Chapter 9

Rivendell

            Laiqua rode before Mithrandir.  "I do not think that my horse will mind the extra weight, what little there is," the wizard commented dryly.  As they traveled, Mithrandir sometimes told him stories about Imladris.  Most of the way, however, Laiqua slept, lulled by the easy movement of the horse.  Partly he slept because he truly was tired.  Partly he slept because he had the luxury of feeling that he was being looked after.  Wrapped in Mithrandir's cloak, circled by a steadying arm, in his imagination he returned to those brief days when he had been coddled and protected.  Although he was glad to be nearing Rivendell, he could not help regretting that this stage of his journey would be short.  When he dismounted from the horse at the home of Lord Elrond, he would be leaving behind the first comforting embrace he had known since his Adar had so abruptly banished the only other person who had ever held him close.

            "Welcome, Mithrandir," chorused Elladan and Elrohir, together as always.  The twins had been out riding the bounds and had spotted Mithrandir when he was still far distant.  Eagerly they had galloped forward to greet him, but they were a little surprised when they realized that the wizard had not come alone this time.  Mithrandir was known to be a solitary wanderer.  Who then, they wondered, was this Elfling who rode before Mithrandir?  They couldn't see much of him, wrapped as he was in the wizard's cloak, but it was clear that his hair was golden, somewhat of an unusual color for an Imladris Elf but rather more common among Greenwood and Lothlórien Elves.  If he were a Lórien Elf, well and good; perhaps he was even kin to Haldir, who was great fun to tease—Haldir took himself too seriously.  But if he were a Greenwood Elf, that would not be so good, particularly when their Adar heard of it.  But why ever would Mithrandir be bringing him here in the first place if he were a Greenwood Elf.  Surely the Elfling must be from Lothlórien.

            "We will ride ahead and let Ada know that you and, uh…."

            Mithrandir smiled at the curiosity that they could not conceal.  "Anomen."

            "…Uh, Anomen, that you and Anomen are coming."

            The twins wheeled their horses about and galloped toward the gates of Rivendell. 

"Mithrandir, mae govannen, as always."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond."

"And you, pen-eth, are most welcome also.  My sons tell me that your name is Anomen."

"Yes, Lord Elrond."

"That is a most unusual name."

"Yes, Lord Elrond."

Elrond waited for Laiqua to say more about his most unusual name, but when he realized no more information would be forthcoming, he once again addressed Mithrandir.

"You have shown great wisdom in picking your time of arrival; we will shortly be sitting down to dinner, and I trust that you and Anomen will grace us with your presence."

Mithrandir laughed.  "No need to be so formal, Elrond.  But I am glad to hear that we have arrived in time for dinner.  A habit I have picked up from associating with hobbits, I fear."

"Ah, yes, your hobby—although I still do not understand your fascination for these Periannath that you call Shirefolk.  Most wizards seem to devote themselves to weightier matters."

"As Galadriel is so fond of pointing out, even the wisest cannot tell the future.  Perhaps the study of hobbits someday shall prove important in a manner most unexpected.  For the present, however, Anomen and I will be glad to retire to our rooms to prepare for dinner."

Laiqua remembered the message that he had promised to deliver.  He did not know why but he was reluctant to deliver it.  Still, he had promised.  "Excuse me, Lord Elrond, but I bring you a message from Saruman of Isengard."

"Indeed?" said Elrond, and he raised an eyebrow.  Mithrandir smiled at the sight: Elrond was famous for the mobility of his eyebrows.

"Yes, my Lord.  Saruman was most kind.  He sends his greetings to you and wishes to remind you that he always stands ready to assist you."

"Ah, that is good to know, is it not, Mithrandir?"

"Assuredly.  For if I am not mistaken, before too long we may need to call a council over the matter of Dol Guldur, and Saruman's help will be invaluable."

Elrond nodded.  "Yes, but for now let us not think on that matter.  I thank you for your message, Anomen, and I will see you at dinner presently."

Elrond smiled at his old friend and the Elfling and turned to hear the report of Glorfindel, the Elf lord second in command only to Elrond himself.

After dinner, Mithrandir made sure that Anomen was settled in their rooms and wanted for nothing.  He then went in search of Elrond.

