Kitsune: Here's your update! Uh oh. I see that you also want a sequel to "Got Milk?"
Joee: I'm glad you liked "Got Milk?" You may consider that to be 'your story'. I hope you noticed that two of the reviewers thank you for bugging me to write it up! Persistence pays off. By the way, in that story, I confused Elladan and Erestor, but I managed to upload a corrected version before you noticed!
Jebb: Ooh, I like that word 'cryptic'. I've got to work it in somewhere. Poor 'Erector' indeed. I suppose eventually I'll have to write up a story about a young Erestor and all his misadventures.
Farflung: Here comes the 'blood in the water'. There is also a nekkid Elf in this chapter. By the way, from you I'm going to steal the phrase 'errant heir'. I've used 'errant elfling' but not 'errant heir', and I do like the sound of it. As for Thranduil, yes, his ultimate fate is left unspecified. I prefer to think that he departs for the Undying Lands happy in the knowledge that he leaves behind him a son and heir who is more than ready to rule the realm, with Gilglîr and Tawarmaenas assisting, of course.
dd9736: If you are still singing the pirate song, you probably hate me by now!
Daw the Minstrel: Yes, all the Elves are good at that game, but Galadriel is the best, I think. Not even Gandalf can be that 'cryptic'. (Yea! I already found an excuse to use that word!)
Dragonfly: I think you are allowed to suspect that the company of Greenwood Elves are going to encounter the Orcs who figure in this chapter. After all, there are a lot of them left alive at the end of the chapter.
Karri: Um, all the chapters from now on are going to be cliffhangers, I think. Get out while you can!
Chapter 12: River Rafting
When Anomen and the injured Elrohir had been brought back safely to Rivendell, troops of Elves rode out again almost immediately. Elladan went forth with Thoron's company, as did Haldir, who refused Elrond's offer of an escort to Lothlórien. Anomen, to his frustration, was not permitted to join them.
"Ada, I am not injured. I do not understand why I may not ride out with the others!"
Elrond replied patiently.
"I have explained this matter to you several times, but I will do so again if that will help you to accept your fate. It is true that your limbs sustained no wounds. It is also true, however, that you were pushed to the utmost limits of your strength, both of body and of mind. Were we under direct siege, you might indeed have to return to the battle without respite, but if rest is possible after such an experience, it should be embraced gladly as a gift from the Valar. You may not be aware of it at first, but if you are forced to slay without the opportunity to heal, your powers will begin to fade."
Elrond was right in surmising that Anomen did not believe that he had suffered much from the encounter with the Orcs. However, in spite of the young Elf's impatience, Elrond would have to be obeyed, for he was both Anomen's Ada and the Lord of Imladris. Even had there had been a trellis within reach——which there was not!——Anomen was well past the age when he would have dreamed of slipping out a window and climbing down to the ground to set out on a foray of his own. He therefore had to console himself with the belief that, even if he did not see the truth of his Ada's words at the moment, he was likely to do so in the future. Elrond was wise and had seen much.
Fortunately, Elrond himself provided Anomen with a task that allowed him both to pass the time and to feel as if he were contributing to the defense of his home. Glorfindel had gone forth, for he was not waiting for patrols to return with news. Instead, he was traveling incessantly, gathering reports from each patrol leader in turn. In his absence, there was no one to conduct weapons training for the elflings, for even the novices had joined the patrols. Elrond was anxious that every elfling spend as much time on the training fields as possible, for he forbode that the time might be drawing near when anyone strong enough to grasp a blade would be called upon to defend Imladris——mayhap Middle Earth itself.
Anomen accepted this task gladly. Moreover, Elrond laid another charge upon him that was greatly to his liking.
"Anomen, Estel will someday wield a sword of great power. Indeed, mayhap he will one day carry into battle the weapon with which Isildur struck down the Dark Lord, for it is foretold that the shards of Narsil will be reforged 'ere the end. That time may be approaching. But whether it be Narsil or some other sword, Estel must develop skills commensurate with the weapon that he will wield when he grows to manhood."
