Uh oh, this is getting scary. If I stop posting, will you send Orcs after me? Thank you dragonfly32, konzen, and Iawen Londea. And thank you, MoroTheWolfGod, who is like Oliver Twist—always asking for "More!"
A Novice No Longer
Elladan could not be moved the next day, or even the day after that. As dawn broke on the third morning after the Elfling's rescue, Mithrandir sat by a dying fire puffing on his pipe, enjoying the last moments before the camp would begin to bustle with the full rising of the sun. A movement caught his eye. Anomen was stirring. After tossing and turning a few moments, the young Elf sat up. Mithrandir smiled when he saw that the youngling's eyes immediately darted toward the spot where Elladan lay sleeping comfortably. The wizard blew a vaporous dragon from his pipe and sent it wafting toward Anomen, catching his attention.
"Good morning, Mithrandir."
"Yes, it is a good morning indeed. I believe we will be able to break camp today. Elladan is much improved. We will have to ride softly at first, in short stages, but I believe in under a week you will be back in your comfortable bed in Rivendell."
"I look forward to that, but I look forward even more to an end to the ceaseless hauling of water, gathering of wood, and"—Anomen hesitated—"and of the gutting of squirrels. Glorfindel says I am still the youngest in the company and that these tasks will fall to me until an even younger Elf joins the company."
"Yes, that is the way it has always been, and I approve of the system. Keeps the younglings out of trouble."
"Not always," said Anomen slyly.
Mithrandir laughed. "I am glad to see that you are your usual cheeky self. I was afraid that after this experience you would be a much different Elf."
"I—I am different, I think, Mithrandir."
"Oh, I am sure that you are different. Every experience makes us different from what we were before. Notice I said that I was glad you are not much different. You are still fundamentally yourself, but a little more mature in your outlook, I warrant. But tell me, in what way do you see yourself to be different?
Anomen wrinkled his face in thought. "I think I have become squeamish. When Glorfindel handed me that squirrel to clean two nights back, well, I—I, well my stomach felt a little odd, and, uh, I had to slip off behind the bushes, and, uh, I—"
"You may spare me the details," interrupted Mithrandir. "I believe that I understand what you are trying to say. Yet I notice you did not slip off last night when you were handed that brace of conies. Is it squirrels alone that give you indigestion?"
"Cleaning the conies made me feel queasy, too, but I suppose I kept better control of myself—I know it is a task that must be done."
"Ah, a task that must be done—there are many such tasks in this life, are there not? Conies must be cleaned, pots must be scoured, clothes must be washed. Tedious tasks, although not as unpleasant as some."
"No," agreed Anomen, "not as unpleasant as some."
"Perhaps," mused Mithrandir, "the skinning of squirrels and the cleaning of conies reminds you of some such unpleasant task."
"Perhaps."
"You see, Anomen, you are not much changed. You were compassionate before you set out on this patrol, and you are compassionate still. You are, however, more thoughtful about the limits that must be placed on compassion in the face of cupidity and cruelty. That makes you more pragmatic but no less compassionate."
"But, Mithrandir, I cut a man's throat! I was not defending myself against an Orc who was seeking to slay me. I slipped up behind a sleeping man and slashed his neck to the bone!"
"That man chose his own fate," Mithrandir replied calmly. "He was trying to take the lives of two innocents—for enslaving a person is a way of taking a life just as surely as murder is. What you did was both just and necessary. For we cannot grant mercy at the cost of the lives of our friends—and that would have been the cost had you not acted as you did."
"My mind understands what you say—but why do I feel so sad?"
"Why should you not feel sad? Are you an Orc who kills for pleasure, or an Elf who kills regretfully—even compassionately—because he must? It is because you feel as you do that I know that you are changed, but not much changed. Indeed, it you did not feel this sorrow, I would fear for your soul."
Anomen nodded thoughtfully. "Will I feel this way after every battle?"
"I hope so, Anomen, I hope so."
