Return to Valinor

Frodo stirred several days later, feeling drained but no longer in pain. Elrond had done much to dispel the searing attack to his already wasted body, but the ache lasted throughout that night and into the next day. The hobbit was aware that others were with him too while he was ill: Gandalf and Bilbo and most especially the lady Carantaliel. Elrond cared for him with the healing grace of the Elves, but it was the lady who tended him with the compassion and tenderness of a woman as well.

The sea breeze wafted gently over the coverlet to stir his hair softly. He turned to face the open terrace and found a small vase of elanor flowers next to his bed. The delicate golden sun-stars reminded Frodo of Samwise and his dear little family.

“Poor old Sam…” he murmured. “I hope he is not as sad as I that we are parted.”

“How can he not be sad, Master Frodo,” said a voice that was growing sweeter to his ears with every passing hour, “when his best friend is ill and seemingly alone in a new and unfamiliar place?” Carantaliel passed a smooth hand over his brow, checking for the fever that was quelled at last. “But he has his family to comfort him, and I hope you will let some of your new friends be of some comfort to you.”

“If they are all as kind and sweet as you, my lady,” he replied gratefully, “then I will count myself blest and comforted both. Thank you for the flowers. It was a thoughtful gift indeed.”

She smiled, happy that it brought him some little joy. “I was glad to do it. Is there anything else I may get to make you more comfortable?”

“I’m actually feeling quite a bit better,” he said struggling amidst the mountains of pillows to sit up in bed. “The breeze woke me and I feel like I could use a breath of fresh air. Do you have time to sit with me on the veranda?”

“As much time as you please, Master Frodo,” she answered.

Throwing back the coverlet, Frodo swung his legs to hop lightly to the floor and reached for the dressing gown stretched across the foot of the bed.
Carantaliel watched with consternation as he threw the robe around his slender shoulders. The hobbit’s nightshirt clung to his body with the movement and she saw how frail he actually was. Vest and frock coat had hid much, but the thin linen of the bedclothes did little to disguise Frodo’s wan health.

He walked slowly to the veranda and looked out to the Sea. “It seems like only yesterday that I left my friends,” he mused wistfully. “I wonder what mischief Merry & Pippin are getting into… and how little Elanor is growing… and how Sam and Rosie are getting along…”

The Elven princess seemed strangely quiet and Frodo turned to find tears streaming down her face.

“My lady?” he asked anxiously. “Is something wrong?”

Quickly she wiped the tears and said with forced enthusiasm. “Not at all, Master Frodo. I’m perfectly fine.”

He gave her a skeptical look, but as she smiled warmly he let it go. Instead he said, “I wish you would call me ‘Frodo.’ It’s much easier, don’t you think?”

“Then you must call me ‘Cara.’”

“I will be glad to,” he reached out his left hand to her. “Come, Cara, and see what beautiful day it is.”

Softly Carantaliel took his proffered hand and walked out onto the veranda with him. The day was indeed beautiful. It had been many years since she took the time to notice just how breath-taking the Undying Lands were, and on this day they seemed particularly so. Carantaliel would remember its loveliness for some time to come.


“Well, my boy, you have found yourself a pretty nursemaid,” commented Bilbo as he watched Carantaliel leave sometime later that afternoon. The elder hobbit had popped by to check on his nephew just as the Elven princess had excused herself due to a summons from Galadriel saying she was needed elsewhere.

“It was uncommonly nice of her to pass the time with me,” said Frodo. “I daresay she had many other things she should be doing this afternoon.”

“Probably,” harumpfred Bilbo. “Elves are always busy doing something.”

“Say, you’ve been awfully busy yourself since we got here, Bilbo,” the younger hobbit said. “What have you been up to? You look like a fifty year old again.”

He waved carelessly, “Oh this and that… nothing of importance. But I tell you, I almost feel like I’m fifty years old again. I rather wish Gandalf would give me a nudge out the door on some new adventure, for by Bullroarer’s Spear, I feel up to the task.”

Frodo smiled, but his voice betrayed his weariness as he said, “Yes, but look where the last one got us?”

Sobering, Bilbo replied, “Quite right, my boy. I certainly had a lark, but the adventure was hard on you.”

“Have as many adventures as you like, Bilbo,” said Frodo. “Just don’t bother about leaving me any magical trinkets you find along the way.”

Laughing heartily, Bilbo sat in a chair next to Frodo on the veranda. “These Elves build nice houses,” he looked around the structure, “but I have to say that a cozy hobbit hole would be much preferred. I rather miss Bag End… Do you think we could get someone to build one for us?”

“I daresay…” answered Frodo absently. Below the terrace he noticed Carantaliel with Galadriel, Elrond and Figwit. She was now dressed for travelling and Figwit held the reins of her spirited horse, the golden steed Thaurrant.

He could not hear their conversation but the younger she-elf listened attentively while she was apparently given instructions from the Lady Galadriel.

“I wonder what that is all about?” he murmured as he continued to watch the proceedings on the lawn. Carantaliel prepared to mount her nimble horse and Figwit stooped to give her a leg up into the saddle.

Carantaliel sat gracefully atop her mount, obviously accustomed to riding a great deal. Figwit then kissed her hand gallantly and she nodded with a gracious, if brief, smile.

“Looks like she’s going on a trip,” answered Bilbo speculatively. “Did she mention it while she was here?”

