Kitsune: In the genealogy of the descendents of Isildur, there are two Aragorns. Aragorn son of Arathorn is actually Aragorn II. In my story, his ancestor, Aragorn I, is the Ranger who comes to the aid of the elflings.
Jebb: Hey, you were close. It was a Ranger, and it was an Aragorn—just Aragorn I instead of Aragorn II.
Farflung: Yes, there were two Aragorns. See my note above to Kitsune. By the way, I agree with you about ROTK. Of the three movies, my favorite is TT. In that movie, the introductions and exposition have largely been taken care of, and there is a very balanced movement back and forth between the three plot lines: Frodo & Sam, Pippin & Merry, and Aragorn, Legolas, & Gimli. ROTK doesn't seem as balanced. Frodo & Sam are followed in great detail, but the treatment of the other members of the fellowship seemed a bit jumbled and cluttered yet simultaneously undeveloped. Somehow Aragorn in particular didn't seem to dominate his scenes the way I had expected, given that this movie is about the 'return of the king'. O.K. Now I am probably gonna receive my first flame from somebody. (Actually, I did get flamed a few days ago, but it was so out of line—obscene language—that I didn't take it seriously as a response to the story or my writing. It was just somebody getting off on being abusive, I think. So I just deleted it.)
Ky: Thank you for your suggestion about listing the order of the stories. I will be taking your advice, but the list won't show up for a few days because, after I post this chapter, I will be taking a few days off. A clarification about the sword: Aragorn I is not carrying around the shards of Narsil. He says that he does not have a 'sword of legend', by which I meant Narsil.
Karri: Here's another chapter for you. Yes, the elflings do learn from the experience.
Dragonfly: Yes, Anomen is going to find bed rest to be quite a trial. Uh oh, I see that you and MoroTheWolfGod are double teaming me!
Dragon Confused: Anomen continues to get better in this chapter.
It had been seven days since Anomen's return to Rivendell—seven very long days. Anomen chafed at having to stay inside, and the weather seemed determined to mock him. One fine, sunny day followed another, and he could hear the singing and laughter of other elflings who were making the most of the clear skies and gentle warmth of a beneficent nature. At least he could console himself that he was now allowed to sit up. Propped on pillows, he could see outside even if he couldn't go outside. The first few days he had had only the walls and ceiling to stare at. As for company, Erestor showed up faithfully—to read from a tome describing the alliance between the Men of Gondor and those of Rohan! Of course, Arwen also devoted a great deal of time to entertaining him. In fact, she had just now danced through the door. In one hand she clutched a piece of parchment; in the other she held a paint box.
"Anomen," she said excitedly, "look at my painting. Erestor says that it is very good." She held up the parchment on which she had painted a willow tree.
"I agree with Erestor, Arwen. That is a lovely willow."
Arwen beamed and climbed up to sit on the bed beside Anomen. She chattered away happily, and Anomen felt his spirits lifted in spite of the fact that he was confined to his bed. He would have been perfectly contented if only he didn't itch so! He squirmed about a little and tried to inconspicuously scratch at an especially annoying patch on his wrist. He was not, however, inconspicuous enough. Arwen's attention was attracted to the wrist. She stared intently at it.
"What is that mark?" she asked.
"That? Oh, that is a birthmark."
Arwen studied it, fascinated. Erestor had lately been teaching her how to write her numbers.
"Anomen, that looks just like the number nine!"
Anomen bent his arm to gaze upon his wrist.
"I never noticed before, Arwen, but it does look like the number nine."
"Erestor says that I am very good with my numbers," Arwen declared proudly. I can count from one to one thousand. Do you want to hear me?"
Anomen had no engagement to plead, so he had no choice but to listen to Arwen's recitation.
"Min, tâd, neled, canad, leben, eneg, odog, toloth, neder, caer…."
As Arwen recited, Anomen's mind drifted to other matters. He wondered how Elladan and Elrohir were getting on. He had seen very little of the twins since their return to Rivendell because Erestor and Elrond and Glorfindel had been keeping them extremely busy. They had their usual lessons with Erestor in the morning. After lunch, they had to serve their punishment for fastening the target onto Glorfindel—one month of fletching arrows and two months in charge of archery lessons for the littlest elflings. On top of that, after dinner they had to serve their punishment for running away to avoid the original punishment. Lord Celeborn had written to Elrond asking for a copy of one of the chronicles in his library, and Elrond had decreed that the twins should be the ones to make this copy. He had divided the chapters between the two, and they were forced to spend each evening copying, copying, copying.
