CelebgiL: Thank you for pointing out that error for Minas Tirith in your review of Chapter 1. I will add it to the growing list of spelling errors, goofs, and bloopers! ^_^
Jebb: Yes, it is a double edged sword. But so much in LOTR is a mix of the bitter and the sweet, especially the ending, when it becomes apparent that Frodo cannot enjoy that which he struggled so hard to save.
Farflung: Maybe Haldir doesn't die after all. After all, it was only a vision, right?
Kitsune: O.K. Here's comes some more Anomen. As always, your wish is my command.
Daw the Minstrel: As I said above to Farflung, maybe Haldir doesn't die. Visions are equivocal.
Joee: Oops. Sorry for omitting your name from the beginning of the latest update of "Got Milk?" Totally inadvertent, I swear! Hey, after all, you are my epsilon reader! ^_^
Melissa: Thank you ever so much for your kind comments! Yes, I will try to update soon!
Karri: Oh, dear, I wouldn't want to push you over the edge! An update of "Got Milk?" has now been posted. (Heaven knows what possessed me to begin working on two stories simultaneously. Delusions of grandeur, I guess.) ^_^ By the way, Joee pointed out that I omitted your name, Dragonfly, and Joee's from the Thank You's at the beginning of the update. No slight was intended! Just carelessness on my part!
Dragonfly: Uh oh! Looks like I pushed a button by showing Rúmil a vision of the death of Haldir! O.K. Let me try this: Galadriel is always pointing out how visions can be ambiguous or equivocal. There, that gives me some wiggle room. Also, thank you for your latest response to "Got Milk?"
Vocabulary
Gondmaenas—'Stone Craft'
gwador-nîn—'my brother'
Led by Berenmaethor, an exultant band of Elves rode through the gates of Rivendell. Elrond stood before the Hall awaiting them, for they had sent ahead a messenger to inform him of their imminent arrival. Even had they not sent a rider, however, no doubt Elrond would have been aware of their approach, for they sang and laughed with abandon.
They rode straight up to the Hall instead of stopping at the stables, for, having defeated the foe so decisively in Dunland, they were entitled to a triumphal entry. Others would look after their horses for them. And so they dismounted before the Hall, and their horses were led away by earnest elflings who were excited to have a part to play, no matter how small.
"Mae govannen, Berenmaethor," said Elrond, trying to look solemn. He bowed deeply to the captain. "You have done well."
"Hannon le," replied the captain, bowing in return. "But I can take no credit for the success of the campaign, my Lord Elrond, for the warriors you assigned to me in your wisdom would have made even an incompetent captain look like the most brilliant of tacticians. Their courage and cleverness will someday provide the stuff of legends, I am sure. Folk will be reading of their exploits long after the Third Age has drawn to a close. I must particularly draw your attention to the resourcefulness of Anomen, for had he not befriended a Dunlending lad, I am sure we would still be searching fruitlessly for our foes."
"Come forward, Anomen," declared Elrond, looking about for his foster son, who was standing toward the back of the assembled warriors. They parted to permit him to approach the Lord of Imladris. Just as he reached Elrond, however, the solemnity of the occasion was broken, for Estel, having eluded Glorfindel's vigilance, came racing up, his dog Gwaurant barking at his heels. He flung himself at Anomen, who was instantly transformed from a well-groomed, self-possessed returning hero into a tousled, dusty young Elf with an armful of boy in his arms. The gathered Elves broke into laughter. Even Elrond permitted himself a smile.
"Well, Anomen," he teased, "you come back from a military campaign with your face and garments pristine, but you are not back five minutes before you need a bath. Whatever am I to do with you?" Shaking his head, he made a great show of sighing. Then he addressed the assembled warriors once more.
"No doubt you all wish to seek out friends and kin, and I will now dismiss you to allow you to do so. But be sure that tonight there will be a festive gathering in the Hall of Fire. Come prepared to dance!"
Cheers (mingled with a few groans) ensued, and the patrol broke up. Laughing and talking, Elves drifted away in groups of twos and threes. Elrond beckoned to Anomen.
"Come, my son. I was about to dine privately in my chamber. You must join me."