"You wish him to concentrate on sword training?"
"Yes, Anomen, that weapon above all others. Of course, he is not to neglect the bow, mind you! He must undertake the additional training without slighting his other lessons."
"He is young even in the eyes of Men. You do not fear overburdening him?"
"I would fear that only if it were asking him to read an extra book! Truly, Anomen, do you think Estel would ever pass up an opportunity to spend more time on the training fields?"
Anomen laughed. No, he could not imagine Estel complaining at the prospect of more time with the sword even if it meant no less time with the bow.
"No," he said, "he will not object to the extra lessons, although I suspect that he will try to argue that he shouldn't spend as much time in the library with Erestor!"
"I have already thought of that," smiled Elrond. "Starting tomorrow, Estel's lessons with Erestor will conclude one hour early. That is the time that will be devoted to the extra sword practice."
"And you have told Erestor this?"
Elrond made a wry face.
"No, but I must. Tonight you will tell Anomen, and I will speak to Erestor."
"You have given me the easier task," joked Anomen.
Elrond pretended to cuff his ear.
"A little more respect toward your elders, scamp."
Anomen pretended that his dignity was wounded.
"Scamp is it!? I'll remember that the next time you need someone to slay a hundred or so Orcs!"
"Be off with you," laughed Elrond.
That evening Anomen invited Estel to walk with him to the training fields. For a little while they practiced shooting at the targets.
"I will never be as skilled an archer as you," Estel finally said wistfully.
"That may be true," replied Anomen, "but I have seen you practicing your sword-work with Glorfindel. You will be a master swordsman someday."
"You think so?"
"Yes, and that is fortunate, for someday you will bear a great sword, a sword out of the days of legend."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh," replied Anomen with provoking vagueness, "Elrond will explain it to you some day. Meanwhile, he has asked me to devote some time to helping you become the most renowned swordsman amongst Men—mayhap even amongst Elves!"
"Has he?" cried Estel, excited. "But," he said, suddenly downcast, "I don't know when I will have the time."
"Elrond has given some thought to that problem. You will spend one less hour a day with Erestor——that is, if you do not mind," Anomen added drolly.
"Mind!? Are you joking!?——oh, yes, you are," Estel finished lamely.
Several days passed in this fashion, until late one evening when Baramagor, dusty and exhausted, came riding through the gates of Rivendell. He had been out patrolling with Berenmaethor's troop along the border between Eregion and Dunland. After taking his horse to the stable, he went straight to Elrond's chamber, where Anomen was discussing Estel's progress with the elf-lord.
"Enter," called Elrond at the sound of Baramagor's knock.
"Your pardon for disturbing you, my Lord, but I have news from the south."
Elrond's face assumed an impassive mask.
"Are all well, Baramagor?"
"Yes, my Lord."
Elrond relaxed almost imperceptibly. He gestured toward the table, where a flask of wine stood as well as a platter of bread, cheese, and fruit.
"Anomen, before Baramagor continues, pour him a glass and fill a plate for him. Baramagor, pray be seated. You have ridden long, have you not?"
"Yes, my Lord. Thank you."
After several sips of wine and a few bites of cheese, Baramagor continued.
"Berenmaethor desired that you be informed that lately a large party of Orcs came out of the south, out of Dunland. We confronted and destroyed them."
"Out of Dunland? They did not come down from the Misty Mountains?"
"No, my Lord. After we dealt with them, we followed their tracks a considerable distance. They had come straight up from the south, traveling boldly through the very center of Dunland, with no attempt at concealment."
"Hmmm. I wonder if they did so with or without the permission of the Dunlendings. Were you able to question any of that folk?
"They fled their villages whenever we drew near. This much I can tell you. Their villages were undamaged. We saw no sign that they had been molested in any way by the Orcs. No barns torched, no cattle slain."