“Not a word of it,” replied Frodo. “Do you think there could be some sort of emergency?”

“In Valinor?” scoffed his cousin.

The younger hobbit shrugged. “It just seems odd that she was here only a few minutes ago and suddenly she is off to parts unknown. I think she would have told me if she were going away. In any case, it seems like she’s made up with Lord Figwit.”

“More likely he made up to her. She’s fierce, that elfgirl! And very protective of you, lad. I thought she would take Figwit’s head off the other night when she felt he insulted you.” Frodo raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “No, it’s true. If she were a hobbit lass I’d say she’s set her sights on you.”

Mirthlessly, Frodo laughed, “I’m hardly marriageable material now.”

“We Bagginses were meant to be bachelors, I suppose,” chuckled Bilbo, not grieved in the least at the thought of remaining single.

Frodo, on the other hand, was wistful. “It was selfishness on my part,” he admitted. “Before the quest, I rather liked doing whatever I wanted to do, not bothering necessarily about what another might prefer. I’ve waited too long, and now…”

He looked down at Carantaliel again and she just happened to glance up at that moment. Her expression had remained sober throughout the discussion with her elders and Figwit, but now the smile that lit her face was warm and genuine. At his returning smile, Carantaliel gave him the traditional Elven bow, her right hand placed lightly on her chest and then a respectful nod of the head.

Walking to the edge of the veranda, Frodo returned the Elven bow and then raised his hand in farewell. When he realized it was his four-fingered hand in the air, the hobbit quickly lowered it to his side with a half-hearted wave.

She waved in answer then turned her mount to walk it towards the road. Galadriel and Figwit remained on the lawn below the terrace, but Elrond walked further with Carantaliel.

“He hides his hand from me, “ she stated. “Even the other night he had it clenched so tightly I could not see it.”

“Give him time, my dear,” said Elrond. “We’re all used to seeing what Gollum did to it, and so there is no longer any curiosity about it. When he senses you no longer pity him, he will not be so self-conscious.”

“Pity…” she repeated. “How can I not pity him, my lord? Did you see how frail and wasted he is?”

The elflord reached up to the horse’s harness to stop them. “Cara, he neither needs nor wants your pity,” he said gravely. “Frodo has been ill and scarred, but he is not pitiable. Do not make the same mistake as Lord Figwit and think this small, wan hobbit is inconsequential. He has accomplished an almost impossible task. One that I’m not sure any of the rest of us could have done.”

Ruefully, Carantaliel replied, “I deserve your reproach, my lord. I had forgotten the Evil he has conquered. Still, even more do I want to help him and to heal him somehow. He at least deserves our compassion, does he not?”

“I did not intend to reproach you, Cara. Frodo needs and appreciates your compassion. I see how well he is responding to it, but you must be careful, my dear.”

“Why? Careful how?”

Elrond’s brow furrowed deeply and he started them walking again while he considered his answer. He had already counseled his daughter about loving a man outside her race and Arwen Undómiel chose to follow her own heart despite his misgivings. What should he tell his granddaughter now?

“Just be wary of letting Frodo think you feel more than you do,” he finally said. “Hobbits are warm and merry companions on the surface, but they can also be passionately loyal.”

“That does not sound like any reason to be cautious, my lord,” she replied, sensing he was not telling her what he really meant.

“I don’t think you should let him feel more for you than he does already,” he said flatly. “He’s had enough sorrow in his life…”

Now Carantaliel stopped her mount. “Are you telling me not to love Frodo?” she asked, pique rising rapidly in her.
He held up a hand and replied, “I just think…”

His granddaughter reined her growing anger but said, “How is that fair to Frodo? Or to me for that matter? You bring him all the way to the Undying Lands with only his kinsman to keep him company, leaving all his loved ones behind at home. You bring him among strangers to heal and be whole again, and then you isolate him, not wanting him to form relationships with any of the rest of us? What kind of honor is that for him who has done this marvelous thing for Middle-earth? Is he meant to live out eternity alone? Why not let him live out his days at home then where he would at least pass away among all those who love him?”

“I did not mean…”

“And am I not allowed to choose for myself? Do I not deserve some happiness after Tellonnion? You know how his fate has tortured me… Am I to be punished so forever too?” Tears glistened in her eyes, but she remained steadfast.

“My dear, I am sorry,” said Elrond, realizing his words were ill timed and ill spoken. “I know how you have suffered and how Frodo has suffered. I did not mean to imply that you should remain aloof from him. Of course I encourage you to be friends with him.”

“And nothing more? Would you tell any elfmaid the same or do you caution me because you disapprove the Evenstar’s choice?”

Elrond checked a hot retort, saying evenly, “My daughter is not the issue here. Are you determined to love this hobbit, then?”

”I am determined to make my own choice, my lord,” she replied proudly. “I do not know how I feel about Frodo Baggins at this point other than to want to help him. We have only just met. However, should my feelings for him grow deeper I do not plan on denying them.”

“Very well,” Elrond sighed deeply. “I truly only want your happiness, my dear. If Frodo is the one who eventually helps you to that, I will not gainsay him.”

Carantaliel released her anger slowly and gave Elrond a brief smile, “Thank you for that, my lord. I do not want to be at odds with you.”

“Nor I you, Cara,” he answered. “You had best be off. Safe journey, my dear.”


-end of Chapter Three-