Like all Elves, Glorfindel was normally considerate of his horse, whom he considered to be his partner rather than his servant.  But on this occasion he asked of his mount more than he had ever asked before.  It is a tribute to the respect that the horse had for his rider that the stallion did not rebel.  Instead, sensing his rider's need, the stallion galloped across the plain like a horse from the days of legend.  With his double burden, however, the horse was slowed enough so that Thoron, on his slighter steed, was able to keep up, or to at least stay within sight of the balrog-slayer and his burden.

            When they arrived at the border of Lothlórien, they did not bother with the niceties of etiquette but rode directly to Caras Galadhon, not dismounting until they were at the very base of the Lord and Lady's talan.  There Lord Celeborn awaited them.  As he accompanied them up the steps that ascended the mallorn tree, he informed them that the Lady Galadriel had already prepared medicines and poultices to counter the spider venom.

            Gently Glorfindel laid Anomen upon the bed that had been prepared for him.  The pale young Elf had not opened his eyes since their departure from Greenwood, and for a horrible moment Glorfindel thought that Anomen had ceased breathing.   But his chest did rise and fall, even if his breaths were so slight that Glorfindel found himself holding his own breath as he tried to satisfy himself that Anomen did indeed live.

"Come, Glorfindel," said Celeborn, once Anomen had been settled on the bed.  "You and Thoron do not want to leave Anomen, but it would be best if you did, for then Galadriel can tend to our young friend without distraction."

Glorfindel nodded.  As shaken as he was, all his life he had trained to keep command of his emotions so that he could function in situations that required the utmost pragmatism.  This was such an occasion.  He turned his attention to patiently but firmly persuading Thoron that it was needful for him to descend from the talan.

            Anomen slept on for another three days as the Lady kept vigil by his side, changing his dressings and from time to time rousing him enough to compel him to swallow one of the medicines.

             On the fourth day Anomen at last opened his eyes.  Galadriel smiled down upon him, but he gasped and looked about him wildly.

            "You are quite safe, Anomen.  What do you fear?"

            "La-la-la-dy," he stammered, "there are t-t-too many of you!"

            "Do you mean that you are seeing double."

            "More than that!"

            "Triple?"

            "More!"

            "Quadruple, then?"

            Anomen seemed to be trying to count the many Galadriels that shimmered before him.

            "Quadruple times quadruple times quadruple, Lady!"

            "Sixty-four Galadriels?"

            "Well," conceded Anomen, "maybe not that many—but there are quite a few of you!"

            "I assure you, Anomen, that as the poison wears off, your eyesight will return to normal.  It is common for victims of such bites to develop the vision of a spider—although usually not to such an extent!  You were bitten many times, however, and that fact no doubt explains the severity of your reaction.

            Reassured, Anomen nodded.  Besides, he thought to himself, a world filled with multiple Galadriels was not such a dreadful one.  What if he had awakened to find himself confronted by multiple Orcs!?

            The entire time Anomen had been sleeping, Thoron had been loitering about the base of the tree, as had been Haldir.  Now Galadriel sent for them, although she was quite firm in telling Anomen that she would not permit them to stay long.

            "You were bitten many, many times, and you have been quite sick.  You may consider yourself lucky not to have suffered the fate of the Prince of Greenwood."

            Was it Anomen's imagination, or did she look very hard at him as she said that?

            Thoron and Haldir came softly in, having been warned by Galadriel's messenger that they were not to excite the feeble Elf.

            "Dûrrandîr, you gave us such a fright!"

            "Dûrrandîr?" said Haldir, bewildered.

            "Oh," said Thoron, "he changed his name as well as his hair."

            Galadriel said to her charge, "May not Thoron call you by your true name now?"

Was it Anomen's imagination, or did she look very hard at him as she said that? "Um, you may call me Anomen, Thoron."

"Good.  Anyway, your hair is beginning to grow out, so 'Dark Wanderer' soon won't even suit you!"

"It would be good indeed," Galadriel pointed out "if neither the 'Dark' nor the 'Wanderer' suited our young friend here.  But now," she added, arising from her seat, "I do believe that, whatever be his name, this elfling needs his rest."  She ushered Thoron and Haldir from the talan.

"Thoron, Haldir, you should rest as well, for I know that you have not done so for these past several days.  Haldir, could I prevail upon you to take Thoron to your talan and provide for his needs?"

"Of course, my Lady."

Thoron and Haldir bowed, and Haldir began to lead Thoron to his talan.  Galadriel called after him.  "Oh, and Haldir."

Haldir turned.  "Yes, my Lady."

 "Do try not to lose this one."

Haldir blushed.  "I will, my Lady."

"You will lose him?"

"No, I mean, I will not!  I—"

Haldir broke off when he realized that she was gently twitting him.  "My Lady," he said meaningfully, "I am sure you must remember that I did have some help in losing him."

Galadriel nodded, her face grave, but her eyes smiling.