"What does that suggest to you, Anomen?" said Elrond, turning to that Elf.
"That they moved through Dunland with the permission, mayhap even the connivance, of the Dunlendings."
"Aye, I am afraid that that is likely the case."
Elrond sighed and shook his head.
"Berenmaethor did well in sending you with this message. Although the immediate danger has been dealt with by your patrol, Glorfindel must be alerted to the growing threat from the south," said Elrond. "He has but lately set out for the northeast to check on patrols in the Misty Mountains."
Baramagor drew himself erect.
"I will change horses and be on my way."
"No, you have ridden far and are weary. Anomen," Elrond said, turning to that Elf. "Celaithand and Elrohir are both much improved and are beginning to chafe at their confinement in the House of Healing. With Baramagor's assistance, Elrohir may supervise the elflings for a few days, and Celaithand, who at the moment is the stronger of the two, may serve Estel as a partner in his sword training. Thus you shall be free to carry a message to Glorfindel. You do not mind, I hope," Elrond added with a slight smile.
Anomen tried to keep his face straight, but Baramagor was smirking at him, so he gave it up as a lost cause after a few moments.
"I will try to keep my sorrow in check," he assured Elrond with a grin.
"You do that," replied the elf-lord with matching jocularity.
Stopping only to retrieve his weapons and to fill a pack with provisions, Anomen was soon galloping through the gates of Rivendell and heading north on the trail of Glorfindel. It was easy to follow, as Glorfindel was on horseback as well. At first, Anomen was sure that he would be able to catch up quickly.
Glorfindel, however, was moving rapidly in his eagerness to keep apprised of conditions on the borders. Anomen had been riding for three days. He was gaining on the balrog-slayer, he was sure, but the further north he rode, the more uneasy he felt. Ever so often he bade his horse slow or even halt so that he could listen carefully to the trees. "Nad no ennas," he whispered to himself. "Something is out there."
The 'something' showed itself at last. Anomen heard the unmistakable sound of an arrow being released. Instinctively, he ducked, but his horse stumbled, an arrow in its belly. Anomen leaped clear as the horse fell and scrambled for shelter behind the body of his friend. Only one shaft. Only one foe? Watching for movement in the brush, Anomen drew an arrow and nocked it. At last a branch shifted slightly against the breeze. Anomen released his missile and was rewarded with a shriek. He sprang forward, breaking heedlessly past the branches that whipped his face in order to finish his foe. The Orc was not wounded as badly as Anomen hoped, and the creature swung his scimitar at the young Elf. Anomen, however, was able to sidestep the blow, and in short order he had dispatched his enemy. He returned then to his horse. He did not have time to raise a cairn over its body, and he would not have dared to light a funeral pyre. Reluctantly, he scooped up a handful of dirt and gently sprinkled it over his friend in token of the farewell that a steed deserved from grateful rider. Then he sang a few words to honor the spirit of his beloved horse. Sadly he chanted, "Ú-reniathach i amar galen / I reniad lín ne môr, nuithannen."
No more will you wander the green fields of this earth / Your journey has ended in darkness.
The simple ceremony over, Anomen gave thought to what he should do next. Orcs are like wolves; they travel in packs. Others were certain to be lurking about, but the young Elf had no way of knowing how many. Unhorsed and up against such uncertain odds, Anomen briefly wondered whether he should turn back. No, he decided. Glorfindel was alone as well. Anomen wanted to reach him now more than ever, for the young Elf suspected that, balrog-slayer though he was, Glorfindel would soon be in need of aid. He set off on foot, moving as rapidly as he could through this scrubland at the base of the Misty Mountains. The terrain was now such that no doubt Glorfindel, although mounted, would be able to move little faster than an Elf on foot.
Steadfastly Anomen followed the trail of the balrog-slayer. Several hours passed. Suddenly Anomen stopped, horrified. Tracks had come down a slope and now ran parallel to Glorfindel's. Orc tracks. Glorfindel the hunter had now become the hunted. His mouth dry, his heart racing, Anomen broke into a run, scrambling over the broken terrain with all the speed that he could muster. Several more hours passed. Once again Anomen was brought up short, this time with grief as well as horror.
