Return to Valinor

It was not until she was halfway into the woods that Carantaliel realized she did not know where it was that she was headed. Once leaving the palace she just ran, looking for some sort of refuge from the pressure she was feeling from her family. Granted, Galadriel admitted that she should not marry Figwit if she did not love him, but the Lady of Light was not exactly in favor of the alternative path whatever that may be.

Carantaliel finally slowed down and looked around to get her bearings. The path she was on was unfamiliar, but the countryside was not wholly foreign to her either. She soon came to recognize that her private sanctuary was along a parallel path. The sanctuary was a place she set aside when she came to Enedvása to remember Tellonnion since there was no grave to mark his passing in Middle Earth. She went there often when she first arrived in Valinor, but as the years wore on Carantaliel felt the desire to go there less and less. Why then did she run this way now?

While she was pondering this puzzle, she heard industrious sounds ahead on the path. At first the she-elf was alarmed that someone was intruding near her betrothed's shrine, but then she discerned this path turned in entirely the opposite direction.

Curious now to what this noise might be, Carantaliel edged closer to the sounds, but halted on the edge of the shelter of trees.

Head down, delving deep into the earth in the middle of a clearing, someone was vigorously digging a hole. At first she thought him a stripling elfboy, his arms strong and sinewy as he gripped the shovel tightly, but his body slender like a sapling birch not yet grown to full height.

And then he stood to stretch and Carantaliel knew it was no mere elfboy, but Frodo Baggins hard at work on his hobbit hole. “Frodo?” she murmured in disbelief.

Still slight and slim, the hobbit was now hale and healthier. No trace of childishness or wastedness clung to his body. With his exertions, his linen shirt had come untucked and he unbuttoned it now to flap it slightly to cool his sweaty skin.

There was a small table to one side with an earthenware pitcher and cup, and Frodo wandered over to it and poured himself a glass and drank it thirstily. He poured himself a second cup and as he drained it, he looked up to see Carantaliel hovering at the edge of the clearing.

“Cara!” he called with delight, then suddenly realized his shirt was open and hastily began buttoning it up. The look on her face gave him pause, though, and he approached her with concern. “Are you all right? You look distressed.”

Suddenly Carantaliel snapped out of her amazed state and looked around the glade. “This is beautiful,” she marveled. “You did all this, Frodo?”

“Not all,” he grinned finally. “I’ve had a lot of help – from where I can’t even tell you! How did you find me?”

“To be honest, Frodo, I came upon you by accident. When I left the palace I did not know where I was headed.”

Frodo frowned, “Something is bothering you then?”

She smiled to disarm him, “It’s not important. What are you working on?”

Frodo explained to her his garden project, including the tree he was transplanting. Carantaliel knew a little about horticulture and informed him the hole he was presently digging was the worst possible place for the tree he was going to plant in it.

Sighing, the hobbit asked, “Any ideas for a better spot then?”

“This is a variety of willow,” she murmured. “It would be best by the water.”

“Show me the spot then and I will start digging…”

Putting the ugliness of the morning behind her, she grinned and said, “Give me a shovel and I’ll help!”

The pair made short work of the new transplant and moved back to the original hole to fill it in with dirt and replace the sod. Next Frodo showed her the fuschia bushes he wanted to plant near the low stone wall that marked the boundary of his home and she quickly dove in with relish. Frodo sang funny songs as they worked and Carantaliel joined in when she could. They spent an enjoyable morning together thinking of nothing more than the earth and nature and the joy of amiable companionship.

As they were finishing up with the last bush, Frodo happened to look up to see Lord Figwit watching them dourly from the end of the path. He was not happy to see that the elflord had found his home, but nevertheless he stood to greet him civilly after touching Carantaliel lightly on the shoulder to alert her.

“Good day, herumin ,” he greeted. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“No, thank you, Master Baggins,” he replied neutrally. “I was just looking for the lady. Your grandmother has been anxious about you, Carantaliel. You should come back to the palace to let her know you are all right.”

“I am not ready to return, my lord,” she replied coolly. “I have promised Frodo that I would help him today, and we are not quite finished.”

“Cara, please…” Figwit pleaded taking a step towards her.

