Farflung: I loved your review; it was poetic there at the end: "How could he have proved so false to their memories by denying their existence as anything but a blessing to him for as long as he had them?" (Author shivers with delight.)
Webster: Thank you. I really want to make the reunion credible.
Ky: I loved making Thranduil feel like an elfling. I think it will help him to be sensitive to the feelings of the real elflings and young elves.
Konzen: Eeeeep! (Author scuttles behind filing cabinet to escape outraged reviewer who feels cheated by short chapter.) ^_^ Hey, they can't all be War and Peace!
Jebb: Yes, that quotation comes from Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice.
Dragonfly: Yes, I think Thranduil character has come a long way—and he's going to keep developing his ability to empathize with others.
dd9736: Oh no! I don't want to turn into Glorfindel, always separating people from their heads! ^_^
Joee: Well, this wasn't my fastest update, but hopefully it will be worth the wait.
Vocabulary
burzum—'darkness' (Black Speech)
Several days had passed since Estel had lost his first baby tooth. The little human had spent the first few days of that time poking hopefully at his other teeth, but none of the others seemed loose, and he soon tired of the quest. He also soon tired of the attention he was receiving from elf maidens who pounced upon him because, they avowed, his lisp was utterly adorable. It seemed that every time he turned about an elf maiden was waiting to tousle his hair affectionately—and his hair needed no tousling!
With Estel anxious to escape the adoring demonstrations of the maidens, it is no wonder that his tongue soon found its way around the lisp. Within days he spoke nearly as clearly as he had before Elrond had pulled the tooth—with one notable exception. The first morning, Estel had arrived at the breakfast table eager to show all and sundry both the gap in his mouth and the gold nugget that had indeed appeared on his window sill. "Glowfindel! Ewestoh!" the little human had crowed as those worthies had approached the table, "look at my mouf'!" 'Glowfindel' had responded by gravely inspecting the space in the urchin's gum and poking with his finger at the hard spot where the new tooth was about to erupt. Within two days, the balrog-slayer was once again Glorfindel.
The tutor, on the other hand, had reacted by scolding the little human for his poor articulation. "Tooth or no tooth, you could pronounce clearly enough if you wished," admonished Erestor. Apparently Estel did not wish, and for the sin of rebuking the little human, the tutor had to suffer hearing himself called 'Ewestoh' for an entire month. By that time Estel finally became bored with tormenting his master in this fashion and moved on to others means of 'getting the goat' of the venerable Elf.
Fortunately, this day Erestor was not to be closeted with Estel in the library. Anomen, Elladan, and Elrohir claimed the attention of their old tutor because they needed him to locate some maps for them.
"They will be heading north, Erestor," Elrond informed the tutor, "and before they go I want them to spend some time with you pouring over the appropriate maps."
"Of course, Elrond," replied Erestor self-importantly. The august Elf was never happier than when he had an opportunity to display his geographical expertise. Glorfindel caught Anomen's attention and rolled his eyes. The young Elf began to grin but hastily looked down at his plate as his old tutor turned in his direction. When Anomen looked up, he saw Elrond looking suspiciously at him. The Lord of Imladris knew that it was never a good sign when a young Elf began to diligently study his plate. When Elrond at last turned away, Anomen quickly shot a reproachful look at Glorfindel, but the balrog-slayer looked back at him with an expression of utmost innocence.
After breakfast, Glorfindel took Estel in hand while Anomen, Elrohir, and Elladan accompanied Erestor to the library.
"Now this one," proclaimed Erestor, unrolling a scroll, "is probably one of the best for your purposes. It has been updated quite recently to reflect the information gathered by Thoron's patrol."
The young Elves bent over the map, studying it intently.
"Will you be journeying all the way to the Northern Waste? This map does not show the entire Waste, but I have another that does, if you need it."
"Yes, we had best study that one as well," replied Elrohir. We do not know how far north the trail will take us. Thoron observed tracks north of here, but he did not try to follow them far past the boundaries of Imladris, returning instead to report his findings. It is possible that the trail will indeed take us into the Northern Waste."
