This is another tale in the Nameless One series, since it is about Anomen in the days before his identity as Legolas is finally revealed. Some readers have requested additional elfling tales in the series, and this is such a tale. Also, several readers have asked for more scenes featuring both Anomen and Glorfindel. This tale does not center upon their relationship, but it does contain some interaction between the two.
About the title: 'Berg' is the German word for mountain, so that fits the Goldberg portion of the title, and there will be a second chapter, so that fits the Variations portion. The reason for the 'gold' in the title will be obvious, and the whole title is a pun upon a musical title, which I will leave you to discover.
For the Sindarin numbers, I follow Ryszard Derdzinski's Summary of the Sindarin Grammar
Beta Reader: Since this story will consist of two chapters only, I have not asked my beta reader to weigh in, as I do not like to burden her with anything beyond Parallel Quest, for which she has already reviewed thirty-seven chapters! If anyone sees a mistake, please alert me.
Arwen stood on the bridge staring at the forest into which her father had disappeared, riding south, toward a rendezvous with a delegation of Dunlendings who had sued for an end to the hostilities that had existed ever since a band of Men had attacked an elven pack train, injuring several Elves and stealing a dozen horses. He would be gone, he had told her, for a fortnight. 'Fourteen days,' she thought miserably. 'That's more days than I have fingers'. She held up both hands, fingers splayed, and regarded them. 'Min, tâd, nêl, canad, leben', she counted to herself. One, two, three, four, five. 'Eneg, odog, tolodh, neder, pae', she continued. "That's ten," she said aloud. Then she dropped one hand and tucked the thumb of the other. 'Minig, uiug, pae-a-nêl, pae-a-canad', she counted. Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. "Too many fingers," she said mournfully, folding her hands into fists. She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes, and anyone seeing her would have been struck at how very alike the young of all races are, regardless of their superficial differences. A man-child watching his father set out from Bree to trade sheep in Archet would have looked every bit as miserable as Arwen.
As she stood on the bridge, her eyes welling, Arwen sensed a presence and looked over her shoulder. Anomen was regarding her worriedly. "Oh, Nomie," she cried, "Ada will be gone ever so long, and I don't know how I shall manage without him. Perhaps," she added fearfully, "I shall fade. Do you suppose I shall?"
Anomen came to stand by her. He shook his head. "No," he said kindly, "You shan't. Fourteen days are as nothing in the life of an Elf. You will see. The time will pass quickly, with lessons and games, and then you will see your Ada riding back over the bridge."
"You think so, Nomie?" Arwen said hopefully. "And I won't fade?"
"Truly you will not," Anomen assured her. "Consider, 'Wen, that it is already several hours since your father departed. When he left, you had to bear the thought that he would not return for fourteen days. But now it is less than fourteen days until his return. If you could bear the thought that he would be gone for fourteen days entire, then you may surely bear the thought that he will be gone for a lesser period of time."
"Oh," said Arwen. "Oh. I hadn't thought of that. So he won't be gone for fourteen days."
"Not anymore he won't," affirmed Anomen. "Indeed, your Ada is coming back sooner than he was even a few minutes ago. Oh, wait a moment—now he is coming back even sooner! And now—"
"Nomie," giggled Arwen, "you are silly."
"Silly," exclaimed Anomen, making a show of being affronted. "Silly! Indeed I am not! I am quite in earnest!"
"No, you are not, Nomie, and I am glad you are not. You said the time would pass in lessons and games. Erestor will make sure of the lessons, but you must play the games with me. I know Elrohir won't because he pretends to be a grownup, and Elladan won't because he almost always will oblige Elrohir by doing whatever he wants—twins are awful, I think. So you must play with me, Nomie, or nobody else will."
Here Arwen put on a tragic expression, and Anomen struggled not to laugh, for her turned-down mouth was woefully at variance with her dancing eyes. After a few moments, however, he gave up and giggled, and then Arwen abandoned her attempts at looking miserable and began to laugh as well. At last Anomen managed to sober himself. "I will play with you, 'Wen," he promised, "but not this afternoon. Elladan was making droll faces at me on the training field, and twice I shot wide. I want to go and search for my arrows, for I shouldn't like Glorfindel to notice that I am short."
Arwen nodded solemnly. She had never been on the receiving end of one of Glorfindel's rebukes, but often enough she had seen Elladan, Elrohir, and Anomen quailing beneath the fierce eye of the balrog-slayer. "You find your arrows," she agreed. "I will go in the garden and pick flowers for a garland for Ada."
