances that he would follow him soon to the dining hall, Frodo sent Bilbo on his way and wearily headed for his bathing chamber.


Carantaliel greeted Lord Elrond joyfully upon his entrance into to dining hall.

“My lord, I am happy to be home and even happier to see you again,” she said with a brief kiss on his lean cheek.

“And I you, Cara,” he replied. “Was your mission successful?”

A fleeting look of confusion crossed her delicate features. However, she pushed her doubts about the Ainur’s message aside to turn to her companion and say, “Fimbelis, come meet my grandfather. My lord, this is Fimbelis, daughter of Galion of Mirkwood. It was my task – and my pleasure – to accompany her here to Enedvása.”

“Mae govannen , Fimbelis,” he greeted her formally with a slight bow.

Her response was a deep curtsey with a breathless, “Hannon lle, herumin.”

“I hope you will like here by the Sea. It is much different than the dense forest of Mirkwood.”

“It is indeed, my lord,” Fimbelis answered. “It is taking some getting used to, but I will learn to bear it eventually. I have come to make amends to one who is dear to me, and the discomfort is worth the effort.”

“Which reminds me…” said Carantaliel. “Have you seen Lord Figwit, my lord?”

“Figwit?” Elrond raised a tapered eyebrow. “Not yet this evening. Shall I send him to you when I do?”

The smile on Carantaliel’s face gave Elrond pause. He sensed it did not bode well for the elflord. However, after his last conversation with his granddaughter regarding her suitors he decided to remain out of her personal affairs unless asked otherwise. Lord Figwit had to fend for himself.


With a yawn Frodo entered the dining hall. He had all the things he needed to do in the morning on his mind, so he did not pay attention to anyone or anything at first. It took him a few moments then to see that Belegcalion had hailed him from across the room.

“Your pardon, my lord,” he apologized. “I feel like I’m walking in my sleep.”

“You should take a day off, my friend,” chuckled the architect. “You’ve been working very hard.”

“There’s so much to do!”

Belegcalion nodded, “But I think you will have to for a day or two. Those supplies you need will not come to Enedvása for several days, and I don’t think your mysterious benefactor can provide them overnight.”

Frowning, Frodo sighed. “It can’t be helped, I suppose. Well, I have other things I can do in the meantime. I’ve been wanting to transplant some bushes and trees…”

“Ah, then there is someone you should meet…” he looked around the room. “I cannot see him. Let me go find him…”

Before Frodo could protest, the elflord was off searching for his elusive friend. Too weary to worry, he decided to look for Bilbo and Gandalf.

First glance showed no sign of his friends either and he seriously considered heading back to his room. Once again he paid little attention to anyone else as he started for the door, so Frodo was startled to hear a sultry voice ask, “So, Frodo Baggins, you have finally returned?”

When Frodo looked up he blinked hard as he thought he might be dreaming again. Before him was Carantaliel in that same indigo dress from his vision, carrying a graceful ewer and drinking vessels. Her smile was gently teasing as if she knew a secret he did not, but as his azure eyes met hers Carantaliel’s gaze softened tenderly and her smile grew into a breathless laugh.

He stared dumbly at her for a long moment, still unsure if she was really there. Finally he murmured, “Cara?”

“Are you all right, Frodo?” she cocked her head in puzzlement.

Suddenly the otherworldliness of the moment passed and he grinned awkwardly, “I’m… I’m fine! I just didn’t expect to see you! This is a welcome surprise indeed!”

“I’ve heard you’ve been very busy while I was away. Do come sit down with us and tell me all about it,” she invited eagerly.

“Us?” he asked warily. “I don’t want to intrude…” He thought perhaps Lord Figwit might be at her table.

“It’s no intrusion at all,” she assured him. “I’d like you to meet a new friend…”

Frodo was introduced to Fimbelis who was very keen to ask him questions about his quest and the Fellowship. He would rather not discuss the ordeal, but nevertheless answered all her questions patiently. As they were mostly general inquiries, he found it not as difficult as he first anticipated.

“How was Prince Legolas when you last saw him, Master Baggins?” she asked eagerly.

“Must you always torment me with talk of Legolas, Fimbelis?” asked an angry Figwit who seemed to appear from nowhere. “I hoped in coming to Enedvása I would be spared from his overwhelming presence.”

Fimbelis blushed fiercely, appalled that the object of her affections should overhear talk of his now nonexistent rival. She tried to voice an apology, but the words stuck in her mouth.

Instead Carantaliel spoke up for her friend. “Fimbelis and Legolas have known each other since they were children, my lord,” she said reasonably. “It is only natural she should ask about a childhood friend from someone who has knowledge of him.”

Figwit raised an eyebrow at her then turned to Frodo expectantly. Uncertain of just what was expected of him, he looked to Carantaliel who encouraged him to answer with a barely perceptible nod.

“Er…” he stammered a little, “Legolas is well, my lady. Last I heard he was still off traveling with Gimli the Dwarf. They are surprisingly good friends.”

Carantaliel then nudged Fimbelis ever so slightly who got the message and replied with forced brightness, “I am glad to hear it, Master Baggins. It sounds like he will stay in Middle Earth for some time. Dwarves live a good, long while, do they not?”

“They do indeed, my lady,” he concurred.

The elflord’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not speak again. Carantaliel saw sadness deep behind his aloof mask and her heart thawed a little for him. She still had no romantic feelings for him, but perhaps she would refrain from baiting him so openly in the future.

Giving them all a curt nod, Figwit turned on his heel and headed for the other side of the hall. Frodo breathed a sigh of relief, but Fimbelis would have followed after the elflord if Carantaliel had not grabbed her hand to keep her at the table.

“You do not owe him an explanation, Fimbelis,” she whispered. “Leave him be for now.”

Looking from one she-elf to the other, the hobbit realized there was some machinations going on that were beyond him, so he refrained from commenting on the last few minutes.

Dinner was served soon after that and Bilbo and Gandalf joined them at the table to eat. The antics of the pair distracted them all from the tense moments of before, and the bad feelings were quickly dissolved.

Between the moments of hilarity, Carantaliel asked Frodo about his project, which he readily shared with her.

“This hobbit hole sounds curious, Frodo,” she said. “I cannot wait to see it.”

“You’re welcome anytime, Cara,” he replied gallantly. “However, be prepared to be put to work if you do!”

Laughing lightly, Carantaliel said, “I shall consider myself warned!”


-end of Chapter Seven-

Hannon lle, herumin - Thank you, my lord


Chapter 8 - Chapter Eight

Frodo was disappointed when Carantaliel was not available to join him the next morning. He waited longer than he usually would have to get started at the glade and when she did not show, the hobbit went in search of her.

Not knowing where her apartments lay in the palace, he wandered around the common rooms until he found someone to answer his inquiries. He caught Fimbelis along the way and asked after her friend.

“I’m on my way to see her now, Master Frodo,” the elfmaid answered. “Lady Celebrían had need of her this morning and she does not know when she will be free. I will certainly give her any message…”

“No, no… no message really…” he tried to hide is disappointment. “Just wish her well for me. I am off to the glade to work then.”

“She will be sorry to have missed you, I’m sure.”


Carantaliel was indeed sorry. She was sorry that she was ensnared by her grandmother to wait upon her indefinitely all day. Fimbelis had relayed Frodo’s brief message and Carantaliel chafed at having to sit placidly amid the other Elven ladies of the court sewing on a bit of tapestry and listening to idle chatter. Celebrían had never demanded this of her in the past. She very much felt she was being led into a trap.

The trap was getting tighter she realized when dinner that night turned out to be a private affair among her family – and Lord Figwit. Neither Fimbelis nor Frodo, nor indeed any of the newcomers were invited to join them. A few other courtiers rounded out the party, but Carantaliel knew them only slightly.

As they sat uncomfortably at table, Carantaliel threw a desperate look at Elrond at the end of the table. Imperceptibly he shook his head and Carantaliel knew it was no use to protest.

Gaily, Celebrían kept the conversation going and the evening was lively enough on the surface. However, both Galadriel and Elrond were thoughtfully silent for the most part and that gave the trapped she-elf some comfort.

What made her uncomfortable, however, was the feeling that Lord Figwit stared at her the entire evening. Every time she looked up at him his attention was directed elsewhere, but that did not alleviate the feeling that his dark eyes were boring into her very being.

By the cheese course Carantaliel felt so anxious and penned in that she had to flee the room. With a brief apology to the other guests and her family, she headed for the balcony to get some fresh air.

Her respite was to be brief, however, as Figwit soon joined her.

“Are you feeling all right, my lady?” he asked solicitously. “You are pale…”

“Oh!” she started at his voice and wheeled to face him. “It… it was a little close in there. I just needed to come outside for a moment. I feel much better. Let us return to the table…”

“Why be hasty, Cara?” he asked softly.

She could tell he was trying to be kind and affectionate, so she was not sharp with him. “Please, my lord. This is not a good idea…”

Gently he put a hand on her arm and drew her towards him. “Don’t go please. Cara, you know how I feel about you. Why won’t you hear me out?”

“I know how you think you feel about me, Figwit,” she replied, “but I am not who you really want. We would be at odds every moment of every day. Is this how you really want to spend the long days of our lives?”

“Why must we be at odds, melethnín ? I only want to make you happy.”

“Figwit, please don’t…” she eased free of his embrace. “I do not want to be cruel, but there is nothing you have to offer that will make me happy.”

Again she saw the deep hurt in his eyes, but she could not nor would not take back what she said. “You love another then?” he asked bitterly.

“You know the answer to that, my lord.”

“What makes you think the hobbit can succeed where I have failed?” he asked with suppressed anger. “He’s not even of your own race…”

“The hobbit? I…” she asked with surprise. She had started to say that it was Tellonnion who she had on her mind. However, when pressed Carantaliel realized she would not be able to deny that she had feelings for Frodo. Whatever the lingering despair was that she endured over the fate of her Elven betrothed, it was being assuaged at last by her blossoming attachment for the hobbit.

Suddenly, though, her indignation rose to the surface at his frank dismissal of Frodo.

“My feelings for Master Baggins are private, my lord,” she said coldly. “I was speaking of Tellonnion just now. Do not think because you have come to Enedvása that my grief for my fallen love is so easily put aside. I beg you, do not persist in putting forth your suit to me again. I cannot nor will not accept it, my lord.”

His anger was now barely contained, “You are being obstinate on principle now, my lady. I have the support of your family. You must bow to them sooner or later.”

“That is where you are wrong, my lord. They will never force me to do something against my better judgement.” Suddenly, she thawed just a little, “Figwit, you are just as stubborn. Fimbelis loves you. She came to Enedvása only because of you. Why will you not speak to her?”

“She does not love me,” he stated flatly, though Carantaliel saw brief hope cross his face.

“Fimbelis has told me so herself,” she assured him. “You must give her a chance to explain, Figwit.”

“She is a fickle elfchild who doesn’t know what she wants,” Figwit replied.

“That is unfair, my lord!”

“Is something the matter, Cara? Lord Figwit?” asked Galadriel calmly.

Carantaliel looked up at the Lady of Light with relief, but she bit back an impulsive explanation. Instead she took a deep breath and replied, “Lord Figwit and I were having a discussion, but could not come to an agreement.”

Galadriel raised a slim eyebrow and turned her attention to the elflord. He, too, refrained from showing his displeasure and merely nodded gravely.

“Indeed?” spoke Galadriel. “My lord, would you give me a moment with Carantaliel?”

Figwit bowed deeply but Carantaliel saw a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he rose. After he left, she let out a shaky breath and covered her face to hide the frightened tears brimming her blue-green eyes.

“Oh, please, my lady… please don’t force me…” she moaned.

“Force you?” Galadriel repeated. “Force you to do what, my child?”

Carantaliel looked up finally and replied, “Lord Figwit has told me he has your support for our marriage.”

The Lady of Light neither confirmed nor denied that statement, rather asking instead, “You do not wish to marry Lord Figwit, Cara?”

“No!” she gasped desperately.

“I see.”

Carantaliel could not read Galadriel’s expression. Again, there was neither confirmation nor denial on her face.

“I do not see, Lady,” she whispered. “Do you really want me to marry him?”

Neutrally Galadriel replied, “I want you to do what is in your heart, my child.”

“My heart tells me that I cannot marry Figwit,” Carantaliel said firmly, though her voice still trembled with repressed emotion. “I do not love him and I cannot make him happy.”

“Then you must not marry him, Cara,” said Galadriel. As hope once more sprang into the younger she-elf’s heart, the Lady of Light held up a slender hand. “But know this, cormamin . If you choose the other path, anguish will come before bliss.”

“That is what Varda has said to me as well,” she said. “I don’t know what kind of anguish could be more unbearable then living all my days with a lifemate I cannot love.”

“Then may the Valar protect you, my child,” she responded and Carantaliel thought she saw profound sadness in her great-grandmother’s eyes. For a moment she was terrified for what that might mean, but she knew she was right not to accept Figwit’s proposal.


The subject, alas, was still not exhausted by morning. Once again, Celebrían called Carantaliel to her, but she found herself alone with her gracefully lovely grandmother when she arrived at her apartments.

“Did you send for me, my lady?” asked Carantaliel with confusion. “Where is everyone?”

“I sent them away for now,” replied Celebrían. “I want to have a serious conversation with you this morning.”

Suddenly, Carantaliel felt trapped once again and she edged her way towards the door.

“About what, my lady?” she asked, although she knew that Figwit had to be the topic of discussion.

“Lord Figwit tells me you are reluctant to accept his marriage proposal.”

“There is no reluctance about it, my lady,” stated Carantaliel firmly. “I flatly refused to marry him.”

Celebrían frowned at her granddaughter’s impudence. “You are being unreasonable, Cara. Now stop being a silly elfchild and listen to Lord Figwit’s proposal.”

“I have listened to his proposal countless times, my lady,” she said, “and there is nothing more he can say to me that will induce me to accept it.”

The argument deteriorated from there. Carantaliel knew she should not be so impertinent with Celebrían, but she did not feel it fair that her grandmother ambushed her in such a manner.

Their discussion was interrupted finally by Lord Elrond coming to see what all the shouting was about in his wife’s private solar. Carantaliel did not wait to hear Celebrían’s explanation and she fled not only the apartments but the palace as well.


-end of Chapter Eight-

melethnín - my love
cormamin - my heart


Chapter 9 - Chapter Nine

It was not until she was halfway into the woods that Carantaliel realized she did not know where it was that she was headed. Once leaving the palace she just ran, looking for some sort of refuge from the pressure she was feeling from her family. Granted, Galadriel admitted that she should not marry Figwit if she did not love him, but the Lady of Light was not exactly in favor of the alternative path whatever that may be.

Carantaliel finally slowed down and looked around to get her bearings. The path she was on was unfamiliar, but the countryside was not wholly foreign to her either. She soon came to recognize that her private sanctuary was along a parallel path. The sanctuary was a place she set aside when she came to Enedvása to remember Tellonnion since there was no grave to mark his passing in Middle Earth. She went there often when she first arrived in Valinor, but as the years wore on Carantaliel felt the desire to go there less and less. Why then did she run this way now?

While she was pondering this puzzle, she heard industrious sounds ahead on the path. At first the she-elf was alarmed that someone was intruding near her betrothed's shrine, but then she discerned this path turned in entirely the opposite direction.

Curious now to what this noise might be, Carantaliel edged closer to the sounds, but halted on the edge of the shelter of trees.

Head down, delving deep into the earth in the middle of a clearing, someone was vigorously digging a hole. At first she thought him a stripling elfboy, his arms strong and sinewy as he gripped the shovel tightly, but his body slender like a sapling birch not yet grown to full height.

And then he stood to stretch and Carantaliel knew it was no mere elfboy, but Frodo Baggins hard at work on his hobbit hole. “Frodo?” she murmured in disbelief.

Still slight and slim, the hobbit was now hale and healthier. No trace of childishness or wastedness clung to his body. With his exertions, his linen shirt had come untucked and he unbuttoned it now to flap it slightly to cool his sweaty skin.

There was a small table to one side with an earthenware pitcher and cup, and Frodo wandered over to it and poured himself a glass and drank it thirstily. He poured himself a second cup and as he drained it, he looked up to see Carantaliel hovering at the edge of the clearing.

“Cara!” he called with delight, then suddenly realized his shirt was open and hastily began buttoning it up. The look on her face gave him pause, though, and he approached her with concern. “Are you all right? You look distressed.”

Suddenly Carantaliel snapped out of her amazed state and looked around the glade. “This is beautiful,” she marveled. “You did all this, Frodo?”

“Not all,” he grinned finally. “I’ve had a lot of help – from where I can’t even tell you! How did you find me?”

“To be honest, Frodo, I came upon you by accident. When I left the palace I did not know where I was headed.”

Frodo frowned, “Something is bothering you then?”

She smiled to disarm him, “It’s not important. What are you working on?”

Frodo explained to her his garden project, including the tree he was transplanting. Carantaliel knew a little about horticulture and informed him the hole he was presently digging was the worst possible place for the tree he was going to plant in it.

Sighing, the hobbit asked, “Any ideas for a better spot then?”

“This is a variety of willow,” she murmured. “It would be best by the water.”

“Show me the spot then and I will start digging…”

Putting the ugliness of the morning behind her, she grinned and said, “Give me a shovel and I’ll help!”

The pair made short work of the new transplant and moved back to the original hole to fill it in with dirt and replace the sod. Next Frodo showed her the fuschia bushes he wanted to plant near the low stone wall that marked the boundary of his home and she quickly dove in with relish. Frodo sang funny songs as they worked and Carantaliel joined in when she could. They spent an enjoyable morning together thinking of nothing more than the earth and nature and the joy of amiable companionship.

As they were finishing up with the last bush, Frodo happened to look up to see Lord Figwit watching them dourly from the end of the path. He was not happy to see that the elflord had found his home, but nevertheless he stood to greet him civilly after touching Carantaliel lightly on the shoulder to alert her.

“Good day, herumin ,” he greeted. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“No, thank you, Master Baggins,” he replied neutrally. “I was just looking for the lady. Your grandmother has been anxious about you, Carantaliel. You should come back to the palace to let her know you are all right.”

“I am not ready to return, my lord,” she replied coolly. “I have promised Frodo that I would help him today, and we are not quite finished.”

“Cara, please…” Figwit pleaded taking a step towards her.

“We have much to do, my lord. Either take up a shovel or feel free to return to Lady Celebrían and tell her my plans.”

Again, Figwit took another step towards her and asked plaintively, “There is nothing I can say to change your mind?”

“You know there isn’t, my lord,” she stood firm.

With a heavy sigh, Figwit started to move even closer but then thought better of it. He stood straighter again, putting on his haughty mask of disdain. “Very well. Good day, Master Baggins.” Without another word to Carantaliel, Figwit turned on his heel and left the glade.

She stood still for a long moment, tense with anger. Figwit must have followed her in the woods and watched the entire time she was working with Frodo. The hobbit watched her for some moments, wondering a little at the previous conversation. Whatever was between them must have sent Carantaliel out into the forest earlier.

As he touched her arm lightly, the she-elf started but then refocused on her companion. “Perhaps we should take a break?” he suggested.

With a slight nod, Carantaliel agreed and Frodo pointed to a nice shady spot on a small incline under his favorite apple tree. The herb garden was nearby with many wholesome smells, including athelas, mingling together. The scent was heady and Frodo breathed in deep to let all the aromas wash the tenseness from his body.

Carantaliel did not try the breathing technique and Frodo sensed she was still keyed up from the encounter. Rather than try to skirt the issue, he decided to plunge headlong into it.

“Figwit seems to fancy you,” Frodo commented as he munched on a mint leaf or two from the herb garden.

She made a strange sound of disgust, “Oh. Him…”

Trying not to sound too gleeful, he asked, “You don’t return his affections?”

“Certainly not,” Carantaliel said testily and dropped to the ground. “I wish everyone would stop pushing him on me. Let’s not speak of him.”

Frodo considered her for a long moment as she lay back on the ground and watched the leaves stir in the trees above them. She was certainly vexed, although he knew her anger was not directed at him.

Still, he was apologetic as he sank to the grass next to her. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

“Nevermind,” she waved it away then winced slightly. “It’s my palms that are sore. How do you hobbits get so much work done when it causes so much discomfort?”

She was not really in any pain. Elves rarely felt the discomfort of something so trivial. Frodo knew she was just trying to change the subject, so he humored her. “Calluses, my lady,” he held up his left hand. “You get used to it eventually. May I?” he pointed to her hand.

Without qualm Carantaliel gave up her hand and the hobbit examined the blistered palm, running his thumb gently over the puffy weal. “You’re done digging for the day, my lady. You don’t want to break open the skin. I have a salve back at the palace. Something I received from a Shieldmaiden of Rohan named Gliowien, a most excellent lady. I will be happy to tend it for you, if you wish.”

“Ah, the Rohirrim…” she murmured. “I have heard tell of the Horse-lords, but I did not know their women were warriors too.”

“Very valiant warriors,” he confirmed. “It was the Lady Éowyn herself, sister of the new king Éomer, that killed the Witch-king of Angmar, the Lord of the Nazgûl.”

Carantaliel was more than impressed. “Did she?” she asked eagerly. “I wish I had known her. What is she like, this Éowyn?”

Faltering, the hobbit replied, “I… I cannot really say, my lady. I was not there… being otherwise occupied with my own battle at the time.”

Quick to relieve his uneasiness Carantaliel said lightly, “For someone whose hands are callused, you have a gentle touch.”

Frodo blushed at the compliment and to hide his embarrassment, he stretched out in the grass next to her, propping himself up on an elbow. “I don’t usually have to work this hard,” he demurred.

Lying back once again, Carantaliel laughed and relaxed, “Between the two of us, I hope we can get your hobbit hole built without it caving in then.” He chuckled lightly feeling comfortable with her. “Listen,” she said with sudden seriousness as she turned to face him, “Lord Figwit is a worthy suitor. Any elfmaid would be lucky to find favor with him.”

“But you don’t feel lucky?” he asked.

Carantaliel sighed and looked to the sky momentarily as if in appeal, “I wish I did.” She refocused then on him, sending her deep turquoise eyes up at Frodo wistfully. “No, that is not true. I do not care for Figwit as he does me. Nor do I wish it otherwise, except to say that I would rather he did not care for me at all.”

Carefully Frodo replied, “He seems an honorable enough elflord. What is it that you dislike about him?”

“It is very selfish and conceited of me, I suppose, but he lacks all passion or imagination. He is always so serious and has a tendency towards arrogance. He says he respects me, but I do not fully believe it.”

“And why not? He seems to treat you with deference whenever I’ve seen him with you…”

“Perhaps I’m too strong willed, but I sense he would rather possess me than love me,” she replied half-ruefully. “I’ve been on my own for some time now here in Valinor. I don’t need to be put on a pedestal or worse -- in a cage.”

“That would be a shame,” Frodo said soberly.

Suddenly she smiled, “He could take a page or two out of your book, Frodo. You hobbits seem to enjoy life to the fullest. You’re generous and compassionate and fiercely loyal. I’ve also noticed you are modest and quick to notice the goodness in others. Those are rare qualities.”

“Go on with you,” he smiled broadly. “You’re going to give me delusions of grandeur.’’

The Elven princess moved her head slightly so she could look Frodo clearly in the eye. “You don’t look delusional to me,” she replied with an inviting look that stirred something deep within him.

Her lovely face was just inches from his, her lips forming a gentle smile. Without thinking about what he was doing Frodo leaned slightly forward and kissed her tenderly.

His kiss was sweetly tentative with lips that were soft and pliant and pleasantly moist. Carantaliel was a little surprised he had found courage to do it, but she had longed for that kiss. She held back from responding fully, waiting for him to shed his bashfulness and really take control when he suddenly stopped with a sharp gasp.

He look appalled and Carantaliel started up anxiously when Frodo began to stammer, “My lady, I am so sorry. I don’t know what…”

She relaxed then, her blue-green eyes gazing up at him steadily. Realizing his audacity, Frodo did not know how to read her smile. Was she mocking him?

“Be silent, Frodo Baggins,” Carantaliel demanded huskily. As he still murmured incoherent apologies, she added, “Or must I find a way to silence you?”

She slid her hand into his shirt where it was still open from the heat. Barely brushing her fingertips over his chest, she lightly followed the line of his newly developing muscles, briefly touching the white gemstone pendant he always wore. As Carantaliel felt him quiver involuntarily with pleasure at her touch, she caught him by his shirtfront and gently but firmly pulled him towards her.

When their lips met this second time, Frodo was neither tentative nor chaste. Following Carantaliel’s lead he responded to her kiss eagerly, savoring the taste of her breath mingling with his.

Sliding his ruined hand under her head he drew her closer, his other hand searching for the fastenings of her tunic. They proved elusive and the lovers began to giggle as they worked on the garment together, the hilarity only heightening their desire.


Their lovemaking was merry and satisfying despite their differences in experience and stature. They took great pleasure in one another, both pushing aside their sorrow to delight in the pure physical enjoyment of this unexpectedly intimate encounter.

For Carantaliel being with Frodo now was as breathtaking as if it was her first time again. Memories of her intimacies with Tellonnion were so faded she did not think of him now and no other had even tempted her in the intervening years.

Spent at last, Frodo lay on his back with his left arm pillowing his head as he gazed up into the lacy canopy of trees. Absently he wondered why he had never been interested in any of the hobbit lasses either before or after his ordeal with the Ring. The girls were certainly pretty at home, and there had been a few flirtations, but nothing at all serious. He glanced down at Carantaliel and he knew then that for all their amiable prettiness, none could compare to the Elven princess lying beside him. Carantaliel seemed to be sleeping, her head nestled to his chest, but he sensed she was thinking too. Lightly he ran his fingers down her spine and felt her tremble slightly, but she did not stir. Not wanting to spoil the serene mood, he sighed contentedly and closed his eyes to drift back to the happy memory of the past little while.


Carantaliel had indeed been thinking deeply, her thoughts centered exclusively on Frodo. When she first saw him on the deck of the Elven ship all those weeks ago, she was moved by him, her emotions stirred as they had not for centuries, but she never would have imagined she would be lying with him now.

Oh, how she loved this hobbit! There were so many things she wanted to say, to tell him of her life and of her sorrow. She wanted now to share everything with him, but all she found herself saying was, “I think you’ve gotten taller.”

Awakened out of a drowse, he asked, “What?”

“I said I think you’ve gotten taller since you’ve come to Valinor.”

Frodo chuckled, “Wishful thinking…”

Lifting her head slightly, she said, “No, I’m serious. Or perhaps it is because you are healthier…” and settled back down on his chest.

“Much healthier,” he grinned and she laughed lightly.

“Healthier indeed!” she agreed.

As they lay there companionably, Frodo was the most relaxed he had been since before he left for Rivendell. He forgot about hiding his four-fingered hand from her and clasped it loosely on his abdomen.

Carantaliel had only seen glimpses of it, but since everyone knew Frodo’s story, no one seemed curious about it but her. Still, she had not wanted to distress him since he took great pains to hide the hand from her. With it now lying inches from her face, Carantaliel gave in to her curiosity and gently took his hand in hers.

Dismayed, Frodo tried to take it back, but she held firm.

“Why won’t you let me see it, Frodo?” she asked tenderly. “You have no reason to be embarrassed, especially in front of me – especially because of what we just shared…”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he said miserably, still attempting weakly to loosen her grasp. “I’m… I’m ashamed…”

He gave in finally, but turned his head away from her. Carantaliel saw tears brim in his eyes and she was quick to reassure him. “Nyeerin? Mankoi lle naa nyeerin, melethnín? Lle ona varen Arda tuulo ‘kshin caim. You cannot think that anyone thinks less of you because of this…”

“But I failed, Cara…” he whispered tearfully. “In the end I could not do it… I could not throw the ring into the pit.”