Mithrandir's assessment of Elladan's condition had been an accurate one, and after a late and leisurely breakfast, the company set out on the journey to Rivendell. The bodies of the Dunlendings had been consigned to the cleansing fire on the very day of Elladan's rescue, and the elven company had set up its camp out of sight of the clearing where the hunters had died. Anomen was nonetheless relieved to be leaving the scene of those murders—and the place where he himself had killed a man.
They rode through the forest at a slow pace, stopping frequently, for they intended that first day only to return to the camp from whence the twins had been abducted. The previous night, Taurmeldir's messenger, accompanied by Berenmaethor and Thoron, had rejoined the company, and they brought with him both messages from Elrond and extra horses. Mithrandir and Anomen thus each had a mount. Mithrandir at first rode beside Glorfindel, and Anomen rode beside Elladan, who, well-bundled, sat before Taurmeldir. Elladan had insisted that he could ride on his own, but Mithrandir had refused to listen to his pleas.
The day was wearing on toward dusk when Mithrandir dropped back and told Anomen that Glorfindel wanted to speak with him. Apprehensively, Anomen spurred his horse to the head of the line and fell in beside Glorfindel, who nodded at him but appeared to be deep in thought. After several minutes, he at last addressed Anomen.
"Anomen, I fear that I must make a difficult decision. When [] returned from Rivendell, he brought not only messages and horses but also Elrohir's account of your actions. The slave raid and its aftermath are being much discussed in Rivendell."
Anomen was certain that he was to be barred from any further patrols for a century at the very least. Miserably, he looked down at his horse's mane and studied its intricate braiding.
Glorfindel continued, "Now I am confronted with a very great dilemma. Both Berenmaethor and Taurmeldir have approached me and spoken very vigorously about this matter."
So, thought Anomen, it was not just Glorfindel who did not think him ready to join the warriors.
"Yes, it is a difficult matter, indeed," sighed Glorfindel. "Berenmaethor claims that I should assign you to his patrol, but Taurmeldir argues equally as hard that you should join his. I respect them both, and I have been at a loss as to how to settle the dispute." Glorfindel glanced toward Anomen and smiled slightly at the look of astonishment on the face of the Elfling. He knew perfectly well what the young one had been thinking, for he had noticed that Anomen was uncomfortable in his presence.
"Then I thought to myself, 'Taurmeldir and Berenmaethor are not the only ones concerned in this matter. Perhaps I should ask Anomen whether he has any thoughts as to which patrol it would be best for him to join'."
"I think," said Anomen slowly, "I think I should join Taurmeldir's patrol."
"Have you a reason for this choice."
"Yes," Anomen said, with greater confidence. "When not under your direct command, Berenmaethor's scouts keep to the river valley and the ravines, whilst Taurmeldir's warriors usually patrol deep in the forest. I believe that I would be of the greatest use to forest patrol."
Glorfindel nodded thoughtfully. "Well said. That will be my recommendation to Elrond. He, of course, has the right of final approval."
"Is that all, my Lord Glorfindel?" Anomen asked hopefully.
"No, I have one more issue to discuss with you. Anomen, I am a balrog-slayer, not an eater of Elfings. You do not need to be afraid of me. I know I was somewhat, ah, irked by your habit of wandering off when you first came to Rivendell, but you should not mistake the bluster of an old and irritable soldier for genuine anger."
Anomen again looked down at his horse's mane. He did not trust himself to meet the eye of the warrior. "I was afraid you would be angry because I disobeyed your and Lord Elrond's command to stay in camp."
"Anomen, there is something you must understand about the giving and following of orders. A leader gives the best command he can, depending upon the conditions that he believes to exist at one moment in time, and when he learns that the situation has changed, he issues new orders. But if the leader cannot communicate with his warriors when the situation changes, then it is the warriors who must exercise their judgment as to whether or not to follow the original command. When Elrond ordered you to remain in the camp, he could not have known that you would be forced to decide whether to pursue slavers who, if their plans had not been thwarted, would now have been quit of Imladris. Had you waited for the scouts to return, we would not have had the advantage of terrain, and it would have been much harder—perhaps even impossible—to have rescued Elladan and Elrohir. Indeed, if the Southrons had continued dragging Elladan along, without proper care or rest, it is likely that of the two he at least would have died. Like a true warrior, you exercised your judgment, and you did so wisely."