"A garland might fade before he returns," Anomen pointed out, "but if you pluck the petals and let them dry, you can make him a sachet. He can take it out and hold it to his nose whenever Mithrandir puffs upon his pipe," the young Elf added mischievously. This drew a merry laugh, and Arwen ran off gaily, her spirits restored.
Anomen walked on to the training field. He hastened past the targets and into the woods behind them. Quickly he found his two arrows, as well as several belonging to other Elves, including one that actually looked as if it might belong to Glorfindel himself. Anomen held it up and carefully examined it. 'Yes', he said to himself, 'that is indeed Glorfindel's mark'. He grinned and put the arrow into his quiver. 'I should like to see Glorfindel's face if I draw out one of his arrows when he is scolding me for carelessness', he chortled to himself. Then he spied another arrow on the far side of a rill. He was about to step across the streamlet when a bright glint caught his eye. He bent down and from amongst the pebbles in the rill picked up a tiny fleck. He held the flake up, and it gleamed bright in the sun. 'Gold', he said to himself. 'It must have washed out of a deposit hereabouts. If I find only a few flakes more, I can ask the goldsmith to gild the pendant that I am carving for Arwen's birthday'. For gold is extraordinarily ductile, and even a small quantity would have sufficed for the end that Anomen had in mind.
From the pouch that he wore at his side, Anomen drew out the small piece of cloth in which was wrapped his whetting stone. He returned the whetting stone to the pouch and wrapped the gold flake in the cloth. Then he set about scanning the streambed for additional flakes. Soon he spotted one upstream of the spot where he had found the first fleck. Encouraged, he added it to the first and then continued his search, moving ever upstream. In short order he had found three more flakes. 'I wonder if I can find the source', he mused, 'for it may be useful to have a vein so close to Rivendell. The Elves of Greenwood proffer gold for our glasswork, but they get it from the Men of Esgaroth, who, it is said, acquire it from dwarven vagabonds who relinquish heirlooms to stave off starvation. Surely that is no a reliable source! 'Twould be better if Rivendell had a source nearer to hand'.
Anomen continued searching, moving ever upstream. After a little while, he had as many flakes as the cloth could hold, so he knotted it and put it in his pouch. He observed many other flecks glinting amongst the pebbles and continued to follow the trail until he had gone several hundred feet without seeing one. Then he returned to the last spot where he had seen a flake. There a rivulet entered the stream. Its source was to the east, and Anomen lifted up his eyes and gazed upon the mountain from whose flanks it arose. 'The vein must lie somewhere within that mountain', he said to himself. Well pleased, he turned his steps toward home. 'Elrond will be glad to learn of this gold', he told himself happily. 'It will free us from dependence upon Dwarves'. Congratulating himself upon his astuteness, the elfling began to sing as he walked.
Confidence—over-confidence, that is—has been the bane of many. As Anomen sang, he listened to the sound of his own voice, never noticing the slight rustling and crackling noises that would have alerted him to the approach of danger. He rounded a bend in the stream—and found himself staring at the drawn arrows of a band of Men. From their clothing, he did not judge them to be Dunlendings, and when they spoke, his suspicions—and fears—were proved to be correct.
"A lone Elf," sneered one of the Men.
"Aye, and a young one, too," observed another.
'Southrons', thought Anomen, his stomach clenching. Thanks to Erestor, his grounding in the languages of Men was very thorough.
Anomen remained still. He was an excellent archer, but even Glorfindel could not have defended himself against upwards of a dozen Men who had already drawn and nocked their arrows.
The Man who had first spoken—the leader, apparently—gestured, and some of his companions sidled around until Anomen was completely surrounded. One Man seized the Elf's bow; another took his knife. Then the leader step forward. "Let us see what he has in his pouch," he declared. He cut the strings of the pouch, and grimaced in disappointment as he looked inside. "Whetting stone, flint and steel. Paugh!" He flung it down. One of his fellows picked it up and peered into it. "There is something wrapped in cloth," he announced, pulling forth the packet of gold. "Let me see that!" exclaimed the leader, turning back toward him. He snatched the cloth from his follower and undid the knot. "Gold!" he gloated. "Where did you get this?" he demanded of Anomen.