It was Glorfindel's great stallion, riddled with Orc arrows. Anomen thought briefly of Estel. The boy would be heartbroken to learn of the death of the much-admired steed. Then Anomen dismissed Estel's grief from his mind. He had other matters to attend to nearer at hand. For the second time that day he quickly cast a handful of dirt upon the body of a horse. Then once again he set out as rapidly as possible to locate his friend and mentor. Two trails led from the dead horse into a copse, one a trail of blood, the other the footprints of Orcs. Anomen drew forth both his knives and began to run alongside the tracks. It was not long before he heard the clash of weapons. Anomen was sprinting now. He burst into a clearing. On the other side he saw Glorfindel, his back against a tree, fending off three Orcs. Two others lay dead at his feet.
So quickly did Anomen cross the clearing that the Orcs did not have time to turn and face him. One died instantly with Anomen's knife in his back. As Anomen yanked his weapon from the body of his enemy, the second Orc tried to spin about, but he never completed the maneuver. The third Glorfindel dispatched himself, beheading his startled foe in his trademark fashion.
Their enemies dead, Anomen had a chance to look over the balrog-slayer. To his dismay, he saw an arrow protruding from Glorfindel's thigh. Their horses were dead, and Glorfindel's leg was injured.
"Let me examine that wound, Glorfindel."
The balrog-slayer sat stoically as Anomen carefully drew forth the arrow and bandaged the injury with strips of cloth that he tore from his blanket. As he worked, Anomen realized that Glorfindel's wound was a serious one. The elf-lord would not be able to return to Rivendell on foot.
Glorfindel divined his thoughts.
"You must leave at once for Imladris and bring back help," he said.
"But if any foes happen upon you, you will be unable to defend yourself. The Orcs will search this area once those bodies are discovered."
"I have my bow."
"You will run out of arrows, and then you will be helpless."
"Not entirely helpless. I'll wager that I shall bring down a few of them with my sword."
"But in the end you will be overwhelmed and slain."
"Probably," Glorfindel said calmly.
Anomen shook his head.
"I will not leave you."
"Have you learned nothing!? A needless sacrifice is a foolish one! If you remain with me, and we are discovered, then both of us will run out of arrows and be slain. Return to Rivendell. It may be that you will bring help before I am discovered. If not, then only one of us will have died."
Anomen again shook his head.
"Anomen!" exploded Glorfindel, "of all Elves, you are the most stubborn!"
"Excepting yourself, of course," Anomen replied blandly.
Glorfindel looked at him speechlessly for a moment and then laughed.
"It is no wonder that I was once able to pass you off as my son—we are akin in several ways, you and I."
"You passed me off as your son?"
Glorfindel chuckled. "Aye. It was centuries ago. A Mirkwood messenger had arrived without notice, and he caught sight of you in the distance. 'Who is that golden-haired elfling?' he asked. I was standing nearby and said, "Oh, that's my son."
"What did he say?"
Glorfindel laughed again. "He said, 'Congratulations, my Lord. We had not heard in Greenwood that you had taken a spouse.' I said, 'I have not taken a spouse.' The messenger looked a little confused and said, 'Perhaps I misunderstood. Didn't you say that yonder elfling is your son?' 'Yes,' I replied, 'but I did not say that I had taken a spouse. It does not always follow that one who has sired a son has taken a spouse. Surely you are familiar with the mechanics of the process?'"
Glorfindel had enjoyed reciting this tale, and Anomen had enjoyed hearing it. It pleased him that Glorfindel would claim him as his son, even if only as a ruse.
"How did the messenger react when you told him you'd sired a son but not taken a spouse?"
Glorfindel chuckled some more.
