Return to Valinor

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-