"Yes, Ada. But tell me," Anomen went on eagerly as they walked into the Hall, "is there any news from the Misty Mountains?"
"Messengers have come and gone several times," replied Elrond. "The last one reported that they were climbing towards the ridge of that mountain chain, for it seems that the Orcs have been withdrawing before their advance. They had not yet made contact with the foe, but I suspect that by now they will have. Any day we may receive word of the outcome of an engagement."
"Ada," Anomen begged, "the next messenger who arrives, may I accompany him when he returns to the Misty Mountains?"
Elrond shook his head, smiling.
"Ever the eager one," he chided the young Elf. "Remember that the southern border needs guarding, too. No," he said, holding up a hand to stop Anomen speaking, "I know what you are going to say: the southern border is now secure. But that is not true. As long as an Orc breathes in Middle Earth, that will not be true. It may take time, but our enemies will regroup and return. The threat has been lessened, but not eliminated altogether. You will rest a few days and then return to patrolling the border between Eregion and Dunland. It will be boring at first, I know, but do not fear! You will have excitement enough ere long! Now eat your supper, and go to bed!"
"You sound like Gandalf now," grumbled Anomen. "Where is he, by the way?"
"In Lothlórien, I believe, although, as you know, it is never possible to be altogether sure of his whereabouts. You are like him, in that respect. Indeed, once I was sorely tempted to name him as your father for that very reason."
"As my father?"
"Oh, yes. It was on an occasion when you had once again sent Rivendell into an uproar by running off. A very unhappy Glorfindel had just brought you back. Gandalf was visiting at the time, and you promptly attached yourself to him—to save yourself from Glorfindel's retribution, I think! At any rate, a trader saw you tagging along after Gandalf and asked after your parentage. 'Is that young one yonder kin to Master Mithrandir?' asked the trader. 'His grandson or son, mayhap?'"
"What did you say?"
"I only said that you were akin."
"Ada, that was a terrible answer!"
"Why? I did not say that you were 'kin'; I said that you were 'akin'."
"Ada, like as not the distinction would have signified nothing to the Man!"
"You don't think so?"
"No, I do not—oh, Ada, you knew that, didn't you!?" exclaimed Anomen, caught between amusement and vexation. "You expected—nay, hoped!—that the trader would go about telling folk that Gandalf and I were kin! How could you do that to your friend!?"
"Oh," said Elrond blandly, "I doubt Gandalf's reputation suffered any harm. If anything, the Men he goes amongst would be impressed. They have peculiar notions about the siring of sons—I believe they view it as a kind of competitive sport.
Anomen laughed, thinking of Glorfindel.
"What is so amusing my son?"
"I have lately learned that I also have been enhancing the reputation of Glorfindel."
"Ah, he told you that story."
"You knew of it?"
"Of course. I believe he took some satisfaction in laying claim to you as his son."
"Yes," said Anomen thoughtfully. "You acknowledge me as your son, and both Glorfindel and Saruman would have gladly claimed me as such. Why then does my own father—"
Anomen suddenly stopped speaking, fearful of saying too much.
"You say 'does' Anomen, not 'did'. Your father still lives."
"You are my father! I have no other!"
"Glorfindel will be sorry to hear that."
Anomen leaped to his feet.
"I am tired! I am going to bed!"
"Anomen," Elrond said gently. "You sound like a little elfling when you speak so."
"I feel like a little elfling at the moment," Anomen said bluntly.
"Little elflings need fathers, do they not?"
"I have many fathers! I am not in need of another!"
Elrond gestured for him to sit down, and after a moment of hesitation the young Elf did so.
"Anomen, I do not wish us to part for the evening on such terms."
"I am not angry, Ada."
"No, but you are not happy."
"I will recover."
"You will recover your composure, yes. In fact, you have already recovered your composure."
"I have had a good teacher," said Anomen wryly.
Elrond sat thoughtfully for several minutes, wondering how he should proceed. He arose and walked to the table and filled a goblet with wine.
"Would you like a glass, Anomen?"
"Yes, thank you, Ada."
Elrond filled a second goblet and returned to his seat.