The young Elf thought quickly. It would not do for Men to learn that gold was to be found near Imladris. "I acquired it on my travels," he said—omitting to mention, of course, that his 'travels' had been brief. Let the Men think what they liked; he had told no lie!
"You are not equipped for a journey," said the Man suspiciously. "You carry no pack."
Legolas shrugged. "What need have I for a pack? As you see, I carry whetting stone, flint and steel. These answer my needs. With my arrows I bring down game; with my knife, kept ever sharp, I dress my prey; with my flint and steel I kindle the fire with which to cook my dinner. If you do not believe me, look in my quiver, wherein you will find arrows variously marked. These I have collected in token of my journey."
The Man yanked the quiver from Anomen's shoulder and dumped its contents upon the ground. As Anomen had said, diverse arrows were mingled amongst his own.
The Man nodded. "Very well. You have acquired this gold during your travels. Tell us where, exactly, or you will travel no more!"
"Journey with me to Dunland," Anomen replied, "and there you will learn the truth."
Before the leader could reply, one of his Men spoke up. "Dunland," he said excitedly. "Have not our spies reported that there is bad blood between the Elves and the Dunlendings and that the Dundlendings are desirous of suing for peace. They must mean to buy off the Elves."
"Is this true?" demanded the leader.
"Aye, it is so," replied Anomen, who was still speaking nothing but the truth.
"You carry a message for your Lord, then, a token of gold to come?"
"Yes," Anomen answered earnestly, "and if you do not hurt me and instead accompany me to Dunland, you will, as I have said, learn more of this matter."
"Very well," nodded the leader. "But if you are lying, you will rue the day."
"I have not lied," Anomen answered honestly. "Every word I have said is true. May I gather my arrows?"
"Yes, but we will keep your bow and your blade. Perhaps they will be returned to you. For be sure that if you lead us straight to the Dunlendings, things will turn out well for you."
"I will," promised Anomen, who had his own reasons for thinking that things would turn out well.
The Southrons bound Anomen's hands before him but did not otherwise harm him. His promise to Anomen notwithstanding, their leader had no intention of freeing him, but the Man wished him kept whole so that he would fetch a good price at a slave market in Rhûn. Anomen suspected as much, but he did not let on. He resolved to behave as if innocent of their intentions, hoping that compliant behavior on his part would lead to careless behavior on theirs.
Happy that every step he took led his enemies further away from Imladris, Anomen walked southward steadily and without complaint. The Men tired before he did, and at last the leader called a halt and ordered that cook fires be kindled. Pots were set over the flames, and strips of meat and root vegetables tossed into water fetched from a nearby stream. Anomen was set to stirring a pot under the watchful eye of one of his captors, but he had no mind to attempt to escape so close to Rivendell. 'I will lead them far away before I give them the slip', he thought to himself.
That night, as he lay between two guards, hands and wrists bound, he feigned sleep and listened carefully to their leader, who sat nearby with his lieutenant.
"So you mean to relieve the Dunlendings of their gold," chortled the lieutenant.
"Yes, but not at first," answered the leader.
"But why should we delay? Let us seize the gold and begone!"
"I mean to take advantage of the ill blood between the Dunlendings and the Elves. I will promise the Dunlendings that they may keep their gold if they will lead us to realm of Elrond Half-Elven and help us subdue his folk. Once the Elves have been subjugated, then we will slay the Dunlendings and seize their treasure. We will then possess not only the gold but also elven slaves who will bring an excellent price, as they are exceedingly hard to come by."
"It is said," the lieutenant replied doubtfully, "that Elrond's realm may be discovered by mortal Man only if the Elves permit it. An enchantment lies upon that land."
The leader shrugged. "If the Dunlendings cannot lead us to the riven valley, then the elf brat will—given the proper persuasion, of course. We still need the Dunlendings, of course, as our numbers are not enough for an assault upon the Elves. So the brat will guide us to the Dunlendings, our allies, however reluctant, and then he will lead us to his kinfolk. The plan is still good."
The lieutenant nodded, satisfied. "Aye, 'tis good! Gold and Elves!"
"Wine, too, I hope," yawned the leader, settling himself on his bedroll. "The Elves purchase too much of the Dorwinion stocks, leaving little for we Men of Harad. I mean to sit upon Elrond's throne and sip that beverage from a goblet with the seal of his house upon it. If we can take the half-elf alive, he will pour for me!"
