Vocabulary
Tawarmaenas—'Forest Craft'
Thoron waited patiently with Elladan and Elrohir for their Lothlórien friends to arrive at Mithrandir's tent. Elladan absent-mindedly rubbed his shoulder.
"Does it still pain you, Elladan?" asked Elrohir anxiously.
"No, it is merely stiff at times. Fortunately it was not my sword arm that was wounded."
Relieved, Elrohir nodded. Even though Elladan had freely forgiven him, he still felt a little guilty.
"Ah, here they come at last," exclaimed Thoron, as Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin drew near.
They immediately fell into the old pattern of baiting each other in a light-hearted fashion.
"We had to prepare dinner both for ourselves and Mithrandir," declared Thoron. "That means you have to clean up."
"But," protested Orophin, "we ate with our own patrol and had to clean up after them."
"Yes," agreed Rúmil, "and we are tired after all that scouring."
"Oh, so you are tired, Rúmil," grinned Elrohir. "Then by all means take a seat."
"Yes," said Elladan, "we want you to have the best seat in the house."
"Say, Rúmil," added Thoron, "we hear that you are going to be assigned to the rear guard."
Rúmil replied loftily with a look of utmost dignity. "You Rivendell Elves are not very original. The Lothlórien Elves have already worn out each of those puns. As well as many others," he added hastily, "so I would give up if I were you."
"Oh, so you want us to put the matter behind us."
"But shouldn't we get to the bottom of the matter before we put it behind us."
"Yes, if we do not get to the bottom of the matter, we will be the butt of many jokes."
"Yes, even if we are at the butt end of the matter, even if our efforts are posterior to those of the Lothlórien Elves, I am sure that we will explore the downside—"
"and the upside—
"and the backside of this issue more thoroughly than—"
Someone cleared his throat, and the young Elves jumped.
"Well, well," said Mithrandir, "I am glad that you value thoroughness in all that you do. But if you would put aside your, ah, demonstration of your skill with synonyms, I would like you to meet a Greenwood Elf who will be accompanying us."
Mithrandir drew forward a small Elf with green eyes and hair the color of a chestnut. "This is Tawarmaenas. Tawarmaenas, these two twins are Elladan and Elrohir. This one is Thoron. And these three are Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin. I will leave you now to get acquainted." With that the wizard went into his tent and closed the door flap.
"Welcome, Tawarmaenas," said Haldir.
"And you are welcome to Greenwood," said Tawarmaenas pointedly.
"Yes, well, I meant welcome to this clearing."
"Which is of course a part of Greenwood," rejoined Tawarmaenas.
"Oh, to be sure," said Haldir, nonplussed. "Um, have you eaten? We have not yet put away the supper dishes."
"I ate a good meal before setting out with Mithrandir."
"Oh."
The Lothlórien and Rivendell Elves stood clustered together facing the lone Greenwood Elf. For a long while—at least it seemed like a long while—no one spoke. At last Elladan broke the silence.
"Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin arrived just before you did. They have not yet laid out their bed rolls. No doubt they will want to do so now. You are welcome to join them in choosing a place to sleep."
"Oh, thank you. How very kind of you to allow me to choose a place to sleep."
Another long silence.
"Um, Thoron," Elladan said at last, "don't you think you and I and Elrohir should go to the creek and scour the dishes? That way we'll be out of the way of the others as they lay out their bed rolls."
"Yes," agreed Thoron eagerly. "I think that is an excellent idea."
The three Rivendell Elves hastily retreated from the clearing, leaving the Greenwood Elf and the Lothlórien Elves to eye each other warily.
Thoron was spluttering by the time they reached the creek. "Who is this Elf? He is haughtier than a Dwarf! Is he a prince of Greenwood?"
"No," declared Elrohir. "He cannot be kin to Thranduil. He looks nothing like him."
"You are right," agreed Elladan. "By the Valar, Durrandîr looks more like Thranduil than this Elf does! Why, were Durrandîr's hair not dyed, he could pass for Thranduil's son."
"True," conceded Thoron, "but I still think this Greenwood Elf could be kin to Thranduil. Consider this: Durrandîr is nothing like Thranduil in personality, whilst Tawarmaenas is an exact copy of Thranduil in his speech and bearing. From the point of view of behavior, you two are less alike than Thranduil and Tawarmaenas are, and you are twins! So, if you consider character alone, it would be hard to imagine Durrandîr as kin to Thranduil, but it would be easy to imagine Tawarmaenas as such."
Elladan and Elrohir could not deny that Thoron had hit upon a good argument.
"But," continued Thoron, "I care not whether he be the king's son himself! The next time he speaks to us in such a conceited fashion, I will teach him the price of arrogance!"