"Anomen, even though you have lately spoken as an elfling, you have of course reached the age of majority and are free to choose whither and when you will go. You may choose to stay here under my command, or you may go elsewhere."
"Are you saying that I must leave Rivendell if I do not obey you? That I am free to make my choices as long as I choose according to your wishes?"
"You mistake me, Anomen, and I think you do so willfully."
Anomen blushed and looked down.
"I merely meant, Anomen, that you could stay here and serve in the army of Imladris, but that there may be other lands that would equally welcome your service. Is there no realm other than Imladris that you would wish to see preserved from the ravages of Orcs?"
"Lothlórien."
"Only Lothlórien?"
"I have been treated kindly by the folk of that land."
Elrond frowned. Mayhap Anomen was not ready. Still, he would probe a little deeper.
"Anomen, were there not several occasions when you were treated badly by Elrohir, occasions when his 'pranks' verged on or crossed the line into maliciousness?"
"Yes," admitted Anomen.
"Yet when he was badly injured, you refused to leave him, even though you believed it more than probable that you would die by his side."
"Yes."
"You forgave him for his earlier unkindness."
"Yes—but he gave me reason to forgive him! It is true that he tormented me at times when we were younger, but he more than made up for those actions through his kindness and loyalty."
"You gave him an opportunity to do so, of course. You did not run away—at least not for very long, that is!"
That gave Anomen pause. Had he not run away, would his father ever have made up for the neglect and disregard that Anomen had suffered for so many years? He hesitated. Elrond looked at him hopefully. But when Anomen spoke, he was uncompromising.
"Some sins are unpardonable!"
Elrond gazed at him, his face impassive.
"I see, my son," he said noncommittally. "Well, as you feel that way, for the time being I will not pursue the matter. And now, as I have no doubt that you truly are tired, let me bid you goodnight. He arose and, taking Anomen's face between his hands, kissed his forehead.
"Stay well, my son."
"And you, my father."
After Anomen had departed, Elrond sat quietly for a long time, staring into the fire. Events would soon move quickly, he believed, and he feared that Anomen was still not prepared.
In fact, events were about to move even more quickly than even Elrond had anticipated. The combined force of Greenwood and Imladris Elves was climbing down from the mountain on which they had skirmished with the Orcs. On foot, they slowly made their way to the borders of Imladris, where they were welcomed by a passing patrol. Gratefully, the warriors accepted the captain's invitation to accompany the patrol back to its camp. The patrol's skivvies set about cooking a meal for the warriors, and they slept well, given places of honor and comfort nearest the fires and rolled up not only in their own blankets but in those of their hosts.
The next day the captain insisted that the warriors take their horses.
"There are not enough for each of you to have a mount, but at least the injured may ride. And you will, of course," he continued, addressing Tawarmaenas respectfully, "wish to send a mounted messenger ahead to inform Lord Elrond of your approach."
"Of course," agreed Tawarmaenas innocently. "I thank you for your offer. Gilglîr, would you send whomever it seems good to you?"
"Yes, my Prince," said Gilglîr, his face impassive. Inwardly, he was seething with frustration. He had wanted to take Elrond unawares so that, if Legolas were in Rivendell, its Lord would have little or no time to spirit him away. Now he had no choice but to give Elrond notice of the impending visit of the Greenwood contingent.
Two days later, the Elven rider reached the Hall shortly after the noon meal. From his garments, mud-splattered though they were, he was instantly recognizable as a Mirkwood Elf.
The Door Warden politely greeted him and summoned a servant who led the guest to a chamber where he could wash and change. Then the servant led the messenger to Elrond's chamber, where he was greeted graciously by the Lord of Imladris.
"My Lord, I have been sent to inform you that Prince Tawarmaenas, nephew and heir of King Thranduil, and Gilglîr, Seneschal of the Kingdom of Greenwood, are traveling hence. Their party is only partially mounted, so they will be here no sooner than the day after the morrow."
"I thank you for this news. We will make haste to prepare for their arrival."
After the messenger had retired, Elrond sent a servant to fetch Glorfindel. Whether or not Anomen was ready to be reunited with his father, Elrond had long ago decided that he would not force Anomen to return to Mirkwood if he were not willing to do so.