At first Elladan and Elrohir had been relieved that their punishment had not been a whipping, but they had changed their minds after several days of fastening feathers to arrows ("The glue smells awful," complained Elladan), instructing tiny elflings ("They won't listen," sighed Elrohir), and scratching quills across parchment ("My fingers hurt worse than they do after archery practice," moaned Elladan).
"When we were called into Ada's chamber," recounted Elrohir, "Elladan and I were each wearing two pairs of leggings because we were sure that Ada was going to make our backsides as uncomfortable as Glorfindel's had been. We were so relieved when that did not prove to be the case. But now," he continued, "I think it would have been better to have gotten it over with! I wonder why Ada did not after all whip us."
"Perhaps," suggested Anomen, "because he knew that in the end the other forms of punishment would in a way be more painful."
"That is surely true, but I don't think it's the only reason," said Elladan thoughtfully. "Elrohir, when you are fuming over the inattention of the elflings, do you not sometimes wish that we had never caused Glorfindel the sort of trouble that these elflings are causing us?"
"Yes," Elrohir admitted ruefully. "If Elrond and Glorfindel wish us to appreciate the tasks that fall to the older Elves and to understand the trouble that we have caused, they could not have chosen better methods."
"…and meneg!" Arwen declared triumphantly, bringing Anomen's mind back into the present. She noticed that Anomen looked troubled. "What is the matter?" she asked anxiously. "Does your back hurt? Should I fetch Ada?"
Anomen sighed. How to explain? He picked something that would be easy for Arwen to understand. "I miss the sunshine," said Anomen wistfully. His window faced north.
"I shall draw you the sun," declared Arwen.
Anomen smiled. "I should like that very much."
Arwen looked about for parchment but saw none to hand. Just then, Anomen yawned and gaped. The blanket slipped down his belly—his very flat belly.
"Oooh," crowed Arwen, "I will draw the sun on your tummy!"
Anomen laughed, but Arwen looked so enthusiastic that he could not deny her.
"Very well," he said. "You may draw a sun on my tummy—but have a care not to tickle me. I am supposed to be lying quite still, after all."
When Arwen was finished, Anomen sported a sunburst a little above his belly button. He had to admit that it looked impressive.
"What's this?" asked Elrond, who had entered the room at that moment.
"Oh," said Anomen, embarrassed, "I was just humoring Arwen. She wanted to draw the sun on my tummy—ah, my stomach."
"Well," said Elrond gravely, but with a smile in his eyes, "if you are doing well today, I may allow you to have some real sun on your tummy-stomach. And you will have a visitor later today."
"Who?" asked Anomen eagerly.
"Mithrandir—although you may not be so happy after he has given you the lecture that he has been rehearsing. The word 'folly' is featured in it quite a few times."
After lunch Elrond carried Anomen into a garden, where they were soon joined by the wizard.
"Make the most of this time, Anomen," said Elrond. "Mithrandir must soon depart on another journey. Mithrandir, I will be in my chamber. Please come by when you are done talking with Anomen so that I may bade you farewell."
"Well, well," said Mithrandir after Elrond had departed, "I see before me an elfling both clever and foolish."
"Clever?" said Anomen.
"Clever at how you went about escaping from the clutches of Elrond and Glorfindel."
"And foolish?"
Mithrandir looked sternly at him. "That you can explain yourself!"
"Because I never needed to escape from their clutches in the first place."
"Correct. Whatever possessed you to think that you needed to run away—again, I might add!?"
Anomen did indeed feel very foolish.
"I thought Elrond was going to whip us."
"First of all, if he had, you would have deserved it. Second, if he had, you would have recovered. Third, in all the years of his life, Elrond has only once spanked an elfling—and believe me, that elfling deserved it!"
"Who was it?"
"Elrohir."
"I should have known," laughed Anomen. "But what did he do?"