His stark admission pierced her heart. All this time he did not see. He did not know what a feat he had accomplished. “Na sina rashwe tanya naegranne lle sina an luume, Frodo?" Still, he could not look at her, but she lifted his hand reverently to her lips and kissed the spot of his missing finger weeping gently, “Frodo… Frodo… you must not think you failed. No one could have done what you did, cormamin. No one -- not Gandalf, nor Aragorn, nor even your beloved Sam could have accomplished such a deed. Your task wasn’t to throw it into the pit. Your task was to get it there in the first place. Fate would intervene to destroy it when the time was right. And if Fate had not moved through Gollum, then perhaps Sam would have been catalyst or even yourself eventually. Yet, only you could have borne the One Ring to Mount Doom.”

“Sam could have done it,” he replied stubbornly.

“But Sam would not have thought to do it, Frodo,” she countered. “Don’t you see?”

This time he succeeded in reclaiming his hand and he sat up quickly, “What do you know of Sam? He is the bravest person I know!”

Carantaliel sat up too, her red-gold hair tumbling distractingly over her bare shoulders. Frodo closed his eyes against the sight of her.

“I am not insulting your friend, melethnín,” she murmured. “I know much of Sam from your own lips. I know how much you love him and how much he adores and respects you in return. But the fact of the matter is that because of his modesty and his great respect for you, it would never occur to him that he was worthy enough or smart enough to take on such a quest. He went because you went, nothing more. His task was to bear you up when you needed it, Frodo, and no one could have done that like Sam.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and Carantaliel saw hope again along with the tears. “I did not fail?” he asked brokenly.

“Laume,” she answered kissing his tears softly and tasting the saltiness on his cheeks, “naa n’qeluva.”

Gratefully, Frodo pulled her close and held her for a long moment. All these years he had tortured himself, thinking that he warranted none of the honor he was given later. He felt he was a fraud, but no one seemed to hear him when he tried to confess his guilt.

Carantaliel had heard him, but she had also absolved him. She was a saving grace in ways that Frodo have never dreamed to deserve. Taking her face in both his two hands, he bent to kiss her deeply and passionately. Her response was eager and desire stirred in him again, but as he started to bear her to the ground once more he heard an unexpected sound in the distance.

“What’s that?” he started. “I think someone’s coming…”

“It’s Gandalf,” she confirmed. “He’s been looking for you for awhile.”

“Gandalf?!” he gasped, quickly donning his discarded garments. “Makoi lle uma quena amin?”

“Amin nae nowa en’ n’at ie’ lume.”

She gazed up at him with laughing eyes and his hunger for her was far from sated. “Lle naa rwalaer! The last thing I need is for Gandalf to find me lolling about with you in the shade. I will never hear the end of it!”

“Very well,” she laughed, “far be it for me to impugn your modesty, Master Baggins,” and began dressing as well.

To her amazement, he grabbed her and kissed her with hard urgency then quickly stood and began busying himself around the hobbit hole. Carantaliel was breathless for a long moment, but then she spotted the wizard coming up the path and quickly finished with her clothing.

When the wizard found them, the pair was talking companionably about the plans for Frodo and Bilbo’s new home. Gandalf sensed a different atmosphere between them as they merrily greeted him from clearing. Everything felt lighter, like a great weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

“Ho, Gandalf!” called Frodo. “I don’t suppose you want to take a turn at shoveling dirt?”

“It looks like you have things well in hand, my dear Frodo,” he replied with a broad grin, delighted to see Frodo happy for a change. “I would hate to undo all your hard work with a miss-aimed blow. You seem to be making good progress.”

“It’s hot work, I’ll tell you,” he said as the wizard approached and gave Frodo a friendly slap on the back. “But the lady insisted on taking a turn after making some improvements to my garden plan, so we got quite a bit done today.”

“Indeed?” Gandalf gave her an impressed look.

“It was rather enjoyable… doing something physical for a change,” she gave Frodo a stealthy smile. “But I must return to the palace, Master Baggins. I am sure I’ve been missed.”

As she picked up her belongings, Frodo said, “Er… If your hand is still giving you problems, my lady, do feel free to stop by my… er… chambers later. I have that salve… for your blisters.”

Fully understanding his meaning, she cocked her head and said in a sultry tone, “I’ll be sure to come find you. I’m sure we can put that salve to good use.” It took Frodo every ounce of composure not to choke as she slyly winked and turned to go. “Tenna telwan, mellynmin …”

Both men watched as she made her way up the hill and Frodo slowly let his breath out when she was gone.

“My dear boy, do you feel all right? You looked flushed.”

“I’m just fine, Gandalf. In fact, I’ve never felt better.”

The answer surprised the wizard, and he raised an appraising eyebrow at the hobbit and looked him up and down. Finally, he remarked, “Frodo, my boy, I do think you have grown taller.”

Frodo laughed heartily, “You know, Gandalf? I think you’re right!”

Being the first time the wizard ventured to the glade, he took a long, thoughtful moment to take in all the aspects of Frodo’s project.

“This is quite remarkable, my boy,” he marveled. “I would almost swear we were standing in front of Bag End. Bilbo will be thrilled.”

Frodo gave he friend a rueful smile, “If we can get him here. He’s enjoying himself so much at Enedvása that I don’t think I will be able to convince him to leave it.”

“He’s been living so long with the Elves now, I think he’s forgotten what it’s like to live like a hobbit.”

“I wonder what he’s been up to,” Frodo began. “I haven’t seen much of him…”

His thought was interrupted by the piercing cry of a bird in pain. Both wizard and hobbit looked up to the sky in the direction of the shriek and saw a figure careening in a broad circle.

“In all my long years…” Gandalf murmured.

“What is it, Gandalf? It looks very high up. I can barely make it out,” remarked Frodo. “It’s difficult to tell, but it looks like an eagle.”

“It is,” replied the Istari. As Frodo opened his mouth to speak, Gandalf stayed him by saying, “And no, there are no eagles in Enedvása, though there are numerous eagles about Valinor. Perhaps it is about the countryside on business for Manwë…”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

Gandalf turned to the hobbit and replied seriously, “I’m not.”


-end of Chapter Nine-


My grateful thanks to Novedhelion for the following translations:

"Nyeerin? Mankoi lle naa nyeerin, melethnín? Lle ona varen Arda tuulo ‘kshin caim." -- Ashamed/Grieved? Why are you ashamed/grieved? Your sacrifice/gift has protected Middle Earth from evil hands.

“Na sina rashwe tanya naegranne lle sina an luume, Frodo?" -- This is the trouble that has tormented you this long time, Frodo?

“Laume... naa n’qeluva.” -- No... You did not fail.

“Makoi lle uma quena amin?” -- Why didn't you tell me?

“Amin nae nowa en’ n’at ie’ lume.” -- I was thinking of something else at the time.

“Lle naa rwalaer!" -- You are a lusty one!

"Tenna telwan, mellynmin." -- Until later, my friends


Chapter 10 - Chapter Ten

Frodo wondered off and on about the eagle while he was dressing for dinner. He took a little more care with his wardrobe than usual since Galadriel had sent word that they would be dining in her apartments that evening rather than the great dining hall. Of course, the real motivation was Carantaliel’s presence. Larking around the woods together was one thing, but dining formally with her among the Elves was something else entirely. Although he knew it would not matter to her, Frodo wanted to show his respect for her and her family by looking as lordly as a hobbit could possibly muster.

Donning a crisp white linen shirt, he found the sleeves too short. As with his other trousers, his good black velveteen ones were too short as well. Fortunately the tapestry vest he wore to Bilbo’s fateful birthday party was still in good shape and did not have any sleeves. At least one piece of clothing did not require any alterations!

“Well, the shirt sleeves are dealt with easily enough,” he murmured as he carefully rolled them up over his wrists and forearms, “but these trousers…”

There was no help for it but to let out the hems of the trouser legs and re-hem them. Bilbo found him thus several minutes later.

“Sticklebats, boy!” he groused. “Do you ever show up anywhere on time?”

“I am not late yet, Bilbo,” he replied, intent on his task. “I’m almost done here. If you would set that iron to heat then I can press these new hems and finish getting dressed.”

The older hobbit sighed impatiently but obliged his kinsman by heating the iron. “You’re doing a slipshod job of it, my boy,” he criticized. “What made you think you could hem these in such short order?”

“Nevermind, Bilbo. They just need to look good from the outside. As long as you can’t see the stitches on the inside, no one will be the wiser. Besides, you were the one complaining about my trousers being too short.”

“That was before they were making me late for my dinner!”

“We’re not late,” he repeated and smoothed the hot iron over the new hems. Turning his trousers back right side out, Frodo quickly put them on and carefully tucked in his shirt. Throwing on the vest, he asked, “Is this better?”

Surveying his young cousin, Bilbo fixed Frodo’s collar, which was standing up, and folded it over the vest. “I suppose you’ll do. Those trousers are a little better, but I’d recommend finding a good tailor instead.”

“When I have time, Bilbo,” he sighed tolerantly. “Come, let’s go. Did Gandalf tell you about the eagle we saw earlier?”

“An eagle?” asked Bilbo as they headed down the corridor. “Are you sure?”

“Well, I’m not, but I think Gandalf knows more than he’s telling me… as usual.”

Bilbo harrumphed, ”Well, I’ll get him to tell me.”


The older hobbit did not need to force the wizard to tell him anything, for Gandalf quite frankly brought it up at dinner for the whole table to discuss.

“An eagle? Really, Frodo?” Carantaliel marveled. “They’re rare in these parts…”

Frodo tried not to blush as he answered her candid gaze from across the table. A flash of her lithe body from earlier played before him, but he quickly pushed it to the side for the moment and replied, “It was very high up, my lady, but I don’t know what else it could have been. He seemed to be in pain.”

That brought another round of murmuring at the table and Frodo was glad of the momentary distraction for he could glance at Carantaliel over his cup. She again met his gaze and smiled at him behind her own cup. Dinner was going to last an age!

Galadriel spoke, “I have been in contact with Varda and the Ainur have been concerned about this creature as well.”

“So it is not on business for the Ainur then?” asked Gandalf.

And so it went for the next hour. Carantaliel soon began to tune out the conversation, as it seemed to be going nowhere and did not seem to concern her or even Frodo for that matter, although they all asked him enough questions. Regardless, all the hobbit could say was that it indeed seemed to be one of the great eagles like the one that rescued him from Mount Doom and that it cried out in pain.

Seeing that they could be at him all night thus, Carantaliel decided that they had had enough. She could not catch Frodo’s eyes, however, and knew she would have to take matters into her own hands… or rather feet.

Lightly tossing off one of her delicate slippers under the table, she sought Frodo’s hirsute foot. Unerringly her slender foot found his and she caressed it playfully.

Startled, the hobbit jumped in his chair a little and his cup of wine spilled over his clean white shirt. That set the table in disarray as several of the elfmaids jumped to his aid.

Looking up at Carantaliel with wonder, Frodo saw a naughty smile teasing the corner of her mouth as she stood to announce to her neighbor that she was turning in for the evening as it had been a long day and she needed to tend to her blistered hands. She looked right at Frodo and he understood her meaning.

He grinned somewhat foolishly at her audacity, but tried to act offhand as she left. After she was gone some minutes he stood and said, “This won’t do. I need to soak this shirt. Bilbo, I think I’m just going to turn in while I’m at it. I had a busy day.”

His kinsman was totally oblivious to his motives and waved Frodo on, “Go, my boy. You deserve your sleep.”

Frodo did not need to be told twice.


Once in the corridor, the hobbit searched for Carantaliel to no avail. “Cara!” he whispered as loud as he dared. “Cara, where are you?” Still there was no answer. “Well, I don’t know where her rooms are, so she must’ve gone to mine,” he deduced and quickly darted to the second floor apartments.

As soon as he opened the door, he was grabbed by his vest lapels and drawn urgently inside the room.

“I thought you’d never get here!” Carantaliel gasped. “Where have you been?”

“Looking for you!” he replied, somewhat distracted that her fingers were nimbly undoing the buttons on his stained shirt. “I wasn’t certain where you’d gone…”

It was then that he noticed she had stripped down to her filmy silk shift, the moonlight outside streaming through the thin fabric to illuminate every soft curve of her sensuous body.

“I’m glad you figured it out, Frodo Baggins,” she murmured huskily. “I don’t think I could have waited much longer…”

“Me either,” he grinned and moved in to kiss her.

Sliding his hands down her sides to rest on her hips his mouth sought hers hungrily as they moved farther into the room. Just as they sank to the bed a firm knock sounded at the door.

Frodo heard Carantaliel swear something unsavory in Elvish and he almost laughed out loud.

“Hush!” he mouthed.

“Don’t answer it,” she whispered, still teasing him with tiny kisses.

“I’ve got to answer it. Everyone knows I came back here.”

Reluctantly he stood and headed for the door, glancing back at Carantaliel who continued to lounge on the bed.

“Frodo! Frodo, are you there?” they heard from the other side of the door accompanied by more knocking.

Carantaliel stiffened suddenly for she recognized the voice as Figwit’s. Frodo recognized it too and gave her a bewildered shrug that asked silently, “What should I do?”

Instantly she was on her feet and heading for the terrace. She waved him on to answer the door and the hobbit took a deep breath, ruffling his hair slightly as he reached for the doorknob.

“Ah, Figwit,” he feigned sleepiness when he saw the elflord in the doorway. “I’m sorry I took so long… I was…er…” he quickly began re-buttoning his shirt, “just dealing with this mess.”

“Indeed,” Figwit answered, not so subtly looking over the hobbit’s head into the room.

“Is there something I can do for you, my lord?”

“I was looking for the Lady Carantaliel,” he replied blandly. “I thought perhaps she was here with you.”

Frodo realized he was standing on rocky ground and asked as innocently as possible, “What makes you think that?”

Giving him a skeptical glance, Figwit moved elegantly into the room. “You seem to be spending a great deal of time together,” his gray-eyed glance swept the room and he headed for the terrace. “It seemed natural she might be here.”

Anxious that Carantaliel was on the terrace, Frodo tried to distract the elflord. “It’s late, my lord. I’m sure she must be in her own apartments. Why don’t you check there?” he tried to lead him towards the door.

“You’re sure she’s not here?” Figwit asked, not so easily thwarted.

“My lord, this is too much…” he began desperately, hurrying out to the terrace. Carantaliel should not be found out there! “I think I would kno…”

There was no Carantaliel to be seen anywhere on the terrace. Figwit wheeled back to Frodo, who quickly hid his own surprise.

“Very well,” the elflord sighed. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Frodo. I’ll look for the lady elsewhere.”

“Quel esta, Figwit,” he said as amiably as possible.

“Hannon lle,” responded Figwit. As he started through the doorway, he suddenly turned and said, “Perhaps you and I can have a conversation soon, Frodo.”

“Of course,” said the hobbit, thinking he would rather have a conversation with a balrog just at that moment. “You know the way to my home now. Feel free…”

Figwit smiled thinly and nodded, “Tenna san , Frodo.”

Frodo tried not to slam the door behind the elflord in his rush to get back to the terrace. “Where did she go?” he muttered aloud.

“I’m here, Frodo,” she replied silkily. Before he could voice his amazement, she continued, “Now, where were we?”


Frodo was sleeping fitfully when a noise woke him. Sitting up, he took a moment to realize it was someone again knocking at his door. A quick glance out the terrace told him the night was long spent and the insistent knocking startled him. Did no one sleep in Enedvása? Carantaliel was lying by his side, sleeping as only the Elves do, with her eyes open and distant. She, too, started at the sound.

Calmly, he put a hand on her leg to signal her to remain as she lay and he donned his robe and padded to the door.

Opening the door a crack, his eyes were assailed by brilliant torchlight from the corridor beyond, as well as a small lantern directed towards his face.

“Frodo, my boy, is that you?” asked a tipsy Bilbo.

“Of course it is, Bilbo,” he replied testily as he shaded his eyes with a hand. “Who else would it be? Why are you knocking on my door in the middle of the night? Go on to bed…”

“You must hear the ballad I’ve written!” he said excitedly. “I worked on it all evening. It’s about your eagle…”

“Can this not wait ‘til tomorrow, Bilbo? It is late,” Frodo yawned hugely.

“It already is tomorrow,” the older hobbit shouldered his way into the room. “Here… it starts out…” He drew breath to start, but was brought up short by the sight of Carantaliel standing in the middle of the chamber wrapped loosely in the velvet coverlet.

“Do go on, Bilbo,” she smiled. “I for one am very eager to hear your song.”

Bilbo was completely speechless. He looked back at Frodo who gave him a sheepish shrug then returned his gaze to the Elven princess. Once more he opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again to turn back to the door.

“Bilbo?” asked Frodo.

“I’ve had more to drink than I thought,” he waved absently. “I’d better go sleep it off. I’ll see you in the morning, my boy.”

“Good night, Bilbo,” said his young kinsman.

“Quel esta, Bilbo,” echoed Carantaliel.

Bilbo stopped briefly in his tracks, but did not turn around. Shaking his head and mumbling to himself, the hobbit headed back out to the corridor and crossed to his own room.

Frodo still heard him muttering as he shut the door.

“Poor Bilbo,” he laughed lightly. “I wonder what he’ll remember in the morning.” He expected Carantaliel’s light laughter to echo his, but he found her solemnly staring out at the moon from the terrace.

“Come back to bed, melethnín,” he called to her gently.

“I will not sleep again tonight, Frodo.”

“Who said we had to sleep?” Again he expected a laugh from her, but she only smiled sadly. “Mani dela lle? ”

To his surprise and great consternation, Carantaliel buried her face in her slender hands and began to weep quietly.

Instantly he was at her side. Putting a comforting arm around her, Frodo ushered her to one of the stone benches on the terrace.

“Come, you must tell me, Cara, what is wrong. I cannot bear to see you so unhappy.” He knelt before her and tenderly pulled her hands away from her face. “Are you upset that Bilbo found us together?”

“Laume …” she shook her head. “I had a dream, Frodo, and it frightens me.”

“A dream? I must admit I was bothered by a dream as well. Tell me about your dream, Cara.”

Carantaliel hesitated for just a moment, trying to decide how best to reveal her fears. Finally she said, “Before I can do that, I must tell you of my own sorrows, Frodo.”

Again she was quiet for a long moment and Frodo said, “I do not want you to tell me anything you are not ready to share. I can tell this deeply personal…”

“I must tell you, cormamin ,” she whispered. “The dream affects you as well.”

He smiled up at her, “Then tell me… and do not be afraid. We will weather the outcome together.”

“Has anyone told you of my history, Frodo?” she asked.

“The Lady Galadriel told me you are her great-granddaughter and I’ve gathered that Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían are, therefore, your grandparents. Other than that I know only of your compassion and kindness. Your sorrows have not been made known to me, although I have seen that, like me, you have had little joy of late.”

“That much is true,” she agreed. “Lord Elladan is my father. My mother’s name was Novannoniel.”

“She is dead then?” asked Frodo kindly.

“She is. That is the first sorrow, and I will speak more of her in a moment. However, I must tell you of Tellonnion. When I still dwelt in Middle-earth, I was betrothed to an elflord that I loved very much…”

“This Tellonnion?” he replied trying in his heart not to be jealous of her first love.

“Nai . He was very fair and strong and loved to hunt and ride. He was great friends with my father and Uncle Elrohir and there was nothing we loved more than to ride like the wind as fast as we could. My father from early on had taught me the skills to keep up with him and my uncle, though I was never allowed to ride into battle as much as I wanted to. Tellonnion had no equal when it came to orc hunting. His sword, Tarfinion, was already old and storied when he received it. Balrog’s Bane it is called in the common speech, and he slew many orcs with it.”
“He sounds like a great warrior,” Frodo commented. “What was his fate?”

“Much was made of the abduction of Celebrían by an orc band. You know this tale?” Frodo nodded and she continued, “My mother was also with her when she was taken and she the orcs killed outright. The zeal with which my father and uncle pursued these beasts was immeasurable. Naturally, Tellonion accompanied them, but I was denied that privilege.”

“Elladan and Elrohir rescued Celebrían,” stated Frodo, “but I have never heard mention of Tellonnion in this tale. What befell him?”

“He was killed… or worse…”

He raised an eyebrow with surprise, “Worse? What is worse than death?”

“You know the answer to that, melethnín,” she reached out to caress his cheek briefly with a finger. “The Dark Lord has ways of corrupting body and soul that are more terrible than death.”

Frodo’s face clouded over remembering all too well what Sauron’s Ring did to his body and soul. “So you think he might be alive?”

Delicately, Carantaliel shrugged, “I do not know. Father said he saw Tellonnion gravely wounded, but the orcs carried him off with them. Would they have taken the body if he was dead?”

“It seems unlikely,” Frodo responded, “but who is to say that he did not die of his wounds later?”

“What you say is true enough,” she agreed. “Still, he was to be my lifemate, Frodo. Would I not have felt him leave me, like a part of me was gone? I felt alone and forsaken, but not bereft. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“I must admit, I am beginning to, Cara,” he replied tenderly. “Though I may look and seem young to you and the other Elves, I am rather middle aged among my own people. In all those long years, I was never tempted to take a wife.” He smiled gamely, “I suppose growing up with Bilbo as my guardian that was somewhat understandable. That was a different life then. My life since the destruction of the One Ring can never be the same.” He stood before her and looked with intensity into her glittering blue eyes, his own azure ones taking on a deeper sapphire gleam. “It seems fitting now that I am here in Valinor… and with you. This is my new life. Before I would have lived my life alone and been quite content. Not so any longer, for now I cannot imagine my life without you in it, Cara.”

Carantaliel blinked back shining tears, “Frodo, I…”

Gently he placed soft fingers on her mouth to stop her, “Let me finish… I cannot take the place of Tellonnion, and I don’t know why you have chosen to be my lover, but I am grateful. I never loved another before you, and now there will be no one after you, melethnín. This I pledge to you…”

Reaching down he cupped her chin in his hand and bent to kiss her with an ardent passion so profound that Carantaliel’s knees began to tremble. He felt her body rise in response to his desire and he slipped an arm around her waist to draw her into his embrace.

Willingly the she-elf melted into his arms, giving herself wholly to him, aching to take him inside her -- body, mind and soul. Not even Tellonnion had loved her this completely. Carantaliel gratefully gave herself over to Frodo as he led her back into the bedchamber. Yet, her joy in him could not completely dispel her earlier misgivings.

Later, he watched her quietly for sometime before asking finally, “This dream still is gnawing at you, Cara?” Lightly he traced the curve of her neck with a finger. “Are you ready to tell me about it yet?”

“There isn’t much to tell,” she replied softly. “It is mostly images and impressions. I cannot see him, but I sense Tellonnion in this dream. Though I do not see how he can figure in to the events. The first thing I see is your eagle, Frodo. It is circling the skies near Enedvása and then tragically…”

“It falls from the sky on to the shore,” he finished, his earlier disquiet suddenly resurfacing. “It is gravely injured.”

With wonder she turned her head to face him, “How did you know? I told you nothing of this before…”

Frodo was just as bewildered, “I think I must have had the same dream. I can see clearly the eagle plummeting to the ground, and that it is an evil omen…”

“Evil indeed,” she agreed.

After a long tense moment, he finally laughed, “Listen to us, Cara. We have spent far too long thinking dark thoughts, you and I. We are in Valinor, the Blessed Realm. What evil is there to befall us here?”

She essayed a shaky smile, “You are right, melethnín. What harm can come to Enedvása? Let us put this foolishness behind us and dream of better days to come.”

They pledged their agreement with a soft kiss, but neither could quite shake the feeling that foolishness or no, the possibilities of evil days ahead were still very real.


-end of Chapter Ten-

"Tenna san..." -- Until then
“Mani dela lle? ” -- What troubles you?


Chapter 11 - Chapter Eleven

Carantaliel left Frodo sleeping peacefully some hour or so before dawn. He stirred slightly when he felt her rise and she bent down to brush her lips against his ear to whisper tenderly, “Kaimo, Frodo .”

“Don’t leave me,” Frodo murmured sleepily.

“I am always with you, melethnín,” she assured him. “Go back to sleep…”

The Elven princess made her way back up to her own apartments and took a leisurely bath, thinking about all the events of the day before, both pleasant and disturbing. Her dream still unsettled her a great deal, but she told herself that Frodo was right. She had spent so many years in sorrow that it was difficult to trust the bliss. Still, Carantaliel had not told Frodo about her entire dream, for in it they had been painfully separated. She was determined that should not happen.

Finally ready to face the world again the she-elf dressed, putting on light breeches and tunic in case she would go with Frodo back to the glade to work.

Dawn was breaking as she headed to the stables to take Thaurrant for a ride in the cool of the morning. Enedvása was only just beginning to wake and Carantaliel hoped for a little more time to herself.

However, as she drew near the gardens her way was blocked by her stern-looking grandfather. “Good morning, Cara,” he greeted her neutrally.

“Good morning,” she checked her step only slightly. “I am going for a ride. Would you like to join me?”

“Not this morning,” he replied. “I want to have a conversation with you.”

“Oh, Elbereth!” Carantaliel thought to herself, but did not let her dismay show. “Certainly, my lord. Shall we sit?”

“If you wish,” said Elrond, “but what I have to say is brief.”

“Then, please… unburden yourself…”

Elrond crossed his arms, gazing down at his younger kinswoman. Carantaliel refused to be daunted by his scrutiny and he finally sighed and said, “Cara, I can see that all my advice will not dissuade you from loving Frodo.”

“No, it will not,” she lifted her head a little higher.

“Hear me out, please…” the elflord continued reasonably. “I am fond of Frodo, and it’s obvious that you are making one another happier than either of you have been in a long time. There is no arguing with that and it makes me glad to see you smile and laugh again.” She relaxed a little and started to smile, but he again continued, “However… I would ask you if this carrying on needs to be so obvious.”

“Carrying on? What are you talking about, my lord?” she asked.

“If you want to have secret trysts that’s your own affair, but must you hang about other people’s balconies in only your shift?”

Suddenly the absurdity of her hiding from Figwit the night before struck her funny and she laughed heartily. “Did I embarrass you, my lord? I am sorry…”

Carantaliel continued to giggle and Elrond could not help but crack a smile and laugh briefly. “No, I don’t suppose I was embarrassed, “ he replied then sobered, “but I can’t imagine Figwit would see the humor in it, my dear. It’s all well and good to have your fun, but not at the expense of another. You know Figwit values his reputation. He would not appreciate your making a fool of him, Cara.”

She sighed, seeing his point. “Of course, my lord, “ she replied. “That was never my intention. Though I wish he would mind his own affairs and stay out of mine. I don’t know what more I can say to him to make him realize that there is nothing he can say or do to win me….”

“CARA!?!?!” they both heard the sudden desperate cry and Carantaliel, recognizing Frodo’s voice, wheeled to see him on his terrace urgently stabbing a finger to the sky.


Frodo, too, had spent the morning in leisurely contemplation. His dream was fading, leaving him with only vague flashes of uncertainty. Donning his work clothes, he found his discarded shirt and sighed at the wine stain. The shirt was ruined, but the consequences were worth it, he suddenly thought brightly.

Again there was a knock at his door, and again it was Bilbo. Although the older hobbit looked much soberer as Frodo invited him in the room.

“Are you feeling all right, Bilbo?” he asked. “You look a little under the weather…”

Bilbo looked warily around the room and Frodo was amused by his kinsman’s curiosity.