"Glorfindel, I have lately learned that a party of Mirkwood Elves, including both Thranduil's nephew and his Seneschal, will be arriving in two days' time. Will you please—"
"Make sure that Anomen is whisked out of sight. Yes, Elrond. A new patrol is about to depart for Eregion, and I shall make sure that Anomen is numbered amongst it."
"Am I that predictable, my friend?"
"Considering that I have known you for thousands of years, how can you be surprised?"
"Apparently you cannot be surprised, that is certain," answered Elrond ruefully.
Glorfindel went immediately to Anomen's chamber. Glorfindel had at long last learned that it did not pay to leave Anomen in the dark when he was ordered out of Rivendell.
"Elrond has received word that a delegation from Mirkwood will soon be arriving. It will be a high-level delegation, headed as it is by their seneschal, Gilglîr. It also includes King Thranduil's nephew, a young Elf named Tawarmaenas. Given these facts, it is highly likely that you will be recognized as, ah, a refugee from Thranduil's realm."
"I see."
The young Elf looked thoughtful. "Good," thought Glorfindel to himself. "He understands the situation and will give me no trouble. How delightful that will be for a change!"
Well before the Mirkwood delegation hove into sight, Anomen, Celaithand, and several other companions were riding away from Rivendell, heading for the border between Eregion and Dunland, where several strangers had been spotted by previous patrols. Anomen was unusually quiet as they left Imladris.
"Are you well, Anomen?" asked Celaithand, concerned.
"Yes, I am well."
"Yet you seem troubled."
"I had not expected to leave Rivendell so quickly."
"Oh, but you will soon return," Celaithand reminded him.
"But for how long?" Anomen said softly.
That night Anomen lay awake long after his fellows had drifted off into dreams. At last he quietly arose, rolled up his blankets, trussed up his pack, and, quiver on back and bow in hand, he slipped from the camp, leaving behind his horse. The sentry, for all his elven eyes, saw only a brief shimmer in the moonlight.
The next morning, all were baffled when they could find no sign of Anomen save his horse. Carefully his companions searched the perimeter of the camp. They saw no tracks of strangers, nothing to suggest that foes had entered their camp and carried the young Elf away. Moreover, Anomen's bedroll, pack, quiver, and bow were missing. It hardly seemed likely that enemies would stop to carefully pack up their victim's possessions. No, Anomen had left of his own volition. But why? And whence?
Celaithand decided that he himself would carry word back to the Lord Elrond. No one else should have to take responsibility for the fact that Anomen had succeeded in slipping away from the patrol. He appointed one of the older Elves as captain in his absence, and turned his horse's head toward Rivendell.
When he arrived, he made straight for Elrond's chamber, but Glorfindel, who had just left the Lord of Imladris, stopped him.
"Where are you going in such a hurry?" asked Glorfindel.
"I must see the Lord Elrond at once."
"Elladan and Elrohir have just ridden in with a combined force of Greenwood and Rivendell Elves. Lord Elrond has but a few minutes that he can spare for them before he must dress to greet Prince Tawarmaenas. I myself have just left his chamber to allow him to devote that time to his sons."
"But another one of his sons is missing!"
"What do you mean!?"
"We cannot find Anomen," said Celaithand. "I insist that I be allowed to see Lord Elrond!"
Glorfindel of course relented immediately and himself escorted Celaithand to Elrond's chamber.
"My Lord," Celaithand said in a rush, "we cannot find Anomen."
"Cannot find Anomen?" repeated Elrond. He had not heard those words in years, not since Anomen had outgrown his elfling habit of running away.
"No, my Lord, but we are certain he was not taken by an enemy. There were no tracks to suggest that, no signs of a struggle. He vanished from the camp during the night, but so did his bedroll, his pack, and his weapons.
"Have you tried to track him?"
"Aye, my Lord. But he left his horse behind. We think he must have taken to the trees."
Elrond was perplexed. From what would Anomen be fleeing when he was already safely away from Imladris and the Greenwood interlopers? He turned to his other sons.