Anomen looked at Glorfindel gratefully. "Does Lord Elrond think as you do?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself," replied Glorfindel, gesturing toward the old camp, which they were just entering. In the middle of the camp Elrond stood calmly, with Elrohir, not so calm, at his side.
"Elladan, Anomen! Elladan, Anomen!" Elrohir was leaping and laughing much as Anomen had when Mithrandir revealed that Elladan was safe. Elrond raised his eyebrows at his cavorting son, but Elrohir paid him no heed.
Anomen slid off his mount, and Elrohir embraced him. Elrond lifted Elladan down from [] mount and then fended off Elrohir's attempts to embrace his twin.
"Come," he scolded, "are you trying to rebreak Elladan's ribs? Go and expend your energy on something useful. Are there no pots to be scrubbed?"
"I have scrubbed them all, Ada," Elrohir proclaimed triumphantly. He turned to Anomen, "When we set up camp last night, those pots we were scouring when the camp was attacked were still there, and they were as dirty as ever. Ada set me to scouring them straightaway."
"You talk," said Elrond in his best deadpan manner, "as if you thought the dishes would have either walked off or washed themselves in your absence."
Elrohir grinned. "Mithrandir, is there any charm that would make dirty dishes run off so we wouldn't have to trouble ourselves over them anymore?"
"I am afraid," the wizard replied gravely, "that those sorts of charms exist only in the realm of fiction. You must perforce resign yourself to living in the real world."
Elrohir sighed. "But that is so boring!"
Elrond raised his eyebrows nearly to his hairline. "So you consider being attacked and dragged off by Southrons to have been boring."
Chastened, Elrohir blushed. "No, Ada, that wasn't boring."
Just at that moment, two scouts strode into the camp with squirrels and conies dangling from their packs. If Elrond had been inclined to smirk, he would have done so. However, he was not so inclined. He merely contented himself with nodding towards the game. "Elrohir, here is something that will stave off boredom. You and Anomen can race to see which of you can prepare dinner the fastest. Whoever finishes first—without scorching anything, mind you—can get out of washing up afterward."
Never, thought Glorfindel later, had such a delicious meal been served up so quickly.
After Anomen and Elrohir finished scrubbing the pots—Elrohir had helped even though he had won the competition—Elrond found time to speak with Anomen.
"So, I understand from Elrohir than your behavior has been quite 'heroic'."
Anomen winced at the word. He was still a little fearful that Elrond would consign him to long hours in the armory. Elrond read his expression and laughed.
"Glorfindel and I have talked; I know you were afraid that I would be angry. Be assured that I am not. You made a good decision. Oh perhaps I should say that you made several good decisions. For you had to face more than one difficult choice, did you not?"
Anomen nodded somberly.
"I did not expect that on your first patrol you would be forced to exercise your judgment under such perilous circumstances. Nor did I think that you were ready to do so. I sent you and the twins on this patrol because I thought you unlikely to encounter any foe. That part of the forest has hitherto been little touched by evil. I was doubly wrong. I was wrong in thinking any part of the forest to be safe, and I was wrong in believing that you were not ready to make difficult decisions. Anomen, for my misjudgments, I beg your forgiveness."
Anomen did not know what to say. These were not the words he had been preparing himself to hear.
Elrond waited patiently for his reply. "Ion-nin, have I your pardon?"
Anomen thought back to the words of Glorfindel. "Lord Elrond, you made the best choices that you could, given the knowledge that you had. How can I pardon you when you have committed no offense?"
Elrond looked at him gravely. "Mithrandir is right—oh, yes, I have talked to him as well—you have matured much in a very short period of time. You are indeed a novice no longer."
"Of course," Elrond added with a smile, "don't think for a moment that your hard-won wisdom will get excused from the usual duties."
But Anomen didn't care how many pots he had to scour, fires he had to build, or squirrels he had to skin. All he could think of were those words of praise: "a novice no longer."
The end of this installment of the continuing adventures of Anomen (aka Legolas). TBC in a new story.