Both the lieutenant and his captain cackled at the thought of an elven lord reduced to servitude. Lying nearby, Anomen suppressed a shudder. 'I will not try to slip away until I near the rendezvous', he vowed, 'for that captain is determined to seek out the Dunlendings and will do so even if I escape. But if I remain with them, their arrogance will continue unabated, and that will make them careless. Mayhap I can lead them into an ambush'. Anomen winced a little as he thought of his own carelessness, but he pushed the thought away. It was necessary to concentrate upon present circumstances. In any event, he did not doubt but that Glorfindel would later have something to say on the subject. No need to dwell on it now.
For several more days, the Southrons and their captive marched steadily southward. The further they were from Rivendell, the less stringently the Men treated their captive. Anomen was allowed to walk with hands untied, although he was always bound both hand and foot when camp was made at night.
At last they drew near the border of Dunland, where, Anomen knew, the Elves would be meeting with the Dunlendings. He fretted over what would happen when the Southrons entered the encampment. The Elves and Dunlendings would be meeting under a flag of peace. The Elves would never relax all vigilance, but they would not be expecting trouble from the Dunlendings, who had been beaten down by their long conflict with the Elves. Anomen was thus frightened at the thought of what might ensue if the Southrons had a chance to suborn the Dunlendings before the Elves had the opportunity to recognize the danger in which they stood. Anomen decided that he must find a way to put the Elves on their guard the moment the Southrons entered the camp. For a little while he considered what he ought to do. Then he nodded to himself slightly. On a sudden he flung himself to one side, momentarily escaping his minders. He ran toward a copse—but he took care not to run as quickly as he might. Still, he set a pace fast enough so that the Men who gave chase were winded when they caught up with him. Roughly they seized him and dragged him back toward their company, where their captain waited grimly. "Elf brat," he swore. He slapped Anomen twice upon the face, and the elfling felt blood trickling from his mouth and nose. "Bind his hands," the captain ordered.
On they marched. Anomen made no move to raise his bound hands to his face but instead allowed the blood to congeal upon it. His face itched as the blood dried. 'I must look a sight', he thought with satisfaction.
Ahead Anomen saw tents and Men lounging about a watch fire. Boldly the Southrons marched into the encampment, driving their captive before them. The Dunlendings yelled with alarm and scattered, disappearing into the surrounding scrub. Behind them the Southrons milled about, confused at their reception by fellow Men. They did not know that within the largest of the tents was a company of Elves and that the Dunlendings had fled because they did not wish to be on the spot when the Elves exacted vengeance for the mistreatment of one of their own.
At the sound of the shouting, the remaining Dunlendings poured from their tents—and the Elves strode forth from their pavilion. These latest Dunlendings, too, shrieked and fled the camp, and Anomen took advantage of the confusion to throw himself upon the ground—but not before Glorfindel had espied him. The balrog-slayer let out a very unelvenly roar—Elrond was later to say that he sounded like a balrog himself—and led the charge of his fellows against Anomen's erstwhile captors.
The most of the Southrons were cut down in the camp, but a few turned and fled, pursued by Elves implacable in their quest for vengeance. One of these fugitives was the captain. His fellows were dispatched without quarter wherever they were found, but he alone was dragged back into the camp. Meanwhile, the Dunlendings had begun to trickle back into the encampment, and it was indeed for their benefit that the Southron captain had been preserved alive. His hands were bound behind his back, and he was forced to his knees. Anomen, his hands free, was brought to stand before him.
"You tricked me," the Southron captain raged at him. "You knew these Elves would be here."
"I told you that if you took me to Dunland you would learn all," Anomen coolly replied. "I did not lie."
"Do you know what these Haradrim were seeking, Anomen?" Elrond asked.
"Aye, I do," Anomen replied. "They thought the Dunlendings had gold and wanted to steal it from them. But first they wanted to persuade the Dunlendings to join them in attacking Imladris."
"We would never have done so," one of the Dunlending chieftains exclaimed hastily. "We wish to live in peace with you, our neighbors. The Southrons are nothing to us!"
"They are nothing now," Elrond said dryly. "Except for this one—and he will soon be nothing." He nodded at Glorfindel, who was standing behind the Southron. The balrog-slayer raised his sword and with one blow cleaved the Man's head from his shoulders. The head rolled to the foot of the Dunlending chieftain, who blanched. Anomen, too, paled, but Elrond placed a steadying hand upon his shoulder. "Lindir," Elrond called to one of the Elves, "would you tend to Anomen? Glorfindel and I must see the negotiations through to their end."