“Is she here?” he finally asked. Frodo merely raised an eyebrow at him and Bilbo tried to stare him down for a moment, but the younger hobbit refused to buckle. “Thorin’s Beard, boy! You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that!”

Not really wanting to get into his relationship with Carantaliel with anyone, even his dearest kinsman, Frodo skirted the issue and asked, “So, have you come to read me your poem now?”

“Poem? What?” asked Bilbo, still somewhat distracted by what happened the night before in his cousin’s room. “Oh! That! Nevermind, nevermind… I read it over this morning and it still needs work. What are you up to today?”

“Back to the glade,” he replied and walked out on to the terrace. “There’s still a lot to do. You should come with me today. Look, you can almost see it from here…” he started to point in the direction of the hobbit hole when a dark speck in the sky drew his attention.

He watched it in consternation for a moment, for as it seemed to be getting closer to Enedvása it also was falling rapidly towards the shore. Suddenly Frodo realized what he was seeing and he blinked to make sure he was not dreaming again.

“Oh no…” he murmured and looked around helplessly. “It can’t be… Where’s Cara?”

Suddenly there she was, standing on the garden path speaking with Lord Elrond.

“CARA!?!?!” he cried out desperately.

Carantaliel and Elrond looked up at him and he gesticulated wildly at the plummeting spot in the sky. Frodo could see from her face that the she-elf understood instantly what it was and he turned to Bilbo who was watching him anxiously. “Bilbo, you must get Gandalf. Tell him to meet me on the shore…”

“The shore? Why the shore?”

“Because that’s where the eagle will fall! Hurry, Bilbo!”

Much to Bilbo’s great surprise, his cousin leapt from the terrace to the nearby mallorn tree and shimmied down its thick branches to hop lightly to the ground and take off towards the beach.

“That boy… there’s always a panic when he’s involved…” Bilbo shook his head and left in search of the wizard. “I thought this place was supposed to be carefree!”


For a moment Carantaliel was paralyzed. She saw the eagle falling to the shore and her fears immobilized her.

“Cara, what is going on?” asked Elrond sharply, which brought her back to her senses.

“It’s the eagle, herumin,” she answered. “It’s falling! We have no time to lose!”

Taking her hand, Elrond demanded, “Come… the shore is too far on foot. To the stables!”

Taking no time to bother with saddles and other tack, the two elves vaulted onto their mounts’ backs. Accustomed to their riders after many years of companionship, both the golden Thaurrant and Elrond’s gray Eärenya bore Carantaliel and the elflord effortlessly, tearing off towards the Sea at their slightest command.

Trusting that the princess would follow, Frodo ran towards the shore as he kept a close eye on the eagle. Soon a copse of trees obscured his view of the beach just as he saw the eagle’s massive body flail weakly and disappear behind them.

Redoubling his efforts, Frodo gasped for breath but trudged on and was soon rewarded with the sound of Carantaliel’s voice behind him calling, “Frodo, give me your hand!”

Still at a dead run, he seized her outstretched hand and Carantaliel drew him up behind her on the horse.

“He’s on the ground,” he gasped to her.

“Save your breath, Frodo,” she replied. “We are almost there!"


Gandalf was already on the beach with Bilbo when Carantaliel skidded Thaurrant to a stop in the wet sand. The wizard’s timely presence was explained by the sight of Shadowfax anxiously pacing at the edge of the water.

Frodo slid awkwardly off the back of the she-elf’s flaxen mount as Elrond also rode up to the scene. They were all horrified to see the eagle sprawled half in the water, half in the sand. Gandalf was stooping at the bird’s side, his hand lightly on the beast’s shoulder.

“Gandalf!” Frodo panted as he rushed to his friend. “Is he…?

“No, he’s still with us,” Gandalf answered. “This is Thorondil. I recognized him instantly. He’s one of Thorondor’s line, and what he is doing here in Valinor so far from his kin is a mystery.”

Calmly, Elrond joined them and commented, “His breathing is shallow. Have you found a wound? Has he spoken to you?”

“Not yet,” he replied. “We need to get him out of this water…”

“You will need more help than just those of us here, Gandalf,” said Bilbo practicably. “I shall go back to raise the palace.”

“I will take you back, Bilbo,” offered Carantaliel concealing her distress as best she could. She had slid silently to stand in Thaurrant’s shadow as she gazed bleakly upon the fallen eagle.

However, Frodo knew better and took a step towards her, “Cara…”

Silently she shook her head at him and took a deep breath to say to Bilbo, “Come, mellon nin. We must hurry.”

Frodo watched them for a long moment as Thaurrant galloped off with his lover and his kinsman toward the palace. After a time, Elrond put a comforting hand on the halfling’s shoulder and murmured, “Do not fear for her, Frodo. Cara will shake off her terror. She knows her duty.”

Looking up at the elf, Frodo replied, “You don’t understand, my lord. She has seen this. We both have…”

Elrond’s forehead furrowed deeply. “I would hear more of this, Frodo, when there is time. We must do what we can for Thorondil at the moment.”


Soon the beach was swarming with elves sent to help by Galadriel. The Lady of the Golden Wood accompanied them and was in close conversation with Gandalf and Elrond as they discussed how to deal with Thorondil’s removal from the shore.

Carantaliel also returned with the other elves and stood anxiously watching from the side, feeling helpless. Frodo was in the thick of it, as he was smaller and could get in places the taller elves could not. Despite her disquiet the princess could not help but feel pride for him.

Eventually, though, Frodo could do no more as they carried the massive eagle away from the water to a shelter erected in the lee of the cove. The hobbit stood apart and took a deep breath to get his bearings. He saw Carantaliel across the beach and her gaze beckoned him to her.

“Are you all right, melethnín?” he asked as he approached.

Skirting the question, the she-elf said softly, “Frodo, I must speak with you privately.”

“What’s wrong?” he drew her apart a ways.

Warily she looked up at the others and replied softly, “There is something I have to share with you. Come with me please…”

“Of course,” Frodo reassured her. “Where are we going?”

“Not here… please…”

He nodded, motioning her to lead on, and Carantaliel took him by the hand and guided him into the forest.

After a few minutes, Frodo was confused by where they were headed. It seemed she was taking him to the glade, but then Carantaliel suddenly veered in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going, Cara?” he asked again. “The glade is the other way…”

“We are not going to the glade,” was all she said.

As the princess’ distress was more palpable as they traveled deeper into the forest, Frodo did not press her for an explanation.

At last Carantaliel brought him to a clearing in the trees, although the sun did not reach the empty circle within the stands of slender beeches and sturdy oaks like it did in the glade. There was light, but it was quiet and subdued. Frodo gazed around the circle with wonder as he saw Elven statuary ringing the clearing as well. In the center was a small basin bubbling with a fountain.

“I know this place,” murmured Frodo with amazement. “I have seen it in a dream.” An anxious look crossed her face, but he was quick to reassure her, “No, not that dream. It was while you were gone. I dreamed you were here, offering me a drink from that fountain.”

Carantaliel looked at the fountain with bewilderment, “But that water is not drinkable. I have tried as long as I’ve been here to sweeten it, but it remains bitter and brackish. No one can explain its acrid taste.”

“It doesn’t matter now, Cara,” he said soothingly. “It was just a dream. There was nothing disturbing about it. In fact, it was quite pleasant…” he smiled thinking back on it. “Come now, tell me what is truly troubling you.”

“How can you be so calm?” she asked tearfully as she moved away from him. “If we shared this dream, you should know… you should have seen…”

Frodo followed her, confused by her distress. “Amin hiraetha, melethnín,” he murmured tenderly. The Elven princess buried her face in her hands, sobbing quietly. Concerned, he lightly touched her arm and asked, “Mani na ta, Cara ?”

His concern for her was deeply genuine and Carantaliel suddenly realized that as much as she had loved Tellonnion, he had never cared for her the way Frodo did. Pulling herself together, she wiped her eyes and spoke softly, “Laume, Frodo. Amin hiraetha .”

“Don’t be sorry. Tell me what has you so upset. Why are we here?”

Briefly Carantaliel tried to smile, “There are two reasons. First because I wanted to share this place with you, Frodo. This is my private sanctuary… or at least it used to be.”

“No more?” he asked.

“It gave me much comfort when I first came to Valinor, but it has been some time since I found any solace here. Even though I did not know Tellonnion’s fate for certain, he was lost to me nevertheless. I needed a place to mourn him.”

“So you created this spot for him?”

She nodded, “I once came here often, but it is a place of bitterness now. Some days I cannot even bear to see it.”

“What was your second reason for bringing me here, Cara?”

“Since his body was never recovered, I have very little of him to remind me of our time together. In fact nothing at all, save one thing…”

Smoothly she walked to one of the statues. Frodo had not noticed before that one was a near copy of the figure in Rivendell holding a tray upon which the Shards of Narsil once lay. This statue, too, held a sword. Yet, as Carantaliel lifted it reverently to show it to him, the hobbit saw that it was in perfect condition.

“This is Tarfinion? His famous sword?”

“It is,” she acknowledged. “The orcs would not touch it and left it where Tellonnion fell. My father rescued the sword and brought it to me.”

Frodo took the hilt of the sword and drew it several inches out of the scabbard. It sang brightly in response to his touch and the hobbit gasped appreciatively.

“It’s a beautiful weapon,” Frodo said, giving its exquisite craftsmanship another admiring glance before sliding it back into its protective sheath. As he stepped back slightly, he looked up at Carantaliel and asked, “Why did you want to show it to me?”

The she-elf had dried her tears and regained control over her emotions, but her sea-blue eyes were troubled and full of dread. “Because I very much fear you will need it.”

“I?” he asked, astonished. “I cannot wield that sword…”

“I think you may need to find a way, Frodo,” she told him. “I did not tell you everything about my dream. I thought perhaps you knew…”

Frodo shook his head slightly, “The dream has faded since this morning. I really only remember about the eagle. Why are you so afraid? I know Thorondil’s fall has us all unsettled, but surely nothing evil can harm us here in Valinor?” With sudden urgency he added, “Can it, Cara?”

“Yesterday I would not have thought so, Frodo,” Carantaliel replied. “Now I am not so sure. You see…” she started to tear up again, but managed to remain in control. “In my dream… in my dream we were parted, melethnín. I don’t know if I can bear the thought of it,” she whispered.

Though he was beginning to share her anxiety, Frodo said reasonably, “But we have been parted before, Cara. It was difficult, but we made it through, our feelings for one another even stronger than before…”

“I do not think it will be the same,” she insisted. “I sense great peril to us both.”

Grave consternation was written on the hobbit’s face as he asked, “What would you have me do? How can I ease your fears?”

“I do not know,” she shook her head helplessly. “I need reassurance that if I give my heart to you, Frodo, that you will always be with me. I cannot bear to lose another lifemate.”

“You are offering me your heart, Cara? Truly?” he was both astonished and gratified.

Carantaliel’s expression was almost hurt, “Do you not know how I feel about you then, Frodo?”

“I know how I feel about you, Cara,” he replied earnestly as he raised his hand subconsciously to his heart. “I did not dare to hope that my love for you would be returned in full measure. I am only a mere hobbit.”

“You are no mere anything, melethnín,” she suddenly smiled. “You have brought joy to my life when I thought I would never experience it again. It is I who am the poorer for fleeing in despair when I should have stayed to fight like your Éowyn.”

“There is bravery in tending to family. Celebrían needed you…”

Ruefully she answered, “You are generous to say it, and you have my heart whether we are together or no. Still, I know that if I lose you I will die of grief this time.”

Frodo still rested his hand on his chest and he felt the slight bulge of the white gemstone around his neck. Hesitating only a moment, he drew the delicate chain over his head and offered it to Carantaliel to wear. “There will be no need for that, cormamin, for no one is going to lose anyone. And if we should be parted, at least I will be with you in this.”

The Elven princess stared at the necklace with wonder, “How can you give me this, Frodo? It is a rare gift.”

“I think Queen Arwen would approve my offering it to you, melethnín. Your aunt gave this to me in place of the destroyed Ring. While I cherish it because of my affection for the giver, I find that since I came to Valinor I do not need it any longer.” He moved to draw it over her head and Carantaliel bowed slightly to accept it. “Aragorn told me before I left that even in his darkest moments, he felt Arwen was a part of him though they might be a world apart. I do not see why, if we pledge ourselves to one another, that it cannot be the same for us.”

As the starry gem settled lightly on her breast the Elven princess felt the weight of doom lifted from her slender shoulders. The promise of happiness filled her once again and she sighed lightly and said, “Frodo, your goodness and hope amaze me. After all that you’ve been through, how do you look forward with such trust in the future?”

“Do you not remember what I was like when I first came to Valinor, Cara?” he asked with a slight and knowing smile. “I have had my share of dark thoughts, but since I have come to love you those thoughts no longer rule me. Before we met, that necklace was my comfort, for Arwen told me when she gave it to me, ‘When the memory of the fear and the darkness troubles you, this will bring you aid.’ I would say the same to you, cormamin,” Frodo said as he placed his hand over the stone. “Estelio ammen, Cara… ”

Carantaliel clasped his hand over her heart and fervently promised, “I will!”

With a brief smile, Frodo stepped back and reverently took the sword Tarfinion from her to replace it on the statue’s shelf. “Let’s keep this here until it’s needed,” he said and then turned back to her to say, “And let’s hope that it’s not…” Soberly, the she-elf nodded. “Come, Cara,” he held out his hand to her. “We should leave this sorrowful place. We will be needed in Enedvása, and I think you and I should have a conversation with your family.”

No longer having any doubts, Carantaliel took Frodo’s hand and the lovers headed back towards the Palace by the Sea. The she-elf wondered what her family would say to them, but was confident that Frodo would neither be daunted nor defeated if there was any opposition.

She looked at the halfling next to her, not so small as she first remembered him, and knew that Varda’s prediction of her future held no terror for her despite the foreboding tenor of the message.


-end of Chapter Eleven-

“Kaimo, Frodo.” -- Sleep, Frodo
“Amin hiraetha, melethnín,” -- I'm sorry, my love
“Mani na ta, Cara ?” -- What is it, Cara
“Laume, Frodo. Amin hiraetha .” -- No, Frodo. I'm sorry.
“Estelio ammen, Cara… ” -- Trust us, Cara


Chapter 12 - Chapter Twelve

When they returned to the beach, the habitants of Enedvása were still busily getting Thorondil settled under a canvas pavilion. Gandalf stood to one side with Elrond and Galadriel looking worried. Frodo glanced at Carantaliel anxiously and said, “This doesn’t look good, Cara.”

“Laume…” she replied.

As they headed towards their elders, Bilbo suddenly accosted them. “There you are! Where’ve you been, boy? You’re needed! You too, my lady!” he said breathlessly.

“Where are we needed, Bilbo?’ she asked.

Bilbo gestured at Thorondil, “They want you again… need for you to look for the wound. And you, lady, as the smallest of your people here, they think best to heal him of it. Everyone else is too big to get to it.”

“Our conversation will have to wait, Frodo.”

“Nai,” he answered with a sigh.

“What conversation?” asked Bilbo impatiently.

Laying a hand on his kinsman’s shoulder, Frodo replied, “Not now, cousin. I promise I will tell you later.” Strangely at that moment, he realized that he was a great deal taller than Bilbo. When did that happen?

“Come, Frodo,” said Carantaliel, startling him slightly, “Mithrandir is beckoning.”

Wasting no more time, the pair hurried over to the wizard and his Elven companions.

“Gandalf,” panted Frodo anxiously. “I understand we’re wanted?”

Crossing his arms on his chest, Gandalf replied, “Indeed, Frodo. Where have you two been?”

“Must you two be larking about at such a time?” asked Elrond testily. “We’ve been looking for you for a quarter hour or so…”

The hobbit sensed Carantaliel take a breath to respond hotly, but he put a hand on her arm to save her tirade. “Is that what you think, my friend?” he asked, rather insulted by the elflord’s tone. “My feelings for Cara are not so shallow, nor are hers for me, I think. There is much more I would say to you on the subject, but now is not the time. Suffice it to say, that where your granddaughter and I were relates very directly to the events here.”

“He is right, herumin,” Cara agreed earnestly. “I dreamed about the eagle and much more. At least I thought it was a mere dream at first, for who would have thought such a thing would happen here at Enedvása? But when I saw Thorondil fall I knew that it was no simple dream, and the implications of all that I saw in my vision terrified me.”

Wisely, Galadriel interposed, “This obviously is a discussion that must take place once you have finished your task here, my dear,” for the Lady of Light noticed immediately the white pendant around her neck. “Let us go down to Thorondil and see what you can do for him…”


It was well into evening before Frodo and Carantaliel could say they believed Thorondil was out of danger. The hobbit found several deep puncture wounds around the base of the eagle’s neck where a wicked harness had been attached. On the underside of the contraption were spikes that Carantaliel discovered to be poisoned. Who had ridden the great bird to Enedvása or why they felt the need to rein him in with such an evil restraint was unknown, although the she-elf sensed inherently who that must have been. Frodo guessed as well, but neither voiced their fears aloud just at present. They threw themselves into their task, for only Thorondil could tell them for certain what had happened to him.

While Frodo physically cleaned the wounds, Carantaliel used her enigmatic Elvish medicine, anointing the lesions with efficacious-smelling potions whilst murmuring soft healing prayers. The two worked well as a team, which did not go unnoticed by Carantaliel’s family.

Elrond stood apart watching them for some time with an unreadable expression upon his suave face.

“You cannot save Cara from her fate, my dear,” spoke Galadriel quietly, “any more than you could have for your daughter.”

The elflord spared his wife’s mother a brief glance, “That does not mean that I will not worry for her all the same. Cara has had much sorrow in her life. I would like to spare her more.”

“We do not know the outcome as yet. There is potential for great joy. I think we must trust in the Ainurs’ message…”

“Easier said than done, I’m afraid,” he sighed. “Celebrían has already reproached me for returning to Valinor without our children. I can only imagine what she will say to me if I support Cara and Frodo. She is counting on Cara joining with Figwit.”

A brief look of consternation crossed Galadriel’s serenely beautiful face, “I will speak to my daughter. She must realize that regardless of Cara’s feelings for Frodo, she will not marry Figwit. In any case it is too late. They have already pledged their intentions to one another.”

Elrond looked at Galadriel sharply, “What do you mean?”

She nodded in the pair’s direction. They were settling wearily under a tree near the pavilion to be close to their patient. “Did you not see that Cara wears the pendant Arwen gave Frodo before he left Gondor?”

The elflord looked back at them, instantly picking out the milky gem against Cara’s even paler skin. Quietly he brooded, “Foolish… they are too hasty…”

“Are they indeed?” asked Gandalf who had heard the last of the conversation as he joined them. “I think Frodo and Cara know precisely what they’re doing. Why should they wait, my friend, when they make each other happy?”

“You think this is a good idea?” he asked the wizard.

“I think it is not for us to decide, Elrond,” Gandalf replied.

The once-lord of Imladris said reasonably, “But they barely know one another. What if Figwit is right and it’s just an infatuation?”

“Cara is not a child,” said Galadriel crisply. “Nor is Frodo, for all his small stature. Both have had ample opportunity to take other lifemates over the long years. That they knew what they wanted once it was presented to them speaks well for their commitment to one another. I have seen neither doubt nor regret in either of them since Frodo came to Valinor.”

“The regret may come later…”

She nodded solemn acknowledgement, “So it may. Yet, it is their choice, not ours.”

“So her family has no say in how she lives her life?”

“Why should we? Would you want me to tell you how to live yours?” Elrond started to speak, but Galadriel continued, “For I would have some things to say to you about your relationship with Celebrían.”

“Of course not,” he subsided. “Your point is well taken, my dear.”

“I thought not,” she smiled gently and put a hand on his arm. “Cara has a stubborn streak in her as wide as the Bruinen is long. I think she comes by that not surprisingly?” she raised a teasing eyebrow at him.

Elrond smiled slightly in return, “You know I find it difficult to refute you.”

“That’s as it should be.”

Both the elflord and the wizard laughed heartily, knowing they would always be bested by Galadriel’s serene logic. Just at that moment Bilbo walked up and asked, “What is so funny?”

“Nothing worth repeating, my dear Bilbo,” smiled Gandalf with mysterious amusement. “How goes it with Thorondil?”

Oblivious, Bilbo merely answered, “Better apparently, according to Frodo, but neither will commit to anything further until the morning. They plan to watch the night by his side.”

“Cara has learned well from you, my friend,” said Gandalf to Elrond. “Thorondil bids fair to recover all the more speedily at the hands of such a gracious and compassionate lady.”

“Let us hope so, my friend,” agreed Elrond. “Let us hope so… for I tell you this puzzle has me greatly disturbed.”

Bilbo sounded uncharacteristically pensive as he remarked, “Frodo is disturbed by this as well. He knows a lot more about what’s going on here than he’s telling me. There’s a lot going on with that boy that I don’t understand.”

“Oh really?” asked Gandalf with his customary raised eyebrow.

The wizard expected a comment on the closeness between the hobbit’s young cousin and the she-elf, just as they were so recently discussing, but Bilbo surprised them all by commenting, “Like, has anyone else noticed that Frodo is a good deal taller than when he first got here?”

“You must be mistaken, Bilbo,” said Elrond.

“My lord, I’ve lived with that boy most of his life,” said the hobbit. “I know how tall he is, and I tell you he’s grown since he got here.”

They all turned to look at Frodo sitting next to Carantaliel, his legs stretched out casually before him. The princess was curled next to him with her head on his shoulder. It was evident that she was still taller than the hobbit, but the difference was not so great as when Frodo first arrived.

“Curious,” mused the wizard. “This bears some looking into, I think…”

“Well, my friends,” said Galadriel, “there is nothing more we can do tonight. Let us trust in Cara and Frodo for now. The morning is soon enough for other questions…”


Neither Frodo nor Carantaliel slept much during the night. They tended Thorondil through until dawn, trying to get him to eat and drink. By morning the eagle was breathing easier, merely sleeping to recover his strength. He could not speak, however, due to his injuries. The relief in his golden eyes was enough to tell them of his gratitude for their help.

Wearily they made their way back to the palace, and as the lovers reached the second floor Bilbo met them at the top of the stairs.

“How are things down at the beach?” asked Bilbo.

“As good as can be expected, I think,” answered Frodo. “When his wounds heal, we’ll know more. It’s still early. What are you doing up and about?”

“Waiting for you two,” he replied archly. “The Lady wants to see you two after you’re rested.”

Frodo looked up at Carantaliel and murmured, “I suppose there is no help for it. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather get it over with.”

“Agreed,” said Carantaliel. “Bilbo, are you coming with us?”

Looking from his cousin to the princess and back, he said, “Say, what’s this all about? I think perhaps I’d better.”

“Come along then, Bilbo,” said Frodo. “This concerns you as much as any of the others.”


-end of Chapter Twelve-


Chapter 13 - Chapter Thirteen

If Galadriel was surprised to see the lovers so early, she showed no sign of it. Graciously she invited them all into her solar and sent an elfmaid in her service to summon Elrond, Celebrían and Gandalf.

While they were waiting, the Lady of Light served them a light breakfast of warm brown bread with butter and honey washed down with glasses of crisp, clear water. Frodo took up a shiny red apple and split it in two to offer Carantaliel the other half.

Bilbo watched them with curiosity, finally realizing at last what was soon to transpire. He was of two minds regarding their relationship, but decided to see how events unfolded before voicing any doubts or misgivings.

Gandalf arrived first looking quite sober, but as he passed Frodo he winked and the hobbit knew the wizard supported them at least. Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían joined them moments later. The elflord looked grim but resigned, but the lady was tense and Frodo realized at this point that Galadriel’s daughter was going to be the difficult one to convince.

Since it was the Lady of Light who called them together they all waited for her to invite the discussion to begin. Emotions were running high, so Galadriel did not keep them in suspense and spoke, “Well, Frodo… Cara… you mentioned yesterday that you had much to tell us. We are all ears…” She smiled at her little joke and it put the lovers at ease.

Slowly Frodo stood and faced the Elven couple. “You asked us, my lord,” he addressed Elrond, “where Cara and I had been when you had been looking for us, implying perhaps that we were more wrapped up in each other than concerned for Thorondil’s well-being.” Elrond nodded slightly, acknowledging his reservations. “While it’s true that my feelings for Cara are new and exciting, and that we are enjoying the freshness of being together and being happy after enduring such a long time of despair, our reason for going off on our own yesterday is as much about Thorondil’s fall than having private time alone with one another.”

Carantaliel joined Frodo, standing steadfastly by his side. “Frodo speaks the truth, herumin,” she added breathlessly. “As I told you before, I dreamed of yesterday’s events. Frodo did so too. However, there was more to my dream that upset me greatly.” The Elven princess paused to gather herself and Frodo reached out a comforting hand to her, which she took in her own with a steadying breath. “Hannon lle, melethnín ,” she whispered to him.

“What can have you so upset, Cara?” asked Celebrían, bewildered more and more with how this meeting was transpiring.

“Tellonnion…” Carantaliel spoke, the terror in her voice barely masked by her Elven calm. “I could not see him in my dream, but I sensed him there.”

“But that is good news!” exclaimed Celebrían.

“No, my lady,” said her granddaughter sadly. “It is most definitely not good news.”

“I don’t understand, Cara. Why would Tellonnion being alive be bad news?”

Tears welled in Carantaliel’s eyes, “My lady, please don’t force me to be plain. When last he was seen, Tellonnion was carried off by orcs. If he is alive…” she let the thought hang for just a moment. “It cannot be good.”

Celebrían knew only too well what was possible at the hands of the cruel orcs. She swallowed any further comment, subsiding with a bleak look on her elegant face. Elrond watched his wife for a long moment then quietly slipped his strong hand into hers with an understanding squeeze.

Gandalf picked up the conversation, “Where then did you go, my friends?”

“Cara and I had shared the information of the eagle, but there was more that I did not yet know and she took me someplace more private than the beach to discuss it,” said Frodo carefully.

“Frodo is being circumspect for my sake,” broke in Carantaliel. “I took him to my private sanctuary. It’s a place I set up long ago to mourn Tellonnion. There was more than just my dream I needed to share with him. Frodo had not heard about my sorrows and I felt he needed to know all before something happened.”

“What do you think is going to happen, my dear?” asked Galadriel gently.

“Nothing good, Lady,” she replied. “I cannot put it into words, but the foreboding in my heart weighs heavily. I had to speak to Frodo about these things.”

“She is afraid we will be parted,” added Frodo. “I was determined she know that even if something should happen to keep us away from one another that I would be with her all the same.”

“So you gave her the Evenstar’s gift?” asked Elrond evenly.

“Yes,” answered the hobbit. “It was a pledge.”

Elrond looked to his granddaughter, “And you have accepted this pledge, Cara?”

“I have,” she answered boldly.

In a small voice, Celebrían asked, “And what of Lord Figwit?”

“My lady,” sighed Carantaliel, sorry to disappoint her grandmother, “I wish my answer could make you happy, but I never had any intention of joining with Lord Figwit. He knows this and I have never led him to believe otherwise. I cannot explain why he clings to hope when there is none.”

“There is always hope,” said Celebrían.

“Not in this case, my lady.”

Completely defeated, Celebrían visibly sagged. Feeling compassion for the lady, Frodo went to her and knelt at her feet. Taking her hand he said earnestly, “My lady, I love Cara. I know I am not the elflord you dreamt for your granddaughter, but surely my devotion for her should count for something? I would put her before my own life, I swear to you. I will do the same for your family as well…”

“That is grave promise, Frodo,” said Elrond.

“Do you doubt that I’ll make good on it, my lord?” asked Frodo fearlessly. “Did my journey to Mount Doom count for nothing with you?”