"Oh, he spluttered a bit and excused himself as quickly as he could. The next time I encountered a party of Mirkwood Elves, they all looked me over carefully, so I am sure the tale has spread throughout Thranduil's realm."
"Oh, I am sorry," apologized Anomen. "I never meant to put you in such an awkward spot."
"No need to apologize, Anomen. I do believe that the tale has enhanced my reputation. 'Glorfindel——oh, yes, isn't he the one who slays balrogs and sires elflings? Yes, the very one!'"
Both Elves laughed. Then Aomen sobered himself.
"Glorfindel, it is true that I cannot carry you all the way to Rivendell——"
"Ah, so you've come to your senses. You will leave me here and set out for Imladris."
"I will set out for Imladris, but I will not leave you here. Glorfindel, we are not far from a tributary of the Bruinen. In Mirkwood, trade goods were sent between Lake-town and the Great Hall by raft. I have seen such rafts constructed. If I can support you as far as the river, I could build such a raft, and together we could float down to the valley of Rivendell."
Glorfindel looked thoughtful.
"We will have to get through rapids in several places, and a raft is difficult to steer."
"True, but even though you cannot walk, your arms are uninjured. You can help me manage the raft."
Glorfindel nodded.
"Anomen, I think this plan might very well work. And even if the rapids eventually prove impassable and we must abandon the raft, at least by then we will be closer to Rivendell and further from pursuit. I could remain by the river, in easy reach of water, and you could hasten on and bring back help. Yes, I think my chances would be much higher if I were waiting by the river, miles downstream from here, than if I remained in the vicinity of a skirmish."
"So we are agreed?"
"Yes——and once again we prove to have something in common."
"Oh, and what?"
"You are clever and resourceful——obviously you take after me."
Anomen snorted.
"If you're so clever and resourceful, why didn't you think of this plan first!?"
"Didn't want to preempt you, ion-nîn. Wouldn't want to put a damper on your creative spirit by rushing in first to solve all your problems!"
"My problems! You are the one with the arrow wound in the leg."
"Correct——which makes me your problem."
Bemused, Anomen shook his head.
"Tell me, Glorfindel, does it always take an arrow to your body to put you into so jovial a mood? Is there no other less radical way to transform you into such a witty Elf?"
"My arrow in an Elven body——that generally works nicely."
"Glorfindel!"
"Don't worry; I wasn't referring to your body——my interests tend in another direction."
"Glorfindel, are you sure you haven't sired any golden-haired elflings?"
"If I have, no one has told me about it, but it's not likely. One nice thing about being familiar with the 'mechanics of the process' is that one can protect oneself from the embarrassment of contributing unplanned additions to the population of Middle-earth."
"Um, Glorfindel, I'm not sure I should be hearing you say things like that."
"On the contrary, given your age, these are just the sort of things that you should be hearing me say. However, this is probably not the best time or place for me to instruct you. Let us make for the river."
Slinging Glorfindel's pack as well as his own over one shoulder, Anomen helped Glorfindel to his feet. Leaning upon the young Elf's other shoulder, Glorfindel hobbled as best he could. His respect for his companion, already great, grew by the minute as the young one struggled to assist him to the river. With his leg injured, and weak from loss of blood, Glorfindel could do little to support his own weight and had no choice but to lean heavily upon Anomen. The balrog-slayer was sure that it was all his young friend could do to keep his feet on the uneven terrain, but Anomen showed no sign of tiring.
At last the two made it to the river bank. Anomen helped ease Glorfindel to the ground, and then, without sparing a moment to rest, he set about making the raft. He gathered together the thickest pieces of driftwood that he could find and lashed them together with vines. When he was done, he tossed extra vines upon the rough surface in case repairs should become necessary. Then he spread his and Glorfindel's blanket in the middle and helped the elf-lord onto the raft. The balrog-slayer looked about at their improvised vessel.
"I think Cîrdan would be horrified if he saw this."