"Elrohir, Elladan, will you journey south and try to pick up your brother's trail? I doubt that he is in any immediate danger, but something is troubling him, and it would be better if he had companionship, I think."
"Do you want me to join in the search, Elrond," asked Glorfindel.
Elrond shook his head.
"Thank you, my friend. I suspect it might be better this time if only his brothers sought him out. He would be made to feel less conspicuous than if the balrog-slayer rode to the rescue."
Glorfindel nodded.
"I understand, Elrond. Should he not be found within a reasonable length of time, however—"
"You may be sure that I will call upon you."
Elladan and Elrohir arose then and bade their father farewell. They were accustomed to riding on a moment's notice and were soon at the stable collecting their horses.
"Elrohir," Elladan suggested as they rode through the gates of Rivendell, "I do not think it will be necessary to travel all the way to the border to pick up Anomen's trail."
"How do you mean?"
"We should start by scouring the very edges of Rivendell."
"Nonsense!" scoffed Elrohir. "Anomen always runs away from Rivendell."
"Maybe this time he is running back to Rivendell."
"But why? If he is spotted and recognized—"
"Mayhap he wants to be spotted. And recognized."
Long ago, after the battle for Dol Guldur, Elrohir had tried to hint to Anomen that Thranduil might welcome his return. But now, faced with the prospect that his friend—his brother!—might indeed act upon that knowledge, Elrohir found that his feelings were mixed. He would be happy for Anomen if that young Elf could indeed bask in the affection and respect of his father the King of Mirkwood. He suspected that Anomen had never given up longing for the King's regard. On the other hand, a reunion with Thranduil would no doubt result in Anomen's departure from Imladris. After so many centuries, Anomen was as dear to Elrohir as Elladan and Arwen, and Elrohir began to understand why Elrond might have been for a long time reluctant to permit Anomen to return to Thranduil.
"Ye-es," he said slowly. "You are probably right."
"I am glad you agree," said Elladan, a trifle smugly. "We need to find him in a hurry lest he stumble into the path of our Mirkwood guests."
"I think—no," said Elrohir reluctantly. "We have guarded his whereabouts for centuries, but perhaps he no longer desires—or needs—such protection."
Elladan was incredulous. "So we are simply going to allow him to walk into the arms of those Mirkwood Elves!?"
"If that is what Anomen wishes, yes."
"But what will Ada say!?"
"Do you truly believe that our father would prevent Anomen from returning to Thranduil if that is what our brother indeed wishes to do?"
Elladan stared at Elrohir.
"But you have said it—he is our brother."
"Aye, and Thranduil's son as well."
It had been centuries since Elrohir had seen tears in Elladan's eyes.
"I am sorry, Elladan," Elrohir said softly.
"Mirkwood is so far!"
"Ah, but," said Elrohir, trying to rally his own spirits as well as his brother's, "we are immortal. Even if we should be parted from Anomen for a century, we will still have an infinite number of years to spend with him!"
Elladan tried to smile and reply in kind.
"At least we will no longer have the bother of remembering all those different names for him!"
"Right!" rejoined his brother. "No more of, if this is Mirkwood, he must be Durrandîr!"
The two brothers set their horses free to graze and began to slip through the forest surrounding Rivendell, visiting in turn each tree that was known to be a favorite haunt of Anomen. At last Elladan grabbed the sleeve of Elrohir's tunic and gestured toward an old oak tree.
"There, on that limb," he whispered, "he's sleeping."
"Good," Elrohir whispered back. "It will be easy to creep up on him."
"You mean 'easier'," his brother shot back.
Elrohir grinned and nodded. Whether Anomen was asleep or awake, it was never 'easy' to creep up on him.
Sure enough, by the time they had stolen to the trunk of the tree, Anomen was sitting up and peering down at them.
"Elladan, Elrohir, what are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here," rejoined Elrohir, "when you are supposed to be with Celaithand patrolling the border between Eregion and Dunland? Do you so lightly abandon your charge and your companions?"
"I have not placed them in peril," Anomen retorted. "Ada only sent me on patrol to get me out of the way. They had no real need of me."
Elrohir decided to cut to the heart of the matter.