"Mithrandir, mellon-nîn, you have come with news I am sure."

"Yes, I have much to report on the movements of Orcs, Wargs, and goblins.  A few miscellaneous dragons and trolls as well.  But first I would ask a boon of you."

"Indeed?"  Elrond raised the inevitable eyebrow.

"I know nothing about the care and feeding of Elflings, but you, Elrond, have much skill in such matters.  Not only are you raising three of your own, but from time to time you have fostered the children of your friends."

Elrond raised his other eyebrow.  "Mithrandir, my friend, what spells have you been casting?  Pray, continue."

Mithrandir scowled at Elrond.  "You have no cause to indulge your imagination, Elrond.  I have merely taken an Elfling into my care, but the life I lead is not suitable for such a task.  I would be most grateful if you would accept him as a foster son."

"You speak of Anomen, of course.  If he is to join my household, I would like to know more about him."

"I cannot tell you much, only that he seems to have no one and that I sense he has great gifts and likewise shall have a great future if those gifts are cultivated.  Anomen is not his true name—or, perhaps, in a sense it is a correct name but surely not his only name.  Like me, he may be fated to bear several names, each as true as the other."

"His parents?"

"He says that he has none, and, like his name, I believe that to be both true and not true."

"He is from Greenwood, is he not?"

"Yes, but he is no friend to Thranduil."

"Is it possible that he is the son of someone who has fallen afoul of Thranduil?   Much as I dislike the King of Greenwood, I do not wish to provoke hostilities between his realm and mine by harboring someone whom Thranduil would perceive as a potential enemy."

"You have so little dealings with Thranduil that it could be centuries—maybe even millennia—before one of his messengers journeys here and has a chance to catch sight of Anomen.  By then no one may even remember or recognize him."

"His hair is unusual for a Rivendell Elf.  He would be noticed."

"But Glorfindel has such hair.  Moreover, you have stayed on good terms with Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel.  Lothlórien Elves visit here frequently.  If an emissary were to someday arrive from Greenwood, you can easily pass Anomen off as a golden-haired Elf from Lórien.  Look at Haldir!  People are used to seeing him in the company of Elrohir and Elladan during his visits here."

"If Anomen can be mistaken so easily for a Lórien Elf, then why not send him there instead?"

"Elrond, much as I respect Celeborn and Galadriel, can you imagine them fostering Anomen—or any other Elf for that matter?  They are too graceful and refined."

Now it was Elrond who scowled.  "Oh, and I am not graceful and refined?"

Mithrandir sighed.  "Yes, but you also know that a parent cannot always be so!  Can you not think of several occasions when you have been driven by Elrohir and Elladan to abandon all semblance of grace and refinement!?"

Elrond grimaced.  Yes, he could think of several such occasions.

            Laiqua watched as Mithrandir finished packing his saddlebags.  He thought about what the wizard had told him and about what it would mean to him.  Mithrandir had a task that would take him away from Imladris for several months.  He would return then but after a brief stay he would depart on another journey.  He had, he told Laiqua, been roaming so ever since his arrival on Middle Earth, and he would continue to roam so until his days here came to an end.  Mithrandir promised Laiqua that he would return to Rivendell as often as he could to check on his well-being, and perhaps, when the Elfling had grown, Laiqua might someday accompany him on one of his journeys.  For now, however, he would remain in Rivendell as the foster son of Elrond.  He would like that, Laiqua believed.  Already he was good friends with Elrohir and Elladan.  Already he felt not only respect and admiration but also affection for Elrond, and Elrond always spoke to him with such kindness that he had begun to fill the place of a father in Laiqua's life.

            "Nomie! Nomie!"  Oh, yes, then there was Arwen, who had enthusiastically embraced her Anomen as yet another big brother.  Elrohir and Elladan could not understand how Laiqua could abide Arwen with such forbearance.  They found it tiresome to be forever trailed by a baby sister, especially when her presence thwarted the execution of some of their most inventive plans.  But the twins had always been loved unreservedly and had never had cause to reflect upon the affection that had been a constant in their lives.  They could have no idea of the preciousness of such a gift.  But 'Nomie' knew, and instinctively answered Arwen's boundless adoration with an equally boundless patience.  Over the many centuries that were now to pass, he would always respond thus to Arwen's demands on his time and attention.

