Return to Valinor

Carantaliel, though somewhat anxious about being summoned to attend the Valar, still made the most of her journey to the larger city. The countryside through which she rode was delightful and pleasant, the horse track winding amidst robust woods with spongy green turf cushioning her horse Thaurrant’s footfalls. The breeze was fresh and all sorts of delightful scents wafted past to play with her senses. Each night the she-elf found shelter on flets among the trees, which had been built for just such a purpose, and was amply supplied with food and drink and warm furs to keep away the chill of night.

In other days, Carantaliel would have enjoyed the solitary trip. She missed having a companion along with her now, however. Especially when one night, deep in the middle of the forest, she felt an unwholesomeness lurking nearby and she wished she were not alone. By the next morning, though, everything felt normal again, and shrugging off her disquiet Carantaliel resumed her journey and tried not to give those anxious concerns another thought.

Carantaliel made good time along the road and soon arrived in the bustling city of Valimar. It had been some time since the she-elf had travelled anywhere in the Undying Lands. In the past, seeing other parts of Valinor did not interest her in the least and she did not know what to expect from the great metropolis. Taking in its astonishing beauty, Carantaliel now wanted to explore every nook and cranny of this new place, if only to take back tales of it to Frodo. Suddenly, she missed him desperately and wished he were with her to see these sights in the magnificent city of Valimar. As she rode through its exalted gates, Carantaliel drank in every sight, every building, every statue and every fountain so she could relate it all to the hobbit when she returned. That day could not come quickly enough for her.


Frodo followed through with his gardening plans, each day roaming a little farther from the palace. He returned, however, to his glade at the end of his exploring each day. There he planted what he had found along the way that morning, or rearranged what he had already planted more to his liking.

On his return to the sunny spot, Frodo always found the earthenware jug and cup filled with the delicious water. And he always drank as much as was there.

Soon the hobbit was feeling more like his old self, although his ordeal with the One Ring would come back at the most unexpected moments to haunt him. Still, he felt stronger and took on more ambitious projects until he stood back one day and looked up at the hill appraisingly.

“I think I could do it,” Frodo told himself. “I could build a hobbit hole, but where to start? Perhaps Gandalf has a suggestion of what to do…”

The wizard pondered Frodo’s question thoroughly before answering.

“That is quite an undertaking, my dear Frodo,” he said finally. “Why not give the Elves your requirements and let them figure out what to do and build it?”

The hobbit was equally thoughtful in his response. “I feel like I must take on this project myself… at least at first. I’m feeling much better and I believe that all my hard work is paying off.”

“That is good news, my friend,” Gandalf nodded. “Well, at least we might be able to find you someone with expertise in such things to advise you. Elves are master builders and there’s certain to be more than a few architects in the area.”

Frodo agreed that was a good suggestion and he sought out Elrond to ask him if there was such a person to be found nearby. By the next day, the hobbit was sitting down with a truly ancient elf named Belegcalion.

“Well, Master Frodo,” he said thoughtfully, “you have certainly given me a puzzle.” Frodo had laid out his ideas, improving upon the aspects of Bag End, but the elf scratched his head. “A round door? And round windows? And you want to tunnel directly into the hill?”

“I know it is not what the Elves are accustomed to, my lord,” explained Frodo, “but this is the layout of a typical hobbit dwelling. I lived in just such a place in the Shire.”

“Oh, I do not doubt you, Master Frodo,” he assured the hobbit. “But you are right, Elves are not used to such abodes. Fortunately I have spent time with some Dwarves, so burrowing in the ground is not entirely alien to me. Do you think I might see where you plan to build this home of yours?”

Frodo did not answer immediately. He had not given thought to anyone visiting his glade, and it had rather become a sacred place to him of sorts. Of course, practicality won out when he realized that he meant for Bilbo to live with him and that naturally he would want Gandalf to visit. Deep down he had to admit that he longed for Carantaliel to return to see all his hard work as well.

Finally, he replied, “Of course.”

The hobbit’s reluctant answer was not lost on the shrewd Belegcalion who asked, “Is there a problem?”

“No, no,” Frodo was quicker to reassure the elf this time. “Of course you must see the site. It’s not far, but it is a little bit of a hike. Are you prepared to see it now?”

“I would enjoy a walk in the woods, Master Frodo,” the architect replied. “Do lead on…”


Belegcalion surveyed Frodo’s glade with astonished wonder. “Well, Master Frodo, I have been here for more years than you can count and I must tell you that I have never seen this pretty clearing before in my entire life. How did you find it?”

“I can’t really say,” Frodo shrugged lightly. “I just walked out the door and went where my feet took me.”

The elf grunted amiably then spent the next little while exploring the site, making notes and calculations on a scrap of parchment. Unable to be of much help for the moment, the hobbit sat at the base of an aged apple tree to watch his companion with interest.

Frodo liked the tree. He felt safe beneath its wide boughs, still lovely with white blossoms. Despite it’s delicate appearance it seemed like it could protect him from any danger, though he expected little peril in the Blessed Realm.

Nearly an hour later Belegcalion joined the hobbit under the tree.

“You have a good eye, Master Frodo,” he said amiably. “This is an ideal spot for what you want to do. When do you want to get started? I can have some strong elves here in the morning if you wish.”

Once again Frodo showed reluctance and the architect gave him an expectant look. “I…” he began, “I was rather hoping to do most of the work myself.”

“It’s a big job, Frodo,” said Belegcalion. “I can understand your wanting to work on your own home, but you’re going to need help with the excavation at the very least.”

