Return to Valinor

Despite her spinning head, Carantaliel urged Elrond to move faster towards the fighting. At last the Elven pair broke through to the small clearing just as Figwit’s arrow sailed through the glade.

Tellonnion’s low cry reached her ears and the she-elf knew that his wrath would not be contained. As the elflord stooped to reach for his dropped sword, she took matters into her own hands.

Without a thought for herself, Carantaliel swiftly drew Hadhafang from her grandfather’s scabbard and ran into the skirmish.

“Cara, no!” Elrond cried hoarsely, but his plea was too late.

Recovering from the shock of pain in his hand, Tellonnion had started to engage Frodo again in the fight. However, he sensed danger behind him and was ready for Carantaliel when she brought the Elven sword down behind his head.

Singing steel met solid iron with a shower of sparks and the she-elf continued to attack with a furor that belied her usually serene presence. For a stunned moment all Frodo could do was watch his graceful bride transform into a deadly warrior. Carantaliel bore down upon her former betrothed in a flurry of calculated blows, overwhelming him with the sheer speed and zeal of her confrontation.

Yet, both Frodo and Tellonnion could see that her stamina would be short-lived. Already her blows were getting heavier and more leaden, and the elflord was able to recover his balance to parry her flashing sword more patiently.

Frodo felt out of his depth, for he was no swordsman except in dire need. Watching Carantaliel losing ground, he could think of no more dire moment to rejoin the fray.

Figwit had drawn his bow to take another shot at Tellonnion, but with both Carantaliel and Frodo fighting with the enemy, he was concerned with their safety. He was a good archer at stationary targets, but he had not spent the time practicing to become the marksman that someone like Prince Legolas or one of the other woodland elves had. In fact, the arrow through the hand had been a lucky shot. He had breathed a deep sigh of relief that the shaft had missed his friend by several inches. Still, Figwit kept his arrow trained on Tellonnion in hopes that a clear shot would present itself.

At last Gandalf caught up to the party, but all he could do was stand by watching helplessly with Elrond. Neither had a weapon – the wizard leaving Elvenwood with nothing but his wits and the elflord losing his sword to his impetuous granddaughter.

It would be up to Frodo and Carantaliel to defeat Tellonnion.


Worried about Carantaliel, Frodo moved to put himself between her and their foe. Back on his feet the halfling recovered some of his stamina and drive, and for several moments Tarfinion glinted like lightning as Frodo pressed the elflord away from his wearied wife.

The she-elf sank to her knees to catch her breath and Elrond and the wizard ran to her side.

“I’m all right,” she panted.

“No, you’re not…” replied Elrond anxiously. “Let me see your arm again.”

Gandalf was quick to assure them, “Help is on the way, my friends…”

Suddenly the battle was interrupted by the sound of crashing brush coming towards the glade. As one, they all looked up to see the Entwives charging at them through the forest.

Eregalda was fleeing the other Entwives who were closing in fast in her wake. Trees and shrubbery uprooted themselves to escape being trampled as the earth beneath them all rumbled ominously with the tree shepherdesses' heavy footsteps.

The wild Entwife took no notice of anything in her path as she lurched towards them swinging her thorny limbs angrily. Shrinking back, Frodo and the others tried to stay out of her way.

Seeing his ally Tellonnion, however, stood tall to meet her. Before he could even call to her, Eregalda trod heavily upon him, not even bothering to give warning as she hastened passed.

Aldananeth spared a glance for the fallen elflord, but she and the others did not stop as they followed to keep up with their renegade sister.

After the Entwives passed back into the deepening forest, all the company could do was stare at the broken body of Tellonnion. To witness such an abrupt and ignominious end to what was once a vigorous elflord left them all speechless and troubled. His current incarnation no longer mattered, and they mourned for what he had become.

“So passes Tellonnion,” murmured Gandalf. “Perhaps now he will find solace.”

It was some minutes before Frodo became aware of his surroundings again, but finally Figwit approached and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Frodo…” the elflord murmured, motioning to Carantaliel.

The she-elf had slumped against the wizard as her grandfather examined her wounded arm.

“Bring the light, Frodo,” called Elrond. “I need to remove this poisoned thorn.”

Hastening to his wife’s side, the hobbit took her into his arms and held out the light for the elflord. Carantaliel was in great distress, but remained calm while Elrond saw to her wound.

“You came for us…” she whispered to Frodo.

Tenderly he caressed a moist tendril back from her forehead and answered, “Of course I came, melethnín. If I had to move mountains or slay a legion of orcs, nothing would have kept me from finding you.”

“Are you hurt?” she asked anxiously.

“Nothing that won’t mend, Cara,” he assured her. “You must concentrate on you and the children.”

The piercing cry of the eagle Thorondil echoed through the glade and they all looked up to see the majestic beast circling above them.

“Ah, there is your ride, my dear,” breathed Gandalf with undisguised relief.

“Rest and sleep now, cormamin,” soothed Frodo. “Soon we’ll be home with no more worries to plague us…”

As he kissed her softly, Carantaliel breathed a more relaxed sigh and let herself give into the oblivious sleep she so needed.


-end of Chapter Twenty-six-