“We have much to do, my lord. Either take up a shovel or feel free to return to Lady Celebrían and tell her my plans.”

Again, Figwit took another step towards her and asked plaintively, “There is nothing I can say to change your mind?”

“You know there isn’t, my lord,” she stood firm.

With a heavy sigh, Figwit started to move even closer but then thought better of it. He stood straighter again, putting on his haughty mask of disdain. “Very well. Good day, Master Baggins.” Without another word to Carantaliel, Figwit turned on his heel and left the glade.

She stood still for a long moment, tense with anger. Figwit must have followed her in the woods and watched the entire time she was working with Frodo. The hobbit watched her for some moments, wondering a little at the previous conversation. Whatever was between them must have sent Carantaliel out into the forest earlier.

As he touched her arm lightly, the she-elf started but then refocused on her companion. “Perhaps we should take a break?” he suggested.

With a slight nod, Carantaliel agreed and Frodo pointed to a nice shady spot on a small incline under his favorite apple tree. The herb garden was nearby with many wholesome smells, including athelas, mingling together. The scent was heady and Frodo breathed in deep to let all the aromas wash the tenseness from his body.

Carantaliel did not try the breathing technique and Frodo sensed she was still keyed up from the encounter. Rather than try to skirt the issue, he decided to plunge headlong into it.

“Figwit seems to fancy you,” Frodo commented as he munched on a mint leaf or two from the herb garden.

She made a strange sound of disgust, “Oh. Him…”

Trying not to sound too gleeful, he asked, “You don’t return his affections?”

“Certainly not,” Carantaliel said testily and dropped to the ground. “I wish everyone would stop pushing him on me. Let’s not speak of him.”

Frodo considered her for a long moment as she lay back on the ground and watched the leaves stir in the trees above them. She was certainly vexed, although he knew her anger was not directed at him.

Still, he was apologetic as he sank to the grass next to her. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

“Nevermind,” she waved it away then winced slightly. “It’s my palms that are sore. How do you hobbits get so much work done when it causes so much discomfort?”

She was not really in any pain. Elves rarely felt the discomfort of something so trivial. Frodo knew she was just trying to change the subject, so he humored her. “Calluses, my lady,” he held up his left hand. “You get used to it eventually. May I?” he pointed to her hand.

Without qualm Carantaliel gave up her hand and the hobbit examined the blistered palm, running his thumb gently over the puffy weal. “You’re done digging for the day, my lady. You don’t want to break open the skin. I have a salve back at the palace. Something I received from a Shieldmaiden of Rohan named Gliowien, a most excellent lady. I will be happy to tend it for you, if you wish.”

“Ah, the Rohirrim…” she murmured. “I have heard tell of the Horse-lords, but I did not know their women were warriors too.”

“Very valiant warriors,” he confirmed. “It was the Lady Éowyn herself, sister of the new king Éomer, that killed the Witch-king of Angmar, the Lord of the Nazgûl.”

Carantaliel was more than impressed. “Did she?” she asked eagerly. “I wish I had known her. What is she like, this Éowyn?”

Faltering, the hobbit replied, “I… I cannot really say, my lady. I was not there… being otherwise occupied with my own battle at the time.”

Quick to relieve his uneasiness Carantaliel said lightly, “For someone whose hands are callused, you have a gentle touch.”

Frodo blushed at the compliment and to hide his embarrassment, he stretched out in the grass next to her, propping himself up on an elbow. “I don’t usually have to work this hard,” he demurred.

Lying back once again, Carantaliel laughed and relaxed, “Between the two of us, I hope we can get your hobbit hole built without it caving in then.” He chuckled lightly feeling comfortable with her. “Listen,” she said with sudden seriousness as she turned to face him, “Lord Figwit is a worthy suitor. Any elfmaid would be lucky to find favor with him.”

“But you don’t feel lucky?” he asked.

Carantaliel sighed and looked to the sky momentarily as if in appeal, “I wish I did.” She refocused then on him, sending her deep turquoise eyes up at Frodo wistfully. “No, that is not true. I do not care for Figwit as he does me. Nor do I wish it otherwise, except to say that I would rather he did not care for me at all.”

Carefully Frodo replied, “He seems an honorable enough elflord. What is it that you dislike about him?”

