The next morning, Anomen broke fast with Saruman, who was as solicitous and attentive as he had been during Anomen's first stay. Once again Saruman gently questioned Anomen about all of his doings, no matter how trivial, and he inquired after the well-being of Elrond and his offspring. As they talked, Anomen found himself lowering his guard and speaking more freely than he did to anyone other than Mithrandir. All at once, however, he was startled by the entrance of a servant who looked as if he were as much Goblin as Man. He could not help but stare as the half-goblin refilled Saruman's glass. The wizard noticed Anomen's reaction. After the servant left the room, Saruman said, "You seem to be fascinated by my servant. Why is that so?"
"My Lord, forgive me, but he looked like, rather like—he looked like a goblin!"
Saruman studied him gravely. "So I have heard it said. Men will not endure him because they say he is Goblin-kind; the Goblins drive him away because they say he is a Man. I, however, have found employment for him."
"But, my Lord, if he is part-goblin, is he not to be feared?"
"He has served me well. Yes, he has served me quite well. I have no lack of tasks for which he is well-suited."
"He has served you well thus far, but can you trust him, my Lord?"
Saruman looked at Anomen reproachfully. "I am surprised at you, Anomen. Surely you, who have been an outcast, must appreciate how grievous a thing it is to be kinless and friendless. You are grateful, are you not, to have been taken in by Lord Elrond, even though you cannot give a proper account of yourself?"
Chastened, Anomen could only nod.
"And did you think that your Lord Elrond was the only one who took in those who wander houseless and masterless?"
Anomen shook his head. Unable to meet the eye of the wizard, he intently studied the design on the rim of his plate. He could feel his face flush.
The wizard said no more for a few minutes, then reached over and gently raised Anomen's chin until the young Elf was looking at him once again.
"Do not take my rebuke to heart, Anomen. Surely you have been chided by Elrond from time to time—as a father chides his son."
Anomen nodded.
"Then know that my words are offered in the same spirit—to guide you towards wisdom."
Anomen finally found his voice. "Thank you, my Lord Saruman."
Saruman laughed. "Always so formal, yondo-nya. Well, well, I will let that pass for now, but you must not always address me as 'Lord Saruman'."
After breakfast, Anomen was left free to roam at will. The gate to the Ring of Isengard stood open, but the Elf feared to leave the seeming safety of Saruman's stronghold. Something in the forest surrounding the Ring had opposed its will to his and prevented him from sensing the approach of the Warg until it was too late for him to defend himself. Anomen shuddered when he thought of what might have happened had Saruman not been nearby! Surely he owed Saruman a great debt of gratitude.
A second day passed, and a third, and Saruman made no mention of replying to the letters from Elf and Istar. As a fourth day passed, Anomen began to wonder whether he ought to try to hint—diplomatically, of course—that Mithrandir and Elrond had hoped for a quick answer. He resolved to broach the subject at dinner. Before he could do so however, Saruman began to speak of Anomen's life in Imladris.
"From what you have told me these past few days, you have found favor in Rivendell. You have won the respect and esteem of many—not the least the Lord of Imladris himself. Yet you do not speak of the rewards that you have received for your service."
"Rewards, my Lord?"
"Recompense—have you received no recompense?"
"The Lord Elrond has fed me and clothed me, arranged for my training, and provided me with bow and sword—is that what you mean?"
"He has then done no more than provide for your barest needs?"
"I lack nothing."
"From what you say, you possess little more than the clothes on your back. I am surprised that the Lord Elrond has not treated you with greater generosity. Surely it is within his means to reward you as you deserve."
"He has treated me like a son. I share a room with Elladan and Elrohir and train alongside them."
"So he cannot spare you a room of your own. I had thought that his Hall was much grander than that—more on the scale of Orthanc."
Saruman walked to a window and peered out at the Ring of Isengard. When he turned back toward Anomen, his face was full of concern.