Erestor hurried off to fetch the map of the Northern Waste, as well as several other charts that he thought might be useful to the young Elves.
A fortnight later, the three Elves bade farewell to Elrond and the others of his household and set out to investigate the tracks that Thoron's patrol had come across near the northeast border of Imladris.
"They were the tracks of Men, I am sure, but not Rangers," Thoron had told Elrond.
"Strange that the tracks of Men should be found to the northeast," Elrond had mused to Glorfindel after Thoron's report. "No Men live thereabouts. Anyone coming from the north would almost certainly be a Ranger, and Thoron is convinced that these Men are not Dúnadain. The Men of Bree-land live roughly that far north, but many leagues to the west; moreover, they would have no business in such an isolated place for there is naught to trade in that desolate region and no one to trade it with. Moreover, the Bree-landers have no skill in the wild; if they had been bent on traveling east, they would have kept to the Great East Road, and we would have known of their presence. As for Men coming from the east itself, no humans live on the other side of the Misty Mountains. Only Elves from Lothlórien would have crossed over that range of mountains."
"That leaves only the south," Glorfindel pointed out. "It is possible that Men coming from the south kept to the foothills or even the crest of the Misty Mountains so as to bypass our realm. I imagine that Anomen and the others will find that the tracks eventually turn west."
"Why west?"
"Once before," Glorfindel reminded the Lord of Imladris, "Southrons traveled to Bree-land to try and corrupt the Men in those parts. We never did determine their route. Perhaps this is how they bypassed Rivendell—by traveling the length of the Misty Mountains until north of our borders and then cutting west."
"Aye, that is possible. It troubles me, though, that any Southrons attempting that route would have had to bypass Isengard without Saruman becoming aware of their presence. These Southrons, if such they be, must be excellent at evading watchers. Well, be that as it may, let us summon Anomen and the twins and tell them how things stand."
As Elrond and Glorfindel gave the young Elves their instructions, Anomen found his mind wandering repeatedly to the older Elves' suspicion that the Men had come from the south via the foothills or the crest of the Misty Mountains.
"It is not necessarily true," he thought to himself, "that these Men would have had to evade the eyes of Saruman's watchers. What if Saruman had approved of their mission—or perhaps even initiated it himself?"
Of course, Anomen sighed to himself, Elrond would have been scandalized if the young Elf had uttered these thoughts aloud. In all but this matter, Anomen completely trusted the judgment of Elrond. When it came to Saruman, however, Anomen on occasion suspected that the Istar of Isengard had in some way cast a spell upon the Lord of Imladris. Of course, he conceded, it wasn't just the Lord of Imladris. All seemed to be swayed by the honeyed voice of the wizard—all save the Lady Galadriel. However, Anomen dimly understood that it wasn't a proper spell that had allowed Saruman so much authority—rather it was the beauty of his voice and the appearance of great virtue. Who could doubt the venerable, white-haired wizard, clad in robes that gleamed and flowed, as he proffered words of counsel in words so mellifluous that they caressed the ears? Only the Lady of Lothlórien was entirely immune to the magic of Saruman's words. Her own voice had the power to enchant; mayhap only such a one could have resisted being enthralled by the wizard.
Now, however, as he rode alongside Elladan and Elrohir, those thoughts were far from his mind. The young Elves were discussing their route. They had been given a task to accomplish, but the particulars of how to accomplish their mission had been left to their own devising.
"I think," suggested Elrohir, "that we should head due east, toward the crest of the Misty Mountains, to see if we can pick up their trial. That way we may determine whether, as Glorfindel surmises, these Men traveled from the south following the Misty Mountains. If we are lucky, and Glorfindel is right, we may not even need to mount all the way to the crest. They could have kept to the foothills."
"I agree," said Anomen. "We should try to learn not only whence these Men travel but from whence they came."
