An Unexpected Reunion
Glorfindel urged his horse onward. Elrohir had told Anomen that his twin had never woken up after being flung against the pine tree during the struggle with the Southrons. Glorfindel was greatly concerned at hearing this.
The Elves came to the Southron camp, empty but for the bodies of the Dunlendings and the odor of death, silent save for the buzzing of flies. The corpses of the murdered hunters were already beginning to swell in the heat. Oddly, their faces had been covered. Glorfindel was surprised that the Southrons had bothered to grant their victims that dignity, small as it was. Later he would see that the bodies were disposed of more properly. For now, he and Anomen dismounted so that Anomen could better lead him to Elladan's hiding place. Anomen and Elrohir had done an excellent job of covering their tracks, so Anomen had to look carefully for landmarks in order to retrace his way to the fallen tree. After a few minutes, he was sure of his path, and he hastened forward, breaking into a run when he spied the tree. As he came up to it, he flung himself onto his belly so that he could peer inside. He gasped. The hollow trunk was empty, the branches that had hidden the opening cast to one side. Anomen wept unashamedly. He did not care that Glorfindel was standing there looking down at him. His friend was gone. He had felt sorrow at having to kill a man, but that grief was nothing to what he felt now.
"Do not be so troubled," said a gentle voice. Both Glorfindel and Anomen swiveled in astonishment at hearing that voice.
"Mithrandir!" they cried simultaneously.
"Aye," he said calmly. "That is indeed my name. I am glad to see you have not forgotten it."
Had circumstances been less dire, Glorfindel would have laughed at the wizard's self-deprecating humor. "Mithrandir, I am afraid that you have arrived at a time of great sadness. You are of course welcome to return with us to Rivendell, but you will be invited to take your place in a procession of mourning rather than at a feast of celebration."
"Perhaps you should hear my story before you invite me to participate in any such procession. Several days ago, as I was returning from Lothlórien, I came upon tracks of men whom I did not deem to be Rangers. As I followed these strangers, I saw that they intended to approach Rivendell in secret, for they avoided the usual paths followed by emissaries and traders with legitimate reasons for entering the realm of Lord Elrond. I feared they were up to no good, and even though the tracks were not fresh, I resolved to continue trailing the intruders. As it turns out, my quest was to be brief. This morning I caught up with some of those men; indeed, it can be said that I stumbled over them—for they were dead. I covered their faces and began to gather firewood for a pyre. As I stooped beside a fallen tree to pick up some branches, I heard the rotten trunk of that tree make a most peculiar sound—"
"Elladan!" shouted Anomen. "Elladan!"
"peculiar sound. Peering into an opening I found that a bewildered looking Elfling was looking back at me."
"But where is he, Mithrandir!? Where is he!?"
"I could not very well examine his injuries whilst he was wedged into a stump. I extricated him from the hole and carried him to a stream so that I would have water enough to clean his head wound and other injuries. He is resting now, and I was just returning to the clearing to resume tending to the dead when I heard you approaching."
Anomen laughed and leapt like an Elfing—which, Glorfindel reminded himself, he in fact was. Actually, Glorfindel felt like laughing and leaping himself, but he knew that he had matters to attend to.
"Should he be moved, Mithrandir? Should we set out for Rivendell?"
"No, he must lie still at least another day. I have done all that can be done for him; it is rest that he needs now."
"Very well," replied Glorfindel. "Taurmeldir," he called over his shoulder. "Pick your fastest rider and send him to Rivendell with word that Elladan is safe. Then set some of the others to gathering firewood for a pyre. Let the remainder strike out and see if they can bring down some game for our supper."
"Mithrandir," asked Anomen. "May I see Elladan?"
"You may see Elladan if you promise not to wake him with these antics of yours."
"Oh, I promise! I swear by all the Ainur and by the Tarmenel, and I swear on the sword of Isildur, and I swear by the memory of Gil-galad and by the Silmaril of—"
Mithrandir laughed. "That will do, Anomen. I believe you. I will take you to the stream. I'd like to check over your injuries as well."
"Oh, I have none—just a few scratches from pushing my way through the undergrowth."
"Nevertheless, I would not want to have to tell Elrond that I left you untended."
Mithrandir turned and strode toward the stream with Anomen dancing happily at his side.
TBC