Chapter 8
Discovery
Laiqua was once again making for the Gap of Rohan, hoping that this time he would escape the notice of any lurking Orcs. If he could not pass through the Gap, he might be forced to retreat to Isengard, but he was reluctant to return to the fanged tower. So he crept with the greatest of care over the plains of Rohan, making careful use of any irregularities in the terrain that might provide him with cover. As before, it was slow going, and he hoped that the rations that he had added to his pack before leaving Isengard would be sufficient to take him at least into Dunland, where the cover would provide concealment for hunting.
Laiqua had passed through the Gap of Rohan and was now working his way north through the brushy terrain of Dunland. The tangled vegetation might conceal Dunlendings who would be all too glad to seize upon an opportunity to attack a lone Elfling, but Laiqua did not have the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. Several days went by uneventfully. Laiqua was able to bring down small game on occasion and felt his spirits rise. This time he would make it to Imladris and seek out an audience with the Lord of Rivendell.
After several more days, Laiqua came upon an opportunity to bring down a deer. Through an opening in the brush, Laiqua saw into a meadow. Across that clearing, still sheltered by vines and bushes, stood the deer. Laiqua silently nocked an arrow. Ignoring all distractions, Laiqua waited intently for the deer to venture into the open. At last the deer did so, and Laiqua got off an unobstructed shot that hit home.
Laiqua ran forward joyfully—only to find that the deer had been struck by not one but two arrows. The owner of the second arrow came crashing out of the brush from the left and stopped in astonishment when he saw Laiqua.
"An Elf!" bellowed a Man.
"An Elf!? Catch it! Catch it!" shouted a second Man who had likewise bulled his way out of the brush, although from the right.
Laiqua turned and plunged back under cover, but as he did so he ran directly into yet another Man. This Man tumbled to the ground, but so did Laiqua. Before he could leap back to his feet, he found himself surrounded by an entire band of Men. One of them reached down and jerked him to his feet. Another pulled Laiqua's arms behind his back and gripped them tightly.
"My, my, I wonder where Mommy and Daddy Elf are," jeered one of the Men.
"And what shall we do with Baby Elf?" guffawed another.
"That Southron trader should return soon. He always pays a good price for Elves." This Man seemed to be the leader. All looked toward him as he spoke.
"Will he want to bother with one so young? He looks to be no more than twelve, if even that."
"Ah, but Elf ages are hard to judge. He may be older than he looks. And whatever his age, no doubt he's big enough to be made use of in some way. He is on his own, so he must have some skills, and those Southrons are always clever about making the most of their slaves."
Laiqua tried to struggle free. He had heard of the cruelty of the slave-holding Haradrim. The Man clutching Laiqua growled at him to be still and shook him roughly, twisting his arms. Laiqua kicked backward, the heel of his boot connecting with the Man's shin on the front, where there was little muscle to cushion the blow. Howling, the Man let go of Laiqua's arms and grabbed instead for his bruised leg. The Elfling sprang away but made only a few steps before someone seized his tunic, yanked him backward, and flung him on the ground. He looked up to see that the Man he had kicked was glaring at him as he broke a limb from a bush. Brandishing the limb, the Man moved toward Laiqua, but the leader held out an arm to restrain him.
"No, no, we don't want to damage the goods—the price won't be so favorable if we do. After all, we'll have to split the fee amongst the lot of us. There won't be much of a profit as is."
"True, true," mumbled the other Men. Laiqua had heard that Men oft times were nearly as mercenary as Dwarves, and he was now grateful to learn that this could indeed be the case.
The Men had taken away his pack and his weapons. After binding his arms behind his back, they took him to their village and locked him into a shed attached to the side of a barn. After the footsteps of the Men had died away, Laiqua pressed his back against the door. There was no give. He searched the shed for something sharp that he might rub against his bonds. The shed held only empty grain sacks. Next he turned his attention to the wall that the shed shared with the barn. He checked each board until he found one that was loose. Forcing first one leg and then both legs behind the board, Laiqua began to pry it away from the wall, but before the gap was large enough for an Elfling to squeeze through, Laiqua heard the rattle of a padlock being opened. Swiftly he kicked several empty grain sacks in front of the loose board, then slid down to sit with his back against the pile of bags. Two Men appeared in the doorway. One carried a water flask and a loaf of bread. The other—it was the Man Laiqua had kicked—carried a cudgel. Glaring at the Elfling, this second Man stood blocking the doorway. The first Man strode over to Laiqua and threw down the flask and loaf. Laiqua looked at him in bewilderment. How was he supposed to eat or drink with his hands bound behind his back?
