Return to Valinor

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!