Return to Valinor

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