Elrohir shook his head vigorously. "No, Thoron. It is true that this Elf seems overbearing, but we must put aside our feelings and work with him no matter how insulting his manner. We must not let our passions distract us from our goal."
Thoron and Elladan looked at Elrohir with both surprise and respect. Increasingly he was the thoughtful one, the one who served as the voice of reason, a role that had hitherto been Elladan's.
Later that night, however, that same thoughtfulness was plaguing Elrohir. As he lay in his bedroll, listening to the quiet breathing of his friends, he kept hearing something that Elladan had offhandedly said: "…were Durrandîr's hair not dyed, he could pass for Thranduil's son."
"Yes," he thought to himself, "Anomen could pass for Thranduil's son."
Tossing and turning, he mulled over this for awhile. At last he could stand it no longer. He carefully raised himself on one elbow and poked at his brother.
"Mmph."
"Elladan, wake up," whispered Elrohir, poking his brother a little harder.
"This had better be important," groaned Elladan.
"Shh, don't be so noisy."
"What is the matter?" said Elladan sarcastically. "Are you afraid I'll wake someone up? Dear brother, you are so considerate."
"I have something very important to ask you. Did anyone ever find the body of the Prince of Greenwood?"
"Who?"
"Thranduil's son, who would have been the Prince of Greenwood."
"Wasn't he dragged off by spiders and never seen again?"
"That's what I'm asking you," said Elrohir, exasperated.
"Well, yes, I believe that's how the story goes: trapped in a spider web, lost without a trace."
"But no one knows that for certain. He could be alive. Maybe that's why his body was never found."
"Um, Elrohir, I understand that, once a Mirkwood spider is done with you, there isn't much left."
"But that's just it. There's no proof he died in a Mirkwood web. There could be no trace of him left because a spider got hold of him. Or there could be no trace of him because he is still alive."
"Elrohir, people who are alive generally do leave traces. That's how we know that they are alive."
"But what if he didn't want to leave any traces. What if he ran away and changed his name. What if he found a new family?"
"What if he did, Elrohir? What is it to us? I do not understand why you waked me up to pose these hypothetical questions. Couldn't it have waited until morning?"
"Elladan, do you remember what happened the year the Prince of Greenwood was lost."
"Elrohir, that was centuries ago!"
"The year that the Prince vanished was the year that Mithrandir brought Anomen to Rivendell."
Aghast, his mouth open, Elladan gaped at Elrohir. After a few moments he recovered the power of speech. "And I said Anomen looks like Thranduil," he whispered.
Elrohir nodded.
"Do you think Ada knows?" asked Elladan.
"Ada has met Thranduil many times over the centuries. He knows even better than we what he looks like. And I do not see how it could have escaped his notice that Anomen appeared when the prince disappeared."
"True," said Elladan. "And everyone knows that Anomen came from Greenwood. He couldn't have hidden that fact if he wanted to, for he arrived in Rivendell dressed in the garb of Thranduil's kingdom."
"Well," said Elrohir, "this explains why Anomen has always carried himself like a prince. Remember how we used to tease him about his regal speech and behavior?"
"And it explains why he has never told anyone the name of his father. And also why his own name is so unusual. It was not the name given to him by his parents. What name was he given?"
"He would have had a Quenya name and a Sindarin one. I believe Erestor said the Sindarin name was 'Legolas'."
"Shall we say anything to Ada?"
"In the middle of a war? I think not! Indeed, we must keep very quiet about this, especially around any Mirkwood Elf."
"Such as Tawarmaenas."
"Oh, yes, certainly around Tawarmaenas. It would be very bad indeed if word got out that the Prince of Greenwood had run away and been given sanctuary by the Lord of Imladris."
"At least," Elladan pointed out, "we can stop taking such care to say Durrandîr instead of Anomen when we are around the Mirkwood Elves. They were never looking for an Anomen in the first place."
"But," Elladan added hopefully, "maybe that will be the only thing that changes. Ada has let Anomen stay with us all these centuries without sending word to Thranduil. Surely he won't send word now! Besides, maybe Thranduil won't want Anomen back. After all, he's done without him for years and seems to be getting along all right."
"I don't know," said Elrohir doubtfully. "Whatever Thranduil's personal feelings, Anomen is the heir to the throne of Greenwood, and I don't think kings take kindly to having their heirs spirited away. Trouble will come of this in the end, I fear."
"But Ada didn't spirit him away," protested Elladan.
"I didn't say that he did. But Ada did keep him hidden from Thranduil."
Just then someone stepped in front of the fire, casting a shadow upon the two whispering Elves. They fell silent and let their eyes glaze over in imitation of sleep. Mithrandir was not fooled, but he was satisfied at having brought their conversation to an end.