Elladan concurred, and they turned their horses toward the east. As they entered the foothills of the Misty Mountains, their vigilance was rewarded. Anomen suddenly bade his horse halt and leaped to the ground, studying the earth carefully.
"Several horses have passed this way," he called to Elladan and Elrohir. The twins likewise dismounted and came to stand by his side.
"They are heading north," observed Elladan.
"So," said Anomen softly, "Glorfindel was right. Men traveling south to north and desirous of bypassing the realm of Imladris. No friends of ours, then, as it is known that the gates of Rivendell are open to Men of goodwill."
Somberly, the others nodded, and they silently followed the trail on foot for a time, looking for subtle differences in the tracks.
"There are five horses," Elrohir at last concluded. The other two Elves agreed.
They remounted their horses and continued to follow the trail. At last they came to a spot where the Men had made camp. They searched the site carefully, looking for any cast-off objects that would provide further clues to the identity of the Men.
"Elladan, Anomen," called Elrohir. He held up a broken belt that had been thrown aside into a bush. Anomen took it in his hands and turned it over and over, examining it closely.
"This is fine work," he said at last. "See the complicated design that has been incised into the leather, and look at the quality of the buckle—silver, too. No Dunlending ever wore such a belt."
"No," said Elladan. "And no Dunlending would have cast the buckle aside. Even if the leather were past salvaging, a Dunlending would have saved the buckle to sell or trade or reuse. The Men of Dunland waste nothing."
"Aye," agreed Elrohir. "It is said that when they slaughter a hog, they use everything but the squeal."
Men, but not Dunlendings. Surely neither Men of Rohan or of Gondor, for those folk had no reason to avoid Elrond's realm. Southrons, then, Men from the dread realm of Harad. The three Elves shuddered slightly, for they had all at one time or another fallen captive to Southrons or their allies and endured cruel treatment at their hands.
Quietly, and with determination, the Elves once again mounted their horses. It was vital that they uncover the destination of these Men.
For several more days the Elves followed the trail north. At last, once the trail had reached a point well to the north of Imladris, the Men had turned west. Having journeyed outside of but parallel to Imladris as they came north, the Men were now riding outside of but parallel to the borders as they headed west. The Elves thought that, once safely past Elrond's realm, the Men might come far enough south to take to the Great East Road, where their path would be easier. Instead, the Men's trail ran parallel to the East Road but distant enough so that no one traveling that road would have spotted the strangers.
"They are probably making for Weathertop, as those other Southrons did, the ones that Glorfindel and Aragorn slew when you accompanied Glorfindel on that scouting mission to Bree-land," said Elrohir.
"Aye, and we shall have to be careful," warned Anomen, "for Weathertop will give them a commanding view of the country thereabouts. Glorfindel told me that it is possible to approach Weathertop in secret from the west, as he and Aragorn did, but he knows nothing of the land to the east."
"From Erestor's maps," Elladan pointed out, "the terrain looks to be very broken. Even if the Men of old did not construct a hidden approach from the east, we may be able to piece together our own secret way by relying upon natural features alone."
"Let us hope so," said Anomen.
Elladan proved to be right. In the end, however, it did not matter, for by the time the Elves arrived at Weathertop, the Men had already abandoned it. The Elves looked about the abandoned campsite in disgust. Gnawed bones and abandoned rags were scattered about, and the wood pile had not been replenished. Anomen wrinkled his nose.
"What is that awful odor?"
"I think," replied Elrohir, "that these Men made water against the stones of the fire ring!"
Horrified, the Elves looked at each other. Fires were for cooking and warmth. One never relieved oneself into a fire ring!
"I hope it rains several times before any Ranger returns to Weathertop," said Anomen fervently. "I would hate to think of our friend Halbarad arriving tired and hungry and not being able to use the fire ring."
"Let us replace the stones of the fire ring," suggested Elladan.
Elrohir shook his head. "Nay, 'twould do no good. The odor is in the very earth itself."
"At least we can gather and stack more wood," said Anomen.
"And hope that the Southrons don't return here before Halbarad does—else all our labor will be for naught," said Elrohir gloomily.