"The next time I shall build a vessel to rival the Shipwright's own," Anomen promised. "It will be much more elegant. For now, we only need something that will float!"
"Good! For I am sure that if Cîrdan and his brethren ever spotted you upon a contraption such as this, you would have to forfeit your place in the Undying Lands!"
Using one of the two long poles that he had set aside, Anomen pushed the raft from the shore and they began to drift down the river, slowly at first but more quickly as they entered the current. Just as they reached the center of the channel, they heard shrieks and howls. Looking back at the shore, they saw Orcs swarming out of the trees. The fell creatures released a volley of arrows, but the shafts landed in the river well short of their target. The two Elves sat in silence as their enemies receded into the distance. At last Glorfindel spoke.
"Had I not listened to you, we would both be dead by now, I think."
Anomen could not answer. Suddenly he felt very weary. Elrond was right, he thought. One cannot perpetually face death without it taking a toll on the spirit. Glorfindel looked at him with concern.
"How do you fare, ion-nîn."
"I am a little tired, Glorfindel."
"It will be some time before we reach the rapids. Rest. I will keep watch."
Anomen gratefully wrapped himself in his cloak and allowed his eyes to glaze over. Glorfindel sat thoughtfully watching him sleep.
"You deserve better than this, my young friend. Would that you dwelled in another time, one not shadowed by darkness. But that was a choice not permitted you. All that is permitted you is to use well the time that has been given you. You have done so thus far and will continue to do so, I deem. The peoples of Middle Earth will have cause to thank you before the end, I think."
Anomen slept for hours. The sun had descended and the moon had arisen before he awoke. He sat up and looked about, puzzled for a minute. Then he remembered: he was floating down a river on a raft. Had any Elf ever done so, he wondered?
"You should have somewhat to eat and drink, Anomen," said Glorfindel, interrupting his thoughts.
Anomen nodded and opened his pack. He chewed on a slice of dried fruit.
"I have some miruvor," said Glorfindel, proffering a small flask.
Anomen shook his head.
"You are injured. Save it for yourself."
"There are many kinds of injuries," said Glorfindel serenely. "Drink."
Anomen accepted the flask and took a small sip. He felt his spirits rekindled. He nodded at Glorfindel.
"Thank you."
"Oh, I am only looking out for myself," teased Glorfindel. "A warrior knows that his health and safety depends upon the health and safety of his companions. So I am going to take very good care of you to preserve my own skin!"
Anomen chuckled. Indeed, Glorfindel's words cheered him even more than the miruvor had. There was still laughter and joy in Arda, and it would take more than a few Orcs to destroy it. Of that he could be certain.
Glorfindel looked ahead.
"It is good that you awoke, else I would have had to rouse you. Yonder are rapids. You must use one pole to fend off the rocks, and I will help you as best I can with the other."
Anomen stationed himself on one side of the raft, and Glorfindel inched over to the opposite side. Poles at the ready, they watched alertly as the current picked up speed. Soon their makeshift vessel was hurtling past huge boulders. They passed the first few in safety, but suddenly an enormous, jagged rock loomed up on Glorfindel's side. The balrog-slayer braced himself as best he could and used his pole to muscle the raft to the side of the obstacle. As he did so, he grunted in pain, and Anomen anxiously looked over at him.
"Never mind me," declared the balrog-slayer. "Look to the raft!"
The raft bucked and slewed through the white-water, and sometimes it tilted so alarmingly that Anomen was sure that they would be flung into the water. Again and again Anomen and Glorfindel were forced to use the poles to push the raft away from the threatening boulders.
At length they had run the first rapid. The river widened, and the water slowed. Anomen looked over at Glorfindel and realized that his wound had reopened.
"Glorfindel, you are bleeding. Let me change the bandages."
Anomen ripped off more strips from the bottom of his blanket and used them to rebind Glorfindel's injury. After he had done so, he rinsed off the old blood-soaked bandages. Once they had dried, they could be reused. The water behind the raft turned red with Glorfindel's blood.
