Thanks to the following for their responses:
Coolio02, LucielHex, Silent Banshee, Kitsune, Darlin'DarlaDog, Jebb, and Farflung.
Congratulations to LucielHex for opening her Fanfiction account. I think you did mention something about that. Didn't you? Wait. Let me check. ^_^
I have to warn you that in this chapter I do resolve one cliffie, only to introduce the next. Mwah hah hah!
Of the adults, Mithrandir had initially been the most frightened by the elflings' ill-advised adventure, for he had a very clear understanding of the potential for harm that lay hidden within the innocuous-looking powders. How awful it would be if the fireworks that he created for the enjoyment of younglings were to lead to the death of one of them! However, Elrond and the other Elves had only to look at Anomen's burned back to realize the peril that faced the elfling. True, Elrohir had beaten out the flames before they scorched through to the undermost layer of Anomen's skin, but, still, in some places the burns had at least destroyed the top layer, and everywhere else he had been blistered. Infection was a very real risk, as was dehydration. Elrond and Mithrandir hovered over the elfling throughout the night, bathing and anointing his wounds, and insisting that he sip as much miruvor as he could stomach. Glorfindel kept busy running to fetch whatever was needful and checked on the twins from time to time. Fortunately, in a manner of speaking, they had soon cried themselves to sleep and needed no further attention until morning, when at last Elrond was able to attend to their bruises, scrapes, and minor burns. As for Erestor, he sat by Anomen's side and kept hold of his hand the entire livelong night, although he later denied having done that at all, claiming that he had merely checked the lad's pulse from time to time.
Now, several days later, the crisis past, Anomen moved restlessly upon the bed. He had had to lie upon his stomach and so could not look out the window. The position also made it difficult for him to read. Next to looking out the window, reading was his preferred activity when he was forced to remain inside. Of course, he often had visitors, but not as often as during the first few days. Elladan and Elrohir had healed from their own bruises, scrapes, and burns and had returned to their lessons. That meant that the mornings, when all his friends were occupied with their daily tasks, had become particularly tiresome.
"Ada," Elrohir had begged, "can't we be excused from lessons until Anomen is better? That way we could keep him company."
Elrond's eyes turned a steely black, and Elrohir quailed.
"You are not getting a holiday from lessons as a reward for rummaging around where you had no business rummaging. You should have more lessons rather than fewer! Indeed, now I think on it—"
Elrohir retreated faster than a cave troll at the first sign of dawn. Elladan told him he should consider himself very, very lucky.
"If you had provoked Ada into adding to our punishment, you would have had me to fear as well as him," he said fiercely.
Elladan had reason for vehemence. Not even counting the guilt they felt, their punishment was very heavy. First, for Erestor they each had to write an essay on how wrong it was to touch another's belongings without permission. Not even Anomen was excused from this exercise, for Erestor insisted that the elfling dictate the essay to him, which was probably more painful than writing it would have been. Erestor simply would not let Anomen move from one sentence to the next until every word had been adjusted to a nicety, and Anomen felt that he would go frantic, so long did this torment last.
Next, Mithrandir set the twins to feeding, watering, currying, grooming, and tending to the hooves of each and every one of his packhorses. They also had to oil and polish their tack and clean out their stalls.
Glorfindel's turn came next. He decreed that until the turning of the moon Elladan and Elrohir would have to retrieve arrows from the targets but would not be allowed to shoot any of their own. This was a bitter blow. They had to spend hours watching the other elflings practice with their bows. After each volley, Glorfindel sent them trotting onto the field to retrieve the spent arrows while all the other elflings watched and grinned. Most of them had been on the receiving end of the twins' pranks, so they were an appreciative audience, as Glorfindel had known they would be.
Elrond's punishment was probably the most creative. While the elflings had been examining Mithrandir's pack, the wizard had been telling Elrond that he would be very happy to put on a fireworks show for the residents of Rivendell. Elrond had graciously accepted this kind offer. Just then, the elflings had set off their own inadvertent display. The next night, the elflings' injuries having been attended to, Elrond decreed that the show would go on.
"But," he said grimly, "Elrohir and Elladan are to spend the duration of the show in the wine cellar." As Anomen could not see out his window, he probably could not have witnessed the spectacle anyway, but just to be sure, Elrond ordered that a quilt be draped over the casement. All three elflings were suitably miserable as a result. The twins thought Anomen got the better of this state of affairs because he could hear the fireworks while they could only feel the vibrations. Anomen, however, thought his plight was the more piteous because, being able to clearly hear the fireworks, he was the more tantalized.
Much of the punishment for Anomen had been waived, of course, because clearly he could not shovel manure or pick rocks out of hooves. Moreover, the adults at first had been very gentle with the elfling, for he really was quite ill. As soon as they realized, however, that Anomen would recover—and probably without scarring, even—they had decided to behave a little more sternly toward him, to impress upon him the wrongfulness of his actions. Mithrandir in particular believed that it behooved him to be brusque with the young one. Perhaps he was feeling a little guilty because, after all, he was the one who had neglected to ask that his dangerous goods be locked in the armory.
But to himself, the wizard merely declared, "After all, he needs to be taught a lesson!"
And so, when at last the time arrived when he should resume his journey toward the Shire, he came in to check on Anomen once more, but he did not smile or speak kindly to him.
"Here, now, let me see your back one final time," he commanded in his most businesslike manner. Seems to be healing well. No sign of scarring. You certainly have been luckier than you deserve! I shall tell Elrond so"
With that, the wizard abruptly jammed his broad-brimmed hat upon his head and strode off, leaving a most disconsolate elfling.
"I have been so very bad," Anomen thought to himself, "that Mithrandir will never forgive me."