"Anyway, we now can be sure that they are Southrons," said Elladan.
"Aye," agreed Anomen. "No Ranger would have left such a mess."
"Nor would a Man of Rohan or of Gondor," added Elrohir.
Working quickly, the Elves tossed the detritus over the edge of the hill on the east side and scoured the slopes and foot of the hill for wood. Then they rode off to set up camp in the copse where Hugo the Smith and his confederates had once dragged the captive Anomen. For all the evil memories of that place, Anomen much preferred camping there than in the proximity of the befouled fire ring. Elladan and Elrohir of course had no objections at all. They spent most of the night in reasonable comfort, but before dawn, they had reason to be glad that they had chosen the relative cover of the trees. It began to rain.
"You got your wish, Anomen," muttered Elrohir as he helped the others make shift to build a shelter out of cloaks spread over brush. "Weathertop will be cleansed."
"Oh, we all needed to bathe," replied Anomen airily.
"You may have needed to bathe," Elrohir shot back. "I didn't."
Elladan laughed. "Anomen always needs to bathe."
"And as a result I never need to bathe," retorted Anomen cheerfully, "whilst you and Elrohir always do." For centuries Elrohir told been telling all and sundry that Anomen bore into every battle a 'personal dirt shield', and it is true that Anomen had an uncanny ability to come through each skirmish untouched by blood and grime. Anomen, however, had long since learned to be untroubled by this and similar gibes over the cleanliness of his person.
Soon, however, even Anomen's ability to stave off dirt was to be challenged, for the Men's trail led the Elves into the Midgewater Marshes. Ai! These Men must have been very eager to avoid detection for them to have chosen such a route.
"Burzum!" swore Elrohir, swatting at the midges that swarmed round his head. He looked around guiltily.
"Don't worry," snicked Elladan. "Erestor is not around to chide you."
Elrohir blushed momentarily but then grinned. Throwing back his head, he shouted "Burzum" as loudly as he could.
"Burzum! Burzum!" echoed Elladan and Anomen. "Burzum! Burzum!"
"If you don't stop that," growled a voice, "I'll send you all to 'Burzum'!"
Suddenly feeling no older than elflings, the three Elves spun in the direction of the voice, drawing their swords as they did so. There stood a Ranger looking at them sardonically.
"Halbarad," gasped Anomen. "How long have you known that we were here?"
"Oh," said the Dunadan casually, "I picked up your trail at Weathertop two days ago. By the way, you had better not be the ones who made water in the fire ring."
"Oh, no!" Elladan assured the Ranger. "It was the Southrons."
"Good. Was it the Southrons who replenished the wood pile?"
"No! No!" cried Elladan. "We did that!"
Halbarad smiled. "I know," he said gently. "Now, tell me, what do you here? 'Tis not a pleasant place for Elves. For one thing, it is very difficult to keep clean in this mire," he said, grinning at Anomen.
"We are following a party of Southrons, possibly as many as five, for that is the number of their horses," replied Anomen, unfazed by the Ranger's teasing.
"Aye, so I saw from their tracks at Weathertop. But Weathertop is a long way from Imladris."
"They drew near the border of Imladris—much too close for comfort. That is how they came to our attention," said Elrohir.
"Ah, I see. Well, now that I have revealed my presence to you, would you mind if I joined your patrol? I, too, have an interest in determining the destination of these Haradrim."
The Elves were delighted and eagerly assured the Ranger that they would be delighted to number him amongst their party.
"Good," he said placidly, "for I can show you a better route through the Midgewater Marshes. Indeed, the path that you are now on will reach a dead end in ten miles or so. You would have had to retrace your steps and try another path—with no certainty that it would be the right one either."
"We were following the Southrons," said Elrohir a trifle defensively.
"Yes, and I am sure that they likewise had to retrace their steps several times before they escaped these voracious midges. Shall we move on?"
Chastened, the Elves nodded their heads and fell in behind Halbarad. With the Ranger in the lead, they were soon on the right path—and none too soon, averred Elladan.