            Five centuries later Mithrandir stood beside Elrond as they watched Elrohir, Elladan, and Anomen at practice on the archery field.  Each was a superb bowman, but Mithrandir thought Anomen a trifle better than the other two.  "Of course," he thought wryly, "I am not the one best suited to judge in such a matter.  My eyes may be deceived by fondness for my charge."

            At length, after the warriors-in-training had completed their required exercises, the young Elves began a friendly contest.  Shot by shot, they kept pace with one another, no one gaining the advantage.  Elrond raised an eyebrow.  "It is quite unusual for the three to earn identical scores.  Anomen typically outstrips the twins in archery—or had that escaped your notice, Mithrandir?" said Elrond, with a sly look at the wizard.

            "Is that so, Elrond?  Well, well, I told you he had potential, did I not?"

            "Yes, although you did not mention that this potential included a predilection for mischief-making.  I shall have to share some stories with you tonight after we have supped."

            "Indeed?  But he has done nothing to shake your composure, I trust."

            "Perhaps not, but Glorfindel may still feel indignation over what Anomen did to his shield."

            "His shield?"

            "Yes.  About a century or two ago, Anomen and the twins were given the task of carrying weaponry from the old armory to the new one.  It was an unusually cold winter that year, and even here in Rivendell the ground was covered by a thick layer of snow.  As you may remember, Mithrandir, the new armory was built at the foot of the hill upon which the old armory stood.  After the twins and Anomen had trudged up and down the hill several times, Anomen suggested that they save themselves the trouble of the climb down by using the shields as sleds.  From the scratches on the weaponry, the armorer later determined that they had very nearly succeeded in transferring all the shields in this most peculiar fashion.  However, at last Glorfindel happened to pass by the old armory.  Elladan and Elrohir were each sliding down the hill at the time, and Anomen stood ready to follow in their wake.   As luck would have it, it was Glorfindel's shield that he was holding.  Glorfindel let out a most un-elvish roar—actually, it sounded a little Orcish, if the truth be told—and Anomen, nigh terrified, dropped the shield, leaped onto it with both feet, and slid down the hill—standing on the shield for the entire distance.  Glorfindel, even though he was furious, had to admit that Anomen demonstrated remarkable agility and balance as he made his escape from immediate retribution."

            "Immediate retribution, you say?  I trust that there was delayed retribution?"

            "Of course.  I could not let the incident go unpunished.  Hunger at length drove the three culprits back inside, and several irate warriors immediately escorted them into my presence.  The next day they had to finish moving the weaponry to the new armory under the watchful eye of Glorfindel.  Then, supervised by the armorer, they were set to polishing all the damaged shields.  I also had a long talk with Anomen.  I explained to him that, although his performance had been impressive, sliding whilst standing on a shield was a skill that would never be of use during battle."

            Just then the two old friends heard a burst of laughter from the young Elves.  The archers were still tied.

            "One more round as a tie-breaker!" begged Anomen.

            "If we're tied after so many rounds, what makes you think one more round will make a difference!?" exclaimed Elladan.

            "Oh, Elladan," said Elrohir, "it can't hurt, and if we do end up still tied, we're no worse off than we are now."

            Elladan sighed and looked suspiciously at Anomen.

            The twins went first, each placing his shaft dead center.  Then Anomen stepped up to the line.  Swiftly he simultaneously drew two arrows from his quiver, nocking and releasing them as one before his foster-brothers could utter a word.  Both landed in the center of his target.  Grinning, he turned toward the twins.  "It seems that I have outscored you."

            The twins gawked at him speechlessly.  After several moments they at last regained their voices and began to appeal to their father.  "Ada, that can't be right.  Only one arrow should count!"          

            "Hmmm," mused Elrond.  "You were scoring by the number of turns, were you not?  Next time I suggest you specify that the tallying be done by the number of arrows shot.  On this occasion, Anomen has indeed won the contest—and justifiably so.  For guile, too, is a skill that a warrior should possess."

            "As you see, Mithrandir," said Elrond, turning back to the wizard, "when you said that Anomen had potential, your words had more truth than you perhaps imagined."