"Anomen," he asked, "what is the matter? Why did you slip away from the patrol?"
"The nephew of Thranduil is among those coming to visit."
"That is true," said Elrohir, his voice neutral. He and Elladan looked at each other.
"Elrohir," continued Anomen, "didn't you once say that the nephew was sorry that the prince had vanished?"
"Yes. Tawarmaenas told me that he had been fond of the prince and that he had no desire to be king. I believe that he spoke with all sincerity."
"How could you be certain?"
"Anomen, he met my eye without flinching, and his voice was strong. He gave every appearance of uttering that which his heart truly felt."
"I wish I could believe you," said Anomen softly. "I want to believe you," he added a little more loudly. Then he shook his head and again lowered his voice.
"But it would be too awful to discover that it were not true. Anyway, I cannot risk discovery. I do not want to be dragged willy-nilly back to Mirkwood!"
"Gwador-nîn," said Elladan, "would it not be better to be certain? One way or the other you could be sure of where you stand. Whatever you learn, would it not be better than living forever in a state of doubt?"
"Perhaps," said Anomen slowly. But then he shook his head. "There is still the risk of being found out!"
"Oh, there need be no risk," Elrohir assured him. "Hide yourself in the garden, behind the statue of Gil-galad. Elladan and I will take Tawarmaenas walking this evening. We will linger near the statue and talk of the missing Prince."
Anomen hesitated. Then he nodded.
"Do you suppose," he added wistfully, "that you could eventually bring the conversation around to Thranduil?"
"Oh, yes," Elrohir promised. "I am sure we could manage that."
"Very well, then," said Anomen. "I will do as you suggest."
That evening Elladan watched from his window as Anomen slipped into the garden and hid behind the statue of Gil-galad. Then he went to fetch his brother, and the two of them sought out Tawarmaenas.
"Tawarmaenas," called Elladan, "come walk with us in the garden. It is an exceptionally fine evening."
Tawarmaenas cheerfully complied. He liked the twins, he liked gardens, and he liked walking.
Once in the garden Elladan and Elrohir gradually steered their guest toward the statue of Gil-galad.
"Tawarmaenas," said Elrohir when their visitor lingered too long before a fountain, "come and see this statue. Our father says that it was sculpted by Gondmaenas, the elven artist who was said to have been trained by the Dwarves of Moria.
His interest captured, Tawarmaenas moved toward the statue and began to admire it.
"It is indeed impressive!"
He began to walk around the statue.
"Tawarmaenas," called an alarmed Elladan. "Look at that butterfly. Have you ever seen one like it?"
Tawarmaenas turned to look where Elladan pointed.
"Why, that is a very common butterfly in the clearings of Greenwood. Is it rare hereabouts?"
"Oh, yes," Elladan assured him. "I have never seen it on that plant before."
Which was quite true. Elladan had never before spied the insect on that particular plant.
Elrohir sat down upon a patch of moss.
"Let us recline upon the bosom of Arda so that the declining sun may caress us."
Elladan choked. 'Recline upon the bosom of Arda so that the declining sun may caress us'!? Had Elrohir been dipping into one of the romances that Glorfindel kept hidden in his wardrobe? Oh, this would be good for several weeks of chaffing, at the very least! Struggling to keep a straight face, Elladan plopped himself upon the grass and patted the space next to him. Tawarmaenas sat down beside him, and the three young Elves began to talk lightly of their various adventures. At length Elladan asked Tawarmaenas about the training he was receiving.
"This journey no doubt has given you some idea of the matters that you will someday need to consider when negotiating treaties."
"Yes, I suppose it has. No doubt most treaties will be negotiated when my cousin is in residence, but on occasion he may be absent when some issue needs to be addressed. It will be good for me to be prepared so that I may acquit myself honorably in his stead."
"Have you heard aught of your cousin?'
"Oh, yes," Tawarmaenas said eagerly. "When we crossed the plain between Greenwood and the Misty Mountains, we sheltered one night with Beorn the Shapechanger. He told me that his father once protected a light-haired elfling who likely was traveling from Greenwood to Lothlórien. I am sure that it was Laiqua! For who else could it have been? No other elfling has gone missing from Greenwood."