"If this were the ocean," said Glorfindel, "we would have to fear the water-wolves."
"Water-wolves?"
"Aye. It is said that they sense blood in the water with an acuity equal to that with which wolves pick up that scent upon the wind. It is also said that they track their prey with the same determination and fell intent."
Anomen shuddered. He was glad that they would not be tracked by water-wolves. It was bad enough that they might be subject to attack by Orcs if they drifted too close to the shore.
Three more times that day they ran rapids. At last they came into a clear stretch that Glorfindel knew extended for many miles.
"That is the last of those rapids," said Glorfindel with relief. "It will be clear sailing for awhile."
Of course, Reader, you know as well as I that Glorfindel should never have spoken so confidently. For as soon as he had done so the raft fetched up against some hidden obstruction. Elves are very graceful and agile, of course, and have an excellent sense of balance, but even an Elf can be knocked off his feet if he is caught by surprise and the blow is heavy enough. So it was that Anomen one minute was standing erect and holding a pole, the next was in the water, spluttering, the pole drifting away. Glorfindel flung himself toward that side of the raft and extended his own pole. Anomen seized upon it, and Glorfindel drew him back to the raft. Shivering a little, Anomen climbed back onto the little vessel.
"The raft must have snagged upon something," said Anomen. "I shall have to swim underneath to determine how best to free ourselves."
"Very well, but tie one of these vines around your waist, so that I may draw you back to the raft if you get into trouble."
Anomen agreed. After tying a vine around his waist and handing the end to Glorfindel, he lowered himself into the water and vanished from view. Soon he reappeared, clinging to the edge of the raft.
"I shall have to hack at a tree limb that has gotten wedged between two of our makeshift planks."
Glorfindel handed him one of his knives, and he dove beneath the raft once again. It was hard work. He dove and resurfaced repeatedly until the job was done. Suddenly the raft lurched forward. Alarmed, Glorfindel yanked on the vine, and Anomen rose to the surface. Shivering violently now, Anomen clambered back onto the raft. Glorfindel looked upon him with concern.
"Even an Elf cannot survive such cold, Anomen. Strip off your wet things and shelter with me under this blanket."
That suggestion hardly seemed dignified, but Anomen did not think that this was the time to stand on formality. He had never felt so cold, not even after he had fled from the Dunlending village with no cloak and no means of making a fire. So frozen was he that he was incapable of speaking, so he merely nodded his agreement. With stiff and trembling fingers, he clumsily stripped off his clothes and gratefully crawled under the blanket, there to huddle against Glorfindel. For his part, the balrog-slayer vigorously rubbed the young Elf's hands, arms, and shoulders, and gradually Anomen stopped shaking. Glorfindel ventured a joke.
"If anyone should happen upon us now, I would certainly want to pass you off as my son, else how would I ever explain your presence under this blanket in your current state of undress!"
"Oh, I don't know, Glorfindel. Wouldn't you want to further enhance your reputation. I can hear the other Elves now. 'Glorfindel——oh, yes, isn't he the one who slays balrogs and sires elflings and beds all comers, male and female alike? Yes, the very one!'"
Glorfindel jabbed Anomen in the groin——not too low, fortunately.
"I think you have recovered sufficiently from your dip in icy water. We are coming into another patch of rough water. You'd best wrap yourself in my cloak and wield the remaining pole. I am afraid I can do little other than cheer you on."
Anomen smiled and took up his position with the pole.
"Encouragement is a great aid, I assure you."
A day later the Head Cook and his daughter Lendsiniath were on the outskirts of Imladris wading in the shallows of the river in search of shellfish. Lendsiniath's skirt was hitched up above her knees so that it would stay dry. Suddenly the elf-maiden straightened herself and looked intently upstream.
"Ada, something large is floating down the river."
At about the same time, Glorfindel noticed the two foraging Elves.
"Anomen," he said. "Are your clothes dry?"
"They are still a little wet, Glorfindel."