Frodo looked at the hill for a long moment and sagged slightly when he realized the enormity of the work. “I suppose you’re right…”

Belegcalion put a friendly hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “Never fear, my friend. There will be plenty for you to do even with our help. Here, let me show you how we should begin…”

With that the elf spread out his plans and calculations on the grass between them, and Frodo was soon glad he was going to have help after all. It seems creating his hobbit hole was going to take much more than merely digging into the hill. Being as quick-witted as he was, Frodo quickly grasped the concepts of excavation and asked Belegcalion intelligent questions along the way. By the time they left the glade, the hobbit was again eagerly anticipating the building of his new home.


Carantaliel presented herself at the palace of the Valar as Galadriel instructed her to do and she was greeted graciously by a pair of she-elves. They led her down an airy corridor to an antechamber of sorts. The room was open to the outside with a waterfall gently cascading nearby. Trees also shaded the terrace there, and the effect reminded her very much of Rivendell. The architecture was different, however, and was even more elegant and rarefied than anything even she had seen in her many years in Middle Earth. Carantaliel tried very hard not to gape like a Dunlending at its astonishing exquisiteness and settled on the proffered couch near the open space between indoors and outdoors.

Refreshments were also provided and Carantaliel accepted a glass of cool water and a ripe plum while she waited. The Elven ladies were mostly silent, but they answered her questions readily enough. Still, they did not initiate any conversation and Carantaliel finally gave up trying to talk with them after all her topics were exhausted.

The one question the ladies could not answer was how long she would have to wait before the Valar would send for her to come to them. Carantaliel resigned herself to a long, silent afternoon.


Moonrise was moments away when Carantaliel heard singing from somewhere within the palace grounds. Her companions had left her some time before, having been called to other duties. The visitor therefore was left to her own devices and Carantaliel spent the evening mending her worn traveling clothes and trying to meditate.

The singing captured her undivided attention, as it was more beautiful than anything she had ever heard. The song seemed plaintive, though Carantaliel could not understand the words. They were indistinguishable or perhaps even unfamiliar, but she did not need to know their exact meaning. They spoke to her of home and at that moment she wished desperately that she were there.

“You will be home soon enough, Daughter,” a voice spoke softly.

Carantaliel was not easily startled, but she had not expected such grace. Deeply she bowed her head as she sank to one knee before Varda of the Ainur.

“Holy One, I am here as I was bid,” said Carantaliel. “How may I serve?”

“I greet you, Carantaliel Tarsulëwen. There is much I would have you know.”

The she-elf was puzzled, “Tarsulëwen, Holy One? Why do you call me that?”

“Just as Arwen Undómiel was the Evenstar to her people in Middle Earth so you, Carantaliel Tarsulëwen, are fated to be the Morningstar to your people in Valinor. After night falls, dawn must therefore rise.”

“How can this be?” Carantaliel continued to ask bewildered. “I have no special gifts to warrant such a future.”

Varda smiled down at the kneeling Carantaliel and caressed her cheek with a finger then lifted her chin to gaze into her eyes directly. “The answer to your question has not been revealed. However, I may tell you that the direction of your fate has already been set in motion.” Gracefully she brought Carantaliel to her feet and continued more soberly, “But I must add, Daughter, this course will not be an easy one.”

“I do not see how it could be any more difficult than what I have had to endure thus far.”

With a compassionate look, the Valar said, “You have it within you to face these challenges. In the end, you may have much in which to rejoice.”

“I will have to take your word for it, Holy One,” she bowed her head again. “Is this why I am here? Or is there more to my errand?”

“There is more,” Varda replied and stepped back from Carantaliel to turn slightly. “Fimbelis… do join us.”

From the shadows stepped a lithe she-elf that Carantaliel vaguely recognized. She was taller than Carantaliel, as most Elven women were. The blood of Númenor was still strong in Carantaliel, daughter of Elladan of Imladris, and she was slighter than the other females of her full-blooded race.

“Mae Govannen , Cara,” Fimbelis spoke. Her voice was soft and musical and she gazed down at Carantaliel with friendliness in her violet eyes. Raven hair spilled silkily to one side as she cocked her head and asked, “Do you not remember me, mellon nin ?”

“I sense that I should,” Carantaliel replied. “Everything about you is familiar, yet I…” she shrugged helplessly.

Fimbelis smiled, “That is no surprise, Cara. You had been gone from Imladris many years before I left. I have only been in Valinor a short time. I assure you that we were friends once, if only briefly. Do you not remember the summer I spent in Lothlórien when we were no more than children? My mother and I came to stay in the Golden Wood while our fathers went off to battle.”

Carantaliel thought hard. “That time was so long ago,” she answered, though a glimmer of memory began to dawn. “Forgive me, Fimbelis. Much has happened in the intervening years. However, I do remember now that summer. We spent the whole time running after Prince Legolas of Mirkwood who chafed at being left behind because he was still too young to fight.”

Briefly Fimbelis frowned and murmured, “Would that I had never laid eyes on that elfboy.”

Before Carantaliel could ask for an explanation, Varda smoothly interposed, “Fimbelis has asked to join your people by the Sea and she hoped a travelling companion could be found to accompany her back there.”

“Why would you leave this glorious place, Fimbelis?” asked Carantaliel. “If I did not have my family and Fr… and other reasons to return, I would surely remain here.”

“I have my reasons, Cara,” she answered. “Perhaps I will tell you about them on the journey back.”

“Fair enough. You have yourself a travelling companion then, mellonmin . When will you be ready to leave?”

“As soon as you give the word.”

-end of Chapter Five-

Tarsulëwen -- for the purposes of this story it mean "Morningstar"
Mae govannen -- Welcome
Mellon nin -- My friend