The Rivendell Elves were making their way southward. Before their departure from Thranduil's Hall, the king's scouts had warned them that Orcs had been spotted roaming the plains to the west. Glorfindel had therefore decided that they would stay within the shelter of the forest as long as possible, until they drew near to Dol Guldur and had no choice but to leave the woods. This route kept them from the eyes of the Orcs, but it also prevented them from traveling as fast as they could have on open ground. Also slowing their progress was the rain through which they were forced to slog. A downpour had begun shortly after they had left the king's hall, and it showed no signs of slackening.
Not only their garments but their spirits were being dampened by the ceaseless rain. Nor were matters improved by the fact that the further south they traveled, the more frequently they came upon traces of the dangerous spiders that over the years had been infesting Greenwood in ever greater numbers.
"Glorfindel," grumbled Erestor as he rode alongside his friend, "are you sure we shouldn't take to the plains now? It is true that we may encounter Orcs, but if we remain within the forest, we will surely encounter those infernal arachnids."
"If we encounter Orcs, they will attack us without hesitation," Glorfindel replied calmly, "but spiders have not yet been known to attack large groups of travelers. As long as we stay together, we will be safe."
"Maybe," suggested Erestor, "the spiders have attacked large groups of travelers, and successfully, so that no one was left to tell the tale."
Glorfindel chuckled. "Thank you, Erestor. I did not think anyone could cheer me up, but you have done so."
"Moreover," continued Erestor doggedly, "on the plains we would see Orcs approaching in plenty of time to prepare to defend ourselves. Here in the forest we would neither see nor hear the movements of the spiders. Even a Dwarf could coax no sound out of these rain-sodden leaves that we and our horses are slipping upon."
"Perhaps," mused Glorfindel, "we should stop to set up camp. We can cover little more distance today and might spend our time more profitably in drying our clothes by the fire."
"If anyone can start a fire in this storm," growled Erestor.
Erestor was not the only gloomy one. Thoron had been anxiously watching Anomen ever since the night of the feast, for Anomen had recovered neither his appetite nor his spirits. Indeed, he seemed to grow sadder by the hour. He neither laughed nor smiled nor sang, and no longer did he cheekily bait Glorfindel. Instead, he sullenly went about his chores. Now, as the Elves dismounted, without being told he began to hunt about for any sticks that might be dry enough to be used in kindling a flame.
After supper had been prepared and all the dishes washed—Thoron had offered to help but Anomen brusquely refused his aid—Thoron noticed the young Elf slipping away from the group into the shadows under the trees. Concerned, Thoron followed.
"Anomen," he called as he caught up with his friend, "you will be taken by a spider if you wander off alone."
Anomen seemed to find that statement amusing. "Taken by a spider! What a thought!"
"But, Anomen, the spiders do seize those who have the misfortune to wander alone in these woods. That is how the Prince of Greenwood met his end."
Anomen smiled bitterly and said softly, more to himself than Thoron, "The misfortune to wander alone." Then he turned indignant. "You forget that I grew up in Greenwood. Do not presume to tell me of its dangers!"
Thoron was taken aback. Anomen had never spoken to him in such an angry tone. He cast about for another argument to convince Anomen to return to the fire.
"Anomen, if you wander about alone, Glorfindel will be angry with you."
"Why should that concern me? Glorfindel will think ill of me no matter what I do."
"Anomen, that is not fair! Glorfindel is only strict with you because he is trying to look out for you. He is quite fond of you, and he shows his affection by training you with the greatest of rigor so that you will be able to stand up to the perils that you will encounter."
"Huh," Anomen scoffed, "if that is how he shows his affection, I pray that I never get on his bad side."
Thoron was bewildered. He had never seen this side of his friend. Something was very wrong. He decided to leave off trying to persuade Anomen to return to the camp. "I will fetch Glorfindel," he thought to himself. "He will make Anomen go back to the safety of the camp, and once he has done so, he and Erestor will sort out the problem."
"Very well, Anomen," Thoron said aloud. "I will leave you for now. I hope we can talk later about what it is that troubles you."
Anomen gave no answer. Thoron turned about and made for the camp.
Behind him the trees were starting to stir and reach out to Anomen, but he wanted no one's sympathy, not even theirs. He tried to ignore them, but they became more and more frantic in their attempts to get him to listen. "Be silent," he shouted, and picking up a stick, he struck the trunk of the nearest one. Shocked, the trees fell silent, and before they could recover from their astonishment and find their voices again, the spiders struck.