"So it is near certain that he did not fall prey to spiders."
Tawarmaenas shook his head vehemently.
"Certainly not! Moreover, the Lady Galadriel vouchsafed me a vision. I saw Laiqua grown up, and I saw myself in the throne room but as Steward, not King."
"You looked in Galadriel's Mirror!" exclaimed Elladan and Elrohir together. They looked at Tawarmaenas enviously. The twin sons of Elrond had never been permitted to look in the mirror. Nor would they be likely to do so any time in the near future. Elladan shot Elrohir an accusing look. Whatever had possessed him to go and pour a bottle of Dorwinion wine into their grandmother's basin? Well, never mind. Elladan returned his attention to Tawarmaenas.
"Steward. That is good."
"Aye," agreed Tawarmaenas. "It would be a shame if the trouble my masters have taken in training me were all for naught, although it would be even worse if Laiqua were not to return. When he does return, everyone will be satisfied and happy, and the King not least of all!"
"Indeed?"
"Oh, yes. He grieved for the longest time. He still grieves, I think, but he has accepted that he must take responsibility for the kingdom, no matter how great his sorrow."
"He never grieved in public, though," observed Elrohir.
Tawarmaenas shook his head.
"No, he did not. Instead, he would sit in Laiqua's room, where no one else is allowed, save Gilglîr upon occasion. I would peek in around the corner, and there he would be. He would cry a little and hug to his chest one of Laiqua's old toys—indeed, it was his only toy, I think."
Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, stunned. Their amazement, however, was nothing as compared to Anomen's.
'My father wept for me. My father wept for me. My father wept for me'. The words pounded through his head like the hoof beats of a galloping horse. Tawarmaenas and the twins may have gone on talking after that, but Anomen heard no more.
At length Anomen came back to himself. The garden was empty, and much time must have passed, for Anomen found himself gazing up at the stars. Then something blocked out the shimmering points of light. It was a hat, a wide-brimmed hat. Gandalf's hat. The wizard held a plate in one hand and a goblet in another.
"Elladan and Elrohir thought you would be hungry and thirsty," the Istar said simply.
Dazed, Anomen sat up and gratefully accepted plate and glass.
"Gandalf, I did not know you had returned to Rivendell. Ever you—"
"—come unlooked for. Yes, I know. How do you feel?'
"Dizzy."
"Eat a little. Even an Elf will become weak if he goes too long without sustenance."
Anomen took a bite of cheese and was surprised to find how hungry he was. Eagerly he devoured all that was before him. Gandalf was suitably impressed.
"Not even a Dwarf could have done better justice to that plate. Do you think you could manage a belch?"
"Gandalf!"
"Well, well, it was only a thought. And now, would you like to talk?"
"Tonight?"
"Can you think of a better time?"
"I am tired, Gandalf."
"Oh, ho, does the elfling need his sleep?"
"Yes! And I would not object in the least if the mean old wizard were to growl 'Go to bed!' at the poor little elfling."
"Very well, then: Go to bed. But do you plan to sleep under the stars? The sky is clear. It will be cold tonight."
"I can't very well climb up the trellis, Gandalf. It has been shortened and moved out of reach of the window."
"You could stroll in through the entrance. No one would stop you."
"I will be seen."
"Is that still an issue?"
"Yes."
"Why ever so?"
"I need time, Gandalf."
"I would have thought that even for an Elf a thousand years would have been sufficient."
"Gandalf, we are talking."
"Meaning?"
"I said that I did not want to talk just now."
Gandalf waved his hand dismissively.
"But as we are already talking we may as well continue."
"No. I truly am tired, mellon-nîn."
"Very well. I have a room on the ground floor. Apparently Elrond does not think that I can make the stairs! I will go around and be sure that nothing blocks the window."
"Thank you, Gandalf."