"I suppose we'll have to untie him for a bit," grunted the first Man.
"Aye," the Man with the cudgel conceded reluctantly.
The first Man jerked Laiqua up from the ground, spun him around, and unknotted the rope that bound his hands. Then he pushed him back down.
"Hurry up. We don't want to spend our evening watching you eat."
Unappealing as the dry bread was, Laiqua felt hungry. Trying not to gag, he swiftly ate as much as he could, but not fast enough to satisfy the Dunlendings.
"My, my, our guest has such fancy manners! Look at the wee bites he takes! Where he's going, he'd better learn to bolt down his food. If he don't, he won't never get a chance to finish a meal! Those Southrons don't believe in no long luncheons."
Laiqua hurriedly swallowed a few more bites. Then he washed the paltry meal down with several hasty gulps of bitter-tasting water. When Laiqua had finished, the first Man again hauled the Elfling to his feet, pulled his arms once more behind his back, and retied his hands. The Man pulled on the knots to make sure that they were secure, nodded with satisfaction, and reached down to pick up the flask. The Man with the cudgel, however, was not so easily contented.
"Those bonds had better be tight—Elves are slippery. Here, let me check."
Leaning his cudgel against the doorframe, the Man swaggered over to the Elfling and yanked on the knots until the rope was cutting into Laiqua's wrists. Before releasing his grip on Laiqua, the Man hissed into the Elfling's ear, "You bring us so little profit, what would it matter if you brought us a little less? Keep in mind, Elf-brat, that I for one care not if the merchandise be damaged." For added emphasis, the Man shoved Laiqua against the wall.
The two Men were careful to once again lock the shed as they left. When Laiqua could no longer hear their departing footsteps, he returned with new urgency to prying at the board. The Southron trader might not be arriving for several more days, but the Man was an immediate threat. Laiqua was certain that it was only a matter of time before he would find a reason to wield that cudgel. The Elfling had no intention of staying in the village long enough to allow him an occasion for doing so. At last Laiqua forced the board far enough forward to slip through into the barn. Once inside, he rubbed his bonds against the edge of a scythe until he'd cut himself free. His arms were stiff, and his wrists were chafed, but he was otherwise unhurt. He made for the door.
With a sudden shock of fear, Laiqua realized that the barn door was barred from the outside. The Elfling knew he would not get a second chance at escape. He had to get out of the barn before anyone came back to the shed to check on him. He saw no other door, but a ladder led to a hayloft. Up he scrambled. Yes, there was an opening from which hay could be pitched down into a pen outside. Its door was secured from the inside by a simple wooden latch. Laiqua released the latch and swung open the door. He slid over the edge, lowering himself as far as possible before letting go and dropping into the pen, where several cows stood chewing their cud. One of them lowed nervously. Laiqua spoke softly to her, but, unlike the horses he was used to, this cow did not seem to be comforted by his elvish words. Uneasy, she shuffled from side to side, butting into the cows next to her, which now lowed as well. Laiqua heard voices approaching, one of which he recognized all too well.
"I'd best make sure nothing has gotten in with those cows."
"Mayhap you should put them in the barn. It is getting on toward sundown, and it will be cold tonight."
"Aye, and then I'll check on that Elf one last time."
The Dunlending with the cudgel rounded the corner of the barn and stepped into the pen. When he spotted the Elfing, a gloating look spread over his face.
"I was hoping you would do something foolish, Elf-brat."
The Dunlending raised his cudgel, but Laiqua caught him by surprise. Instead of shrinking back against the wall of the barn, as the Man might have expected, the Elfling lowered his head and charged directly at his assailant. Putting all of his energy and weight into his attack, Laiqua aimed for the Man's midsection, hoping to knock him breathless long enough to make his escape.
So fast did Laiqua move that the Dunlending went down without ever landing a blow. Laiqua must have hit something even more sensitive than a shin, because the Man promptly jerked himself into a ball and began to gibber with pain.
