A fortnight later Elladan and Elrohir shivered in the early morning cold as they bade farewell to Anomen.
"Be sure to come back in one piece," teased Elrohir. "With your skin intact," he added.
"Yes," said Elladan, "but if you must lose any piece of your body, let it be your head—you make the least use of that part of your anatomy!"
"And you two watch your backs," Anomen rejoined. "Don't let any elflings use you as a target!"
"Hmph," muttered Glorfindel. Anomen paled. Perhaps he should not have put the balrog-slayer in mind of that unfortunate incident. Now mayhap he would have to watch his own backside.
The elf-lord reined his horse about, and the two companions rode away from Rivendell, Anomen maintaining a respectful distance behind the balrog-slayer and leading their pack horse. When the path widened, however, Glorfindel gestured that Anomen should ride alongside him. With trepidation, Anomen moved up. The two rode in silence for awhile. At last Glorfindel spoke.
"Those birds there, are you familiar with them?"
Anomen peered up at the dark figures that circled overhead.
"My Lord, they are crebain out of Dunland!"
"Have you ever known crebain to fly so far north?"
"No, my Lord."
Said Glorfindel to himself, "Odd that they should leave their homeland; they are uncommon even in the adjacent territory of Eregion. I shall have to mention this to Elrond."
They rode on, Glorfindel saying nothing more until they came to the Ford of Bruinen. "This river marks the eastern boundary of Imladris. When we cross it, we will be Elves no longer. I will be a trader amongst Men and you the boy who serves me as an apprentice."
Now Anomen understood why they carried no bows and Glorfindel only a short sword, he a dagger. "Yes, my Lord," he replied respectfully.
"Do not address me as your Lord. You must become accustomed to referring to me as your 'Master'. Remember," he warned, "I am no lord, and you are my apprentice."
"Yes, my—Master."
"If anyone asks you my name, tell them that I am called 'Harry Gold'. And as for your name, you will be 'Leif Anomenson'. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master Gold."
"Good. Take out you braids and let your hair cover your ears."
Anomen did so. His hair had not entirely grown in from the haircut Elladan and Elrohir had given him, but it was long enough. Glorfindel took out his braids as well.
"Now, for good measure, pull up your hood."
Again Anomen complied. Glorfindel surveyed him and at last pronounced himself satisfied. "I do not think you will provoke any second looks when we come to the lands of Men. You look like one of their young ones, a boy not yet old enough to grow a beard. Of course," he added teasingly, "the masquerade might be helped if we rubbed a little dirt into your face. No, do not fear; I am only joking," he added quickly at the expression of horror on Anomen's face. "Although," he said with mock sternness, "sometimes a warrior may need to make sacrifices, such as dirtying his face for the sake of camouflaging himself. Well, perhaps later."
They forded the river and journeyed on, following the Great East Road, as Men call it. In those days there was still a fair amount of traffic on this road, for the Men in the lands west of Rivendell had not dwindled as much as they had by the end of the Third Age. Soon after they had crossed the Bridge of Mitheithel, or the Last Bridge in the speech of Men, they came upon an encampment of traders who were journeying together toward Bree-land for the sake of both companionship and security. A few Men came out to the road and hailed them. Glorfindel and Anomen dismounted.
"Leif, mayhap we will join this company. I shall speak with these Men."
"Yes, Master Gold."
With that Glorfindel walked off toward the campfire in amiable conversation with the traders. Anomen stood patiently by their horses. A handful of boys clustered round and stared openly at him, their eyes both appraising and challenging the newcomer. He stared back at them, refusing to be intimidated but not knowing whether—or even how—he should address them. Anomen had never exchanged words with the young of Men. He had seen boys when he had been dragged bound into the Dunlending settlement, but he had not spoken to them, and they had only jeered at him.
After awhile, finding no sport in Anomen, the boys drifted away and began to compete against one another in footraces. Anomen watched, longing to join in. Elladan, Elrohir, and he had often raced against one another on the paths around Rivendell.
At last Glorfindel returned. "We will indeed journey onward with this band of traders. I shall be able to gather a bit of gossip that way, and we will be all the more inconspicuous when we enter the village of Bree. Come, let us turn the horses out to pasture."
They unburdened their horses and led them toward a meadow where other horses grazed. Apologizing softly, they put the horses on pickets. Elven horses do not need to be restrained, but Glorfindel wished to act like a Man in every way possible lest he attract attention. Knowing that it was needful, the horses suffered the indignity with forebearance.
After they had seen to the horses, they returned to the camp and laid out their bedrolls and cooking gear. Then Glorfindel nodded toward the boys who were still racing one another. "The apprentices are making the most of their leisure time; you must do likewise."
Eagerly Anomen hurried over to the starting line. The other boys looked at him but said nothing. Anomen likewise said nothing.
"One, two, three, go!" shouted a Man, one of the onlookers.
Anomen sprang forward determined to win acceptance by making his mark as a runner. He flew down the path and reached the finish line several lengths ahead of any of the other runners. With his elven speed, he had easily outpaced even the oldest and biggest of the boys. He turned about triumphantly. To his surprise, the friendliest face he saw was impassive. Most of the faces were angry and suspicious.
Puzzled, Anomen returned to the line and tried again, putting all his heart into the race. He finished even further ahead than before, but the results were the same: hostile and wary faces. Glorfindel beckoned him over.
"Lose the next race," hissed Glorfindel. "You are attracting attention—and provoking resentment, too, I might add."