Frodo was certain Elrond would be affronted by his words, but to his surprise the elflord merely raised a slim eyebrow and said, “I do not doubt you, my friend. Forgive me if it seemed so.”

Offering Elrond his hand, the hobbit grinned, “Hannon lle, mellon nin. ”

As the elflord clasped Frodo’s hand, Gandalf grinned with a merry twinkle in his eye, “Well, it sounds like it’s official. As far as I’m concerned that calls for a party of some sort. What do you say, Bilbo?”

The wizard turned to his old friend and was startled to see a rather serious expression on the old hobbit’s face.

“I’d say that no one’s consulted me on anything before, so why should you start now?” he groused.

With a look of amusement mixed with incredulity, his cousin asked, “Bilbo, what in the name of the Thain are you talking about?”

“Well, am I not your guardian? I don’t see you asking for my permission to marry.”

Slowly, Frodo walked towards his cousin, “Bilbo, I do believe you’re serious…”

“And why shouldn’t I be? Your parents left you in my care. It’s my responsibility to look out for you when you are about to do something foolish. We Bagginses are meant to be bachelors – you’ve said it yourself.”

“No, I seem to remember that it was you who said so. I merely said I didn’t think I was marriageable material,” he looked back at Carantaliel fondly, “but Cara has convinced me otherwise.”

Huffily the elder hobbit crossed his arms and said, “How am I supposed to make do without you? I thought we’d be moving soon into that hobbit hole you’ve been working on and living out our days in quiet work and contemplative study.”

Carantaliel understood his objections instantly and crossed the solar to sit next to him. “My dear Bilbo,” she said soothingly, “nothing need change those plans. There was never any question in our minds that you would be living in the hobbit hole.” Putting her arms around him, she gave him a brief hug. “Please don’t disappoint us and say you cannot live with us…”

Bilbo rather enjoyed the hug, but he tried to maintain a veneer of detachment, “If you insist, my dear.”

“I do insist,” declared Carantaliel. “And you must plan this celebration for us, Bilbo. I have heard tales about your famous eleventy-first birthday party, and you seem like the right hobbit for the job.”

As soon as Bilbo felt included in the proceedings he was quite amenable to everything and joined in with as much merriment as Frodo and Carantaliel could hope. However, the Elven princess knew of one person in Enedvása that was not going to be happy about their announcement. While her family and Bilbo and Gandalf were discussing plans, Carantaliel drew Frodo to one side for a private moment.

“Frodo, make my excuses for me, melethnín,” she murmured. “I must go speak with Figwit before word of this gets around the palace.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come along?”

Wistfully, she smiled, “I think it best that I tell him alone. His honor is dear to him and this will be a blow, I think. I won’t be gone long.”

“Very well,” he said, “but if you are not back within the hour I’m coming to look for you.”

Her answer was to caress his cheek with a soft hand, leaning in to kiss him tenderly. Frodo covered her hand with his own and when they parted he brought her palm lightly to his lips. He watched her go for a long moment then thoughtfully returned to the discussion across the room. He hoped Figwit’s honor was precious enough to him to take the news graciously.


Carantaliel was thinking much the same thing as she looked for Figwit around the palace. She tried his apartments first, but found them empty. However, on the way down to the main hall, she encountered Figwit’s friend Nandoril who told her Figwit could be found in the stables.

His information was correct and Carantaliel paused on the threshold of the stables to gather her thoughts while she watched the elflord for a few quiet moments. The air in the structure was warm and close, and Figwit had stripped down to the waist while he inspected each of his mount’s shoes. Quietly he crooned to the bay stallion he called Maikakemenion, gentling him with soft words as the horse fidgeted uneasily.

To her surprise she found her would-be suitor well muscled and toned. Figwit usually favored the flowing robes of a courtier rather than the more form-fitting breeches and tunic of a more active elf. Carantaliel had always thought him rather soft, but appearances apparently were deceiving. Still, his trim form held no interest for her. Tellonnion had been a vigorous elf, but that was not the only thing that had drawn her to him. His charm and the ease with which he related to others were very attractive to her. As she thought back on it now, those were the very qualities that led to his downfall…

Suddenly Carantaliel had a flash of dream that she had not remembered since before she came to Valinor. There was much more about Tellonnion’s disappearance that she never shared with anyone, not even her family. She had forgotten it for a reason. Why now did she recall it?

Figwit heard Carantaliel gasp quietly and he looked up at her. As he straightened up, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

“I didn’t realize how warm the day was growing,” she covered easily. “The closeness took my breath away.”

Figwit stood tall, proudly preening to show his chiseled body to best advantage. “Is there nothing else here to make you breathless, Cara?” he asked, his voice as sultry as the air around them.

Yet her glance barely skimmed over him to land instead on his coppery mount. “Of course, Maikakemenion always leaves me breathless, my lord,” Carantaliel replied noncommittally as she stroked the horse’s nose and sneaked him a bite of apple. “You have a magnificent mount.”

The princess sensed Figwit’s tense anger at her dismissal of him, but kept her attention focused on the beast in front of her, not relishing having to add disappointment to the elflord’s wrath. Still, there was no help for it. Carantaliel needed to make him understand in no uncertain terms that there was no chance of their union.

When Figwit remained stonily silent for some time, she finally steeled her nerve and spoke, “I was actually looking for you, my lord. I need to have serious a conversation with you.”

His voice was filled with unexpected tenderness as he asked, “Does that mean you are ready to entertain my proposal at last, melethnín?”

“Please don’t call me that, my lord,” she insisted. “I have never wanted that and it only frustrates you and me both when I have to refuse you.”

Figwit clamped a strong hand on her upper arm and seized Carantaliel, pulling her close to him and snaking his arm around her waist. “Why must you refuse me, Cara? I have much to offer a potential mate. Is there nothing about me that you find appealing?”

Her blue-green eyes glittered darkly with suppressed annoyance as she replied, “Nothing.”

Taut emotion hung in the air, passion and anger feeding the moment. The elflord gazed down at the she-elf before him, looking for some indication that her words belied her feelings.

Carantaliel withstood his intense gaze, though she was beginning to tremble in his arms. Mistaking anger for ardor, Figwit bent his head to meet her lips, his mouth pressing against hers with an almost bruising pressure.

As he pressed her unwilling body close to his, Carantaliel could feel Figwit’s heart throbbing in his bare chest, but she remained unmoved. She endured his boorish kiss, if only to prove to him that she felt no desire for him whatsoever.

When the Elven princess would not respond to him, the elflord finally released her lips, though he only slightly loosened his grip around her waist.

“There’s no one about,” he murmured. “I could take you right here…”

Her turquoise eyes never wavered from his steely gray ones as she challenged back, “But you won’t. Your honor means more than that to you, Figwit.” Carantaliel saw brief consternation cross his face, which was quickly replaced with his customary aloof mask.

“Come now…” he rasped in her ear then buried his face in her smooth neck, “desire cannot be dead, even after so long, Cara. It’s been centuries since you’ve been with a lover. Why not let me…”

She stopped him before he could voice that thought, “You would be mistaken, my lord. I’ve been with my lover quite recently.” The elf froze and suddenly looked at her with puzzlement. “Frodo and I ple…”

“Frodo! Cara, you cannot be serious!” he laughed mirthlessly. “How do you expect to have a real relationship with that man-child?”

There was a chill in Carantaliel’s voice that Figwit had never heard from her even at her most vexing, “There is nothing childish about Frodo, my lord. We have pledged ourselves to one another,” she announced, making sure the white pendant was clearly visible, “and my family has accepted him as my betrothed.” Figwit was utterly speechless when he saw the necklace and all his bravado suddenly evaporated. “I thought you should hear it from me rather than through palace gossip.”

“Is there a problem here?” asked a light, reedy voice.

Breathing a sigh of relief that Frodo had come looking for her, Carantaliel answered calmly, “Lord Figwit was just congratulating me on our betrothal.” She could see the internal struggle going on behind those pale eyes and she reminded Figwit with a significant glance at his unwanted embrace that he had no right to treat her in such a masterful way.

“Indeed?” asked Frodo, raising an eyebrow at the elflord.

If Carantaliel knew anything about Figwit, she understood how proud he was. While his pride might be reluctant to admit defeat, it would not let him beg for a woman who took such pains to spurn him.

Slowly, Figwit released Carantaliel growling, “Indeed. I wish you both joy.”

Taking up his discarded shirt, the elflord stalked out of the stables leaving his tense wrath hanging in the air.

Going to his beloved, Frodo put a gentle arm around her waist. “Are you all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“I’m all right,” she answered taking a deep breath, “but I’m very grateful you came when you did.”

“You’re shaking,” he said and led her to a nearby barrel. “Come sit down.”

“I just need to catch my breath… I’m a little dizzy…”

Frodo pulled out a flask from his trousers and unstoppered it to offer Carantaliel a sip, “Here… drink a little of this.”

The she-elf barely put the flask to her lips and came away gasping. “Elbereth! What is that?”

Grinning, the halfling put the small bottle briefly to his own lips. “Silith,” he answered, hardly effected by the liquor at all. “I thought this might be called for after an encounter with Lord Figwit.”

“Silith,” Carantaliel repeated the unfamiliar word. “Moon Shine? I’ve never heard of it before…”

“An excellent spirit,” he offered it to her again, but she shook her head. “I got it from a Shieldmaiden of Rohan.”

“Another concoction of Lady Gliowien’s?” she asked.

“No, this was from Lady Saelind, a healer of great skill though she be human. I believe she might have had some special training with your kin.”

“Just how many of these Shieldmaidens are there? And how many have given you gifts?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Jealous, melethnín?” he grinned.

“Should I be?”

Frodo laughed, “Well, I cut a rather pathetic swath among them, I’m afraid. The Pounce are warm, compassionate women and they were wont to take care of me.”

“I’m beginning to see a pattern forming, I think,” she smiled up at him.

Tenderly he pushed a damp tendril away from her face, “No one takes care of me as well as you do, Cara.”

“You two have a habit of wandering off alone when others are looking for you,” spoke Gandalf as he appeared at the stable doors. He looked seemingly grim, but Frodo caught the amused twinkle in the wizard’s ice blue eyes. “By the look of Lord Figwit just now, I assume you have told him your news? How did he take it?”

Carantaliel sighed, “As well as can be expected I suppose. I cannot imagine why he should take it so hard…”

Suddenly the she-elf experienced a soft, fluttery feeling inside her. It was neither nausea nor hunger, but rather the quick sense of rushing wings under her heart that left her breathless.

Gandalf caught the brief startled look that crossed her face, but said nothing as Carantaliel quickly covered it when Frodo said, “Figwit had spoken of your union to me on my first day here as all but inevitable. It does not surprise me that he finds your refusal so hard to believe.”

“There is no turning back now,” Carantaliel replied, glancing up at the wizard, “even if I would choose to…” then turned back to smile at Frodo, “which, of course, I do not. Mithrandir, you said someone was looking for us again?”

“Indeed, my dear,” he confirmed. “Thorondil is restless and no one seems able to comfort him. It is hoped that he may respond to you both.”

The pair readily agreed to go back down to the beach to check on the wounded eagle. Gandalf accompanied them and watched while they worked to comfort the beast.

As midday came and went, Thorondil finally relaxed and fell into uneasy slumber once again. Frodo had sat against the eagle’s massive shoulder and dozed off himself, but Carantaliel paced anxiously as she continued to murmur her healing prayers.

The wizard was concerned about the eagle, but it was Carantaliel who he watched closest. A thought had come to him in the stables and it continued to occupy him while on the beach.

“Dear girl,” he spoke kindly to her at last, “you are wrung out. Thorondil sleeps and so should you.”

“I am uncommonly weary,” she agreed, “but I don’t want to leave Frodo here alone with him.”

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Do not worry about Frodo, my dear. I will stay with him and with Thorondil for now.” Gandalf gave a sharp whistle and Shadowfax pricked up his ears. The meara had remained with the fallen eagle since he was removed from the water, wandering the beach nervously while others tended to the beast. Yet, he came readily at the wizard’s summons. “My friend,” he spoke to the great horse, “I see that you are feeling helpless, but there is something you may do. Will you not take the lady back to the palace? She has toiled day and night for our friend here and needs her rest.”

Shadowfax seemed to size Carantaliel up and down, for he did not suffer anyone else to ride him but Gandalf. The she-elf began to protest, but the horse whinnied at Gandalf, bowing his head deeply up and down.

“Hannon lle, herumin, ” she murmured gratefully to Shadowfax.

The Istari boosted her up onto the great beast’s back as he said, “Quel esta, Tarsulëwen .”

Carantaliel gave him a puzzled look, “You know?”

“Seek out the Lady soon, my dear,” he squeezed her hand affectionately. “Galadriel will know for certain.”

She said nothing more, only nodding once as she urged Shadowfax onward. The meara was soon gone with his precious passenger, but the wizard stood some time watching after them thoughtfully.


-end of Chapter Thirteen-

"Silith" is the creation of fellow bard & friend Saelind who graciously allowed me to mention it in my tale. Hannon lle, mellon nin!


Chapter 14 - Chapter Fourteen

Fimbelis was walking by a private dining room on her way back to her apartments after supper in the great hall. It was quite raucous and she heard bawdy singing coming from within. Curious, as she had heard such revelry so infrequently since before the whispers of evil in Mirkwood, the she-elf ducked her head briefly into the chamber.

Much to her surprise, there were no other females in the room. All the elves within were young lordlings drinking and gaming and singing loudly. Fimbelis had not met most of them, although she recognized Nandoril near the hearth debating a point heatedly with another elflord.

After finding Figwit’s friend there she looked for Figwit himself, for the pair was often seen together as not. Soon she found him at a table alone, apart from the rest of the party.

“What could have happened?” she wondered, for Figwit looked sour and sullen and was nursing a large pint of ale. Without thinking, she went to him and started, “Figwit…”

His head shot up and he hissed, “Fimbelis, what are you doing here? This is no place for you. Go back to your virtuous friend Cara and leave me be.”

“You speak as if virtue was a bad thing, my lord,” Fimbelis said with bewilderment.

“It has no place here, Fimbelis -- and neither do you. Now go…” was all he said and took a deep drink from his mug.

Stubbornly she dug in her heels and spoke up, “Do you think I am so easily dismissed, my lord?”

The sound of a raised female voice started to get the attention of some of the elflords who turned toward Figwit and Fimbelis and watched with interest.

Roughly he grabbed her arm and pulled her down onto the bench next to him, “Lower your voice. You’re causing a scene.”

“What is wrong with you, Figwit? You don’t even like ale…”

“It seemed the fastest way to oblivion,” he grumbled, taking another long pull of the liquor then grimacing in distaste.

Bewildered, she asked, “What are you talking about? Oblivion…?”

“Have you not spoken with Cara?” he sneered.

“No, she and Frodo have been with the eagle…”

“Frodo…” he harrumphed. “The pair of them have been up to more than just tending to that beast. Have you not heard the happy news then?”

“Will you stop being so mysterious and tell me what is going on?” Fimbelis asked impatiently.

“Cara and Frodo are betrothed,” Figwit said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Oh!” she started delightedly, but saw the dark look he threw at her and faltered. “You’re… you’re not happy for them?”

“Why should I be? That Halfling has thwarted all my plans…”

Fimbelis gave him a skeptical look, “Figwit, you didn’t seriously believe that Cara was going to marry you? Frodo had nothing to do with that. She refused you long before he came to Valinor.”

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled and returned to his ale.

“What has happened to you?” she lamented. “You were once gracious and kind and giving. Since I’ve come to Valinor all I see in you is bitterness and false pride.” The elfmaid stood and said angrily, “You are not the elflord I remembered from Rivendell. It was a mistake to come looking for you in Valinor!”

He shot to his feet as well and answered hotly, “Then don’t stay on my account! If I’m like this, you had a hand in making me so!”

Admitting her own fault she softened and said, “I regret that, Figwit. I’ve wanted to tell you that for so long, but you’ve been avoiding me. Will you not let me make it up to you now?”

Fimbelis looked up at him with compassion in her violet eyes and Figwit longed to be comforted after his many disappointments. Drawing her close, the elflord stooped to claim her lips urgently with his. Fimbelis responded eagerly at first, but as Figwit’s passion took over she became frightened and began to struggle in his crushing embrace.

“Don’t fight me, Fimbelis,” he murmured. Her raven hair felt like spun silk between his fingers and he absently wondered if the pale skin beneath her gown was just as smooth.

As his ardor grew, she whimpered, “Figwit… saes … let me go…”

Fimbelis continued to squirm and he finally grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, “What?!”

Seeing the feverish passion in his steely eyes the elfmaid slapped him hard across the cheek, rocking him back on his feet. The room got eerily quiet in the blow’s tense wake and Figwit remained stunned, not quite understanding what had just happened.

Suddenly the room erupted with laughter and conversation once again, but Fimbelis and Figwit still stood like statues staring at one another.

One giant tear rolled down Fimbelis’ pale cheek and she whispered, “I would have offered you my heart, Figwit. If you have closed yours off, it’s no wonder that Cara refused you…”

She turned to go and he grabbed her hand desperately, “Fimbelis, wait! I’m sorry… I…”

Shrugging off his touch Fimbelis said, “Sober up and consider what you truly want, Figwit. Then perhaps we might have something to talk about…” and then fled the chamber.

Nandoril approached his friend and put a hand on his shoulder, “Forget her, mellon nin. She’s not worth the effort…”

“What do you know about it, Nandoril?” he shot back angrily. “Go back to your ale and leave me alone!”

What had he done? And what had he become? He had never before forced himself on any elfmaid, let alone two in one day. How had he come to this end? Figwit had sobered the instant Fimbelis struck him and he realized that he indeed had much to consider.


The following week had the palace in a flurry of activity. Preparations were underway for the grand celebration and Bilbo was enjoying ordering everyone about with his numerous directions. Frodo stayed largely out of the way, only entering into the planning stages when his kinsman ordered him to show up for a fitting for new clothes. The younger hobbit endured the poking and prodding by the tailors as graciously as he could, but was very glad to return to work at the glade when finished.

Frodo also spent some of his day down at the beach with Thorondil. There was really very little for him to do at this juncture, but as it afforded him the only private time with his betrothed he did what he could for the eagle, even if it was merely companionship.

Carantaliel continued to minister to the great beast on a daily basis as well, and she was rewarded with signs of slow improvement from Thorondil. Near the end of the week, the eagle was able to get to his feet and spread his wings. However, his voice was still slow to heal and he could not speak no matter how hard he tried. This seemed to frustrate Thorondil, but Carantaliel was quick to soothe him and patiently reminded him that rest was the only path toward healing.

Fimbelis, at Galadriel’s request, waited upon Carantaliel when needed and therefore stuck pretty close to her friend. Figwit, on the other hand, was seen rarely if at all during that preparation week, and while it was noted by several in the palace, no one made mention of his absence.


-end of Chapter Fourteen-

saes - please


Chapter 15 - Chapter Fifteen

On the day of the celebration, Frodo spent the morning at the hobbit hole, now called Elvenwood, finishing up the last minute touches before the guests began to arrive.

As he was adjusting the flowers on the head table more to his liking, he saw Figwit walking thoughtfully into the glade.

Wondering what the elflord could possibly want with him on such a day, Frodo steeled his resolve, ready for the unexpected, though he greeted Figwit cordially, “Mae govannen, herumin.”

“Hannon lle, Frodo,” he replied.

“What may I do for you?”

Figwit took his time answering. “I’m not entirely certain of that, my friend,” he replied. “I started out on a walk and ended up here without even thinking.” He paused for a long moment then added, “I owe you an apology – several apologies when it comes to it.” Frodo raised an astonished eyebrow. “I’ve treated you coldly and spoken ill of you to others when you’ve only shown me kindness and respect. That is uncommonly gracious of you and you have never deserved my contempt.”

“You know, my lord, that it was never my intention to take Cara away from you,” Frodo said.

The elflord nodded slowly. “As Cara so often reminded me,” he replied with a rueful smile, “she was never really mine to take, Frodo.

“Cara did not like having to be so cold to you.”

“I gave her little choice, I know.” Figwit offered his hand to Frodo and said, “Do you think perhaps we could start over? I would much rather be your friend than your enemy…”

Eagerly the hobbit took his hand and shook it warmly, “Of course! And it’s noble of you to offer, my friend. I hope you too can find happiness here in Valinor.”

“Perhaps now that I’ve come to my senses I will, my friend…”

Both the hobbit and the elf suddenly felt the forest grow cold around them and they looked around warily. “What is that?” asked Frodo.

Figwit closed his eyes and opened his senses to their surroundings, but just as quickly as they felt it, the sensation was gone. “I could not tell… it felt…” He looked gravely at Frodo, “It did not feel good, my friend.”

“It’s gone now,” said the hobbit.

“Yes,” agreed Figwit after he searched a few moments longer. “Have you ever felt that here before?”

Frodo shook his head. “No… not here…” Strangely he had a brief vision of Gollum, but that creature was long dead. Why think of him now after so many weeks?

“But somewhere?”

“It doesn’t matter, Figwit.” Standing up straighter, Frodo took a deep breath and said with a happy smile, “Today is my wedding day and nothing is going to spoil it. Let’s not say anything to Cara, all right?”

“As you wish, my friend,” he agreed.

“What are you doing standing around, boy? Why aren’t you dressed?” shouted Bilbo breathlessly as he hurried up the path to Elvenwood.

“I’m waiting for you, Bilbo, to bring my clothes,” laughed Frodo at the sight of his kinsman laden down with a neat stack of clothing.

“Sticklebats, boy! Do I have to take care of everything?!” He shoved the clothes at Frodo. “You’ve been rearranging things, haven’t you?”

Frodo threw Figwit an amused look, “I’d better get inside and change before he decides he has to do that for me as well!”

Briefly the halfling glanced back into the forest and the elflord put a reassuring hand on Frodo’s shoulder, “I think I’ll remain awhile in case Bilbo needs someone to order around.”

“Hannon lle, mellon nin!” laughed Frodo.

Shaking off his uneasiness he headed toward his cozy hobbit hole while Figwit lent his services to the older hobbit in the glade. Still, the air was filled with a subtle sense of unrest that neither could completely banish from their thoughts.


Carantaliel also felt uneasy as she finished dressing in her chambers at the palace. Around her, most of her belongings had been packed to transport to the hobbit hole in Elvenwood. Yet, it was neither the move to the glade after living so many years at Enedvása nor even the ceremony to come that had the Elven princess edgy.

“Are you feeling all right, child?” asked Galadriel tenderly as she lightly placed a crown of blush roses on Carantaliel’s rose-gold head. “You have time to lie down for a few moments…”

“It’s not that, my lady,” replied Carantaliel as she gazed up into her great-grandmother’s infinite eyes. “You are frightened.”

“Nai!” she answered breathlessly.

Gravely Galadriel asked, “Why should you be frightened at a time like this?”

The younger elf said earnestly, “I am not frightened to bind myself to Frodo. Of him I am sure.” Her gaze dropped and her voice faltered as she continued, “Yet, it is the depth of my love for him that has made me anxious. I did not feel this for Tellonnion.”

Sensing the reason for Carantaliel’s disquiet the Lady of Light said, “Then it is fortunate that you did not make your union permanent. You may marry Frodo with a clear conscience, melethnín.”

“But what if Tellonnion comes back and tries to claim me?” she asked, barely masking the terror in her whispered voice.

Galadriel wanted nothing more than to reassure her that such a thing was not possible, but deep down she knew that trouble was brewing in Valinor. Carantaliel had sensed it as well, centering her fears on her old love. Elrond had the gift of foresight and it was not unlikely that his granddaughter might too have a prescient thought from time to time.

Instead she wiped the lone tear that dampened Carantaliel’s cheek and kissed her affectionately on the forehead. “This is not the day for such worries, child. Frodo awaits you in Elvenwood, and if I know nothing else in this world I know that he loves you. There is nothing or no one that will sway him, and whatever the obstacle he will strive as he has always done to overcome it.”

Carantaliel smiled through crystalline tears, “He has made me so happy, arwenamin! I never thought I would find joy like this again.”

“Then think on that today, Cara. There may be another time to worry over a lost love, but this is not the day. Be happy in your choice and I wish you all the joy you have been missing and more.”

“Hannon lle!” she said breathlessly and threw her arms around Galadriel. The great lady was somewhat taken aback by her great-granddaughter’s impetuous hug, but she returned it warmly.

Finally pulling away slightly, she again looked Carantaliel in the eye and asked, “Are you ready, Cara?”

“I am.”

Together they left the chamber to find Fimbelis waiting with other elfmaidens of Enedvása to escort them through the forest. Such a joyous occasion had not taken place at the Palace by the Sea in some time and the excitement was palpable as the company wound its way towards the glade of Elvenwood.

Little did they know that joy could not be sustained in the days to come.


-end of Chapter Fifteen-

arwenamin - my lady


Chapter 16 - Chapter Sixteen

Frodo waited under the great apple tree for Carantaliel and her escort to arrive. Guests had ranged themselves around the glade to watch the proceedings, but Gandalf stood with him under the tree, as did Bilbo. Figwit had remained nearby for support and the hobbit cast an envious glance at the elflord’s placid demeanor.

The wizard sensed his friend’s anxiety and put a calming hand on his shoulder, “Patience, my lad. She will be here soon…”

As if Gandalf’s words had called her, Frodo and the other guests heard happy music coming from down the lane. The maiden escort was singing a joyful canticle as they walked, so different from the sad laments he remembered accompanying the Elves on their way to the Gray Havens as they moved to depart from Middle-earth. The hobbit did not understand all the words and he realized the song must be in Quenya rather than the more common Sindaran that he was used to hearing. He did not bother to strain to translate. That the song had a happy sound to it was enough for him.

Nervously he tugged at his collar. The newly tailored clothes fit perfectly, but he still felt constricted. His pale blue damask waistcoat had been altered to fit him more closely rather than to hang loosely on a wasted frame as when he first arrived in Valinor. The dusty blue trousers and frock coat had both been lengthened to fit him as well. His shirt was pristine white linen and surprisingly soft and fluid. He had been delighted upon donning it to find that someone had embroidered delicate elanor flowers around the cuffs and collar. Due to the formality of the occasion, Frodo had added a dark blue silk cravat, which he was beginning to wish he had forgone. Again, he ran his finger around the tight collar.

At last the procession emerged from the sheltering trees. The ladies of the court came first, all arrayed in muted shades of sea and wood. They continued their blithe refrain as they gathered around the great tree and then Celebrían and Galadriel entered the glade.

Elrond’s lady looked calm and smiled, though Frodo thought she seemed somewhat wistful. He regretted that he still had not entirely won over Carantaliel’s grandmother. Yet, her torment at the hands of the orcs rivaled his own with the Ring. Perhaps it was her deep scars that kept her from feeling the joy of the day. She took a place next to Figwit while Galadriel moved to Frodo’s side. Quietly Fimbelis slipped in behind them bearing a draped item in her slender hands.

And then it was that Carantaliel was revealed, the Light of the Eldar shining brightly within her. Elrond walked solemnly beside his granddaughter, but with a pleasant smile gracing his noble face.

The Elven princess was dressed like the dawn, her raiment hinting at the pale rose of a morning horizon. A wreath of blush roses crowned her red-gold head like the rising of the sun and her clear blue eyes held the promise of a fair sky to come.

Those azure orbs saw only her beloved before her and the smile that lit Carantaliel’s face melted any last corner of despair in Frodo’s heart. Here in this lovely creature was his healing and his salvation. As long as Carantaliel’s love was his, Frodo had no need for dark thoughts.

As she took her place next to Frodo, Elrond placed Carantaliel’s hand in the hobbit’s and murmured, “May the Valar bless you, my friends.”