As soon as he had felled the Man, Laiqua darted out the gate and sprinted for the cover of the brush. As he ducked behind a tangle of vines, Dunlendings attracted by the ruckus were scuttling into the pen, but Laiqua's incoherent assailant was unable to tell them what had happened. By the time his pain had subsided enough for him to send Men off in pursuit of Laiqua, the fleet Elfling was well away from the village. There would be neither profit nor entertainment for the Dunlendings.
In the distance Laiqua saw a line of trees and knew that he was finally approaching the realm of Imladris. For the past several days he had driven himself forward as hard as he could out of fear that the Dunlendings would attempt to track him. The Elfling briefly stopped at a stream and splashed water on his face to revive himself. He hoped he would be able to make the final push that would bring him to Rivendell. Now having neither pack nor bow, he had had very little to eat for the past several days. The nights were growing increasingly cold; his blanket and spare clothes had been in his pack, and he could not light a fire because he also had lost his flint and steel. His boots were worn nearly through, and he was beginning to limp; his spare boots had likewise been in his pack.
Laiqua trudged forward until he reached the forest, where he was overjoyed to find a few athelas plants with berries still clinging to their stems. He chewed slowly as he ate them so that he could pretend that the tiny fruits were part of more substantial repast. Then he thought for a moment about curling up and resting between the roots of a tree. The Elfling quickly abandoned the idea. He would stay warmer walking. He plucked a few of the withered athelas leaves and rolled them into a ball that he popped into his mouth to suck on as he walked. They would help him keep up his spirits for a little while at least.
Hours passed. In spite of the athelas leaves, Laiqua began to stagger and to feel drowsy. But suddenly he grew alert once more. Someone was in the forest. He could smell the smoke of a campfire. He crept forward until he could make out the light of the fire, then he climbed a tree to get a better look. From his vantage point, Laiqua peered down into a clearing. He saw a horse browsing and a Man tending a small pot suspended over a campfire. At first the Man reminded him of Saruman—old, bearded, and cloaked—but his cloak was gray and his face was not as thin or as sharp-featured as Saruman's. No, the Man reminded him more of the Istar whom he had seen in Greenwood long ago.
Laiqua's attention shifted to the pot. Whatever the old Man was cooking, it smelled good, and Laiqua once again bemoaned the loss of his pack and bow. He had found plenty of water these past days, but he was very hungry. Should he show himself in hopes that the old Man might be willing to spare a bite or two? No, his encounter with the Dunlendings had left him cautious of Men. He would wait in the tree until the Man had left and then check the camp to see if by happenstance any scraps had been left behind. His gorge rose at the thought of scavenging for leavings, but hunger, while it could not at this point outweigh his caution, did outweigh his pride. Laiqua settled himself in the tree to wait for his opportunity.
The Man stirred the pot from time to time and after a long while—or so it seemed to Laiqua—ladled a serving into a wooden bowl. Then, to Laiqua's surprise, he ladled a serving into a second wooden bowl, placed a spoon in it, walked to the tree in which Laiqua was crouching, and set the bowl at its base. He then strolled back to his place by the fire, sat down, and began to eat his own portion.
Uncertain, Laiqua remained in the tree. The Man seemed to know that he was there. Should he not go down and accept this gift of food? But if he came down out of the tree, he would be vulnerable. Might not the food be bait for a trap?
The old Man spoke. "Your supper is getting cold, mellon. You can eat it cold, of course, but it won't taste as good."
Laiqua remained silent.
The old Man said no more but addressed himself once again to the food in his own bowl. When he had finished, he rinsed the bowl and set it aside and then took out a pipe from his pack. He drew a brand from the fire, lit the pipe and began to suck thoughtfully on its stem. After a few minutes, he began to blow smoke rings—no, not smoke rings, really, but smoke figures. Fascinated, Laiqua watched as first a horse, then a dragon, then a boat drifted past his hiding place. At last, hesitantly, he began to climb down toward the base of the tree, where the bowl still sat. When he reached it, he was glad to find that the stewed meat and vegetables were still warm. He ate standing, leaning against the tree, never taking his eyes off the Man. For his part, the Man neither looked at nor spoke to the Elf but quietly continued to puff on his pipe, from time to time sending a smoke creature floating into the air.