"Anomen—yondo-nya—I fear for your future. Elrond is known for taking in the fatherless and friendless and making the most of them. But what will you do when your place is usurped by his next fosterling?"
Anomen had given no thought to that question. Elrond had taken him in, but he had given others shelter in the past and was likely to do so in the future. What would that mean to him?
"My Lord, I am underage but will not always be so. I will of course not always be Elrond's fosterling. Even his own sons will not always need him to act the parent."
"Yet they will always be his sons; will you always be his foster-son?"
"I do not know," admitted Anomen. "But I am sure he will always be a friend to me."
Saruman pondered Anomen's answer. When he spoke again, his manner was less gentle, more forthright.
"I will speak plainly with you. I have need of an emissary, someone capable of carrying messages between Isengard and Edoras, the seat of the King of Rohan."
"Surely any of the Men in your employ would serve for such a task."
"Ah, but I need more than a simple messenger. I need someone who can observe carefully and report back faithfully."
"Those skills are found in many."
"But not all men can ingratiate themselves into the hearts of others. I need someone with a trustworthy appearance who will be well-received wherever he goes. You, my young friend, are polite, well-spoken, and goodly in appearance. You would find a ready welcome in Edoras. You would be trusted. Indeed, no doubt in time you would be welcomed into their councils. You would then be able to keep me informed of the thoughts of the king and his counselors; perhaps in time you would be able to shape those thoughts—with my guidance, of course. You will be well-rewarded not only by me but by the Rohirrim, who will be indebted to you for your words of advice. Is this prospect not an appealing one?"
"No, my Lord. It is not."
Both Saruman and Anomen were surprised at the bluntness of his answer. Briefly Saruman looked as if his face were a mask that was slipping, and for a fleeting moment Anomen thought that the Istar would raise his staff and strike him. Then the wizard recovered himself. Softly he spoke, a smile on his face, "So you seek to prove to me that you are not always well-spoken. But by doing so you only demonstrate your discretion. I say again, you would make an excellent emissary—indeed are you not an emissary now, from Elrond and Mithrandir to me? They know your potential worth, even if they have not bothered to enlighten you. But I will not deceive you so, making use of your talents even as I hide from you your own worth."
"You do both Elrond and Mithrandir an injustice. They have been generous with their praise."
"But only with their praise."
"Lord Saruman, I am yet underage. An apprentice is entitled to clothing, food, and training—nothing more."
"True, true, that is the least that a master must provide his apprentice, but nothing prevents a master from proffering more—unless, of course, he grudges sharing his fortune with those who labor to keep him in comfort."
Anomen was angry now. He would not listen to Saruman denigrate the Elf who had taken him in and treated him with the greatest of forbearance. He arose from his seat.
"Lord Saruman, you must excuse me. I am still tired from my journey and wish to retire."
"Of course, yondo-nya. I wish you to be comfortable here—now and always."
Shaken and uneasy, Anomen retreated to his room. He sensed that a point of crisis had been reached. The next morning, he decided, he would gamble all at one throw.
Anomen kept his resolution. He waited impatiently as breakfast was served, then after the servant had left—a Man this time, not the half-goblin, Anomen noticed—he commenced.
"Lord Saruman, if I do not return soon, Glorfindel and Erestor will be displeased."
Saruman said, "It is a long journey between here and Imladris, and a traveler is subject to many vicissitudes that prevent an exact reckoning of his day of return. Surely the Elves in Rivendell will not be concerned if you enjoy a few more days of hospitality here in Isengard."
"But I do not return directly to Rivendell. I parted from my company only at the border of Fangorn forest. Glorfindel and Erestor and their warriors camp an easy ride from that place, next to an encampment of Rohirrim. Glorfindel knows very well that I should rejoin them in under a week." With that latter statement, Anomen was taking liberties with the truth, for Glorfindel had not specified a time. Still, it seemed prudent to say something of the sort, and Anomen was certain a week was a reasonable estimate of the time that Glorfindel would have expected him to be gone.