"My Lord Elrond," the Dunlending chieftain said quickly, "I was just about to tell you that your latest offer was most pleasing to us—all of us." He looked appealingly at his fellows, and they all nodded their heads vigorously, some with their hands clutching at their throats.
"If you are sure," Elrond said blandly.
"I am," the chieftain assured him.
"Very well," Elrond said. "Then we will make ready to return to our own land."
More vigorous nodding on the part of the Dunlendings, who parted to allow the Elves to return to their tent. Elrond walked with his hand still upon Anomen's shoulder. "Why did the Haradrim believe the Dunlendings to possess gold?" he said softly. "You had better secure the captain's pouch," Anomen whispered back. "It contains gold flakes that I found in a stream in Imladris—but I let the captain think that I was carrying them to Imladris as a peace offering from the Dunlendings to you."
Elrond chuckled a little before turning to Glorfindel. "My friend, the Harad captain has something of Anomen's. Would you humor me by fetching his pouch?"
Glorfindel nodded and turned on his heel. The Dunlendings had begun to strip the bodies of the Southrons, and one stooped above the captain, his hand upon the Southron's pouch. All scattered, however, at the approach of the Elf warrior, one stumbling over the captain's head in his haste to escape. Glorfindel drew his blade and cut the pouch from the captain's belt and rejoined his comrades in the tent, handing the bag to Elrond. The Elf lord drew forth the knotted cloth and untied it. Pouring the flakes into his hand, he studied them carefully. "Aye," he said at last. "Gold, not fool's gold as I expected—although one might argue that all gold ought to be called fool's gold, so foolishly do Men behave at the sight of it. What do you mean to do with this gold, Anomen—nothing foolish, I hope."
"Oh, no," Anomen assured him earnestly. "I have been carving a pendant for Arwen, and I mean to ask the smith to gild it. If there is enough, I will ask him to make a chain as well."
Elrond nodded his approval. It was now Glorfindel's turn to speak. "How is it, Anomen, that you were captured by these Men? I would have thought that I taught you better than that."
Anomen colored a little and cast down his eyes. "I was careless," he said shamefacedly. "I was singing and not listening to the sounds about me."
"Yes," said Glorfindel sternly. "You were very careless to lower your guard and allow yourself to be captured."
"Indeed, that is true, Lord Glorfindel," said Anomen, his manner still contrite. "I was careless—as I was careless earlier that day, when I twice overshot my target. That was why I was wandering about in the woods beyond the training field. I was looking for my arrows. Oh, Lord Glorfindel," the elfling suddenly exclaimed, cautiously peeking up at the balrog-slayer. "Now I mention arrows, that puts me in mind of something. I found one of your arrows in the woods."
Assuming an expression of utmost innocence, Anomen drew the arrow from his quiver and with a flourish presented it to Lord Glorfindel, who suddenly looked a trifle discomfited. Elrond chuckled at his friend's expression; Glorfindel scowled at him but said nothing as he replaced the arrow in his quiver.
"Well," Elrond said pleasantly, "an arrow has been restored to Glorfindel, and let us now restore this elfling to his rightful place in Rivendell."
The conversation at an end, Elrond instructed that the tent be struck and packed. Then Elrond went to exchange the handshake of friendship with the Dunlending elders—although it must be admitted that the Men took hold of the proffered hand very gingerly and relinquished it as soon as it was seemly.
Within the space of an hour the Elves rode out of the encampment. Anomen, to his chagrin, was seated before Glorfindel on his great warhorse. The skin at the nape of Anomen's neck prickled uncomfortably as he waited nervously for the balrog-slayer to sternly allude to the scrape the elfling had gotten himself into. When Glorfindel at last spoke, however, his tone was very mild. "I am sure," he said, "that you were singing because you were happy at the thought of the pleasure that the gift of the pendant would bring to Arwen. Your motives were pure, even if your ears were faulty."
"Thank you, Lord Glorfindel," Anomen said hesitantly.
The Elf lord cleared his throat. "And I thank you for the return of my arrow."
"You are very welcome, Lord Glorfindel," replied Anomen, who was more and more surprised. He was not accustomed to receiving compliments, and certainly not from Glorfindel the Twice-born, Balrog-slayer!