Not until Laiqua had finished eating did the old Man speak. "Well, Elfling, if you will please take a little water and rinse out that bowl, then I can set it aside to dry." The Man gestured toward a water flask that lay near his pack. After a moment, Laiqua stole near and picked up the flask and did as the Man had asked. Then he stood irresolutely. He did not want to depart the clearing just yet. It was getting dark, the fire was welcoming, and the Man seemed harmless, even gentle. The trees cried out no warning.
The old Man looked at him and smiled. "You were hungry, mellon. Now I think, Elf though you are, that you feel cold. This fire will remedy that. So too will the spare blanket that I have in my pack."
Laiqua slowly smiled in return. This old Man was very Elf-like in some ways. He had sensed his presence in the tree and could perceive his feelings, if not his thoughts. Reassured, the Elf knelt down by the fire. The Man smoked on in silence for a time; then, as it grew darker, he went to the pack and pulled out a blanket.
"You may wrap yourself in this. In the morning, perhaps you will tell me a bit about yourself over breakfast. Sleep well."
"Breakfast," thought Laiqua. "I wouldn't mind telling this old Man a bit about myself if I can get a breakfast out of it."
When Laiqua awoke the next morning, he saw that the old Man was still asleep. Quietly he arose and began to collect firewood. When he returned to the campsite, the Man was awake, his eyes searching the margins of the clearing. It seemed to Laiqua that the Man looked relieved at the sight of him.
"Ah, these old bones are pleased to be spared the task of gathering up sticks. Now, pen-neth, do you suppose I could prevail upon you to fill the pot with water from that stream over there?"
"Gladly," replied Laiqua. The old Man smiled, his head tilting back so that his bristly beard stuck out.
"So the Elfling can talk. I was beginning to wonder."
Shyly, Laiqua smiled back.
The old Man did not question Laiqua until they had finished breakfast and rinsed the dishes. Then, once more lighting his pipe, he looked Laiqua directly in the face and commenced.
"I should like to know your name, of course, but I suppose it would be only fair if I told you mine. Actually, I have many names, but as you are an Elf, I will tell you my Elven name, which is Mithrandir."
"That means Grey Wanderer or Grey Pilgrim, does it not?"
"Yes, it does. And now your name, pen-neth."
"My name is Anomen."
"That name has a meaning as well, does it not, but in the Common Speech?"
"Yes," replied Laiqua. "But I do not wish to speak of that."
"Very well," Mithrandir replied. "Let us talk of another matter. What are you, an Elfling, doing alone, without weapons, without food, without even a cloak, in these woods? I can see that you are a Silvan Elf, but any forest can be perilous even for the woodland folk. Surely you are not here with the permission of your parents."
"I have no parents."
"Your guardians then."
"I have no guardians."
"You are clad in the raiment of Greenwood. Who cared for you whilst you were in that kingdom."
"None cared for me, although there were some that looked after me."
"Ah, a subtle distinction I see. Have you any other subtle distinctions to draw?"
Laiqua remained silent.
"Well, Anomen, you cannot count on meeting stewing wizards every night—yes, I am an Istar, as I believe you have guessed—so what do you mean to do with yourself?"
"I would go to Rivendell and enter into the service of Lord Elrond."
"Why Rivendell?"
"Because the Lord Elrond is no friend of King Thranduil."
"I do not follow you."
"The Lord Elrond would not wish to please King Thranduil by returning to him an Elf that had fled Greenwood."
"Hmm, for an Elfling, you have quite a grasp of matters political. Who was your tutor?"
Again Laiqua remained silent.
Mithrandir sighed. "Well, my errand does not leave me enough time to return you to Greenwood, and I doubt if I would succeed if I attempted to do so anyway. Surely an Elfling who has eluded the guardians of Greenwood would have no difficulty escaping from one old Man, wizard or no. As it happens, I am on my way to Rivendell. You had best travel with me. Come. Let us break camp and be on our way. Unless, of course, you prefer to continue on your own?"
"No! no! I will be quite glad to accompany you to Rivendell." Laiqua jumped up eagerly and seized upon the water flask. "Shall I fill this, Master Mithrandir!?"
"Yes, thank you. And, please, just Mithrandir."