"Pity. Well, I suppose it is better to be seen naked by an elf-maiden than to pull on a clammy tunic and leggings."
"What!"
Glorfindel nodded downriver.
"Yonder are the Head Cook and his daughter Lendsiniath."
Anomen dressed with amazing alacrity, even though he winced as he pulled up his damp leggings around his middle. Pity, thought Glorfindel. Lendsiniath's face would have been something to see had Anomen arrived in his natal garment. On the other hand, the Cook probably would have tried to skin the lad if that had been the only thing he had been dressed in.
Anomen poled the raft toward the shore. The Cook waded out and helped draw it onto a sandy spit. He saw at once that Glorfindel was wounded.
"Lendsiniath," he said, "run to the Hall as quickly as you can. Tell them that Anomen and Glorfindel have been unhorsed and that Glorfindel's leg is injured."
Lendsiniath hitched up her skirt even higher——the Cook scowled at Anomen when the young Elf could not help but gaze upon her legs——and she set out at a dead run for the Hall. The Cook then built a fire and tossed some freshwater clams upon it. Before too long Anomen and Glorfindel were feasting upon the succulent meat straight from the shell.
"Master Cook," declared Glorfindel, "you are a veritable magician——nay, a wizard!——for even without your pots and your ladles, your spices and seasonings, you prepare a most delectable feast."
The Cook beamed but tried to reply with humility.
"It is said, is it not, that 'hunger is the best sauce'?"
"But your sauces are second only to that one, I assure you," said Glorfindel gravely, hiding his amusement.
"Thank you, my Lord. I do try my best, and I like to flatter myself that over the centuries I have developed some skill in the kitchen."
At length the Elves heard the drumbeat of galloping horses, and Elrond, Elrohir, Baramagor, and Celaithand rode into view leading a string of riderless horses. The three were dismounting whilst the horses were still in motion.
"Glorfindel!" exclaimed Elrond. "In all my centuries, I have never heard of an Elf rafting down the Bruinen!"
"We have much to learn from our Mirkwood brethren," said Glorfindel lightly. "'Twas Anomen who suggested that we adopt this peculiar mode of transportation. And, as no Orc has ever been known to swim, it proved well for us."
Elrond looked appreciatively at Anomen. He reached over and drew him into an embrace. It was then that he realized that the young Elf was wet and cold.
"Anomen, you are soaked! Baramagor, take him to the House of Healing at once. See that he bathes in warm water and is put to bed straightaway. And that he stays there!" he added.
Anomen opened his mouth to protest, but then he remembered how grateful he had been when Glorfindel had given him the opportunity to rest on the raft. He nodded.
"Yes, Ada," he said meekly.
Elrond looked at him a little suspiciously. Meekness was not a tone Anomen often adopted nowadays. But Anomen was already mounting one of the spare horses and turning its head toward Rivendell.
"Well," thought Elrond wryly, "first Elves raft the Bruinen, and then Anomen obeys without question. Surely we live in an age of miracles and wonders."
With that, the elf-lord turned his attention to helping his friend the balrog-slayer to a horse. Glorfindel, however, would not stir until Elrond had agreed to send Celaithand and Elrohir out at once to warn Thoron about the band of Orcs that he and Anomen had run afoul of. Only when he saw them mounted and galloping north would he consent to take horse himself for the final stage of his journey to Rivendell.
As they rode back to the Hall, Glorfindel recounted how Anomen had rescued him from the Orcs and then refused to leave him.
"I think only Anomen would have thought of making a raft," said Elrond thoughtfully. "More and more I come to believe," he mused, "that there is a reason why Anomen was sent by the Valar to Rivendell. Surely he has been preparing to play an important part in some events whose nature is yet hidden from me."
"Pardon me," laughed Glorfindel, "but from my point of view he has already played an important part in events——I happen to value my skin!"
"True, true," agreed Elrond with a smile. "But," he added softly, "the story is not yet at an end."