Mithrandir sighed and shook his head. "When the twins were quite a bit younger, they were crossing the Misty Mountains with their father on their way to visit their grandparents in Lothlórien. When the party stopped to make camp late one afternoon, Elrohir and Elladan were allowed to explore a bit—within easy call of their father, of course. As luck would have it, the twins stumbled across a Troll cave. Elrohir, always the reckless one, crawled in. It was still daylight, so the Troll was fast asleep. Elrohir crept right up to his feet and tied the Troll's boots together!"
"No!"
"He did indeed," said Mithrandir. "Ai! As Elrohir backed away after performing this feat, he tripped over a sack of booty, gold no doubt, and fell against a cauldron, which tipped over against a stack of barrels, which tumbled over, and before you know it the Troll was awake and roaring in a fury. He leaped up to go after Elrohir, but, of course, Elrohir had tied his boots together, so the Troll toppled over. This did not improve the Troll's mood, you may be sure, but it did give Elrohir enough time to scramble out of the cave entrance, where he was met by Elrond, who had heard the roars of the Troll. Fortunately, it was daylight, you will remember, so the Troll, even had it untied its boots with the greatest of dexterity—not very likely, considering that it was a Troll—would have been unable to at once pursue the elfling trespasser. Taking advantage of this, Elrond ordered that camp be broken immediately, and the party rode on for several hours before once again setting up camp. It was then that Elrond took Elrohir aside and thrashed him. I believe he felt that in this case Elrohir's behavior had been so foolhardy that it was needful to leave an indelible impression on his mind that such risk-taking was not to be tolerated."
"You say that Elrohir went exploring in the company of Elladan. Where was he while Elrohir was in the cave tying together the Troll's boots?"
"Actually," said Mithrandir in a conspiratorial voice, "I have it on good authority that Elladan dared Elrohir to do it—something that Elrond was never told. Had he known, the Lord of Imladris would have had two spankings to his credit."
Anomen giggled but then grew sober again.
"Mithrandir, Elrond thrashed Elrohir because he was reckless and did something foolhardy. It was very reckless and foolhardy of us to run away. So why didn't he thrash us, too?
"It is true that you were reckless and foolhardy, but not intentionally so. When Elrohir crawled into the Troll cave, he was being deliberately foolhardy. He set out to do something because it was dangerous. This time, however, you three did not set out to do something foolhardy. You did not seek out danger; instead, it arose as an accidental consequence of your thoughtlessness. There is a big difference between falling off a mountain and leaping off one, wouldn't you say?"
"Aye—but the results can be equally painful," said Anomen with a sigh.
Mithrandir chuckled. "Ah, perchance the beginning of wisdom!"
"Mithrandir, when you were a little wizard—" Anomen stopped, embarrassed.
Mithrandir laughed. "Can you imagine me as a little wizard?" he teased.
"No," admitted Anomen.
"Good," said the wizard. "It would spoil the effect."
"Spoil the effect?"
Mithrandir laughed again. "The aura of mystery. Half the power of a wizard arises from his inscrutability—and a wizard with an ordinary childhood would hardly be inscrutable! So pray do not try to picture me as a wizardling!"
With that Mithrandir arose and bade Anomen farewell. The Istar then went to take his leave of Elrond.
"Well, my friend," said the Istar, "once again I entrust Anomen to your capable hands."
"You will not continue to say so if I lose him yet again."
"Tell me, Elrond," asked the wizard, "how many times did your Adar lose you?"
Elrond had to laugh. "More times than even Arwen can count, I believe!—oh, no, you are not suggesting—"
"Yes," replied Mithrandir with mock gravity. "Your troubles are only beginning, I fear! Limber up your eyebrows, Elrond. You are going to need them."
The elf-lord looked as if he had very much taken that last bit of advice to heart, for both his eyebrows shot up alarmingly.
"Mithrandir," he moaned, "is there no potion, no spell, that may ease my task?"
Smiling, the Istar shook his head and bade his friend farewell. Elrond sighed as he watched the wizard depart. "What, oh, what have I done to anger the Valar?" asked the elf-lord plaintively. Truly it would not be the last time he would ask that question!
Thus concludes the latest story in "The Nameless One" series. My folks are here for Christmas, so I won't be posting for a few days. Until then, stay well, my friends.