The elfling began to cry. At very nearly the same time, Erestor arrived to give Anomen a grammar lesson. (Elrond had decreed that Anomen, like Elladan and Elrohir, was to keep up with his studies—at least insofar as it was possible for him to do so.) Erestor was appalled to find Anomen crying, for he had never seen the elfling shed so much as a tear.
"Anomen, you are in pain!?"
"Yes," sobbed Anomen, "my heart hurts!"
"Your heart! I shall fetch Elrond at once."
"But he can't fix it! My heart is broken, just like in the stories. Also, I have got that lump in my throat that people are always talking about! I shall starve to death because I am sure I can't swallow!"
"Ah," said Erestor wisely. "You are feeling sad. No doubt you miss playing outdoors. Don't fret, Anomen. You will still have an eternity left in which to play. Soon you shall be healed and shall be getting into mischief as merrily as before—but a little more wisely, I hope!"
"No," said Anomen mournfully. "Mithrandir is angry with me. He doesn't like me now."
"Nonsense! Mithrandir considers himself your mentor and guardian. He is quite fond of you and concerned about your welfare."
"Not anymore. He is going away, and he didn't even say goodbye to me."
"We'll see about that!" declared Erestor, and off he stormed. He went straight to Mithrandir's chamber, only to find a servant removing the linen for washing.
"Where is Master Mithrandir?" demanded the tutor.
"He's gone just now, Lord Erestor, off to the west, I think, to those wild lands where the Periannath dwell."
Erestor spun about and hastened to the stable, where he ordered a surprised stable hand to bring out the fastest horse.
"Lord Erestor, that would be Lord Glorfindel's horse. Are you sure—"
"Yes," ordered the tutor. "In this matter the utmost haste is necessary. You may give my apologies to Lord Glorfindel for requisitioning his horse."
The stable hand reluctantly did as he was told, and Erestor mounted Glorfindel's great steed. The only reason the horse did not throw him at once was that he was so surprised at Erestor's effrontery as to be curious. Whatever, wondered the steed, was this peculiar Elf up to? The stallion thus obligingly trotted out through the gates of Rivendell. Erestor then directed him to make for the Great East Road, urging him to gallop all the while. The horse cooperated for a time, but, when no adventure was forthcoming, he at last grew tired of the game. He stopped, lowered his head, and began to graze. Erestor began to shout, "Noro lim! Noro lim!" At last, frustrated, the tutor began to pummel his feet against the horse's flanks.
This indignity was of course too much to be borne. The stallion reared and dumped the tutor onto the ground. Erestor tried in vain to remount the steed. Each time the horse snorted and shuffled away. In the course of centuries of research in the library, Erestor had acquired a few words of Black Speech—purely for academic reasons, you understand! Now he bestowed these words liberally upon the stallion. In response, that horse flattened his ears and bared his teeth. At that, Erestor wisely retreated and began to follow Mithrandir on foot. "After all," he thought to himself, "Mithrandir is leading a string of pack horses. He can't be traveling too quickly. I will catch up soon enough."
Unfortunately for Erestor, the wizard had encountered one of his Dunadain friends, who had invited him to turn aside and spend the night at his camp. Erestor was not tracking Mithrandir in any real sense, for he did not look for any signs of his passing; instead, he was merely making his way straight toward the Great East Road, which the wizard had been planning to follow. Thus the tutor did not notice that the Istar had turned aside. On Erestor marched, hour after hour, until well after dark. No sign of the wizard. At last he had to acknowledge that he had somehow missed Mithrandir's path. He also realized that it was much too late for him to return to Rivendell that evening. He would need to find some place to shelter for the night. Clouds were moving in, and the night promised to be rainy and cold.
He searched about for a long time, as it grew darker, colder, and windier, but the only possible shelter that he came upon was a cave. He threw a few pebbles within and heard nothing stirring. He advanced a few feet in and then retreated, repulsed by the foul odor.
"Something has died in there, I am sure," he said to himself. He turned to look elsewhere for shelter. Just then the first drops of rain fell. He stood irresolute. Then it began to rain in earnest. The rain poured down in sheets, as if he were standing underneath a waterfall. Moreover, a flash of light and sudden crack of thunder, quite close, made Erestor jump.
That decided matters. In he crawled, wrinkling up his nose in disgust but consoling himself with the thought that his stay would not be long. Also, he had more pressing concerns than the stench. He had not eaten or had anything to drink since morning. In the flickering light cast by the lightning bolts, he spied several laden plates—three to be exact—upon a crude trestle table. He crept over to investigate. Bread. A hunk of bread on each plate. He picked up the first and carefully bit into it. Paw! Too moldly! He picked up the second piece of bread and sampled it. Ugh! Too stale! He nibbled on the third piece. Ah! Just right! And he gobbled it all up, his concern for the niceties of decorum having fled with the sunlight.
Of course, he was now thirsty. Next to each plate stood a wooden cup. He sipped from the first. Paw! Too sour! He sampled the next. Ugh! Too sweet! He tried the third cup. Ah! Just right! And he quaffed the brew with a gusto that he did not often demonstrate when dining at Elrond's table.
The beverage had been somewhat stronger than the Dorwinion wine to which Erestor was accustomed. In addition, he had journeyed very far that day. Those two facts no doubt explain why Erestor suddenly felt very tired. He looked about for someplace upon which to lie, and he spied three pallets. He went over to investigate. Paw! The blankets of the first were infested with lice! He looked over the second pallet. Ugh! It was crawling with bedbugs! He examined the third. Ah! Just right! (The blankets on that pallet had only lately been stolen and thus were not yet riddled with vermin.) Erestor settled himself upon that pallet and in spite of the stench, he was soon lost in elven dreams. Reader, you are no doubt praying that these dreams do not turn to nightmares. Of course, whether they do or not remains to be seen.