“It is very selfish and conceited of me, I suppose, but he lacks all passion or imagination. He is always so serious and has a tendency towards arrogance. He says he respects me, but I do not fully believe it.”

“And why not? He seems to treat you with deference whenever I’ve seen him with you…”

“Perhaps I’m too strong willed, but I sense he would rather possess me than love me,” she replied half-ruefully. “I’ve been on my own for some time now here in Valinor. I don’t need to be put on a pedestal or worse -- in a cage.”

“That would be a shame,” Frodo said soberly.

Suddenly she smiled, “He could take a page or two out of your book, Frodo. You hobbits seem to enjoy life to the fullest. You’re generous and compassionate and fiercely loyal. I’ve also noticed you are modest and quick to notice the goodness in others. Those are rare qualities.”

“Go on with you,” he smiled broadly. “You’re going to give me delusions of grandeur.’’

The Elven princess moved her head slightly so she could look Frodo clearly in the eye. “You don’t look delusional to me,” she replied with an inviting look that stirred something deep within him.

Her lovely face was just inches from his, her lips forming a gentle smile. Without thinking about what he was doing Frodo leaned slightly forward and kissed her tenderly.

His kiss was sweetly tentative with lips that were soft and pliant and pleasantly moist. Carantaliel was a little surprised he had found courage to do it, but she had longed for that kiss. She held back from responding fully, waiting for him to shed his bashfulness and really take control when he suddenly stopped with a sharp gasp.

He look appalled and Carantaliel started up anxiously when Frodo began to stammer, “My lady, I am so sorry. I don’t know what…”

She relaxed then, her blue-green eyes gazing up at him steadily. Realizing his audacity, Frodo did not know how to read her smile. Was she mocking him?

“Be silent, Frodo Baggins,” Carantaliel demanded huskily. As he still murmured incoherent apologies, she added, “Or must I find a way to silence you?”

She slid her hand into his shirt where it was still open from the heat. Barely brushing her fingertips over his chest, she lightly followed the line of his newly developing muscles, briefly touching the white gemstone pendant he always wore. As Carantaliel felt him quiver involuntarily with pleasure at her touch, she caught him by his shirtfront and gently but firmly pulled him towards her.

When their lips met this second time, Frodo was neither tentative nor chaste. Following Carantaliel’s lead he responded to her kiss eagerly, savoring the taste of her breath mingling with his.

Sliding his ruined hand under her head he drew her closer, his other hand searching for the fastenings of her tunic. They proved elusive and the lovers began to giggle as they worked on the garment together, the hilarity only heightening their desire.


Their lovemaking was merry and satisfying despite their differences in experience and stature. They took great pleasure in one another, both pushing aside their sorrow to delight in the pure physical enjoyment of this unexpectedly intimate encounter.

For Carantaliel being with Frodo now was as breathtaking as if it was her first time again. Memories of her intimacies with Tellonnion were so faded she did not think of him now and no other had even tempted her in the intervening years.

Spent at last, Frodo lay on his back with his left arm pillowing his head as he gazed up into the lacy canopy of trees. Absently he wondered why he had never been interested in any of the hobbit lasses either before or after his ordeal with the Ring. The girls were certainly pretty at home, and there had been a few flirtations, but nothing at all serious. He glanced down at Carantaliel and he knew then that for all their amiable prettiness, none could compare to the Elven princess lying beside him. Carantaliel seemed to be sleeping, her head nestled to his chest, but he sensed she was thinking too. Lightly he ran his fingers down her spine and felt her tremble slightly, but she did not stir. Not wanting to spoil the serene mood, he sighed contentedly and closed his eyes to drift back to the happy memory of the past little while.


Carantaliel had indeed been thinking deeply, her thoughts centered exclusively on Frodo. When she first saw him on the deck of the Elven ship all those weeks ago, she was moved by him, her emotions stirred as they had not for centuries, but she never would have imagined she would be lying with him now.

Oh, how she loved this hobbit! There were so many things she wanted to say, to tell him of her life and of her sorrow. She wanted now to share everything with him, but all she found herself saying was, “I think you’ve gotten taller.”

Awakened out of a drowse, he asked, “What?”

“I said I think you’ve gotten taller since you’ve come to Valinor.”