Obediently, Anomen returned to the line prepared to lose. As it turned out, losing took no effort on his part, for he had hardly run three yards before one of the boys deliberately tripped him. He sprawled face first onto the ground. A roar of laughter arose from the onlookers. His face dirty and flushed, he arose and returned to Glorfindel, who made a great show of cuffing his head.
"Clumsy oaf he is," explained 'Harry Gold' to the onlookers. "Runs heedlessly. Always win the first few races that way, but is ever tripped up in the end." More laughter. Anomen was sure that his face had gone from red to scarlet.
After the boys had tired of footraces, they began to wrestle. Anomen refrained from joining in, but after a while Glorfindel whispered that he was now attracting attention by holding himself apart from the other boys. Anomen groaned. He suspected that Glorfindel was enjoying his dilemma.
"I suppose I am not to defeat my opponent," he said gloomily.
"Defeat any opponent who is smaller than you, as would be expected, but lose to any larger ones."
Anomen nodded resignedly and stepped toward the struggling boys. The one who had tripped him leaped toward him at once. Anomen looked him over. They were of a size. Glorfindel had said to defeat smaller ones but lose to bigger ones. What was he to do if his opponent matched him in height and weight? He decided that the onlookers would be surprised neither by his winning nor his losing—so he was going to win! Eagerly he entered into a clinch with the youth and within seconds he had thrown and pinned him. A murmur arose from the crowd. Anomen looked toward Glorfindel. The elf-lord was frowning and shaking his head. Ai! He had defeated his opponent too rapidly! He reached down a hand and helped the boy to his feet.
"'Twasn't a fair fight," Anomen said. "You slipped. Let us try again."
The boy looked surprised but then smiled and nodded. They circled each other warily for some minutes and then the boy sprang forward. Anomen evaded his grasp but just barely, and the crowd murmured appreciatively. The boy sprang forward again, and this time Anomen let him gain the advantage. They pushed back and forth for several minutes until at last Anomen decided to let the boy throw him. Down he went on his face again, the boy straddling him. The onlookers cheered. After a minute the boy let Anomen up. He grinned at him in a friendly fashion. Anomen grinned back and then returned to Glorfindel's side.
"Well done," said the balrog-slayer. "And I see that your face has picked up some more dirt. You look more and more like a human as each day passes. Excellent."
"I will wash at the first opportunity," said Anomen hastily.
"Oh, no you won't!" replied a smirking Glorfindel.
"He is enjoying this," thought Anomen mournfully.
The next morning the company broke camp and journeyed without incident until nightfall. Glorfindel rode with the Men and made himself quite popular by telling tales of the Elven lands he had visited. Few of the Men had dealt with Elves, although many traded with Dwarves
"Odd creatures Elves be," said 'Harry Gold'. "Do you know that there be Elves that store their gold in pots at the ends of rainbows?"
"No!"
"Aye, they do. And there be some Elves that are green."
"You mean their clothes?"
"No, their skin."
"Truly?"
"Truly," deadpanned Glorfindel. "And there be tiny Elves that have wings like dragonflies. They flitter and flutter about. And those Elves scatter a sort of sparkling dust that'll bewitch ye if it fall upon ye."
"And you have seen these Elves?"
"I have seen every sort of Elf there be," answered Glorfindel—a truthful answer it may be noted, but not one that spoke to the question.
"Be there any other sorts of Elves?"
"Aye, there be some that dwell underground. The entrances to their domains are in mounds—look like the burial mounds of old. Once a year the entrances open. Should you have the good luck—or mayhap the ill luck—to slip inside, it will seem to you that you pass a year of jollity. But when the mound opens and you return to the world of Men, you'll find that centuries have passed. You'll have a beard that reaches to your knees, and all your kin will be long gone."
The Men shuddered.
"And have you never seen rings of mushrooms in the forest—perfect circles but described by toadstools?"
"Aye, we have," said one Man.
"Those are Elven rings. They mark the spots where the Fair Folk dance and make merry."
"They are truly a queer folk, these Elves," observed another trader.
"Aye, that they are," replied Glorfindel, his face perfectly straight.
Anomen heard none of these tales, for he rode with the boys who tended the pack horses. After his missteps the previous day, he gradually established himself amongst these urchins by his willingness to lend a hand at such tasks as gathering wood and hauling water. That evening, after all the chores had been completed and the boys once again gathered to test themselves against one another, Anomen was careful to win no races. He would allow himself to come in ahead of the smaller boys, but outpaced none of the larger and older ones. Likewise, when it came to wrestling, he threw no one larger than he. As for the boy who was of a size with him, sometimes he threw him, sometimes he didn't. The boys and their masters were quite satisfied, and no more angry and suspicious glances came his way. Glorfindel, too, was pleased.
"Sometimes, Leif, one must dissemble to achieve one's goal."
"But dissembling is a sort of lying."
"Aye. And lying, like archery and swordsmanship, is a skill that is needful if one is to survive. Someday you will kill a Man. We do not like to kill, but it is a skill that we teach and practice because we sometimes need to slay a foe to protect ourselves and our kin. Lying, too, is a survival skill."
Anomen nodded thoughtfully. It was not good to lie to Elrond or Glorfindel because he did not need to do so to survive. But lying under other circumstances, such as to gather information vital for the defense of Imladris, that was allowable.
They journeyed on in this fashion for several days. Scarcely anything more of note happened before they arrived at the gates of Bree. The only exception? When they came abreast a hill that Erestor's maps marked as 'Weathertop', they spied a thin spiral of smoke coming from its crest.
"Odd," muttered Glorfindel. "No trader would have reason to leave the road and cross the rough terrain 'tween here and Weathertop. I wonder who has lit that fire."
It would not be too very long before they would learn the answer to that question.