Saruman looked startled. "Glorfindel, the balrog-slayer, is camped well nigh on my doorstep?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"As is Elrond's councilor, Erestor?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"I wonder," mused Saruman, "why, being so close, they did not see fit to turn aside to deliver the messages themselves." He looked sharply at Anomen.
"They are negotiating with the Rohirrim. I play no part in those negotiations. Being but the youngest of the warriors, I could well be spared as a runner of errands. Moreover, I have been to Isengard before and knew the way. None other in our company had."
"Negotiating with the Rohirrim, you say. What is the subject of these negotiations?"
"To arrange an exchange of studs for the strengthening of our respective herds."
Saruman had assumed a rigid stance; now he visibly relaxed. "So they do not draw up a treaty of mutual aid. No agreement to come to one another's aid in the event of an attack?"
"No, my Lord."
Saruman arose and strolled to the window. "So Elrond has not sent you alone and friendless these many miles. The balrog-slayer himself is your escort, and mayhap he will come looking for you before too long. Well, well, Elrond does take care of his tools."
Anomen's anger flared. "I am not the tool of Elrond!"
"You do his bidding. One who does the bidding of another is that other's tool, is that not so? If you do not wish to be his tool, then leave his service."
"To become your tool?" Anomen asked sarcastically.
"To become a well-rewarded member of my household, yes."
"I desire none of the rewards that you have the power to grant."
"Mayhap you are too young to appreciate the rewards that I proffer. The time of the Elves has begun to pass. East and West their realms are under assault from dark forces that will only strengthen with the passing of days. If you cast your lot with Elrond Half-Elven, it will be your doom to fade with the others. I offer you instead sanctuary in a place that will remain standing when the last tree of Middle Earth has rotted into dust." Saruman gestured grandly toward the ebony-black walls that surrounded them. "I say to you, Anomen, son of no man, do not rashly cast aside this opportunity."
"I think," said Anomen, "that you underestimate the power of the trees."
Saruman laughed, but it was not the sound of mirth. "Ah, Anomen, you will be wise someday, but now you speak nonsense. The trees have no power! They await those who bear axes—as you will, if you do not grow less stubborn!"
"My Lord, I must return to my companions—with or without your reply to the Lords Elrond and Mithrandir. You have many Men in your employ; you may send one of them with a message when it seems good to you to do so."
Saruman shook his head, and for a moment Anomen was afraid that the Istar would refuse outright to let him depart from Isengard. But the wizard merely said, "If you are so resolved, I shall not hinder you. For my purposes, you will be a useful servant only if you are a willing one. But perhaps one day you shall indeed be willing."
Inwardly, Anomen said, "Never!" Outwardly, however, he nodded politely. "With your leave, then, my Lord, I will prepare to return to my companions."
The next morning, to his immense relief, Anomen found two letters, sealed with Saruman's device—a hand, its fingers outspread—lying beside his plate when he joined the wizard for breakfast.
"So you take your leave this morning?"
"Yes, my Lord."
Saruman sighed, as if with concern. "As I told you the last time you enjoyed my hospitality, you will always have a place here. It is a pity you feel that you must return to a realm that is doomed."
"My Lord, that doom may be a long time in coming—if it ever comes at all."
"Oh, be sure that it will arrive—whether sooner or later, Imladris shall fall, as will Greenwood and Lothlórien. Elrond knows this, as does Mithrandir. I am surprised two such wise ones do not put their interests first, knowing what they do."
"Mayhap because they are wise," Anomen answered obstinately.
Saruman shook his head, a weary look on his face, as if he grieved for his friends' ill-choices.
"Truly I must have a talk with Mithrandir some day—to try to make him see reason."
With that, Saruman arose. "A safe journey to you, my young friend. I hope that on your return to your companions you do not encounter any foe—such as a stray warg. Of course, if you do come across such a creature, remember that he who is wise and strong-minded can control all beasts." The Istar had an amused look on his face. Anomen was reminded that Saruman had looked so when the wizard had found Anomen sprawled on the ground at the mercy of the warg.