Frodo chuckled, “Wishful thinking…”

Lifting her head slightly, she said, “No, I’m serious. Or perhaps it is because you are healthier…” and settled back down on his chest.

“Much healthier,” he grinned and she laughed lightly.

“Healthier indeed!” she agreed.

As they lay there companionably, Frodo was the most relaxed he had been since before he left for Rivendell. He forgot about hiding his four-fingered hand from her and clasped it loosely on his abdomen.

Carantaliel had only seen glimpses of it, but since everyone knew Frodo’s story, no one seemed curious about it but her. Still, she had not wanted to distress him since he took great pains to hide the hand from her. With it now lying inches from her face, Carantaliel gave in to her curiosity and gently took his hand in hers.

Dismayed, Frodo tried to take it back, but she held firm.

“Why won’t you let me see it, Frodo?” she asked tenderly. “You have no reason to be embarrassed, especially in front of me – especially because of what we just shared…”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he said miserably, still attempting weakly to loosen her grasp. “I’m… I’m ashamed…”

He gave in finally, but turned his head away from her. Carantaliel saw tears brim in his eyes and she was quick to reassure him. “Nyeerin? Mankoi lle naa nyeerin, melethnín? Lle ona varen Arda tuulo ‘kshin caim. You cannot think that anyone thinks less of you because of this…”

“But I failed, Cara…” he whispered tearfully. “In the end I could not do it… I could not throw the ring into the pit.”

His stark admission pierced her heart. All this time he did not see. He did not know what a feat he had accomplished. “Na sina rashwe tanya naegranne lle sina an luume, Frodo?" Still, he could not look at her, but she lifted his hand reverently to her lips and kissed the spot of his missing finger weeping gently, “Frodo… Frodo… you must not think you failed. No one could have done what you did, cormamin. No one -- not Gandalf, nor Aragorn, nor even your beloved Sam could have accomplished such a deed. Your task wasn’t to throw it into the pit. Your task was to get it there in the first place. Fate would intervene to destroy it when the time was right. And if Fate had not moved through Gollum, then perhaps Sam would have been catalyst or even yourself eventually. Yet, only you could have borne the One Ring to Mount Doom.”

“Sam could have done it,” he replied stubbornly.

“But Sam would not have thought to do it, Frodo,” she countered. “Don’t you see?”

This time he succeeded in reclaiming his hand and he sat up quickly, “What do you know of Sam? He is the bravest person I know!”

Carantaliel sat up too, her red-gold hair tumbling distractingly over her bare shoulders. Frodo closed his eyes against the sight of her.

“I am not insulting your friend, melethnín,” she murmured. “I know much of Sam from your own lips. I know how much you love him and how much he adores and respects you in return. But the fact of the matter is that because of his modesty and his great respect for you, it would never occur to him that he was worthy enough or smart enough to take on such a quest. He went because you went, nothing more. His task was to bear you up when you needed it, Frodo, and no one could have done that like Sam.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and Carantaliel saw hope again along with the tears. “I did not fail?” he asked brokenly.

“Laume,” she answered kissing his tears softly and tasting the saltiness on his cheeks, “naa n’qeluva.”

Gratefully, Frodo pulled her close and held her for a long moment. All these years he had tortured himself, thinking that he warranted none of the honor he was given later. He felt he was a fraud, but no one seemed to hear him when he tried to confess his guilt.

Carantaliel had heard him, but she had also absolved him. She was a saving grace in ways that Frodo have never dreamed to deserve. Taking her face in both his two hands, he bent to kiss her deeply and passionately. Her response was eager and desire stirred in him again, but as he started to bear her to the ground once more he heard an unexpected sound in the distance.

“What’s that?” he started. “I think someone’s coming…”

“It’s Gandalf,” she confirmed. “He’s been looking for you for awhile.”

“Gandalf?!” he gasped, quickly donning his discarded garments. “Makoi lle uma quena amin?”

“Amin nae nowa en’ n’at ie’ lume.”

She gazed up at him with laughing eyes and his hunger for her was far from sated. “Lle naa rwalaer! The last thing I need is for Gandalf to find me lolling about with you in the shade. I will never hear the end of it!”

“Very well,” she laughed, “far be it for me to impugn your modesty, Master Baggins,” and began dressing as well.