"If these midges do not stop feeding upon me, I will shortly be drained as bloodless as a wraith!"
Halbarad spun around, his face angry. "That is no subject for witticism," he hissed.
The Elves were taken aback. They had never seen Halbarad so moved. But he had good reason, they realized. His kindred had been at war with the forces of the Dark Lord since the death of Isildur.
"I am sorry," said Elladan simply.
Halbarad relaxed. "Thank you," he replied with equal directness. Then he nodded at the Elves and returned his attention to picking out the path from the muck that surrounded them.
Gradually the ground grew higher and drier, and at long last they left the Midgewater Marshes behind them. The trail of the Southrons was once again easy to follow, although their quarry was still avoiding the Great East Road. This surprised no one. If the Southrons had opted for the Midgewater Marshes over the Road, then they were hardly going to abandon secrecy now when the going was so much easier than it had been in the mire.
Onward the trail went, heading steadily west. At last the searchers drew near Bree-land, and the trail moved slightly further to the north, making a loop that would have kept the Southrons well away from the villages of Archet, Combe, Straddle, and Bree. Elves and Ranger kept a sharp lookout for signs that the Southrons had rendezvoused with any of the local Men. But they saw no tracks that joined those of the Southrons. Nor did they see evidence that any of the Southrons had headed into Bree-land. At last the trail had led them quite past the region in which Men had settled. Elves and Ranger stopped to consider this curious state of affairs.
"I think," said Anomen slowly, "it is now clear that these Men had planned all along to bypass Bree-land."
"But for what other settlement could they be making, then?" asked Elladan. "There are no other villages hereabouts."
"No other settlements of Men, true," observed Halbarad. "But perhaps they are headed for the Shire."
"The Shire?" echoed Elrohir. "But there are no Men there—that is the land of the Periannath. What would they there?"
"Gandalf finds the Shire to be of great interest," Anomen pointed out. "Mayhap the same thing that draws Gandalf draws these Men."
"But Gandalf visits the Shire openly," argued Elladan. "These Men seem bent on secrecy."
"I said mayhap the same thing draws these Men; I did not say the same motive."
"A subtle distinction," said Halbarad, "but an important one."
"What should we do now?" asked Elrohir. "Continue to trail them? Confront them?"
Halbarad shook his head. "On what grounds? They have as much right to be in these lands as you Elves do. No, I think you should hasten back to Rivendell to inform Gandalf that a party of Men is traveling secretly in the direction of the Shire. He would want to take the matter in hand, I am sure."
"Halbarad is right," agreed Elladan. "Let us make camp, and in the morning set out toward home."
"No," objected Anomen, the only one of the Elves to have visited the land of the Periannath. "That would leave the Halflings unprotected against whatever ill these Southrons plan!" He could not bear the thought of Merry and his other Periannath friends falling to Southron swords.
"Even against Halflings, five Men—if there are even that many—would hardly be enough for a war party," Halbarad pointed out. "These Southrons most likely come as spies. Although I do not know why, someone has decided that the Shire bears watching. You, Anomen, are no doubt right. Gandalf's interest in the Shire is now matched by another's. That is why Gandalf should be alerted at the earliest opportunity."
"But—"
Halbarad gestured for Anomen to be still.
"I said that you should return to Rivendell. I did not say that I would. Rest assured that the spies will be spied upon. And I have no doubt that, once Gandalf receives word of this matter, I shall be joined by other watchers—Men, birds, and beasts."
Anomen nodded, still reluctant to turn back but relieved that the Shire would not be left unguarded.
"Very well, Halbarad. We will hasten to Rivendell and let Gandalf know how things stand."
Anomen did not sleep well that night. He forbode that something was in the offing, something dreadful. Again and again he began to doze only to jerk awake. It seemed to him, as he at last drifted into sleep, that something huge, shadowy, and winged was blotting out the stars, plunging the world into darkness whilst harsh and gloating voices shrieked, 'burzum! burzum!'