His granddaughter kissed his smooth cheek and Frodo offered his other hand, which the elflord clasped fervently in both his own.

Then Elrond stepped back a pace as Galadriel moved gracefully before the lovers.

“Rejoice, my friends,” she spoke to those gathered in the glade. “We have not had so much reason to be joyful in such a long span of years. Nor have two such as Carantaliel Tarsulëwen and Frodo Baggins had more reason to be happy than they do today.” Then the Lady of Light spoke directly to the pair, “Cara… Frodo… I know your feelings for one another are strong and unshakeable, but I must remind you that once you have spoken your intentions there is no turning back. You are no longer mortal, Frodo Baggins. If you say you would be wedded to Cara, then it is for now and for all the ages to follow.”

“I am prepared for that, my lady,” Frodo replied without qualm.

“As am I,” echoed Carantaliel.

Galadriel acknowledged their confirmation with a bow of her head then stepped back slightly as Elrond moved again before the couple, this time bearing the draped object he retrieved from Fimbelis. When he removed the veil, the hobbit discovered it was a delicate crystal plate upon which rested a single cake of lembas.

“Lembas…” Frodo sighed.

“Lembas, indeed, my friend,” replied Elrond, his deep resonant voice tinged with amusement, “but not like any lembas you’ve had before…”

The elflord held out the plate for all to see as he explained, “This Elven waybread was baked by Carantaliel herself, signifying that she is offering you sustenance on this journey you have asked her to take with you, Frodo. The ingredients, too, are symbolic. The flour represents plenty and the butter richness in life. The fragrance of the lavender baked into the bread speaks of the beauty of love’s first bloom, while the honey stands for the sweetness of love’s companionship. The lemon is a reminder of the bitterness that may grow when love is neglected.” No one but Galadriel noticed Elrond’s briefest of glances at Celebrían who was standing next to her mother. “All this and more may be in store for your union. Will you share the bread, and therefore this journey, with one another?”

Carantaliel picked up the cake and broke it in half then offered Frodo a bite. Her eyes were shining as she spoke, “Frodo, I would speak to you what is in my heart, but it is so full I hardly know where to begin. I have been sad and lonely for so long I did not remember what bliss was. You have given me hope that the future is not so bleak and empty as I imagined it, but that it holds the promise for much joy and richness. The Valar have brought us together, for what purpose I do not fully understand, but I am grateful to them nonetheless. Will you share this journey with me then?”

She held the bite of lembas to his lips, which he accepted. The bread smelled fragrant and tasted sweet, though with the barest hint of tang. Frodo chewed slowly to savor every crumb and when he swallowed, warmth filled his body. He felt strong and confident, and he loved Carantaliel more in that moment than he ever thought he could love another person.

Holding her gaze, Frodo picked up the other half of the cake and broke off another bite to offer to Carantaliel.

There was no hesitation as he spoke, “Cara, my heart too is filled with much I would say to you. I have lived my life in Middle-earth in a largely masculine world. My mother died when I was a child and I grew happily enough to adulthood with Bilbo. I had the love of many friends and they bore me up in my darkest hours. I was content. I had no thought of marrying at this stage of my life. Nor if I had even entertained it would I thought myself fit to be a spouse.” Frodo reached up to caress her cheek, “But then I met you… I realized that content does not necessarily mean happy. Contentment is a passive emotion and requires no active participation. True happiness is an emotion worth gaining, an opportunity to strive towards joy and goodness. You have made me want to attain happiness, melethnín. And I believe in your company, I may reach it. I too am grateful to the Valar for bringing us together. I have accepted your offer to take this journey. Will you now accept mine?”

Frodo then put the bite of lembas to Carantaliel’s lips and she received it, chewing it as slowly as he had. When she had swallowed, Carantaliel smiled brightly at him and Frodo thought the white-stoned pendant shone even brighter as well. He reached up to caress it and the stone seemed to hum with her life force.

Before Frodo could register his surprise, Gandalf put a hand on each of their shoulders and spoke in his ringing voice, “My Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel and all those worthies gathered here, Carantaliel and Frodo have accepted one another for this journey. We must help them on the road as best we can. Let no one unravel the knot of love which has bound them together!”

A joyful shout echoed within the glade as Frodo and Carantaliel sealed their pledge with a kiss. Apple blossoms rained down upon them like snow from the great tree above as the reveling began. Such rejoicing had not happened for an age and the merriment could be heard for miles.


The celebration was such a whirlwind of laughter, singing and feasting that Frodo barely registered half of what was happening in the glade. Many of the guests had not seen a hobbit hole and he spent a good deal of time taking them around his new home. There were more than a few surprised comments at how light and airy the dwelling was for being built into the hill, and only a few of the elves actually had to stoop through doorways.

Finally Belegcalion took over the tours and Frodo could return to his new bride. As he exited through the large round door painted a misty blue, the halfling felt that same odd, anxious sensation from earlier in the day. He caught Figwit’s eye across the glade and the elflord nodded slightly. They both stole a quick glance into the woods, but all seemed quiet.

Trying to shrug it off again, Frodo sought out Carantaliel who was speaking seriously with Gandalf.

“Mithrandir, I have had not opportunity to check on Thorondil today. Would you mind terribly going down to the beach before returning to Enedvása?” she asked with concern.

“I will be glad to, my dear,” he assured her. “I should have thought to do it myself.”

“Hannon lle, herumin,” she sighed with relief.

“Don’t give it another thought!”

Carantaliel reached up to salute his weathered cheek with a kiss, which pleased Gandalf a great deal. As she stepped back, however, she saw Lord Figwit heading their way and she was suddenly tense.

Frodo put a calm hand on her shoulder and said, “You have nothing to fear from Figwit, melethnín. I think you should hear him out.”

She did not quite know what to think at his words, but she trusted Frodo and tried to relax as the elflord came upon them. “Mellon nin,” he grinned at Frodo and offered his hand, which the hobbit heartily shook, “Congratulations!”

“Hannon lle, herumin! Hannon lle…” Frodo grinned back easily. Carantaliel was mystified by this display.

Figwit then turned to her and bowed deeply, “Arwenamin … I owe you a profound apology. I would not blame you if chose not to forgive me.”

“Herumin?” she was bewildered by his humility.

“My pride got in the way of both your happiness and my own, truth be told. Though I hold you in the greatest respect, arwenamin, you were right… I do not love you. Those feelings are reserved for another, and have been for some time…” Wistfully Figwit looked in the direction of Fimbelis who was attending Celebrían at a table set up under the apple tree.

“She loves you, herumin,” Carantaliel said earnestly.

He nodded slowly, “Perhaps… but I have treated her ill. Worse than she ever did to me. I still have much for which to atone.”

“If you apologize as sincerely to her as you just did to me then I don’t see why you cannot be back on the road to reconciliation, Figwit,” she assured him.

“Then you forgive me?” he asked hopefully.

“If you will forgive me my churlishness too,” Carantaliel replied. “I did not treat you very well in return.”

Figwit shook his head, “It was well-deserved, but no matter, Cara. Let us forgive one another and be friends.”

Her smile lit up the dusky evening, “I could not receive a better gift from you, mellon nin.”

“You are a gracious lady, Cara,” he kissed her hand. “I am sincere, too, when I say that I wish all the happiness for the ages for you and Frodo.”

Carantaliel squeezed his hand warmly and Figwit bowed to them both and took his leave to seek out Fimbelis.

“That was well done, my girl,” said Gandalf.

“I know how hard it was for Figwit to swallow his pride,” she answered. “I never wanted to be at odds with him. He’s been a devoted and loyal friend to my family for many years. I wish him the best and hope that he and Fimbelis may find their way back to one another soon.”

“I feel sure that they will,” said Frodo.


They were soon caught up again in the reveling, but the groom was beginning to weary of the festivities. “You look tired, Frodo,” murmured Carantaliel as she handed him a pint of good Elvish ale.

He took a tentative sip and licked his lips appreciatively. “It’s been a busy week,” he sighed. After taking a long pull from his tankard the hobbit added, “To be quite honest, I’m ready for our guests to head back to Enedvása so I can have you all to myself.”

“I like that sound of that,” Carantaliel grinned playfully in the moonlight. “You know…” she fingered his cravat, “the party could go on for hours. I don’t think anyone will miss us if we slip away…”

Frodo’s answer required no words as he grabbed her hand and led her through the round blue door. Belegcalion raised an eyebrow at them as they passed through the entry, and his halfling friend put a quiet finger to his lips as he mounted the stairs with his new bride in tow. The architect attempted to look unperturbed as Carantaliel let a quiet giggle escape and in a moment they were gone. It took the elflord only a few moments to clear the home of any touring stragglers.

“Nalmet er vedui!” he sighed lustily as he shut the bedroom door behind them.

Frodo quickly found himself on his back as Carantaliel urged him onto the soft bed saying, “Eglerio Valar!”

His new wife’s eager lips required only one response from his own.


-end of Chapter Sixteen-

"Nalmet er vedui!" -- We are alone (at) last!
"Eglerio Valar!" -- Praise (Glorify) the Valar!


Chapter 17 - Chapter Seventeen

Some hour or so before dawn, Frodo rolled on to his back and yawned luxuriously. Quite sated for the moment in body, mind and spirit, he spared a moment to think of his friends back home. He wondered what Merry, Pippin and especially Sam would think to see him married and happy at last. Briefly he felt disappointed that there was no way to share his good news with those he loved most in Middle-earth. Yet, the Valar worked in ways he did not understand. Perhaps there was a chance his companions would know nevertheless.

“You look pensive, melethnín,” he heard next to him.

Turning his head, he smiled at Carantaliel, “I thought you were asleep.”

“Dreaming perhaps,” she answered, “but not asleep. What were you thinking of just now?”

Frodo sighed, “My friends back home. You’ve made me so happy, Cara, but I have to admit I was missing them tonight.”

“I understand,” she murmured as she nestled into the crook of his arm. “Lord Elrond treats me as a daughter, but I missed my own father tonight.”

“Perhaps he will come one day…”

“Perhaps…” she agreed wistfully. Carantaliel was quiet for a long moment, somewhat reluctant to break the quiet mood between them. Finally, however, she said, “Speaking of fathers, Frodo… there is something…”

Before she could finish her thought, Frodo started and asked, “Did you hear that?”

Together they listened in the stillness of the predawn morning. Just as Frodo thought he had imagined the sound outside their home, there was a rustling noise in the glade.

“Is that the trees?” he asked.

She nodded, “They’re talking to one another.” Again they listened for a moment. “The language is old… older than I can understand…”

Sitting up, Frodo drew on his trousers and said, “I’ll go check it out…”

“Frodo, I don’t think you should…” Carantaliel said uncertainly.

Slipping on his shirt as well, he assured her with a brief kiss, “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it. I’m sure it’s nothing…”

“Frodo…”

“Stay here.”

Trusting him, the she-elf lay back on the bed, but she was still anxious as she listened to him make his way down the stairs. Minutes passed and she did not hear anything from below and she began to relax a little.

Looking around the room, Carantaliel smiled. Hobbit holes did not have second floors as a rule, but as Belegcalion made the suggestion, Frodo considered it and decided that it was a good improvement to the original design. Perhaps he was thinking of her when he agreed to it, for if she looked out the window she could just see the Sea. Carantaliel supposed that if the wind was right she might even be able to smell its salty tang from there, but with the apple tree in full bloom the headier scent of the flowers permeated the glade.

As she looked out the window, she noticed Frodo had hung his Elven sword Sting on the wall over a bureau. Frodo had told her that he had given the sword to Sam and never expected to see it again, until he opened his luggage upon arrival at Enedvása to find his friend had hidden it among his things when he was not looking.

Carantaliel smiled at the thought of Frodo wistfully shaking his head over his friend’s generous deceit when the sword suddenly caught her eye again. Alarmed, she sat bolt upright in the bed. Was it her imagination or was the blade faintly glowing blue?

Just as she reached for the bed linens to throw them back, the Elven princess heard anxious and angry shouting in the glade below her.

“Oh no!” she whispered fearfully. “Frodo, I’m coming…”


Cautiously, Frodo opened the front door to look out into the glade. The moon was full and its light shone brightly in the clearing. He scanned the lawn and the trees beyond, but all seemed quiet. No longer concerned, the hobbit stepped outside the door to gaze up in the sky.

Suddenly he heard an urgent voice, “Frodo, look out!”

An arrow sailed past him seeking some unknown target in the dense forest and Frodo wheeled around to find Figwit running at him from the shelter of trees near the lane to Elvenwood. His bow was at full draw to release another arrow.

“Figwit!? What is going on…” he asked bewildered.

“Someone’s here!” Figwit hissed. “Take cover, my friend!”

Another arrow sang from his bow and was instantly answered. Frodo heard a grunt from the elflord as it sliced Figwit’s upper arm. The bow dropped to the ground as Figwit’s arm fell uselessly at his side. Before the hobbit could run to his friend, he felt searing pain in his thigh and stumbled painfully to the ground. An arrow was embedded deeply in his leg, which was quickly growing numb.

“Who is it?!” he asked desperately as he tried to pull himself towards cover.

Figwit managed to run to his side as arrows continued to whiz past them and the pair limped towards the shelter of the apple tree.

“He has not revealed himself,” panted Figwit.

“What does he want?”

“Cara…”

Frodo struggled painfully to sit up, “What?!” He looked out towards the darkness of the woods, peering to see their assailant. “It’s Tellonnion…” he whispered. “It’s got to be…”

“No, Frodo,” Figwit shook his head. “Tellonnion is dead.”

“They never found his body, Figwit. Cara has been worried about this all along. She’s been dreaming of him.”

“But how…?” he began.

“There’s no time!” Frodo interrupted fiercely. “You’ve got to go for help!”

“I’m not leaving you here, Frodo! You’re no match for Tellonnion, if it is him…”

Frodo grabbed the elflord’s tunic front, “And neither are you with a wounded sword arm. You’re our only chance of getting help! You must go!” Still, Figwit was reluctant until Frodo roared, “Go!”

At last Figwit ran towards the lane and towards aid. Frodo watched him a moment then pulled himself to his feet with the help of the great tree.

“What do you want, Tellonnion!” When there was no immediate answer, he shouted, “Show yourself!”

Slowly a towering form emerged from the forest. He was still Elven, but a perverted image of one. Frodo could see that at one time, many centuries ago he had once been fair to look upon. Yet golden hair was now a damp and dirty blonde and the eyes that were fixed upon him so ferociously were a deadly cold gray. Grime and sweat covered his still well muscled body, but there was no longer any beauty in its form – only a brutish grace as he approached. Frodo thought he reminded him vaguely of the Uruks, but there was keen intelligence still in those cold eyes.

“Where is Carantaliel?” he growled.

“You’re too late,” replied Frodo proudly. “You no longer have any right to claim her… Tellonnion.”

Briefly passion flared in his eyes, “She’s mine!”

“Not anymore. You saw. You know.” He remained calm, “Cara and I were wed today and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“It’s a disgrace!” he roared, grabbing Frodo by the shirtfront. The hobbit felt Tellonnion’s putrid breath on his face, but refused to turn away from his icy gaze. “The Entwives can give you all the Entdraught they want to make you taller, runt, but your blood contaminates! Maybe I should just spill it now and be done with you!”

“You will not touch him again!” a ringing voice echoed in the glade and the creature felt the tip of a blade pressing into his side.

Whipping his head around Tellonnion discovered the Elven princess, alluringly disheveled in her hastily donned shift and tumbledown hair. Yet, her lovely face was set in a determined mask, her stance revealing she was ready for action.

“Come now, melethnín,” he tried to say sweetly, but the words sounded disgusting, “forsake this piece of filth and be at my side as you should be.”

Carantaliel shuddered at his words, but said firmly, “I could not forsake Frodo now, even if I wanted to – and let us be clear, I do not want to… Tellonnion.” To speak that name to this depraved creature was loathsome to her, but she recognized him the moment she set eyes on him. “I will tell you again… take your hands off of him.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, but she refused to back down and Tellonnion felt the blade pressing more firmly in his side. With a roar of rage, he turned back to Frodo with a forceful head-butt then tossed the stunned hobbit to the ground like a rag doll.

Frodo fought to stay conscious as he lay among the herbs near the great apple tree. It pained him that he was helpless to come to Carantaliel’s aid, but his leg was now numb and his vision swam as he tried to focus on what was happening between her and Tellonnion. He could still hear, however, and the clanging in the glade could only be steel on steel.

As Tellonnion released Frodo he felt the subtle shift in the air of a sword stroke falling and he drew his own sword to parry the blow. The two swords met with a singing clang and for a few moments that was all that could be heard in the moonlit clearing.

“You have not lost any of your finesse, melethnín,” he finally complimented.

She did not feel any pride at his words. “And you have spent far too much time in the company of Uruks and Orcs who can only hack at their opponents,” she insulted him.

Carantaliel knew she had to keep him off guard. The short-bladed Sting was no match for the ugly broadsword of Tellonnion. In other days, the pair had sparred for hours for pure enjoyment. Her father Elladan had taught her well, and she and Tellonnion had been evenly matched. What she had lacked in strength, she more than made up for in grace and agility. Yet, Frodo’s sword left her reach short of Tellonnion’s and at a decided disadvantage.

She looked at Tellonnion, at the careless way he was fighting. This was child’s-play to the once-proud elf, just as it had been back in Rivendell. For Carantaliel, this was a fight for her life – and for Frodo’s life. That did give her an advantage.

The insult stung Tellonnion worse than an actual wound, which angered him greatly. “You cannot win this fight, Cara,” he growled. “You will come with me, willing or no, but you will come!”

A protest died on her lips as Tellonnion lifted Frodo by his shirt and placed the edge of his blade at the halfling’s exposed throat.

Carantaliel had no doubt that Tellonnion would follow through with his threat. Throwing Sting well away from her, she ran to them and pushed Tellonnion heavily away from Frodo.

“Very well…” she sobbed, “just don’t hurt him…” Dropping to her knees, Carantaliel cradled her beloved in her arms. “Frodo…” she whispered tearfully. “I must go with Tellonnion.”

“No, Cara…” he moaned, still hanging on to consciousness, but his vision was starting to grow gray. “Help is on the way…”

“It will come too late. He will kill you first. I must go.”

“Don’t leave me…” he pleaded.

Savagely, Tellonnion grabbed her by the arm. “No more of this! Come, Cara!”

Desperately she kissed Frodo one last time, and as Tellonnion started to drag her away Carantaliel breathed to her husband, “Come for us, melethnín… saes… maruvamet tenna túluvaye…”

Helplessly Frodo could only watch as Carantaliel was torn from him. “Túluvan…” he murmured as the forest enveloped them and the gray turned finally to black.


-end of Chapter Seventeen-

Come for us, melethnín… saes… maruvamet tenna túluvaye…” -- Come for us, my love… please… we will wait (abide) until you come…

“Túluvan…” -- I will come...


Chapter 18 - Chapter Eighteen

Gandalf was dozing lightly as he sat watch on a large rock near Thorondil’s pavilion on the beach. Carantaliel’s instincts about the eagle’s disquiet were correct. The great bird was restless and struggled to speak with the wizard, but his voice was still too damaged for coherent speech.

Enlisting Shadowfax’s help, Gandalf finally calmed Thorondil enough that the beast could drop into an uneasy sleep near dawn. Both he and the meara took advantage of the quiet moment to rest as well, but that was short-lived.

A desperate, hoarse cry startled them out of their doze and Gandalf watched blearily as Thorondil launched himself into the sky with a great flap of his wings. The eagle called again as if beckoning them to follow and Shadowfax galloped to the wizard’s side with an impatient nudge to mount.

Shaking the sleepy cobwebs from his mind, Gandalf lost no more time and leapt to his friend’s back. He was hardly settled when the meara took off in the direction of the wounded eagle.


Wearily Figwit staggered through the forest towards Enedvása to raise the alarm. How could this have happened? Could there really be evil in the Blessed Realm? How was Frodo going to take on whoever was hiding in the forest, wounded as he was? The elflord did not want to believe it was really Tellonnion. He had died and would return to Valinor someday in the Valars’ time. The alternative would be that he was alive all this time and living in the dungeons of the Dark Lord. If that was the case…

“It does not bear thinking about,” Figwit shook his head, staggering a little on a rock in the path. He grunted at the pain in his side and lifted his hand to the wound. He had not bothered to tell Frodo that another arrow had pierced his side at the beginning of the fight.

Suddenly he heard pounding hooves ahead of him on the path and he stepped into the shadows to see who it was.

Relief greeted him in the form of Gandalf on Shadowfax and he shouted, “Mithrandir! Stop!”

The meara chafed at the delay, but stopped in front of the elflord nevertheless at Gandalf’s behest.

“Figwit! What has happened?” the wizard asked tersely, seeing that he was wounded and winded.

“An attack!” he panted. “At Elvenwood… Frodo is wounded…”

Gandalf sent his sight ahead, but saw nothing stirring in the glade. “And Carantaliel?” he asked.

“She was still inside when I left,” he reported, “but knowing her as I do, the noise will have drawn her outside.”

Reaching out a hand to Figwit, Gandalf said, “Come! We have no time to lose! We may already be too late!”


As Shadowfax charged into the clearing bearing Gandalf and Figwit, Thorondil was wheeling fretfully above the trees as if marking the spot of his distress.

The wizard leapt to the ground shouting impatiently, “Yes, yes, Thorondil! I can hear you perfectly well! You’re going to bring all of Enedvása down here with that racket!” He scanned the broad lawn looking for Frodo and Carantaliel.

“Over here, Mithrandir!” shouted Figwit as he ran to the apple tree.

They found the hobbit near the great tree lying among the fragrant herbs Frodo had planted in the sunshine. He was unconscious, though Gandalf sensed he would soon be coming around. As he knelt at Frodo’s side, Elrond rode into the glade on Eärenya and the wizard beckoned to the elflord urgently.

“What has happened here?” Elrond asked, searching the glade wildly. “I heard Thorondil’s cry and came at once. Where is Cara?”

“There’s been no sign of her,” answered Figwit. “I’ll check the house…”

Frodo stirred, “She’s gone…” He struggled to sit up, but Gandalf pressed him back. “Tellonnion took her,” he added helplessly. “I’ve got to find her… I promised…”

He collapsed, slipping back into unconsciousness, and Gandalf took Frodo up in his arms. “Let’s get him inside, my lord,” he said to Elrond, “so you can look at his injuries. Figwit needs some attention as well…” he nodded at the younger elf.

“I can wait,” Figwit assured them. “They’re only grazes…"

As they moved towards the hobbit hole, Galadriel sailed towards them with Fimbelis struggling to keep up with the Lady.

Taking in the events with just one long glance, Galadriel spoke, “Has Tellonnion taken her then? It is what she feared.”

“So it seems,” responded Elrond gravely. “Come let us see to Frodo…”


While Gandalf and the elder elves settled the hobbit on a divan before the fire, Fimbelis steered Figwit into the next room and forced him to sit at the kitchen table.

“I don’t care if you think they are nothing, my lord,” she said. “These ‘grazes,’ as you call them, need to be seen to. Now hold still…”

Figwit bit back a hasty retort, as she was only being kind to him. He deserved less compassion from her, but he was grateful that she at least felt some tenderness for him.

“Hannon lle, arwenamin ,” he murmured finally.

Her answer was a soft smile as she bent to clean the wound in his side. A low moan from the front room caught his attention and Figwit tried to get up to see what was going on in the other room.

“Herumin… ” she pulled him gently to his seat. “I’m not finished.”

Chafing at his inability to help, he slammed a fist on the table and growled to himself, “It’s all my fault!”

“Your fault?” Fimbelis asked with surprise. “Why is it your fault? What were you doing here anyway, my lord?”

“I should not have left her…”

“Were you spying on Frodo and Cara?” she gasped.

Indignantly he answered, “Certainly not! I know I have behaved badly, but I would hope that you wouldn’t think I’d stoop so low as that, Fimbelis!”

Evenly she replied, “After the way you have treated both Cara and me, what am I supposed to think, Figwit?”

Realizing she was right, Figwit’s shoulders sagged and he groaned, “Amin hiraetha… ”

“Then tell me why you were here.”

“I swear to you, Fimbelis,” he said fervently, “I did not stay to spy on them. I’ve spoken to both Frodo and Cara, and have made amends. In fact, it was when I was talking to Frodo earlier today that we both felt an unwholesomeness lurking in the forest. Frodo tried to shrug it off, but I know that it bothered him. I sensed it more than once later, and I believed that if I could do nothing else for them I could at least try to protect them until more could be discovered.” He bowed his head ruefully, “I had not bargained on it being Tellonnion…”


Vaguely Frodo heard all that went on around him and knew that his friends were caring for him. He wanted to roar not at the pain in his leg or the pounding in his head, but at his supreme frustration to find himself in a weakened condition once again. Just when Carantaliel needed him most, he was in no position to help her.

He thought back on her last words to him: “Maruvamet tenna túluvaye…” she had murmured. We will wait until you come. We? What did she mean by ‘we?’ Certainly she was not talking of Tellonnion?

Suddenly, he felt cruel pain again as his leg awoke when Tellonnion’s vicious arrow was removed. Spent, Frodo merely moaned and drifted somewhere between consciousness and oblivion.

In that space between waking and sleeping the hobbit dreamed deliriously:

Frodo was standing in the forest. Again, he was not in the glade but in Carantaliel’s sanctuary. It was deserted and dim. The Elven starlight that had illuminated it before no longer cast its gentle radiance. Only a bare smoldering glow flickering ominously with shadow now remained.

The graceful statuary ringing the clearing was veiled by the gloom, but the small fountain in the center pulsed with light and Frodo was drawn to it. Approaching the rim of the basin, he watched as the water within shimmered, making tiny ripples to obscure the mirrored reflection.

Gradually an image began to take shape. Frodo gasped in wonder to see Carantaliel gazing back at him, her sea blue eyes pleading to him, begging some unknown question.

“Cara… What is it? Tell me please!” he implored desperately. “I don’t understand…”

The water stirred slightly and she seemed to look over his shoulder. Frodo turned to follow her gaze and to his astonishment the statue behind him was bathed in brilliant light. He recognized it instantly, for Carantaliel had shown it to him before – and had shown him the relic it bore.

“Tarfinion…” he breathed and moved hesitantly towards it.

The sword itself began to glow, rather like Sting, with a blue luminescence. Warily he scanned the forest, but the dimness veiled all that was outside the ring of statues.

Once again he approached the sword, but as the reached out to touch it a strange whispering in the trees startled him. Frodo paused to listen, for they seemed to be talking excitedly. Frodo was not sure he liked this place.

“Frodo Baggins…” he heard and whirled back to the basin. “Frodo… come to me…” it continued.

“Cara?” the hobbit ran back to look into the water, but the image shimmered to reveal a small pinpoint of light, rather like a star in the middle of the bowl.

As he gazed in vain for Carantaliel’s face to return to the water, the star grew in intensity as it repeated, “Frodo… come to me…”

Soon the light grew too dazzling and Frodo put a hand before his eyes to reduce the glare, though he would not give up looking for his beloved’s face in the small pool. “Cara! Where are you? I want to come to you, but I don’t know where to look…”

Suddenly the growing star exploded in a blaze of searing, white light. Staggering back, Frodo realized that it reminded him of the white gemstone necklace he had given Carantaliel. It had glowed whitely when he touched it. If he could just touch it again…

Frodo woke with a start. The room was dark, the embers in the nearby fireplace glowing grudgingly. He was alone, but he heard quiet voices murmuring in the next room.

Unsure of how he ended up on the divan in his living room, he started to sit up to call to Carantaliel. A stabbing pain coursed through his leg and the events of the night came back to him in a flash of despair.