For the next fortnight, Anomen spent his days in Gandalf's chamber. The time did not lie too heavily upon his hands. He whiled away hours in the perusal of the various volumes of lore that Gandalf requested from the library. Erestor himself delivered them and always took the opportunity to sit with Anomen for a spell. Elladan and Elrohir kept finding reasons to go to Gandalf's chamber to seek advice and counsel from the wizard, and Glorfindel and Elrond likewise found it necessary to consult their old friend. Gandalf's room became a regular hub of activity. As for the servants, they delivered and removed plates and clean linen, all the while not seeming to notice the young Elf who kept carefully out of view of the window.
Anomen refused to speak of the incident in the garden for several days. At last the wizard prevailed upon him to talk a little.
"Anomen, from what Tawarmaenas has said, it is plain that Thranduil misses his son."
"I don't think it is plain at all, Gandalf."
"I do not understand."
"Gandalf, when I knew Tawarmaenas, of all Elves he was the most sweet-tempered. He offered his affection unstintingly to all, and he trusted everyone. Given the slightest excuse, he would think well of a person. I am surprised that he has grown up able to think ill even of Orcs!"
"Pray spare me the hyperbole, Anomen."
"But it is true," insisted Anomen. "No doubt Tawarmaenas finds good in Thranduil, but can I trust his judgment? Is he seeing what is really there?"
"And are you sure you are not refusing to see what is there?"
"Gandalf, why should the situation change? I am happy."
"You are."
Anomen arose and began to pace in agitation.
"Gandalf, I am not responsible for his unhappiness."
"I did not say that you were," replied Gandalf calmly. "Yet you were not responsible for the happiness of Frodo's kin, and you freely chose to restore him to them, thus securing their joy for many years to come."
"Frodo had never harmed me."
"Elrohir mistreated you several times when you were younger, yet you would have died for him."
"Elrohir made a mistake. He is sorry now."
"Thranduil made a mistake. He is sorry now," echoed Gandalf.
"Elrohir was young; the young may be forgiven. Thranduil was older, and he should have taken responsibility for his son! As he had no love to spare for his son, he cannot expect his son to have any to spare for him!"
Gandalf was unmoved by Anomen's vehemence.
"Say not that Thranduil loved his son too little, but that he loved his wife too much."
"Those words are too easily spoken; soon you will be as glib as Saruman!"
Gandalf was both startled and angry.
"I will not listen to you speak ill of the head of my order!"
"I am old enough to speak as I wish."
"Old enough, but not wise enough!"
A knock was heard at the door.
"Enter!" barked Gandalf.
Erestor opened the door a crack and peered cautiously around its edge.
"If I did not know better," offered the tutor, "I would say that the Dark Lord has crept even within the walls of the dwelling of the Lord of Imladris. For when friends quarrel, is it not a sign that the evil power has found a foothold?"
Upon hearing those words, both Anomen and Gandalf looked as silly as they felt. Simultaneously, they turned to each other and spoke as one.
"I am sorry, mellon-amin."
"Ah," said Erestor gleefully, "you are literally in accord—metaphorically, too, I hope."
"Tell me, Erestor," said Gandalf. "Have you never met a metaphor you didn't like?"
"Ah, you stutter, Gandalf," replied Erestor, grinning wickedly. "As for me, I truly can't remember ever having 'met a for'."
Both Anomen and Gandalf groaned.
"Out! Out!" they both shouted.
"Still in accord, I see," chuckled Erestor as he ducked from the room.
After he was gone, Anomen grew serious.
"I have trusted you this far; you have not led me astray. Forgive me. I was wrong to question you."
"There is nothing to forgive, Anomen. I should not have pushed you so hard."
The wizard sighed and rubbed his face.
"I don't know about you, 'elfling', but this old Man is tired. Pray remove your gear from the mattress so that I may have the use of my bed! And tonight, when you make up your pallet, do not lay it directly in the path to the antechamber! I had to arise during the night, and I tripped over you."
"I know," grinned Anomen.
"Oh, and you find that funny!?"
"Your language was!"
"Ah, so you see," Gandalf rallied him, "that I am in no danger of becoming as 'glib' as Saruman."
To that, Anomen made no answer. Privately, however, he thanked Manwë for the truth of Gandalf's words. In spite of their late quarrel, he knew that he would always prefer his friend's speech, no matter how blunt, to the blandishments of the Istar of Isengard.