Glorfindel cleared his throat again. Anomen thought that the Elf's throat must be very dry, and he wondered at it. Perhaps the climate in Dunland had not suited him. "No doubt," Glorfindel continued, "your compatriots will be wondering where you have gotten yourself to these past few days. As you have suffered enough at the hands of the Haradrim, I shan't embarrass you by telling them that you were taken prisoner by Men."
"Thank you, Lord Glorfindel," said Anomen, who was bewildered at the Lord's unwonted solicitude. Suddenly, however, a possible motive occurred to Anomen that would account for Glorfindel's kindness. "I suppose," the elfling said slyly, "that I had better not tell anyone that I went into the woods in search of arrows that had gone astray."
"Do you know," said Glorfindel, sounding surprised, "I think you are right! Yes, that is so. If you mention what you were up to, it will raise all sorts of questions that had better be left unanswered—to avoid unnecessary embarrassment, of course."
Anomen noticed that Glorfindel had not specified embarrassment to whom, and he suppressed a giggle. Glorfindel must have guessed at what he was thinking, however. "Scamp," he said softly, but his voice was amused, and he gently tousled Anomen's hair. Now Anomen did giggle, and Glorfindel pretended to cuff his ear. Anomen giggled again, but then let out an inelegant yawn that would have horrified his tutor Erestor. Glorfindel circled his waist with an arm and pulled him back against his chest. "Sleep now," he ordered, trying to sound gruff. Caught between yawning and grinning, Anomen at last fell asleep safely cradled in the arms of the balrog-slayer.
A few days later, the elven company rode toward the bridge to Rivendell. Lindir had been sent ahead to alert the folk to their return, and as the first horse set foot upon the bridge, Arwen was to be seen scampering toward them from the opposite end. With an indulgent smile, Elrond dismounted and scooped her into his arms. "Ada," she shouted joyously, "Ada! You are back early. You have only been gone twelve days. Look!" She held up her fingers and quickly told off the days. When she was finished, she looked about proudly. Then she caught sight of Anomen. She frowned. "You promised to play games with me," she scolded, "but then you ran off."
"Do not be angry with Anomen, Arwen," Elrond said. "It is Anomen who gave us occasion to return two days early. He hit upon a scheme that allowed us to impress the Dunlendings with the power and might of Imladris. His cleverness brought the negotiations to a quick conclusion."
Arwen's frown was instantly transformed into a smile. She wriggled from her father's arms and held her own up to Anomen. Glorfindel set Anomen upon the ground, and she flung her arms around the elfling, who tried to look dignified even as he strove to peel her fingers from his tunic. "Oh, Nomie," she cooed, "you are the bestest brother."
"Best," corrected Anomen, and then he blushed. It was Glorfindel who rescued him. "Anomen," he called, "I believe a little archery practice is in order. I shall stable my horse and meet you on the field directly. Make haste!"
"I must go, Arwen," Anomen said gratefully, giving her a little squeeze. "But his time I won't go far, I promise you."
Anomen kept his word. After spending a pleasant hour upon the practice field with Glorfindel, who this day proved to be as indulgent with Anomen as Elrond had been with Arwen, Anomen hurried back to the Hall and, now indulgent himself, helped Arwen dress her doll and patiently sat through the elven equivalent of 'tea', pretending to sip from a tiny goblet whilst nibbling upon an imaginary biscuit. Then, when Arwen's nurse called her away to bathe, Anomen hurried to the smith. He showed the artisan the gold and the wooden pendant. "Can you gild this pendant?" he asked. The smith assured him that he could and that, moreover, there would be enough gold left over for the forging of a chain.
A fortnight later, Anomen presented Arwen with pendant and chain. She exclaimed over it, and it became one of her two favorite necklaces. One, the Evenstar, was dear to her both because it was gifted her by her father and because it became the link that joined her to Aragorn when he departed with the Fellowship on their quest to destroy the Ring that was as evil as the Evenstar was good. The other was dear to her because it was given her by her 'Nomie' in the innocent days before he was revealed to be Legolas, prince of Mirkwood. It was this pendant that she wore after the Fellowship departed for the South, and it is said that Arwen Undómiel clasped this necklace about her neck when she lay down upon Cerin Amroth to depart her life after the death of Aragorn.
But this day it was only a simple necklace, a bit of carved wood gilded with gold collected with glee by one small elfling who knew nothing of destiny but much of love. But perhaps, as Galadriel might have said, for Anomen, to know the one was to choose the other.