“Cara…” he whispered tearfully. Then just as immediately, he remembered his recent dream. “The sanctuary… she called me there…”

Again the voices in the kitchen caught his attention: Gandalf, Elrond and Figwit… even Galadriel and Fimbelis! How did they all come to be at Elvenwood? Too many to tell of his dream. It was deeply personal and she had called to him alone. Frodo needed to go to her…

Somehow the injured hobbit made it out the door without stumbling and creating a racket. His progress across the glade was slow and excruciating, but he was determined to make it to Carantaliel’s sanctuary.

Pausing at the great apple tree, Frodo leaned heavily upon it to catch his breath. His leg was going numb again, but he took a deep breath and soldiered on into the woods.


-end of Chapter Eighteen-


Chapter 19 - Chapter Nineteen

Wearily Gandalf stood and sighed heavily, “Well, it’s no use to continue speculating on what happened until Frodo awakens. One of us should check on him.”

“Keep your seat, Mithrandir,” said Fimbelis kindly as she nimbly headed towards the other room. “I will check on Frodo…"

Abruptly the elfmaid stopped in her tracks with a gasp and the wizard asked sharply, “What is it, my girl?”

“He’s gone!”

They were all silent in disbelief for a long moment then suddenly they were moved to action, rushing to the front room to join her. Elrond was the first to notice the open door and he pulled it wider to step outside into the pale dawn.

The others followed him, all looking for signs of Frodo’s passage outdoors as it was the only logical explanation.

At the stream Gandalf saw that Shadowfax was waiting patiently where he left him, and Thorondil too had remained at the glade. His golden eyes whirled with anxiety as the wizard approached, but the meara abided calmly.

“Shadowfax,” called Gandalf as he approached his friend, “Frodo is missing. Has he come this way somehow?”

The horse answered him in the affirmative and related to the Istari all that had transpired. When Gandalf returned to his Elven friends, he looked both puzzled and amazed.

“What is it, Mithrandir?” asked Figwit. “Has something happened to Frodo?”

“He is apparently in good hands,” replied the wizard. “Shadowfax and Thorondil saw Frodo leave the house and head towards the forest.”

“They did not stop him?” said Galadriel, more statement than question.

He nodded slightly, “Such was their intent, but…” Here Gandalf grinned. “The Entwife told them to let be and she would look after Frodo.”

Sharply they all turned towards the great apple tree to find that it was missing as well. “An Entwife…” murmured Elrond. “Here all this time?”

“So it would seem,” answered Gandalf. “We have been told to wait here for now.”


Frodo staggered through the forest looking for Carantaliel’s sanctuary. He knew it was not far from Elvenwood, but was not at all certain in which direction to go to find it. Confused and in great pain, he faltered, stumbling to the ground and weeping bitter tears.

“I’m coming, Cara…” he cried as he struggled to crawl onward, but his stamina deserted him.

Collapsing, the hobbit would have given in to despair but for a voice that whispered overhead, “Frodo Baggins, you must not give up hope.”

He stirred at the voice and looked up weakly. “Who said that?” he asked.

Gracefully the limb of an enormous apple tree reached down to gather Frodo in her branches and he then recognized the creature as the great tree he knew from his own glade.

At his look of amazement, the Entwife said with amusement in her voice, “You may well look surprised, my young friend. I have not indulged in conversation with Elf or Man in more years than I can remember – and that is saying quite a lot!”

“You’re an Entwife!” he marveled. “It was thought you were lost.”

Her voice sounded like the rush of breeze through the leaves as she answered breathlessly, “You may call me Aldananeth . The tale of the Entwives is long, Frodo Baggins, and now is not the time for it. Suffice to say that after the Destruction some of us were blessed by the Valar and brought here to stay.”

“But the Ents… they’ve been looking for you all this time.”

Frodo would swear the amber of her eyes glistened with tears. “When they had nothing better to do, I suppose,” she answered ruefully.

“You’ve been missed,” he assured her earnestly, though his voice was weary with sorrow.

Slowly, the Entwife picked up one of her giant legs to move forward, “Nevermind that now, I’m afraid. I will take you where you need to go, my young friend. There is someone waiting for you who is anxious to meet you at last.”


Frodo trusted Aldananeth and let himself relax as well he could while she bore him through the forest. At some point he must have drifted off for suddenly he realized he was lying in the middle of the sanctuary and the Entwife was gone.

“Aldananeth?” he called uncertainly as he struggled to sit.

Her voice was on the breeze, though she did not show herself to him, “Rest, Frodo, and drink what I have brought you. It will strengthen you while you wait. She will come to you soon, little friend.”

Next to him on the ground, the hobbit found a familiar earthenware jug and drinking vessel. Looking around the clearing in wonder he said, “Thank you!” and drank thirstily.

Instantly the ache in his leg eased and he could take a deep breath. As always Frodo finished all the water that was left for him and felt much better for it.

Soon, however, Frodo began to feel he was no longer alone and he looked up to see a warm light pulsing in the cool dark of the deep woods.

For a moment he wondered if he was dreaming again and blinked hard to see if the light would disappear, yet rather than go away it glowed brighter and began to take shape. As it advanced towards him Frodo recoiled, slightly uncertain of what to expect.

“Ú-gosta , Frodo,” spoke a warm, mellow voice as the form of a woman stepped into the sanctuary.

She smiled reassuringly, revealing an earthy beauty that was undeniable. Long silken hair the color of rich soil streamed thickly behind her and Frodo looked into her deep amber eyes to read comfort and ancient serenity. Gowned in forest shades of green, the hobbit sensed who she must be and marveled at this miracle.

“Yavanna…” he breathed.

Leaning down over him, the Ainu softly stroked Frodo’s cheek then trailed her slender fingers down his injured leg. Yavanna covered the wound with her hand and he felt a warm glow for the briefest of instants. Then she stood erect and offered the hobbit a hand to stand.

Wonderingly, Frodo got to his feet and he no longer felt any pain in his leg. With another reassuring smile, Yavanna drew him with her across the grassy expanse. Too much in awe of her, Frodo dared not speak all the questions that ran through his head and followed her trustingly.

As if to read his mind, the Ainu asked, “Have you no questions to ask of me, Frodo Baggins?”

She stopped before one of the statues and turned to face him as he replied, “Holy One, I have so many questions I do not know what to ask first.” Lovingly, she caressed his head and he added hastily, “But I should first thank you for healing my leg.”

“That was an easy enough task, little one,” she answered. “There is much you must do to set things right and you must be fit and able to endure the trials to come.”

“So you are here to help me find Cara?” asked Frodo desperately. “Will you be going with me to reclaim her from Tellonnion?”

For the first time her face took on a grave expression, “I am sorry, Frodo. I cannot go with you. I may be able to help you, but it is forbidden for me to interfere directly.”

“How can you help then, Holy One?”

Turning back to the statue, she lifted the sword Tarfinion from its resting-place and offered it to Frodo.

“Carantaliel Tarsulëwen offered you this sword when you pledged your love,” Yavanna said. “It is time for you to take it up and make it your own.”

He accepted the heavy weapon, but was doubtful in his abilities to wield it. “It is so big, Holy One,” he whispered. “How am I to use it?”

Again, Yavanna stretched out her hand and touched the sword. A golden light spread the length of the scabbarded blade and the halfling watched as it slowly shrunk to a manageable size.

“Tarfinion is yours now, Frodo Baggins,” she announced softly. “It will answer to no other.”

The weight of the sword now felt light and perfectly balanced for him, and Frodo drew Tarfinion eagerly from its leather scabbard. It sang brightly as it came free and the hobbit held it up with amazement. This blade was not the short Elven sword Sting, but a full-length sword attuned to his own strength and agility.

Sheathing the sword with swift deliberation, he said, “Thank you again, Holy One. Now what must I do?”

“You must hurry back to your friends and make ready to depart as soon as my olvar can tell Aldananeth where to look for the Tarsulëwen.” Frodo gave her a short nod and took a deep breath to head back into the forest, but she stopped him. “You must not waste any time once Aldananeth comes to you, Frodo. Carantaliel and the children are in great danger.”

Again, he nodded his understanding but then realized he could not have heard her correctly. “Children?” He wheeled back to her. “My children?”

“They are in the gravest peril,” she nodded solemnly.

His heart nearly stopped as he thought back on what Carantaliel had tried to tell him before the attack at the glade. “Speaking of fathers…” she had said. And “We” before Tellonnion had taken her away from him. “We will wait until you come…”

“I am in debt to you, Holy One. I will find Cara and rescue her – or die trying!”

-end of Chapter Nineteen-

Aldananeth -- Tree Mother
“Ú-gosta , Frodo” -- Fear not, Frodo


Chapter 20 - Chapter Twenty

Carantaliel stumbled behind her captor as he pulled her along through the forest. Tellonnion had set a grueling pace, which in other days the Elven princess would have eagerly matched. Yet, she had no wish to follow this creature now, and she had her children to think of…

“No…” Carantaliel told herself. “I mustn’t allow him to know about them. He will try to use them against me.”

“Are you tiring, melethnín?” Tellonnion sneered. “Shall we stop to catch our breath?”

“As you wish,” she answered proudly, not wishing him to see her weakness.

He was not fooled by her false bravado, “You are out of shape, Cara. What sort of activity have you pursued to keep you busy? Don’t tell my you have resorted to embroidery and baking to pass the time here in Valinor?”

“I would remind you that you roused me from my marriage bed, Tellonnion,” she replied icily. “I’ve had plenty of strenuous activity already this day.”

Her smugness incensed him. Pulling her violently closer, he growled, “Do not speak to me of that halfling-runt! You have given him what should have been mine to take!”

Carantaliel blinked slowly and she stepped back from him though his grip was painful on her forearm. “I was right not to give in to you so impetuously,” she answered evenly. “You were selfish then and that has grown into a rapaciousness that I can not fathom now.”

He approached her again, this time slowly and dangerously. “You did not seem to mind it at the time.”

“I was blind to your faults then,” she backed away, but he continued to advance on her. “I didn’t believe you capable of such evil.” He backed her up against a tree. “But I know better now.”

His eyes bored into her, taking in every feature hungrily. Carantaliel could no longer discern any definite color in what had once been a pair of sparkling blue eyes. They were now cold and dead. She tried to endure his leering stare, but felt too exposed. He might read too much in her and she finally looked away from him.

“Indeed,” he finally said smoothly. “And just what do you know, cormamin?”

She shuddered at the endearment, the word sounding profane coming from his repulsive mouth. How he had made it over the Sea to the Undying Lands in this depraved state was a mystery to her.

Swallowing hard the Elven princess steeled herself to look at him again. “I know what it is that you did. I’ve seen it. It is an unforgivable betrayal.”

Tellonnion looked disconcerted for a brief moment, but quickly recovered to say, “You saw nothing!”

“Not then, no,” she said quietly. “Nor even before I left for Valinor. I mourned your loss greatly…” Her smile was rueful and fleeting, “You would have been moved.”

As she again tried to move away from his closeness, he pressed nearer sniffing her body like a hungry predator. “Finish it, Cara. What do you think you saw?”

“Secret meetings… with orc-filth… bartering to abduct and then ransom off Celebrían to my grandfather. How could you?” The hurt in her eyes would have moved anyone else, but not a servant of the Dark Lord. “Celebrían trusted and respected you. And my mother… alas for Novannoniel! Surely she did not deserve her fate either, Tellonnion!”

The sinister creature was confounded at her words, “You cannot know all this! I made certain you were otherwise engaged!” His stare was threatening. “You are too curious. I knew you could ruin everything. How did you know?”

With all the calm she could muster, Carantaliel pushed him out of her face and answered, “You forget that Lord Elrond has the gift of foresight. A gift that has been occasionally accorded to me.”

“So Elrond knows all this as well?”

“If he does he did not tell me. Nor have I told anyone else,” she answered. “I thought it merely a nightmare, a manifestation of my grief for you. I understand now.”

“Do you?” he sneered as he roughly stroked the curve of her neck, following the chain of her pendant to the white gemstone resting uneasily on her breast. “Well, we’ll see about that. What’s this pretty thing, melethnín?”

When he touched the pearly stone, Carantaliel felt a wave of dizziness and she shuddered with revulsion. Quickly the Elven princess reclaimed it from him to clasp it tightly. “It was a gift from… from… the Evenstar!” she said lamely.

Finding a small chink in her armor, Tellonnion regained his composure and mocked, “The Evenstar, you say? Are you sure it isn’t from your stunted little excuse for a husband?” His prisoner was stonily silent, but he knew that he once again had the upper hand. “That’s all right, Cara. You can keep your little trinket… for now.” Coldly he pulled her away from the tree and announced, “Break time is over!”


Frodo paced the lawn anxiously as he awaited word from Aldananeth, his friends watching him with taut wonder. Since his mysterious return the hobbit seemed not only healed, but he was stronger and more confident than they had ever seen him. A heroic fire was kindled passionately in his azure eyes and they understood his search for Carantaliel was the urgent purpose that sparked this change.
Yet, they did not know all. Frodo remained largely silent about his plans. In truth he did not know exactly what those plans entailed, only that when the Entwife told him where he could find his beloved and her captor he would go after them.

He answered their questions about his disappearance with brief replies, omitting his conversation with Yavanna almost entirely. Frodo still rather wondered if it had all been a dream, except that his leg was healed and the sword Tarfinion was now strapped behind his slim shoulders.

Children… He knew now that Carantaliel had tried to tell him she was with child, but with children? Her father, Elladan, was a twin, which was rare in the Elven world. Yavanna had called her Carantaliel Tarsulëwen… the Morningstar. Was there a greater purpose in their joining than he understood?

Frankly, he did not care. Frodo was tired of being the pawn of Fate. All he really wanted was to have Carantaliel back and to be happy with her and watch their children grow in a land without worry. After all that he had been through… after all that he had done… was that too much to ask?

Angry, he stopped pacing and set his shoulders, willing Aldananeth to return with news of Carantaliel as he stared fiercely into the dense forest.

“Frodo,” said Gandalf patiently, “she will come when she comes. You should rest…”

“You don’t understand!” he growled helplessly. “Cara needs me… the children need me!”

The wizard did not seem surprised at his response, nor did Galadriel nor even Fimbelis. However, Elrond and Figwit both were startled by the revelation.

“Frodo,” entreated Elrond urgently. “Frodo, what are you talking about? Children?”

Galadriel answered, “What he says is true, my lord. Cara came to me some days ago to confirm her suspicions. She will bear twins… if Frodo is successful in reclaiming her from Tellonnion.” The elflady’s usual serenity was greatly disturbed, “I fear they are all in much peril until they can be found.”

With tightly wound composure, Frodo turned to Galadriel and said, “My lady, I am determined to find them. Is there anything you can do to help me now?”

Suddenly the hobbit staggered and shuddered with revulsion. Frodo kept his feet, though Figwit reached out to steady him. “What’s wrong, mellon nin?” the elflord asked.

“I’m all right,” Frodo answered and gently shrugged off his grasp. “The feeling has passed.” He thought hard a moment, trying to discern what had just happened. Finally he said, “He touched her… I felt it. She was repulsed by him. How did this happen? How could someone she loved so much turn into such a vile creature?”

Compassionately, Galadriel replied, “Frodo, you must know the answer to that question better than any of us. The thirst for power is a wicked corrupter, and there are other evils in the world besides the One Ring to stimulate that thirst.”

He understood instantly, but refused to dwell on the agonies of the past. It was his future that concerned him now. “I will not wait any longer,” he stated. “Perhaps I will meet Aldananeth along the way.”

“I will go with you, mellon nin,” announced Figwit. Frodo started to shake his head in protest, but the elflord stayed him. “I may be a courtier, but I did not live in the valley of Rivendell without good purpose. I have learned woodcraft in my long years and I will not let you wander the unknown forest alone.”

“Very well,” answered Frodo, seeing the prudence in his friend’s argument. “But understand this… Tellonnion is mine!”

As Figwit acknowledged this statement with a grave nod, Elrond sighed deeply. “I am going too.”

They all looked at him with astonishment and Frodo said, “My lord, this is unnecessary…”

“I must go!” the elflord’s voice suddenly throbbed with barely reined in passion. “My own children are lost to me, Frodo! Arwen can no longer take the ship to Valinor, and my sons… the likelihood of my sons sailing into the West now grows dimmer with each passing year. Cara is the closest thing to a daughter that I have left! Would you deny me this chance to save her from this doom?”

Frodo was taken back by the wrath of his plea. Again he could not argue with Elrond’s demand and gave him grim nod. Then with an eyebrow raised in question, the hobbit turned to Gandalf.

“Well, you don’t think you’re going to leave me behind, do you?” the wizard asked.

Unable to help from smiling just a little, Frodo replied, “All right, all right. I can see I’m outnumbered. My lady,” he turned to Galadriel, “what about you and Fimbelis? Will you be joining us as well?”

Galadriel smiled briefly, “No, Frodo. I can see you have all the companions you need for now. To answer your earlier question of me, I do not know what I may do to help you at present. However, know this. When that opportunity arrives, I will be with you as surely as if I were at your side.” Lightly she touched his cheek then saluted it with a soft kiss. “There is still hope, mellon nin.”

Blinking back tears, he whispered, “Thank you for that. Tenna telwan, arwenamin .”

“Tenna san , Frodo Baggins,” she replied.

Fimbelis stood by, looking rather forlorn and helpless, and Frodo went to her, “Fimbelis, I would ask you a favor before I go.”

“Anything, Frodo!” she replied, happy that she might do something to help.

“Bilbo has no idea of what has gone on here tonight,” he said. “Would you go to him and explain where I have gone? He will be angry that I left with no word, but it can’t be helped. There is no time…”

“I will take care of it, Frodo. And I will be his companion until you return, never fear.”

“You are a sweet friend, Fimbelis. Thank you.”

Having regained some measure of composure once again, Elrond turned to Galadriel and said, “Celebrían will need to be told as well. I have no idea what my wife will feel at my absence, but I would ask you to tell her that I go to find Cara as much for her as I do for myself. I want us to be a family again more now than ever.”

“I know, dear friend,” she murmured and kissed his lean cheek. “May the grace of the Valar watch over you all…”

In the meantime, Figwit drew Fimbelis aside for a brief moment.

“Fimbelis, I know I have much to do to make up for my boorishness, but would it be too much to ask for a kind word before I go? I do not know…”

More than a kind word, the elfmaid wrapped her arms around his proud neck and kissed him ardently. Figwit was quick to respond, drawing her closer into his embrace then holding her a long moment after she laid her head on his shoulder with a shuddering sigh.

“Come back to me, Figwit,” she whispered.

“Now that I know I have you to come back to, cormamin, I will not fail,” he answered.

The wizard had his own conversations to take care of as well, and spent some moments speaking with Shadowfax and Thorondil.

Finally, he returned to the group and said to Frodo, “Dear boy, Shadowfax says the time to go is now if we are not going to wait for Aldananeth. Soon it will be dark and that is no time to start such a journey.”

Adjusting Tarfinion more comfortably between his shoulders, Frodo then nodded briefly and said, “Then follow me.”


-end of Chapter Twenty-


Chapter 21 - Chapter Twenty-one

Tellonnion had led Carantaliel deep into a part of the forest to where she had never been. For while the she-elf had not traveled previously to Valimar or any of the other cities in the Undying Lands she had spent much time riding through the woods on Thaurrant. This area, however, was completely unfamiliar.

It was dark and close and completely silent. There were no animal sounds or even the whispering murmurs of trees overhead. Nor could she smell the Sea or anything else pleasant. It seemed a dead place.

But how was this possible in the Blessed Realm? And how did Tellonnion make it over the Sea in his corrupt state? Was his remaining Elven-ness and the presence of the great eagle Thorondil enough to keep him from being cast out of the Undying Lands?

He was gone for the moment, leaving her in uneasy peace while he went off to scout the perimeter. Naturally Tellonnion did not trust the Elven princess to stay put when he left and so fastened her securely to a limb on the makeshift flet that seemed to be his current lodgings.

Carantaliel was disgusted by the filth that surrounded her: unclean furs and utensils… picked over remains of food… depraved trophies of a life given over to darkness and greed…

She shuddered and moved closer to the tree, hoping to find comfort in its organic presence. It was cold and hard, but at least it did not repulse her. Warily Carantaliel drifted off into a troubled sleep.

Before her Carantaliel saw a young elfmaid sunning herself, dangling her bare feet in the white stream that gamboled merrily through the wide expanse of lawn. She recognized her younger self at a time when she lived with her mother Novannoniel in Lothlórien.

Fimbelis was long gone, having returned to her home in the Mirkwood as the current threat of Darkness was pushed back from their borders. This was a day impressed indelibly upon Carantaliel’s memory, but now ignorant bliss gave way to sinister knowledge.

As the elfmaid cooled her feet in the refreshing water, she was daydreaming and humming absently to herself, so she did not hear a party of elflords approach from behind her.

“Is that the daughter of an Elven warrior I see?” announced a merry voice. “Or is it an idle elfchild shirking her lessons?”

The elfmaid recognized the voice instantly.

“Ada!” she exclaimed and leapt to her feet with eager joy. “You’re home at last!”

She checked her enthusiasm, however, when she realized Elladan was in the company of several elflords she did not know. Hastily she gave them a respectful bow of her head.

“Well, I see that your manners at least are still intact, my dear,” teased her uncle Elrohir, who stood as always at his brother’s side. “Better come give your father a kiss, for it’s all he’s prattled on about since we crossed Nimrodel.”

Elladan grinned sheepishly, for his twin was only slightly embellishing the truth. He held out his arms to his daughter and the younger Carantaliel ebulliently ran into them. He held her a long moment and then kissed her forehead thoughtfully once he gave her an appraising look. “More beautiful than I even remembered,” he murmured. “You are a fair sight, cormamin, after the carnage of battle. The Valar have surely blessed you…”

The elfmaid blushed to hear her father speak of her beauty in front of these unfamiliar elflords.

“Ada…” she ducked her head.

Briefly he kissed her hand then released her to her uncle who also gave her a more formal kiss and hug.

Once that was done, Elrohir spoke, “My lords, let me introduce you to my niece… Carantaliel. My dear, this is Glorfindel and his kinsman Tellonnion.”

Trying not to gasp aloud, for the celebrated feats of Glorfindel were well known to her, the elfmaid curtsied deeply and said breathlessly, “Mae govannen!”

“Hannon lle, Carantaliel,” Glorfindel responded. “It is a delight to be greeted in such a pleasant way and by such a lovely maiden, is it not, Tellonnion?”

“Most delightful, cousin,” Tellonnion agreed amiably. With a gallant bow he caught the elfmaid’s hand and added, “I do hope to see you again, arwenamin…” And as she again blushed prettily, he drew her closer and whispered, “I hope you are not spoken for, Carantaliel.”

She could not bring herself to look up into his intense gaze and only breathed, “Laume, herumin.”

“Good,” he stated with a satisfied grin that the elfmaid was too distracted to notice.

Carantaliel watched as her younger self was overcome by Tellonnion’s virile and audacious manner. She had still been inexperienced in the ways of courtship when she met the elflord who was to be her first love and was quickly drawn in by his captivating personality.

As she watched the scene dispassionately now, as if her younger self was someone she did not even know, she saw the signs then that Tellonnion was not who he presented himself to be to others.

He was amiable and handsome and wore such a mask easily, but in unguarded moments Carantaliel saw a restless spirit behind those enchanting steel blue eyes. Restless and greedy, she realized now. Her meeting Tellonnion that day was more calculated than she realized at the time.

Had their love been an entire lie? It would seem so…

Hearing movement below, Carantaliel was instantly awake. Her distant blue-green eyes refocused to watch as Tellonnion easily negotiated the rope ladder to the flet. Shuddering with revulsion, the Elven princess steeled herself to submit to her captor’s vile presence once again.


Frodo and his companions did not continue their journey once night fell. As they plunged deeper into the forest, the evening sky was more obscured and the trail was too difficult to follow. Nor were the Elves properly provisioned.

The hobbit had taken the time to pack his gear while awaiting the return of Aldananeth to Elvenwood, but Figwit had only his Elven bow and Elrond, the graceful sword Hadhafang, which he had the forethought to seize before mounting Eärenya.

Stopping at a flet where they could stock up on supplies for their journey, the group paused in their desperate attempt to catch up to Tellonnion and his prisoner. Frodo chafed at the delay, but was practical enough to realize that wandering the dense woods in the dead of night was not going to get them anywhere but lost.

“Why not rest, Frodo?” asked Elrond gently as he gripped his halfling friend’s shoulder kindly. “You should take advantage of this time to sleep while you can.”

He spared the elflord only a brief glance then returned to staring out into the curtain of trees. “Perhaps I will try later, my friend,” he answered apathetically. “I don’t think I could sleep now even if I tried.”

Elrond grunted sympathetically and remained quiet for a long moment. Finally, though, he asked, “Is Tellonnion much changed then?”

“I cannot answer your question fully,” Frodo responded. “Not having met him before, I have nothing to compare him to. Yet, I cannot help but sense that this dark elflord allowed his baser instincts to rule him long before he was taken by the orcs.” Shaking his head in disbelief he added, “I would not have thought it possible for any elf to be so calculating and cold, but when I saw how he looked at Cara, I knew he never could have truly loved her. She is only a possession to him. A mere trophy. Something to bring him prestige or power.”

Lord Elrond’s brows furrowed deeply as he seemed to look beyond the trees into another age. The sigh he expelled emptied his entire being and Frodo watched the elflord with anxious curiosity.

“I’m remembering a day…” Elrond growled quietly. “Elladan and Elrohir were abroad, searching for an orc band rumored to be harassing the populace across the Bruinen. Glorfindel…did you know Tellonnion is his kinsman?” Wide-eyed with astonishment, the halfling shook his head. “I had asked Glorfindel to bear a message to Lórien, so Tellonnion was on his own.”

“Where was Cara? I thought they were inseparable?”

“I would not say that exactly,” he replied. “Now that I think back on it, he was more often in the company of my sons. And since Elladan encouraged Cara to ride, shoot and spar it was only natural that they were thrown together quite often.”

Frodo allowed himself a small smile as he recalled his mate’s brave stand against her former love. “That is a part of her that I had no knowledge of,” he mused. “It was quite an eye-opener…”

“She has a lot of her father in her, though it hasn’t been much in evidence,” the elflord revealed. “Cara’s wit and talent for mischief was well known in Imladris once…” he added, “but dark days and sorrow changed all that.”

Elrond’s grim statement brought Frodo back to the present and he asked, “What was it then that you were remembering about Tellonnion?”

“It’s nothing really…” his dignified friend shook his head. “Or so I thought at the time. Even now I may be making too much of it.”

“Go on, herumin,” urged Frodo. “I would hear what you are thinking.”

Again, Elrond’s forehead creased deeply with worry lines. “I had ridden with Glorfindel to the borders of Rivendell to see him off earlier in the morning and took my time returning to the Last Homely House. When I entered my private study unawares, I found Tellonnion there wandering among all my possessions.” Frodo raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. “It’s not that he was there. Or even that he was touching objects that do not belong to him. Who hasn’t caressed a particularly beautiful article that was fascinating? But it was the way he touched them, fondling them covetously. And then just before I made my presence known to him, he sat in my desk chair settling in the seat as if it was his own. I can still see him stroking the smooth wood of the chair arms and sitting up in it as if preparing to hand down some judgment.”

Appalled, the halfling asked, “What excuse did he give when you discovered him there?”

“Something glib to be sure,” he shrugged sedately. “Whatever it was I accepted, though I never quite trusted him after that. Cara loved him, however, and I had to trust in her instead.”

