Return to Valinor

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