Mindful that at least one such fell creature lurked in Fangorn Forest, Anomen hastily scrambled into the first tree he came to after he passed through the gate that breached the Ring of Isengard. He did not plan to put to the test Saruman's airy assurances that the beast could be mastered! He would put his trust in the forest canopy.
From tree to tree the Elf gracefully leaped. He was relieved that no force seemed to be trying to block his ability to hear the trees, for he knew the warg was on the prowl long before he could have heard the beast. A stiff breeze was blowing, and the trees whispered that the warg was downwind and had picked up his scent.
Anomen paused where he was, pondering his next move. As long as he kept to the trees, the warg would be unable to reach him, but he did not want to be pursued by a warg across the open plain of Rohan once he came to the end of Fangorn Forest. He decided to remain where he was. He would allow the warg to catch up to him and would slay it from the cover of the tree. Anomen strung his bow, fitted an arrow to the string, and settled himself in a good position.
Before too long, the young Elf could hear the rustling of branches and the snapping of fallen limbs. Soon he could see the movement of branches as well, and then he heard a low growling. The warg pushed out from some bushes, sniffed the air, and then swung its muzzle from size to side, snarling in disappointment. From the odor, the warg knew it should be right on top of its prey. It never dreamed that its prey was in fact right on top of it. Quietly Anomen drew his bow and released his arrow. It struck the warg in the throat. The beast gave one hideous, strangled howl, leaped into the air, then collapsed onto the ground. Its legs jerked once or twice; then it lay still.
To Anomen's horror, the warg's howl was immediately answered by shrieks and hoots. The warg had not been alone in the forest. Anomen heard loud snapping and cracking noises as some undoubtedly large and deadly creatures forced their way through the forest, heading straight toward him. He flattened himself on his perch. Within minutes a dozen Orcs, accompanied, Anomen noticed with interest, by one half-goblin, stumbled into the space underneath his tree. They gathered around the body of the warg and jabbered excitedly.
"Musta been killed by that Elf what came through not so long ago. Let's track 'im and slice 'im into strips—be handy for snackin' on the march."
"The master said to let 'im pass," growled the half-goblin, who seemed to be in charge. "Said we was t'attend t'other matters."
"But I'm hungry," whined one Orc.
"Look, you idiot," the half-goblin sneered, "there's a dead warg lying right in front of you. Not as tender as Elf, but it'll fill your maggoty belly."
The other Orcs hooted in ridicule at the Orc that had complained of hunger, and they began to hack at the warg carcass with their scimitars. Feeling sick, Anomen closed his eyes and clung tightly to the tree trunk. Thankfully, the Orcs were crude butcherers but quick ones. Within minutes, each Orc had one huge slab of warg to chew on and another to sling over its shoulder. Leaving behind cracked bones, shredded skin, and fragments of brain, the Orcs tramped off.
Anomen remained in the tree for several more minutes, trying to breathe normally and waiting for his heart to slow. As he huddled in the tree, he considered returning to Isengard. "Should I not," he wondered, "warn Saruman that Orcs are within a day's march of Isengard? Should I not tell him that a half-goblin like to the one in his service is an ally of those Orcs? And should I not tell him that they serve some power even greater than they—some nameless 'master'?" After debating with himself for some time, he suddenly decided that he would do no such thing. Defiantly, he said to himself, "Saruman thinks he can manage anyone or anything—well, then, let him manage these Orcs. I'm going to look after my own skin!" (With that latter thought, Anomen was, of course, being excruciatingly literal.) It was the most selfish decision the young Elf had ever made, and he felt nary a scruple about it. Had they known, Glorfindel and Thoron would have been proud of him. And far away, in Lothlórien, the Lady Galadriel smiled as she gazed into the limpid waters of her mirror.
TBC