“It seems your instincts were correct,” said Frodo despondently. “What must you think of me now who cannot even defend her properly…”

“Goheno nín, mellon nin ,” Elrond murmured, contrite in his lack of faith in the hobbit. “Don’t think that I consider you any less than worthy, Frodo. You have proven time and again that you may be counted on. I was wrong to doubt you or the power of your love for my granddaughter. You will find Cara, and we’ll be at your back to help you reclaim her.”

“Hannon lle, herumin,” answered Frodo. “Ú-moe edhored .”

The hobbit and the elflord were then quiet for sometime, each alone with his own thoughts. Eventually Figwit called to them to eat a brief meal and Frodo was finally coaxed to an uneasy sleep while the wizard and the elves took turns keeping watch throughout the night. As soon as dawn broke through the thick canopy of leaves above their flet, they were back on their way.

-end of Chapter Twenty-one-

Ada – Daddy
Goheno nín, mellon nin – Forgive me, my friend
Ú-moe edhored – There is nothing to forgive


Chapter 22 - Chapter Twenty-two

In the dark gloom, Aldananeth held herself still and silent. Her travels in the forest had taken her unexpectedly far. The Entwife sensed the she-elf Carantaliel in the vicinity, but found herself held back by the malevolence of the trees in this shadowy place.

None of her sisters remained in this part of the forest. Too much evil lurked for comfort. Aldananeth had not felt this much foreboding since the days of the Destruction of the Entwives’ gardens in Middle-earth.

The change in the dense woods had happened quickly, seeming an instant in the count of long days of eternity. Why did she not hear of it sooner? Could nothing have been done to prevent the malignant spread?

She faulted herself to a great extent. Aldananeth had felt the unwholesomeness pervading the land. Yet, evil had long been banished from the shores of the Blessed Realm. How was she to believe it had returned? How could anyone? They had all become complacent.

Frodo must be told where to find Carantaliel, the mother of his children. She would wait out the night in hopes of providing the she-elf with some sort of reassurance if she could. Then Aldananeth would go in search of the Entwives.

The hobbit and his friends would need all the aid they could find.


Languishing in the blackest part of the night, Carantaliel struggled not to give in to despair. Still bound securely on the flet, she shifted to get more comfortable. Yet, she found that to be an exercise in futility.

For it was not the cramped position on the edge of the platform that kept her from comfort, but the pair of cold, dead eyes that watched her silently from across the expanse.

Carantaliel feigned not to be bothered by Tellonnion’s penetrating stare, but secretly it was beginning to unnerve her. She remembered how persuasive his gaze could be when he wanted something she was loath to give, and now she wished she could take it all back from him!

He had forced intimacy that she did not even realize he breached until it was already done. At the time Tellonnion had made her believe it was just as much her idea as his, but now she knew that was not true. Carantaliel blessed the Valar that somehow she had managed to keep her wits about her when it actually came down to wedding him. For while she agreed to become his mate readily enough, she was in no hurry to make that commitment permanent.

Only a few weeks later, Celebrían was taken and then Tellonnion had “died” when she was rescued. How Carantaliel had mourned him then, drifting through Imladris like one only half-alive!

In much the same state, her grandmother decided to sail into the West. Believing there was nothing left for her in Middle-earth, Carantaliel agreed to go with her against strong protests from her father and uncle. Even Lord Elrond had counseled her not to act rashly. Yet, the Elven princess would not be dissuaded.

On the eve of their departure, Carantaliel experienced what she thought was a nightmarish dream. In it Tellonnion met with orcs and bartered to provide them the opportunity to capture the wife of the great Lord of Imladris. In payment they would then allow Tellonnion to “rescue” the elflady, thereby assuring the gratitude of the Halfelven’s family and greater prestige for himself.

But of course, orcs are not to be trusted. Nor did Tellonnion take into account the zeal of Elladan and Elrohir in the search for their mother, as well as Carantaliel’s mother. Novannoniel had also been taken captive with her mother-in-law, and Carantaliel fought stubbornly to go with them. However, she was overruled on all sides. And to their great sorrow, they discovered their efforts on Novannoniel were in vain. Elladan’s delicate flower of a wife had been killed outright.

Carantaliel had awoken with a start from the nightmare and quickly put it out of her mind. She told no one of her dream and departed Middle-earth still mourning her lost beloved.

Slowly over the many years, however, her grief for Tellonnion began to feel empty and hollow. Her memory did not recall the treachery she had witness in her vision, but there was a void in her heart that kept that knowledge alive.
It was not until her vision of Thorondil’s plummet that the memory awoke in Carantaliel’s consciousness. Then it was all too plain that what she had witnessed was no mere dream.

“I had forgotten how quiet you can be when you’re angry,” she started at the sound of his low, menacing voice. “Do not think that I’m fooled by your dismal attempts to act asleep, Cara.”

Her return stare was as dispassionate as she could make it as she responded, “What do you plan on doing with me, Tellonnion? Are you going to leave me bound to this tree for all the ages to come?”

He snarled, “Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind. As always though, you are my passage back into the good graces of Elvendom. With you at my side I will be affirmed among the First Born once again. Who could deny a scion of the House of Elrond?”

“You are gravely mistaken if you believe that I will help you to anything, especially here in Valinor.”

“It doesn’t matter, Cara, melethnín,” he replied unctuously. “Once I get from you what I want, your regard will mean very little to me. You can even go back to your puny halfling husband for all I care.”

Carantaliel tried to suppress her dread as she asked, “Just what do you think I have to offer you then?”

“A child, Cara. You will bear me a child and then my house will be inextricably merged with the House of Elrond Halfelven.”

The children in her womb stirred uneasily and Carantaliel closed her eyes so as not to give away her secret. What would Tellonnion do to her and to them if he found out about her condition? Would he claim the children as his own? Or would he destroy them? Neither prospect bore contemplating.

Taking a shaky breath, the Elven princess stole her bound hands up to clasp the white pendant around her neck. Quietly she whispered a prayer to the Valar to keep her children safe until Frodo could come for them.

“A Elbereth Gilthoniel, a tíro nin! ” Then silently she added, “Hurry, Frodo, melethnín…”


“Hurry, Frodo…” the hobbit dreamed he heard Carantaliel’s voice and he started awake. He felt a warm glow spread across his chest and he groped through his shirt to touch the spot. He felt very close to his Elven bride at that moment.

Moonrise was past, but dawn was still a ways away as he then sat up and looked around the forest. All was preternaturally still, which was no change from any other night they had spent resting during their search for Carantaliel. Frodo found it terribly unnerving.

Elrond and Figwit seemed to be sleeping while Gandalf kept this watch. The ageless wizard stood erect but somewhat casually. His arms were crossed in front of his chest as he seemed to be staring up into the night sky. The trees veiled the firmament, however, and his focus was perhaps beyond the pale.

Silently, Frodo rose and joined him. Gandalf said nothing either, merely breathing deeply and coming back to the present.

They stood so for some time, but the halfling finally asked, “Can you see anything, Gandalf?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid, Frodo,” he answered, slowly meeting his anxious gaze. “I cannot even see the great star Eärendil the Mariner through the canopy of leaves here.”

“Eärendil…” Frodo breathed, trying to retrieve a lost tendril of thought that escaped him. Why did that name strike such a familiar chord? Suddenly, he remembered in a rush and ran back to his pack to start emptying it of its varied contents.

Gandalf heard Frodo swear creatively and he wheeled to watch the halfling with astonishment. His friend’s activity also awakened the elves and together the trio drew closer to the frantic hobbit.

“Thorin’s beard, Frodo,” rumbled Gandalf. “What has you in such a state?”

“Where is it?” Frodo said aloud to no one in particular. “I know I packed it! To think I forgot all about it! Ah ha!”

Triumphantly Frodo pulled from his pack a beautifully wrought crystal phial. The contents looked to be effervescent water that gleamed delicately in what little moonlight reached the forest floor, but the hobbit had reason to know that the small bottle could explode with a bright, guiding light.

Knowingly the wizard nodded and said, “Ah, the Light of Eärendil… of course. I did not realize that you even still had it, my dear Frodo.”

Reaching out tentatively, Elrond looked at the object with wonder and asked, “May I, Frodo? Galadriel had told me she gave you the light of my father.”

He offered the elflord the phial and Elrond gingerly received it to examine the essence of his once-sire wistfully.

As he repacked his bag, Frodo watched Carantaliel’s grandfather compassionately. The halfling had been without his own parents for many years now, but he was long reconciled with their absence. How strange it must be to have one’s father gone and yet so near every day but unable to see or speak with him.

Lord Elrond was undoubtedly a family man, but with no parents, no children and a wife struggling to reconnect after so many sorrowful years apart it was no wonder that he turned to Carantaliel to lavish his affection.

As Frodo adjusted his bag and then his sword across his back once again, Elrond offered him back the pretty bottle.

Curious, the hobbit asked, “What of your mother, herumin? Is she not in Valinor somewhere?”

“Elwing is here,” he confirmed. “In the tallest tower on the highest peak she lives to be closer to my father. Someday I will go to find her. But not until Cara and your children are safe once again.”

“My children…” Frodo thought silently and suddenly realized he too was now a family man. The gentle heat pulsed on his chest once again and he lifted his free hand to rub the spot.

To his great surprise the phial began to glow more strongly in his other hand and he felt it start to tremble.

As before familiar Elvish words burst unbidden from his mouth, “Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima!”

A dazzling light erupted from the crystal vessel, illuminating the impenetrable murk of the forest. Frodo held it aloft to capture as much of the area as possible and Figwit quickly took advantage of the brightness to find their route.

“This way, mellynmin,” Figwit finally said after some minutes. “Our path is clear now.”

Falling in behind the younger elflord the company shouldered their meager supplies and set forth into the night.


-end of Chapter Twenty-two-

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel, a tíro nin!' -- this is a paraphrase of Samwise’s call to Elbereth when he attacks Shelob in TTT

"Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima!" – Behold Eärendil, brightest of stars!


Chapter 23 - Chapter Twenty-three

Galadriel paced the glade solemnly as Bilbo and Fimbelis tried to distract themselves by keeping busy in the garden. To most it would seem the Lady of Light retained her detached serenity. Yet, it was only through several millennia spent on the road towards enlightenment that kept her deep worry from surfacing to her expression.

The forest was quiet and that was disturbing. She had expected Aldananeth’s return for some time. What could be keeping the Entwife? Galadriel did not really fear for the tree shepherdess. A bigger evil than Tellonnion would be required to give Aldananeth more than merely pause. Still, the Lady could not help but wonder what would keep the Entwife when Yavanna had promised her imminent return to Frodo.

“I’m hungry,” Bilbo declared testily. “Waiting around for something dire to happen builds up an appetite.”

Calmly, Galadriel responded, “I think a meal would be beneficial to us all, Bilbo. Fimbelis, will you not go inside and see what there may be to eat?”

“Gladly, arwenamin,” she answered and headed towards the round blue door.

With the prospect of supper soon to come, the elderly hobbit went to the well to clean up from his gardening duties. Eventually though he made his way to Galadriel and fell in beside her, toddling as fast as he could to keep up with her gracefully long pace.

“That boy,” he grunted. “I never saw such a hobbit as him to get into so much trouble.”

She smiled down at him gently. “I sense that Frodo’s task was not complete at Mt. Doom, my friend,” she mused. “Part of his trial is to face the healing in its aftermath, but healing does not always come so easily.”

“Humph. Well, I suppose Cara must be worth it to him,” Bilbo conceded shaking his head. “I never thought to see him married, let alone with children.”

“Frodo has found someone whose welfare and comfort is more important than his own,” she commented. “That is very different from saving Middle-earth, important though that was. You did that, of course Bilbo, when you took Frodo in after his parents died. It is a difficult sacrifice to put someone else’s needs before your own, especially when you are used to going your own way.”

Bilbo clasped his hands behind his back and agreed, “Well, that’s true enough. Fortunately Frodo proved fairly self-sufficient and he didn’t put me out much. Still…” he looked pensive. “I would do it again. It was nice to have lively companionship after living alone so long.”

The hobbit would swear that a troubled expression crossed Galadriel’s face before she replied, “Yes, Bilbo. A lively companion does make the long years bearable.”

The hobbit started to comment when he suddenly noticed movement deep in the forest and he jumped slightly to see what appeared to be a tree gliding its way towards them. “By Narsil’s shards! What is that?” he breathed.

“At last!” Galadriel exclaimed quietly and moved meet the Entwife. “Aldananeth! Frodo has left already,” she announced. “He would not wait.”

“I am not surprised,” Aldananeth replied. “He is the hastiest creature I have ever met, but he may’ve been right to move on without waiting. The Tarsulëwen has need of him as soon as may be.”

“She is not hurt?” asked the Lady anxiously and tree-like creature was quick to reassure her.

As the Entwife related her information to the elflady, Bilbo stood apart and watched with interest. He now remembered Frodo and his friends discussing the Ents of Middle-earth, but had only given half an ear to the tale. While he pondered the two enchanting beings conversing, Fimbelis finally returned from the hillside dwelling bearing a tray laden with a variety of provisions.

“Ah,” whispered the elegant elflady as she set the tray on the ground near Bilbo. “She has returned finally. What news, Bilbo?”

“Not much, from what I can tell,” he grumbled. “I’m sure the Lady will let us know what she thinks we should know when the time comes.”

Fimbelis’ laughed lightly, a welcome contrast to the gloom the hobbit was feeling. “Come, Bilbo, your mood will be lighter once you’ve eaten. It’s well past suppertime.”

Unable to argue with his lovely companion or his gurgling stomach, Bilbo tucked in and did feel much better for the meal. Some minutes later Galadriel approached with Aldananeth waiting patiently in her customary spot towards the edge of the glade.

“Is Cara all right?” asked Fimbelis as she leapt to her feet.

“It would appear so,” answered Galadriel. “At least for now. Aldananeth counsels us to wait awhile longer here. She will gather those of her sisters here and march on to catch up with Frodo and the others at first light.”

“So we’re stuck here,” asked Bilbo, less testy than he might have said earlier.

“I’m afraid so, my friend,” she said. “Did you leave me anything to eat?”

Bilbo was nothing if not a gracious host and quickly prepared a plate for the Lady. “Here you go, my lady,” he said as he settled her on the slight hill where they laid out their evening picnic. “I suppose there’s nothing for it but to wait another day…”

Collectively the foursome in the glade sighed. The waiting could be very hard.



The waiting was getting very hard for Carantaliel. Tellonnion had disappeared yet again, leaving her alone on the flet. She had no idea where he went at such times, but she was grateful that she did not have to endure his spiteful glare while he was gone.

Restlessly she tried to loosen her bonds for the thousandth time to no avail. Frustrated the she-elf tugged at the ropes with hopeless fury and scraped her forearm against a hitherto unnoticed thorn. The sharp spike left a startlingly deep gash across her forearm and as she yanked it away Carantaliel felt the tip of the barb snap off as it lodged firmly in her flesh.

Blood streamed freely down her arm and she used a few creative Dwarvish curses in vain while she attempted to twist her arm to look at the wound.

“Elbereth…” she finally wept, as the swearing was obviously no help. “What am I to do? This surely isn’t meant to be my fate, is it? To suffer this idle captivity? Where is Frodo? Is he even coming for us?”

Carantaliel had not meant to give into her despair, but the pain in her arm was now accompanied by waves of dizziness and she had no way to get to the wound. Her healing prayers did nothing to assuage the sharp twinges or bleeding and the captive dissolved into forlorn tears.

In this dark hour of her wretchedness the Elven princess suddenly felt the flet beneath her shift slightly. Looking around her Carantaliel found a pair of ocher-colored eyes staring at her from within the deeply furrowed reddish-brown bark.

“An Entwife!” Carantaliel breathed, but her hopes were quickly dashed when the tree shepherdess gazed back at her with a malevolence that rivaled Tellonnion’s. Absently she tried to draw closer to the limb she was bound to for comfort and then started as the Entwife flexed it menacingly. “What have I done to you?” she whispered desperately. “Why should you threaten me when I would offer you friendship?”

Raspingly, the Entwife replied, “Friendship? I have no friends, elfling.”

“Then Tellonnion is not your friend?” Carantaliel asked hopefully.

“We are allies,” she stated. That seemed to be all that she intended to impart to the she-elf, for the Entwife shifted heavily one more time sending Carantaliel painfully sprawling across the flet. Her whole being then trembled with suppressed rage, the creamy pea-like blossoms that adorned her limbs giving off a noxious fragrance that sent her Elven captive reeling.

Unable to fend off the fetid odor in her quickly weakening condition Carantaliel finally swooned, rather afraid this wicked creature might be more dangerous than even Tellonnion could be.



As dawn broke Galadriel sensed a shift in the air and went outside to the glade to see that Aldananeth had been joined by two other Entwives. She was promptly introduced to Van’alda and Lothalda , a pair of Entwives whose kinship seemed more than just figurative. In other times, the Entwives would have spent much time with pleasantries, but they all realized that haste in this case was a virtue.

“We are off now, little mistress,” said Aldananeth. “Our help will be needed more than Frodo knows. Not only will he need to deal with the depraved elfman, but our fallen sister Eregalda is in league with him. They are no match for her.”

The Lady of Light stirred uneasily at the ominous name of the traitorous Entwife. “There is nothing I can do in the meantime, Aldananeth?”

“Your skills maybe required later, Lady,” the Entwife answered. “Stay close to Thorondil. We will send word to him through his smaller brothers if needed.”

“May the grace of the Valar go with you then,” said Galadriel with resignation. “I will yet abide here.”



“Frodo, my boy, you should take time to rest,” said Gandalf kindly as the hobbit stumbled tiredly over a root in the path. The arm that held up the bright phial to light their way fell limply to his side and the brilliant spark winked out, leaving them in inky darkness once again.

“We don’t have time, Gandalf,” he replied tearfully, trying to resist his frustration and weariness. “We are close, I feel. And the closer we get, the weaker I sense Cara becoming.” Desperately, he whispered, “What if we’re too late?”

“There is still hope, Frodo,” replied the wizard, echoing the phrase that came so often to the lips of the Fellowship in other days. He was anxiously silent a moment as if trying to reassure himself as he reiterated, “Yes, hang on to your hope, my friend.”

Figwit was suddenly at their sides as he murmured, “He is out there. We are being stalked, my friends.”

“Perhaps we should split up,” suggested Frodo quietly. “He cannot follow two parties at once.”

“That idea has some merit, my friend,” Elrond replied. “However, he will most likely follow you, Frodo.”

Dangerously, the halfling growled, “I have no problem with that.”

“Then you must leave the other party to rescue Cara,” he stated, his tone brooking no compromise.

A protest died on the hobbit’s lips almost as quickly as it came to them. “What should we do then?” he finally asked.

Secretively Elrond motioned them to draw near, “Come closer, my friends, and I will tell you what I have in mind.”


-end of Chapter Twenty-three-


Van’alda – Fair Tree
Lothalda – Blossom Tree
Eregalda – Thorn Tree


Chapter 24 - Chapter Twenty-four

The foursome finally continued on with their trek through the shadowy forest. Frodo had once again lit the crystal phial of light, but as his arms began to tremble with his growing weariness its glow would flicker out more and more. He, too, faltered frequently and Figwit stayed close to him to lend a steadying hand when needed.

As they progressed farther into the density of trees, the others behind them grew silent. Frodo could barely hear Elrond and Gandalf in their wake and the light scarcely touched their faces as they slowly dropped back on the path they had chosen.

After they had trudged on for some time, the exhausted hobbit suddenly staggered, falling to his knees and dropping the little bottle. The phial of Galadriel tinkled to the ground and rolled away leaving them in utter darkness yet again.

“Frodo!” called Figwit as he groped for his friend. “Are you all right?”

“My leg…” his friend groaned. “The sword wound is throbbing. I don’t think I can stand on it…”

“The runt makes enough noise for an orc band,” muttered Tellonnion to himself as he shadowed Frodo and his companions. He waited stoically in hiding as they continued to regroup after Frodo’s fall.

Figwit found the phial in the dark and then went back to his friend to offer, “Lean on me then, Frodo. It will ease the stress on your injured leg. Here is your light back…”

“I’m afraid we will have to go forward in the dark for awhile, my friends,” Frodo announced. “I am too worn out to lift my arms.”

“Perhaps we should just rest while we can,” suggested Figwit.

“No! I must go on, my lord. Cara needs me…”

“Very well then, Frodo,” agreed Figwit. “Give me your arm and let’s be off.”

They struggled through the woods in this noisy manner for some long minutes. As Frodo and Figwit paused for a brief respite, the halfling leaned in closely to his friend and whispered, “Do you think Tellonnion fell for it?”

“Most assuredly,” he replied quietly. “He is up ahead of us to the right. He is biding his time until he thinks us at our most vulnerable.”

“Then that is what we shall make him believe.”


While the hobbit and elflord led Tellonnion away, Gandalf and Elrond watched silently from the gloom several hundred yards to their rear. They hardly dared to breathe for fear that the fallen elflord would hear their position and discover their ruse.

When they could no longer hear their noisy friends they allowed themselves a small sigh of relief then moved off in silence to follow their own path in the search for Carantaliel.


Aldananeth halted to listen to the forest and the other Entwives paused in her wake.

“What is it, Nana?” asked Van’alda.

“We are close,” she answered. “I sense our friends nearby. Can you not see them ahead in the gloom?”

The trio listened and searched for several long minutes when Lothalda stretched out a flowery limb and spoke airily, “There… they are closing in on Eregalda, methinks.”

“I see two others not far off in the deepest dark of the forest,” added Van’alda.

The mother tree peered hard into the dense canopy of leaves. “That will be Frodo,” she replied as she saw brilliant light flickering among the branches. “They have split their party and are leading the fallen one away from the Tarsulëwen.”

“Which shall we follow, Nana?” asked Lothalda.

“We will follow the wizard to Eregalda. The Tarsulëwen is in the graver danger and Frodo’s trial is not one he will thank us to interfere in – there is a score to be settled.”

Lothalda asked, “Is the halfling up to the task? Tellonnion is no one to be trifled with…”

“Nor is Frodo Baggins to be trifled with, tithen siler ,” she replied. “He was the Ringbearer. Do not underestimate his strength and courage.” Picking up the trail of Gandalf and Elrond, the Entwife moved on again adding, “Come. Let us lose no more time…”


Hearing a great stir behind them, Elrond stopped to turn back and search the forest for the source of the loud movement. Gandalf drew close and after a moment murmured grumpily, “It’s about time. It is the Entwives come to help us at last.”

Eagerly the pair doubled back to meet them and Elrond greeted the Entwives with a grave salute, “You have come in good time, Aldananeth. We would be grateful for any counsel…”

“Cara is not far now,” she replied without preamble. “Frodo and his companion have Tellonnion occupied. We need to move swiftly while he is gone, but it will not be easy to release your granddaughter, my lord.”

The elflord’s brow furrowed with concern, “What is the obstacle then, Aldananeth? Has Tellonnion found an ally or others to help him?"

“He has, my lord,” answered Van’alda. “But she is our concern. You and the wizard must look to the Tarsulëwen.”

“She?” asked Gandalf anxiously, wondering what other evil could possibly abide in the Blessed Realm.

Leaning down to offer a perch amidst her limbs, Aldananeth replied, “It is one of our sisters. We should not linger, for Cara is in some danger from her. Come, my lords, and we will explain along the way.”


Grunting, Figwit stopped to adjust Frodo over his shoulder. “Who would’ve thought someone so slight could be such a burden?” murmured the elflord.

“Just remember, this was your idea, my friend,” replied Frodo quietly. “I was perfectly happy staggering along on your arm.”

“This is more convincing, don’t you think?”

The hobbit agreed with a small chuckle, “Indeed. You ready to give our friend some incentive?”

“Ready whenever you are…”


Tellonnion watched with disgust from the shadows. How could Carantaliel possibly prefer this weak runt to a virile, imposing elflord such as he was? Perhaps he should just put the pathetic hobbit out of his misery now.

He had realized after a time that the wizard and Elrond had slipped off without Frodo and Figwit. Yet, as the halfling was heading in the general direction of Carantaliel and the Entwife, Tellonnion decided to stick with his original quarry. Eregalda would keep the others at bay as long as necessary should they reach her first.

The elflord carrying Frodo might put up a decent fight, but Tellonnion was not overly concerned about his prowess. He vaguely remembered Lord Figwit, the courtier, from other days. His kinsman Glorfindel had held him in some esteem, but Tellonnion found him to be too ingratiating as he spent more time in the council chamber with Elrond than on horseback with Elladan and Elrohir. He had heard whispers that Figwit pursued Carantaliel for a time. At least he was a proper elf.

The light that the halfling held sputtered back to life again, though it went out almost immediately. Tellonnion then heard scuffling in that direction and he drew closer, peering hard into the inky dark.

“I can’t go on, Figwit,” he heard Frodo whimper. “Go… go to Cara… Curse my weakness!”

“Frodo, I can’t leave you…”

“GO!”

Tellonnion saw the elflord hesitate, but then with a deep breath Figwit turned and ran into the forest.

Frodo was alone.


-end of Chapter Twenty-four-

Nana – Mama
Tithen siler – Little sisters


Chapter 25 - Chapter Twenty-five

Weakly Carantaliel stirred from her swoon. Stretched out across the flet, her arms were painfully extended over her head, the bonds cutting ruthlessly into her slender wrists.

From that angle the she-elf could not see the gash in her forearm at all, but it throbbed hotly and she realized the thorns of Eregalda were filled with her venom.

As the captive lay there trying to marshal her strength, the Entwife shifted again and the air above her was filled with the dry, angry sound of branches clattering against one another.

A rush of whispering leaves answered Eregalda’s sere rage, and Carantaliel struggled to sit up to see what was happening to provoke her primeval warden.

The apple tree from Elvenwood stood miraculously before them and the Elven princess found hope once again. Eregalda was not the only Entwife in Valinor! The knowledge that the apple tree had been more than she appeared and was watching over them all this time brought her nearly as much joy as seeing Frodo himself.

As the sylvan tirade raged overhead, Carantaliel frantically resumed worrying at her bonds, which proved difficult, as Eregalda was prone to punctuate her invective with angry swings of her thorny limbs.

Just as the she-elf gave up on the ropes, she heard a too familiar wry voice speak, “What would your father say if he saw you now, my girl?”

“Iaurada!” she exclaimed, elation and relief to see Elrond emerge onto the flet. “What is happening? Where is Frodo? Is he…”

“Hold off on your questions until we can get you to safety.” He sliced through her bonds with a swift stroke of Hadhafang. “Aldananeth urged us to get you away as soon as may be.”

“And if you continue to prattle on Elrond Halfelven, we’re going to get caught in the middle,” Gandalf called up testily. “Hand down the girl to me before this fight turns ugly!”

Carantaliel squelched her questions for the moment as her grandfather guided her to the rope ladder. As she mounted the corded rung, her forearm grazed against the floor of the flet. Gasping, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her and she clung to the ladder as her head spun.

“What’s wrong, child?” asked Elrond anxiously.

“It can wait, my lord,” Carantaliel lamely tried to reassure him. “Just give me a moment to catch my
breath…” But then her arm spasmed and she lost hold of the ladder.

To her relief, Gandalf kept her from falling. He caught her around the waist then held on to her as he shinnied down the ladder. The wizard may be ancient, but his aged looks belied his strength and agility.

Gratefully she clung to him until they reached the ground and he swept her away from the tense circle of Entwives.

Elrond leaped to the ground right behind them and the trio hurried back into the forest.

When Gandalf felt they were a safe distance away, he stopped and set Carantaliel gently on her feet. “We have a moment to stop and catch our breath,” he said. “Are you all right, my dear?”