            Lady Galadriel insisted that Anomen rest another week in Lothlórien before she would permit the Rivendell Elves to resume their journey.  By that time Anomen's vision had returned to normal, although he still tired easily.  Galadriel prepared medicine enough for the remainder of the journey back to Imladris, for, she said, Anomen would sicken again if he did not continue to take it for some time.

            The last night of Anomen's stay in Lothlórien, he was allowed to join Thoron in Haldir's flet.  "I think," the Lady of Lórien said with mock gravity, "that Haldir would be immensely pleased if, just once, you would spend the entire night in his talan.  He is beginning to be rather self-conscious about his abilities as a host, since you seem so disinclined to accept his hospitality."

            "Far be it from me," replied Anomen with equally straight face, "to inflict such a state of doubt upon an Elf who is so vigilant in keeping his guests in comfort—even if he cannot keep them in sight!"

            "So you promise not to flee his entertainment this night?"

            "I do, Lady."

            "Perhaps he will sing for you and Thoron."

            "Haldir sings?"

            "He has been known to."

            "Am I allowed to reconsider, Lady?"

            "Glorfindel is right about you.  You are a scamp.  Go.  Haldir and Thoron are waiting for you at the base of my talan—and I'd better not spy you creeping about tonight.  I can be fiercer than Glorfindel."

            "That would be fierce indeed!"

            "I shall tell him you say so," threatened Galadriel.

            "I am sure he will be very surprised to hear of it," smiled Anomen.

            Galadriel laughed, and Anomen thought that he had never heard a more beautiful sound. 

            Haldir did indeed sing, but so did Thoron and Anomen.  The three of them kept at it until well past the setting of the moon and only ceased when Berenmaethor climbed up into the talan and threatened to gag them.

            "Glorfindel is doing his best to ignore you," warned Berenmaethor, "but only a little while longer and I think you will see the balrog-slayer unleashed!"

            "What about Erestor?" asked Thoron.

            "Oh, he hasn't been about for the entire evening.  He was spotted walking in a glade with an elf-maiden, and no one's seen him since."

            "Erestor!?"

            "And why not Erestor?  Now be still before I send Anomen back to the Lord and Lady's talan—no, before I send him to Glorfindel's talan."

            The silence was both instantaneous and lasting.

            The next morning the Imladris Elves took their leave and began to travel southward, a route that would take them through the Gap of Rohan.  The day had promised fair, but once they had crossed the borders of Lothlórien, the sky began to cloud over.  Soon they were riding through a downpour even worse than the one that had afflicted them in Greenwood, or, as Anomen insisted calling it, Mirkwood.  The rain went on for days, and they were forced to travel more and more slowly.  They were particularly hampered by the need to repeatedly turn aside to search for places where they could ford creeks that had swollen into rivers.

            "Glorfindel," said Erestor one morning, "after today no medicine will remain."

            "Anomen seems well."

            "Yes, but the Lady did seem to feel that he would need her potions for some time to come."

            Glorfindel pondered.  "We must move forward as quickly as we may, for once we reach Rivendell, Elrond has his own fund of healing wisdom.  Meanwhile, we must try to keep Anomen as dry and rested as possible.

Ever since leaving Lothlórien, Thoron had been delegated to perform his friend's chores, but Anomen had insisted on helping.  Now, however, whenever they made camp, Glorfindel insisted that he stay wrapped by the fire under the shelter of a cloak that was stretched on sticks above him.  He realized that Glorfindel feared that he would fall ill without his medicine, and all too soon it became apparent that this was indeed the case.

            "Thoron," he said softly to his friend as he rode beside him near the end of the column.  You are too much with me."

            "What do you mean?"

            "There are two of you, and much as I enjoy your company, I find two of you to be a trifle overwhelming."

            "Anomen, have you been taking your medicine?"

            "It has run out.  Erestor stretched the last dose over two days, but that was some time ago.  I think Galadriel assumed that we would make better time."

            "You should tell Erestor and Glorfindel."

            "There is nothing more they can do.  They are pushing us forward as much as they can, and I know they are watching me carefully to see that I eat well, rest, and stay dry."

Suddenly Anomen swayed on his horse.  Had he not been riding an elven horse, no doubt he would have tumbled to the ground, but the horse shifted his weight from side to side so that, although Anomen slumped over the horse's neck, he did not fall outright.

"Glorfindel!" shouted Thoron.  "Erestor!"

The elf-lords looked back and seeing Anomen's plight, they spurred their horses to the rear of the column.  Glorfindel let out an elvish curse that turned Erestor's ears pink.  For Erestor's part, he contented himself with muttering, "Glorfindel, I would swear that some force has pitted the weather against us."

Glorfindel nodded glumly.  "We must return to Lothlórien.  We can make Caras Galadhon well before we could hope to arrive at Rivendell."

"But Isengard is even closer than Lothlórien."

"Isengard?"

"You should study maps more often.  We are passing by Fangorn Forest.  Isengard is quite close.  Saruman is a great wizard.  Surely he would be able to prepare a potion that would at least help Anomen, mayhap even cure him altogether."

"You are right, Erestor.  Lead us to Isengard.  We must place Anomen in the hands of Saruman."