As the spiders were creeping up on Anomen, Thoron was racing back toward the fire. "Glorfindel," he panted, dashing up to the startled balrog-slayer, "You had better come and speak to Anomen. He has gone off by himself, and something troubles him greatly."
Before Glorfindel had a chance to reply, a scream of pain and fear made every warrior reach for his sword. "Thoron," cried Glorfindel, "quick, lead me to Anomen!"
Sick with fear, Thoron ran heedlessly through the undergrowth, paying no mind to the vines that whipped at his face. Equally frantic, Glorfindel followed close behind. Without being bidden, every other Elf raced after them. Crashing through one last bush, they saw what they had feared. Spiders swarmed so thickly that they could not even see where Anomen lay. Glorfindel went into a frenzy, slashing and hacking with as much force as if his opponent were once again a balrog. Thoron was not carrying a sword, but he seized a branch and flailed at any spider within reach. Spider limbs soon were scattered about, and Erestor spotted the twitching body of Anomen. One spider still had hold of one of his arms and was trying to drag him further into the forest. "Glorfindel, Glorfindel, over there!" Erestor gestured frantically. Glorfindel sprang toward the retreating spider and with one blow hacked its head from its body.
Anomen was writhing and moaning. "Help me! Saes! Saes! Ada! Help me! Saes! Adaaa!" he whimpered.
Glorfindel knelt down beside the injured Elf and examined his numerous wounds. When he looked up, his face was grave.
"Erestor, we must hasten to return to Thranduil's Hall!
"No!" Anomen shrieked. "I will not return to Thranduil's Hall! I will not stay in Greenwood. Mirkwood I name it, for here all is dark!"
Anomen kicked and clawed at the Elves who huddled anxiously around him. In his frenzy, he struck out even at Thoron.
"Glorfindel," Erestor said urgently, "the Greenwood Elves are well versed in the cure of spider bites, but if Anomen fights so against any return to Thranduil's Hall, then it may do more harm than good to force him to go back. We must treat him as best we can and then make for Lothlórien as fast as we may."
"Very well," said Glorfindel. "Berenmaethor, two of your men must hold him down—no, Thoron, I do not want you to have to do this."
One Elf sat astride Anomen's legs; the other pulled his arms above his head and held them fast. Glorfindel knelt beside Anomen and drew his knife.
Anomen was becoming delirious now. When he saw Glorfindel kneel beside him with blade in hand, he shrieked, "Thoron, Thoron, help me! Glorfindel really means to skin me this time!" Screaming at the top of his lungs, he tried in vain to twist free.
In consternation, Glorfindel exclaimed, "Someone gag him before he brings more spiders down upon us!"
"Shhh, Anomen," said Thoron soothingly. "Glorfindel will use his knife to help you. He means to purge you of the poison. Here, bite down on this strap." Thoron slipped a piece of leather into Anomen's mouth, and the young Elf bit down upon it for all he was worth.
Quickly Glorfindel made incisions in each spider bite, and he pressed hard upon Anomen's flesh to force out as much of the venom as he could. As he was doing so, Erestor was fetching the bundle of athelas that he always carried with him on journeys. Hastily he prepared a poultice. When Glorfindel had finished, Erestor spread some of the paste over each wound and bound it with strips of cloth that he tore from his cloak. Then Glorfindel took his own cloak and wrapped Anomen in it. The balrog-slayer picked up the young Elf, who by now was unconscious, his eyes closed as if he were mortal. Rapidly but carefully, Glorfindel strode toward the horses. Thoron followed at his heels.
"Glorfindel, Anomen cannot ride alone. I will hold him before me on my horse."
"You are right, Thoron. Anomen cannot ride unassisted, but my horse is larger and stronger than yours. We will be able to move more swiftly if Anomen rides with me."
Glorfindel handed Anomen to Thoron and mounted his horse. Then Thoron reluctantly lifted Anomen up to Glorfindel, who settled the unconscious Elf securely in front of him. As soon as he was satisfied that the young one was well-balanced in his arms, Glorfindel spurred his horse forward and galloped off through the forest like one pursued by wargs. Thoron raced to his horse, leaped upon it, and followed in the same pell mell fashion. Under Berenmaethor and Erestor's command, the remaining Elves broke camp as rapidly as they could and rode off in pursuit.