“Better now that you’ve come,” she answered. “But where is Frodo? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine,” the wizard assured her. “He is with Figwit. They are going after Tellonnion…”

“No! He can’t! Tellonnion will kill him…”

Elrond replied soberly, “I think you might be surprised at what Frodo is capable of doing, Cara.”

Extending a hand towards her he added, “Now I know you are hurt. Let me see…”

“It’s just my arm. I caught it on a thorn,” she explained. “But I think it was full of poison.”

Immediately Elrond was examining her wounded forearm. After several moments he grunted quietly, “There is a bit of thorn here, but I need more light. Can you make it, Cara, if we wait?”

Straightening up proudly she answered, “I can make it. We are going to look for Frodo, aren’t we?”

“That seems the best course,” agreed Gandalf, warily looking back the way they had come. The struggle between the Entwives was growing more violent behind them and the wizard urged them, “We should move on quickly. Leave Eregalda to Aldananeth and the others!”


Clutching the phial of Galadriel in one hand and a substantial rock in the other, Frodo waited tensely for Tellonnion to make his move in the dark.

It was becoming increasingly harder to lie still, as the halfling felt the hairs standing on the back of his neck. He knew Tellonnion intended to kill him, and he was exposed with seemingly no help at hand.

That, of course, was part of the ruse, but Figwit had to get far enough away for their stalker to believe him gone. The hobbit’s friend may not be able to come to his aid as fast as he might hope.

Frodo was on his own for the present then. Yet, what did he want the outcome to be? During those anxious minutes, Frodo could not help but think about what might happen.

Could he actually kill Tellonnion, given the chance? He wanted to, he had to admit. He did not want Carantaliel or his children to live in the shadow of the elflord’s threat for all the ages to come.

Still, Frodo had seen much death and injury in Middle-earth. It sickened him and he thought never to see it again once in the Blessed Realm. It would wound him deeply to be the cause of another’s death. How would he reconcile his actions with his conscience then?

Of course there was the very real possibility that Tellonnion would kill him first. Again, that would leave Carantaliel and his family at the elflord’s mercy, of which Frodo imagined there would be none.

“That settles it,” Frodo told himself sternly. “Tellonnion may kill me, but not before I kill him first. Cara and the children will not have to fear him ever again.”

Lost in these conflicting thoughts, a voice growled, “You are a fool, halfling, if you think I will show you mercy in your hour of need. You are a pathetic excuse for a hero.”

Steeling his nerve, Frodo answered, “And you are mistaken if you think I would ask mercy of you, Tellonnion. But neither should you be foolish enough to ask it of me.”

The elflord laughed heartily, “You! You think you can best me, little one? I’d like to see you try…”

“That does it!” the halfling told himself angrily and got to his feet. “I’m not as weak as you might suppose,” his voice rang out in the darkness

Tellonnion may have been surprised that Frodo was not as incapacitated as he pretended, but it did not seem to faze him. Circling the hobbit in a predatory way, he waited for his moment to pounce.

Frodo turned with him, keeping Tellonnion in front of him and waiting for the right moment to tip his hand. His stalker took his time, taunting Frodo with his tense patience and hoping the hobbit would let down his guard.

Suddenly Frodo heard a rustle of leaves behind him, but he was not fooled by Tellonnion’s trick of tossing a rock into the bushes. A hobbit’s senses are quite keen and he heard the missile whiz over his head before landing in the foliage.

He pretended to turn to the noise, but as the elflord raised his sword to cut him down, Frodo threw the rock in his own hand as hard as he could at Tellonnion.

The heavy stone caught Tellonnion in the temple and Frodo’s attacker staggered back with a grunt of pain. In that span of moments, the halfling lit the phial again so that it glowed brightly and then slowly drew his sword Tarfinion

Through the gush of blood Tellonnion saw what was once his own sword gleaming brilliantly in Frodo’s hand and he muttered angrily, “Where did you get that, halfling? That’s my sword!”

“Not anymore,” Frodo answered evenly. “Tarfinion answers only to me now. Beware his bite, Tellonnion. It is sharp… and fatal.”

Advancing on Frodo once again, the elflord breathed menacingly, “We will see about that…”


The deepening forest that had been as silent as the tomb before now filled Carantaliel’s ears with the terrifying clamor of violent clashes both before and behind her. At the sound of a particularly loud crash in their wake, the she-elf slowed slightly to look back in the direction of the Entwives. Her grandfather urged her along beside him, putting a steadying arm around her waist as she stumbled at the deafening noise.

“We can do nothing to help Aldananeth and the others, Cara,” Elrond murmured grimly as they ran. “Keep your thoughts fixed on Frodo. He has great courage, but does not have the same resources as Tellonnion. He will need our help to defeat him…”

Nodding briefly, Carantaliel did not answer aloud so she could save her breath for running. Still, she breathed in deep gulps and was glad of Elrond’s arm around her. Her head was light and reeling and she faltered with every other step. The only thing that kept her on her feet was knowing that the sound of the clanging swords ahead could only be Frodo defending himself against Tellonnion.

Clasping the white pendant around her neck, Carantaliel breathed her thousandth prayer to Varda to keep her halfling husband safe. Bravely, the she-elf trudged on…

Her struggling gait did not go unnoticed by Gandalf, as much as Carantaliel put on a brave face for him and her grandfather. Lack of proper food and water, not to mention the probable poison spreading through her arm, would conspire eventually to force the lovely she-elf to succumb to the weakness of her body, Elven though she may be. She would need healing attention sooner rather than later and they needed to find a faster way to take her to safety.

Vainly the wizard searched the forest ahead of him – or so he thought. To his great surprise he spotted a swift peregrine perched in a nearby tree. Slowing his pace, the other two did likewise, but Gandalf urged them ahead of him, promising to catch up to them directly.

Satisfied that Elrond would continue without question, the Istari stopped and called to the golden hawk. The graceful bird flew to him directly and settled on the wizard’s outstretched forearm.

“And what are you doing out here, my handsome lad, when the rest of your brothers have deserted this desolate place?” he asked the peregrine.

“The Mother Tree has asked me to wait upon you, my lord,” the peregrine responded. “Should you need me, I am to bear any message to anyone you wish.”

“You could not have arrived at a better time, I must say,” spoke Gandalf. “I could use a message bearer just at this very moment. Will you seek out Thorondil the Eagle for me at Elvenwood and bid him come as fast as he may? I sense we will be in great need of his speed quite soon.”

“It will be done,” agreed the bird who flapped off promptly to fulfill his mission.

With a heavy sigh, Gandalf watched the peregrine disappear towards Elvenwood for a long moment. Once he was gone, the wizard then resumed his own flight towards Frodo and the fight.


Tellonnion was taken back by the ferocity of his hobbit opponent’s fighting. What Frodo lacked in finesse he was making up for in his desperate single-minded determination. The runt had even gotten a few hits on him! This infuriated the tainted elflord who opened himself up to mistakes because of his growing lack of control.

It took every ounce of Frodo’s strength to parry each of Tellonnion’s strokes. The hobbit was much stronger than he had ever been in his life, but Tarfinion was still heavy and the elflord was much more physically powerful than he was. Frodo would have to try to stay one step ahead of his attacker if he wanted to survive the battle between them.

The phial of light hampered Frodo as well. To keep the small clearing lit so he could see the elf’s sword coming at him required the hobbit to hold out the crystal bottle in one hand while swinging his sword with the other. Consequently it was difficult for him to keep his balance, and after one particularly heavy blow from Tellonnion, Frodo tripped backwards over a rock and fell to the ground.

Seeing his weakling foe’s defeat before him, Tellonnion advanced threateningly on Frodo to let fall the death stroke. The halfling shrank back as he feebly attempted to raise Tarfinion to defend himself, but the sword dipped heavily as Frodo saw Tellonnion’s blade descending upon him

Closing his eyes, the prone hobbit’s last thought was for Carantaliel and his unborn children, despairing that he had no way to keep them safe from this madman. He knew his death was at hand.

Yet, the death stroke never came.

Whizzing past his face, Frodo heard an arrow twang from a bow. Suddenly there was a cry of pain from Tellonnion and then the hobbit found himself dragged to his feet.

Figwit clamped Frodo’s hand tighter around the hilt of Tarfinion and said, “Hold tight, mellon nin. You’re going to need this.”

The relief at seeing his friend was palpable, but all the halfling said was, “You certainly took your time coming back…”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself,” answered Figwit with a dry twitch of his mouth.

Frodo wanted to laugh, but checked his mirth upon seeing the rage in Tellonnion’s eyes. Figwit’s arrow had pierced his hand to render it useless. However, the elflord could switch the sword to the other hand and use it to nearly the same effect.

The hobbit was not yet entirely out of danger.


-end of Chapter Twenty-five-

Iaurada! – Old Father! (Grandfather)


Chapter 26 - Chapter Twenty-six

Despite her spinning head, Carantaliel urged Elrond to move faster towards the fighting. At last the Elven pair broke through to the small clearing just as Figwit’s arrow sailed through the glade.

Tellonnion’s low cry reached her ears and the she-elf knew that his wrath would not be contained. As the elflord stooped to reach for his dropped sword, she took matters into her own hands.

Without a thought for herself, Carantaliel swiftly drew Hadhafang from her grandfather’s scabbard and ran into the skirmish.

“Cara, no!” Elrond cried hoarsely, but his plea was too late.

Recovering from the shock of pain in his hand, Tellonnion had started to engage Frodo again in the fight. However, he sensed danger behind him and was ready for Carantaliel when she brought the Elven sword down behind his head.

Singing steel met solid iron with a shower of sparks and the she-elf continued to attack with a furor that belied her usually serene presence. For a stunned moment all Frodo could do was watch his graceful bride transform into a deadly warrior. Carantaliel bore down upon her former betrothed in a flurry of calculated blows, overwhelming him with the sheer speed and zeal of her confrontation.

Yet, both Frodo and Tellonnion could see that her stamina would be short-lived. Already her blows were getting heavier and more leaden, and the elflord was able to recover his balance to parry her flashing sword more patiently.

Frodo felt out of his depth, for he was no swordsman except in dire need. Watching Carantaliel losing ground, he could think of no more dire moment to rejoin the fray.

Figwit had drawn his bow to take another shot at Tellonnion, but with both Carantaliel and Frodo fighting with the enemy, he was concerned with their safety. He was a good archer at stationary targets, but he had not spent the time practicing to become the marksman that someone like Prince Legolas or one of the other woodland elves had. In fact, the arrow through the hand had been a lucky shot. He had breathed a deep sigh of relief that the shaft had missed his friend by several inches. Still, Figwit kept his arrow trained on Tellonnion in hopes that a clear shot would present itself.

At last Gandalf caught up to the party, but all he could do was stand by watching helplessly with Elrond. Neither had a weapon – the wizard leaving Elvenwood with nothing but his wits and the elflord losing his sword to his impetuous granddaughter.

It would be up to Frodo and Carantaliel to defeat Tellonnion.


Worried about Carantaliel, Frodo moved to put himself between her and their foe. Back on his feet the halfling recovered some of his stamina and drive, and for several moments Tarfinion glinted like lightning as Frodo pressed the elflord away from his wearied wife.

The she-elf sank to her knees to catch her breath and Elrond and the wizard ran to her side.

“I’m all right,” she panted.

“No, you’re not…” replied Elrond anxiously. “Let me see your arm again.”

Gandalf was quick to assure them, “Help is on the way, my friends…”

Suddenly the battle was interrupted by the sound of crashing brush coming towards the glade. As one, they all looked up to see the Entwives charging at them through the forest.

Eregalda was fleeing the other Entwives who were closing in fast in her wake. Trees and shrubbery uprooted themselves to escape being trampled as the earth beneath them all rumbled ominously with the tree shepherdesses' heavy footsteps.

The wild Entwife took no notice of anything in her path as she lurched towards them swinging her thorny limbs angrily. Shrinking back, Frodo and the others tried to stay out of her way.

Seeing his ally Tellonnion, however, stood tall to meet her. Before he could even call to her, Eregalda trod heavily upon him, not even bothering to give warning as she hastened passed.

Aldananeth spared a glance for the fallen elflord, but she and the others did not stop as they followed to keep up with their renegade sister.

After the Entwives passed back into the deepening forest, all the company could do was stare at the broken body of Tellonnion. To witness such an abrupt and ignominious end to what was once a vigorous elflord left them all speechless and troubled. His current incarnation no longer mattered, and they mourned for what he had become.

“So passes Tellonnion,” murmured Gandalf. “Perhaps now he will find solace.”

It was some minutes before Frodo became aware of his surroundings again, but finally Figwit approached and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Frodo…” the elflord murmured, motioning to Carantaliel.

The she-elf had slumped against the wizard as her grandfather examined her wounded arm.

“Bring the light, Frodo,” called Elrond. “I need to remove this poisoned thorn.”

Hastening to his wife’s side, the hobbit took her into his arms and held out the light for the elflord. Carantaliel was in great distress, but remained calm while Elrond saw to her wound.

“You came for us…” she whispered to Frodo.

Tenderly he caressed a moist tendril back from her forehead and answered, “Of course I came, melethnín. If I had to move mountains or slay a legion of orcs, nothing would have kept me from finding you.”

“Are you hurt?” she asked anxiously.

“Nothing that won’t mend, Cara,” he assured her. “You must concentrate on you and the children.”

The piercing cry of the eagle Thorondil echoed through the glade and they all looked up to see the majestic beast circling above them.

“Ah, there is your ride, my dear,” breathed Gandalf with undisguised relief.

“Rest and sleep now, cormamin,” soothed Frodo. “Soon we’ll be home with no more worries to plague us…”

As he kissed her softly, Carantaliel breathed a more relaxed sigh and let herself give into the oblivious sleep she so needed.


-end of Chapter Twenty-six-


Chapter 27 - Chapter Twenty-seven

Busy sounds from the garden slowly intruded upon Carantaliel’s blissful slumber. Taking her time, she let each of her senses wake on their own. She listened for awhile to the birds singing, then savored the smell of the Sea wafting through the open window and the tang of its salt on her ready tongue.

Suddenly she realized she was hungry. Sitting up, Carantaliel refocused on the world and discovered herself in her new home at Elvenwood. Memories of her ordeal with Tellonnion came rushing back and she leapt out of bed to look out the window.

All was serene below in the glade. Aldananeth had returned and resumed her sleepy watch over the hobbit hole, and Frodo was busy at work repairing the damage their brief fight with Tellonnion had done to the garden. “So it was not a dream…” she sighed to herself.

Leaning against the windowsill, she watched her halfling husband as he contentedly toiled in the dirt. He had a smile on his face, though Carantaliel detected wistfulness and brief worry from time to time. That anxiety must be for her and the children, she realized, and she gently clasped the white pendant still hanging around her slender neck. Warmth filled her palm from the stone and she knew all was well, and a brief glance at her forearm told her the scar would soon fade to nothingness. She could only hope the memories of those terrifying days with Tellonnion could fade as quickly.

“Ah, you’re awake!” spoke a cheerful voice and Carantaliel turned to find Bilbo entering the room laden with a tray of food. “Lord Elrond thought you might be stirring and had me bring up something to help get you back on your feet.”

Grinning affectionately at her husband’s kinsman, she replied, “My dear Bilbo, you have come just in the nick of time. I’m ravenous!”

He chuckled as he set the tray on a low table near the window. “Tuck in, my dear, and I’ll go find Frodo. I had to send him out of the room awhile ago. He’s been at your bedside day and night and he needed to air the stink off him!”

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked somewhat anxiously.

“Oh, the better part of a week, my girl,” Bilbo answered. “But you’ve got a strong will and there were no worries whether you would come back to us or no.”

Soberly, she murmured, “I had no idea…”

Bilbo patted her arm comfortingly, “Now, no need to get upset. All is well.”

“Cara…”

Frodo was framed in the doorway, his expression showing mingled relief and joy. To see him now, no one would mistake him for a callow elfboy, for hard work and health had replaced sorrow and a wasted body. Carantaliel had never had any doubt of his strength and courage, but now those qualities shone brightly for all to see on his face and in his bearing. At that moment, she was never so proud to be loved by him.

A gentle breeze stirred a lock of hair on his forehead and Carantaliel saw a glint of silver beneath the chestnut brown. “I’m sorry to have worried you, melethnín…”

The hobbit saw a change in his bride as well. Physical pain, so rarely acknowledged or even felt by the Elves, had leant Carantaliel a translucent and fragile appearance. Perhaps one day that would change, but for now her fragility made her even more precious to him. He would never bear losing her again.

Suddenly Frodo was across the chamber taking his beloved into his arms. Their difference in height was not so great now, thanks to Aldananeth and the Entdraught, and Carantaliel melted easily into his embrace.

“No more worries, melethnín,” he murmured. “Awâhiam…Avaro naeth míthonin pedo melo nin.”

Eagerly the she-elf complied. Neither Frodo nor Carantaliel heard Bilbo pad softly to the door and shut it behind him.


-end of Chapter Twenty-Seven-

Awâhiam…Avaro naeth míthonin pedo melo nin – We are together again… Kiss me and tell me you love me


Chapter 28 - Epilogue

Samwise Gamgee looked out over the Sea from the stern of Círdan’s graceful Elven ship. The hobbit still did not much trust boats on water, but the seafaring elflord seemed to know what he was about and Sam finally relaxed as best he could on the journey to Valinor.

“We are almost there, Master Gamgee,” spoke Círdan with a tolerant smile. “I think if you look out over the bow rather than the stern you will find a very fair sight indeed.”

“I was hopin’ to see one last glance of Middle-earth,” he strained his eyes for a glimpse of his home, but it had been some days since they had seen the far shore. “It’s gone…” he lamented quietly.

“Look ahead not behind, my friend,” Círdan laughed. “You might see Middle-earth where you least expect it.”

The hobbit looked up at the Elven captain with a bewildered expression, but Círdan’s only answer was to nod towards the bow.

Reluctantly Sam turned from the stern and made his way to the front of the ship and the sight that greeted his eyes amazed him.

“Bless me! Is that Mister Frodo there looking so happy and strong?”

“It is indeed, Master Gamgee. He’s been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

“And who are these others waiting with him? By Elbereth, they are a bonny lot!”

Círdan put a friendly hand on Sam’s shoulder, “By Elbereth is not far off the mark, my friend. But that is Frodo’s story to tell.”

Sam fairly danced until the ship could finally hove into port and moor at the dock. The Elven captain led the way down the gangplank and the hobbit was right at his heels.

“Mister Frodo!” he exclaimed through happy tears. “I can hardly believe it! Look at you!”

“My dear Sam…” Frodo shook his head tolerantly as in the old days, his eyes also misty with tears. Holding out his arms to his friend, he warmly embraced Sam who had eagerly rushed into them. “I’ve waited for this day for a long time. I’ve missed you, my friend.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Mister Frodo, that’s for sure. What with Merry and Pippin gone, the children scattered all over the Shire and now Rosie…” Sam sniffed mightily. “I feel I hadn’t a friend left in the world…”

“Such devoted loyalty and friendship should never be lonely, Samwise Gamgee,” spoke the lovely elflady standing at Frodo’s side. “You must be part of our family now.”

There was something familiar about her, but Sam could not figure out why that would be. “Do I know you, Lady?” he asked.

Her smile was warm and gentle and she leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, “We have not met, Sam, but Frodo has told me so much about you I feel as if I’ve known you your whole life.”

Bewildered, Sam turned to his friend, “Mister Frodo?”

“Sam, this is Cara… my wife,” Frodo replied. “She is the daughter of Lord Elladan of Rivendell and we have been married these many years.” At Sam’s great wonder he continued, “And these are our children…” First he pointed to two pretty elfmaids, as different as night and day but so obviously a copy of one another in every other way that it was unmistakable that Sam was looking at twins. “This is Elenya,” he brought forth the bright maid, “and this is Isilya,” he introduced the dusky maid.

“The House of Elladan,” Sam mused. “Bless me, I wondered that you all looked so familiar for, miss, you seem just like the lady Arwen,” he bowed to Isilya. “And if you aren’t a picture of the lady Galadriel, my girl,” he then bowed to Elenya, “then I don’t know who is – unless it be your beautiful mother.”

All three elfladies smiled broadly and each maid stooped to kiss Sam’s cheek. “If you will then tell us that you see our dear father in us, Master Gamgee, then we will be pleased beyond measure,” said Isilya.

“Aye, there is some of Mister Frodo in you for sure, my ladies,” he answered. “Somethin’ about the eyes and the sweet smiles. I don’t suppose you have feet like a hobbit?”

Both maids laughed and lifted up their filmy gowns to show their feet. They were graceful and delicate without a strand of hair on top. “I’m afraid not, Master Gamgee,” replied Elenya. “You will have to ask our brothers the same question!”

“Brothers?”

“Meriadoc and Peregrine,” spoke a tiny voice that peeked out from behind Carantaliel. “They are waiting back at Elvenwood with the others.”

“And who is this pretty maid?” asked Sam as the little one shyly came forward and slipped her hand in Frodo’s. Age was difficult to gauge among the First Born, but Sam thought she could not be very old for an elf.

“This is our Elanor, Sam,” Frodo replied as he looked down at his youngest daughter fondly and caressed her head. Young as she was, Elanor was still nearly as tall as her slight father was. While definitely Elven, she most closely resembled a hobbit with her chestnut curls and rosy complexion.

“Elanor…” Sam sighed pensively. “I miss my girl, that’s for sure.”

Putting aside her shyness, Elanor reached out a hand to pat Sam’s shoulder, “Ada said you would be missing your family, Master Gamgee, and we must be your family now.” Then she gave him a big hug, which he returned in full measure, tears once again spilling down his face.

Fondly, Frodo put an arm around his friend, “Come, Sam. There are many others waiting to greet you at home…”


Sam was overwhelmed by his reception at Elvenwood. So many familiar faces among a sea of new ones. He hardly recognized Bilbo who seemed years younger than when he left for Valinor. Gandalf looked the same as ever, though much less careworn. Even Lord Elrond’s expression was filled with laughter and contentment rather than the grim and doom-filled look that was his wont in Rivendell. The Lady Galadriel to no great surprise was as beautiful and serene as Sam remembered her.

The elflord then introduced his wife Lady Celebrían and then the Lord Figwit and his wife Fimbelis and their two sons. Sam remembered the courtier from Rivendell, but had not met him at the time. It was plain that he and Frodo were great friends, but Figwit assured him, “Frodo and I have had many adventures and good times together, Master Gamgee, but no one can take your place in his affections. I hope that you and I may now be friends as well.”

Figwit offered his hand in friendship, which Sam eagerly accepted, “Thank you, my lord. It would be my pleasure.”

“Now, where are those rascals?” asked Frodo good-naturedly, searching the glade for his two sons. “I tell you, Sam, they are determined to live up to their namesakes!”

“Here we are, Ada!” the elflads shouted as they bounded into their presence.

“What mischief have you lads been up to? I daresay something will come crashing down any moment…” He grasped each curly head affectionately and pulled them down to kiss their foreheads.

Meriadoc and Peregrine were as hobbity as hobbits could be despite the fact they were a head taller than their father was and would probably outstrip their mother as well. They favored Frodo greatly, though the younger one had rose-gold hair like Carantaliel. All of Frodo and Cara’s children, however, shared their parents’ bright sea blue eyes.

“Ada, you do us a disservice,” blustered Meriadoc, the elder lad. “We were just… well… what were we doing, Peregrine?”

Glibly, Peregrine answered, “We took Master Gamgee’s baggage to his rooms,” and Meriadoc nodded in agreement.

Their father gave them a skeptical look and told Sam, “I would check your bed before turning in tonight, Sam. Who knows what the pair of them have done to it!”

Both elflads’ faces fell, plainly showing they had been caught, and their elders laughed heartily at them.

Sam’s laugh was the heartiest of them all as he said, “I could not have a better welcome, lads! Now I truly feel at home!”

The celebration lasted well into the wee hours with much feasting and singing and dancing. Sam caught them up with the fates of their now mostly departed friends and their families in Middle-earth including: the still hale King Elessar and his Elven Queen Arwen; Faramir and Éowyn, Prince and Princess of Ithilien; King Éomer of Rohan and his queen Lothíriel, sometimes called “Ani;” and of course, Legolas and Gimli, both still wandering the forests and mountain caves of Middle-earth. Frodo noticed that Figwit did not even flinch at his once-rival’s name.

Later when his friend was off with his sons and daughters to check out Gandalf’s famous fireworks, Frodo had a chance to be alone with Carantaliel.

“Sam seems very happy to be here, Frodo,” she said as she settled into the crook of his arm. “He has missed you.”

Frodo sighed, “Poor Sam… I did hate to leave him. But it was time that he stood on his own two feet instead of waiting to pick me up when I couldn’t stand on my own.”

Tenderly, Carantaliel said, “Perhaps you both needed the time apart to find your own strength without the other.”

“You are my strength, melethnín,” he kissed her softly. She sighed lightly as he released her and they turned their attention again to the revelers. “So many of our friends from home are gone…”

“Gone…” she agreed, “but not forgotten. Their legacy in Middle-earth will always be remembered, though perhaps in the days to come their names may not. Yet, here in Valinor their memory will be evergreen.”

Frodo turned to his Elven wife, deep affection in his azure gaze. “Evergreen,” he repeated. “Yes, they will not be forgotten. Hannon lle, Cara.”

Tenderly she traced his cheek with a long, graceful finger, “No worries, Frodo. No regrets. Today is a happy day…”

“With you, cormamin,” he smiled gently, “every day is a happy day.”


Gandalf feigned absorption in the fireworks he was about to set off, but was really observing Sam who was watching his friend across the glade.

“Don’t he look happy?” Sam murmured.

“He does indeed, Samwise Gamgee,” answered Gandalf. “Now that you are here, his joy is complete.”

Sam was startled that someone had heard him. “Oh!” he jumped. “I didn’t know as anyone was there to hear me, Gandalf, sir.”

The wizard merely smiled and went back to his fireworks for a moment. After he set it off to a chorus of appreciative applause from the onlookers, he asked the hobbit, “Frodo has changed quite a bit since you last saw him, my dear hobbit. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

“Well, apart from looking a good deal healthier and much, much happier, as I said…” he cocked his head to study Frodo. “I don’t see as where he looks much different.”

“Oh, really?” Gandalf replied. “You don’t think he seems… taller maybe?”

“Taller, Gandalf? Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but that’s daft!”

Raising an eyebrow, the wizard asked, “You think so? Have you stood next to him?”

“O’ course I have,” he answered, “and Mister Frodo seems the same as always to me.”

He grinned as he saw Frodo and Carantaliel crossing the glade to join them, happy to see a smile on his friend’s face.

“What are you two talking about over here?” asked Frodo as he put a friendly hand on Sam’s shoulder. Gandalf grinned as he could not help but notice that Frodo was over a head taller than Sam now.

“See?” said Sam. “What did I tell you, Gandalf? Mister Frodo is just the same. I’ve always looked up to him and I always will!”

Gandalf burst out with a hearty laugh, “My dear boy, I stand corrected!”

Looking to one another, Frodo and Carantaliel were mystified by this jovial display. Yet, as the wizard’s laugh was infectious the pair joined in with laughter of their own. Soon the glade was ringing with the merry sounds of their voices and Sam’s was the loudest as he sang:

"The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say."*


Here ends the tale of Frodo Baggins and Carantaliel Tarsulëwen in Valinor. Many adventures they may have still, but hopes are high that they and their family and friends will always find joy and happiness among each other in the Blessed Realm.


-The End-

*The above song borrowed from Tolkien’s Fellowship of the Ring with respect and gratitude as always for the Professor.
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