Return to Valinor

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?