To her amazement, he grabbed her and kissed her with hard urgency then quickly stood and began busying himself around the hobbit hole. Carantaliel was breathless for a long moment, but then she spotted the wizard coming up the path and quickly finished with her clothing.

When the wizard found them, the pair was talking companionably about the plans for Frodo and Bilbo’s new home. Gandalf sensed a different atmosphere between them as they merrily greeted him from clearing. Everything felt lighter, like a great weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

“Ho, Gandalf!” called Frodo. “I don’t suppose you want to take a turn at shoveling dirt?”

“It looks like you have things well in hand, my dear Frodo,” he replied with a broad grin, delighted to see Frodo happy for a change. “I would hate to undo all your hard work with a miss-aimed blow. You seem to be making good progress.”

“It’s hot work, I’ll tell you,” he said as the wizard approached and gave Frodo a friendly slap on the back. “But the lady insisted on taking a turn after making some improvements to my garden plan, so we got quite a bit done today.”

“Indeed?” Gandalf gave her an impressed look.

“It was rather enjoyable… doing something physical for a change,” she gave Frodo a stealthy smile. “But I must return to the palace, Master Baggins. I am sure I’ve been missed.”

As she picked up her belongings, Frodo said, “Er… If your hand is still giving you problems, my lady, do feel free to stop by my… er… chambers later. I have that salve… for your blisters.”

Fully understanding his meaning, she cocked her head and said in a sultry tone, “I’ll be sure to come find you. I’m sure we can put that salve to good use.” It took Frodo every ounce of composure not to choke as she slyly winked and turned to go. “Tenna telwan, mellynmin …”

Both men watched as she made her way up the hill and Frodo slowly let his breath out when she was gone.

“My dear boy, do you feel all right? You looked flushed.”

“I’m just fine, Gandalf. In fact, I’ve never felt better.”

The answer surprised the wizard, and he raised an appraising eyebrow at the hobbit and looked him up and down. Finally, he remarked, “Frodo, my boy, I do think you have grown taller.”

Frodo laughed heartily, “You know, Gandalf? I think you’re right!”

Being the first time the wizard ventured to the glade, he took a long, thoughtful moment to take in all the aspects of Frodo’s project.

“This is quite remarkable, my boy,” he marveled. “I would almost swear we were standing in front of Bag End. Bilbo will be thrilled.”

Frodo gave he friend a rueful smile, “If we can get him here. He’s enjoying himself so much at Enedvása that I don’t think I will be able to convince him to leave it.”

“He’s been living so long with the Elves now, I think he’s forgotten what it’s like to live like a hobbit.”

“I wonder what he’s been up to,” Frodo began. “I haven’t seen much of him…”

His thought was interrupted by the piercing cry of a bird in pain. Both wizard and hobbit looked up to the sky in the direction of the shriek and saw a figure careening in a broad circle.

“In all my long years…” Gandalf murmured.

“What is it, Gandalf? It looks very high up. I can barely make it out,” remarked Frodo. “It’s difficult to tell, but it looks like an eagle.”

“It is,” replied the Istari. As Frodo opened his mouth to speak, Gandalf stayed him by saying, “And no, there are no eagles in Enedvása, though there are numerous eagles about Valinor. Perhaps it is about the countryside on business for Manwë…”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

Gandalf turned to the hobbit and replied seriously, “I’m not.”


-end of Chapter Nine-


My grateful thanks to Novedhelion for the following translations:

"Nyeerin? Mankoi lle naa nyeerin, melethnín? Lle ona varen Arda tuulo ‘kshin caim." -- Ashamed/Grieved? Why are you ashamed/grieved? Your sacrifice/gift has protected Middle Earth from evil hands.

“Na sina rashwe tanya naegranne lle sina an luume, Frodo?" -- This is the trouble that has tormented you this long time, Frodo?

“Laume... naa n’qeluva.” -- No... You did not fail.

“Makoi lle uma quena amin?” -- Why didn't you tell me?

“Amin nae nowa en’ n’at ie’ lume.” -- I was thinking of something else at the time.

“Lle naa rwalaer!" -- You are a lusty one!

"Tenna telwan, mellynmin." -- Until later, my friends