Here is another adventure set back in the time when Anomen was still 'finding his feet' at Rivendell and inclined to run away if he felt slighted or uneasy. This means that Elrohir is still in his 'bully' incarnation. Sorry!
I have just found out that someone nominated one of my stories for a 2004 My Precious Award for LOTR fanfiction in the category of Humor. I don't know who nominated the story, but whoever you are, thanks!
Anomen was sulking.
This was, of course, most uncharacteristic of the elfling, who, while not the noisiest of the younglings—Elrohir held that distinction—was almost always happy in a quiet sort of way.
But today he was sulking.
None of the grown-ups, however, knew that he was sulking because, since he was sulking, he had made himself scarce. To be precise, he was hiding far above the ground, in the crown of an old oak in an obscure corner of the grounds of the Hall. He had been there since the noon meal, and now the evening meal drew near.
"Elrond," said Glorfindel after he had seated himself at the table and helped himself to a portion of bread and cheese, "why did Anomen not come to his archery lesson today? Was he being punished for some transgression?"
Elrond raised an eyebrow.
"If he was being punished, 'twas not by me. Erestor, did he misbehave this morning?"
"No. He acquitted himself quite well in the library—unlike certain other elflings I could mention."
Elrohir and Elladan looked down at their plates, a not uncommon occurrence as they generally spent a part of each meal trying to avoid the eyes of their elders.
"I wonder," mused Elrond, "if he fell afoul of the Armorer or the Cook—although usually they send me word when they set an elfling to doing chores."
"Perhaps," suggested Glorfindel, "he has done something naughty and is hiding to avoid being set to chores."
"Well," said Erestor briskly "whatever the cause of his absence, hunger will drive him out."
"You underestimate him," said Elrond wryly. "Remember that he of all the elflings is the most skilled at purloining food from the kitchen. But perhaps Elrohir and Elladan can help us solve this mystery."
He turned to these elflings, who were still studying their plates.
"Elladan, Elrohir, why did Anomen not appear for his archery lesson today?"
"I am not sure," Elrohir said cautiously.
"Not sure?" said Elrond. "Yet in spite of your lack of surety, perchance you can tell us something?"
"Not sure," repeated Elrohir stubbornly.
Elrond's other eyebrow went up. Elrohir was not usually so reserved.
"Elrohir, in spite of the fact that you are 'not sure', tell me whatever you know. I should very much like to have Anomen's whereabouts accounted for before it grows any darker."
"Um, well, he may have taken offense at something."
"At 'something'—as in something that was said to him?"
"Perhaps," said Elrohir noncommittally.
"As in something that was said to him by one of his comrades?"
"Um, very likely."
"Elrohir said he wasn't wanted!" Elladan suddenly burst out. He had been grieving for Anomen all afternoon, and now he glared at his brother.
"Not wanted? What do you mean?"
"Elrohir said that you kept him here only as a favor to Mithrandir, who couldn't be bothered with him himself."
Everyone looked shocked. That had been a very mean thing to say. To give Elrohir some credit, he looked dreadfully miserable just then.
"Elrohir," said Elrond sternly, "tomorrow you and I will discuss this matter at length. For now, however, it is of the greatest importance that we find Anomen at once. I do not want him roaming about, sad and miserable, in the dark and therefore perchance heedless of peril."
Unfortunately, even as Elrond was speaking, a sad and miserable Anomen was in fact slipping down from his tree and marching away with great determination. He had resolved that he would leave Imladris and go in search of Gandalf.
"I'll show Elrohir!" he said to himself. "Mithrandir couldn't keep me before because I was too young. But now I'm older and can look out for myself, and I wouldn't inconvenience Mithrandir if I joined him. I won't be a burden, and he may even be glad of my company. I can fetch firewood and water and make his tea! And the next time Mithrandir visits Rivendell, I shall stand by his side, and Elrohir will be sorry. He'll say, 'Won't you stay? Please, won't you stay?' And Elrond will, too. But I won't!"
Of course, it is an interesting fact that Anomen was walking on the forest floor as he indulged in these thoughts. Generally, Anomen's preferred mode of escape was by springing from branch to branch, as he knew it was very difficult for even an Elf to track his arboreal progress. Yet, curiously, here he was walking on the ground—stomping, really—and even Erestor could probably have followed his trail.
Several months ago Elrond had noticed that Anomen tended to gravitate toward one tree in particular, the ancient oak, and he and Glorfindel hurried to it.
"Ah hah!" exclaimed Glorfindel, pointing to the base of the tree. "Our youngling has indeed been here, and yonder he has gone—and most carelessly, I must say!"
Elrond smiled knowingly.
"Yes, he will certainly not be difficult to track. The moon is full tonight, and with such a clear trail, we should find him shortly."
It felt more like an evening stroll than a search for an errant elfling as they followed the plainly marked trail, each of Anomen's footprints having been pressed deeply into the dirt.
"This represents progress," muttered Elrond. "Running away, but carefully leaving a trail so that we will fetch him home again. Remarkable, really."
"What are you carrying on about?" said Glorfindel.
"I was thinking that Anomen has really grown quite attached to us."
Glorfindel stared at him.
"May I remind you that Anomen is at this moment running away from us?"
"Of course, and thereby demonstrating how very fond he is of us."
"You have been spending too much time with Mithrandir," growled Glorfindel, "for you speak in paradoxes."
"Glorfindel, tell me. If an elfling wanted to be convinced that he was loved, which would he find more reassuring: receiving a good-night kiss at the end of a day when he has been very well-behaved, or receiving one at the end of a day when he has been very naughty?"
"Hmmm. I see. And I suppose the lesson I am to draw from this example is that an elfling who is not sure he is wanted can prove to himself that he is by running off and seeing if anyone takes the trouble to come after him."
"Exactly."
"Then by all means let us hasten to find him!" Glorfindel declared fiercely. "I mean," he added quickly, "this is a tiresome way to spend an evening, and I would much rather be relaxing with a glass of wine in front of a crackling fire."
Elrond kept a grave expression on his face, but inside he was laughing. He knew perfectly well that Glorfindel was quite fond of Anomen but that the weapons-master was simultaneously convinced that he had to uphold his reputation as the stern-faced balrog-slayer.
"Very well, Glorfindel. We shall find him as quickly as we may so that you will be able to enjoy a leisurely evening in the Hall of Fire."
The two strode on, continuing to follow the elfling's trail with little or no trouble. Suddenly, however, the trail vanished.
"Now that is strange," said Elrond. "He is trying to make himself scarce after all."
Glorfindel carefully examined the ground.
"True. He is trying to make himself scarce, but not in order to elude us. There are wolf tracks at the base of this tree."
"Ai! Wolf tracks! Now what possessed us to come away without our weapons!?"
Dismayed, the two Elves looked at one another. Each was armed only with the knife that all Elves carried about at all times. Glorfindel was the first to recover his equanimity.
"Do not be troubled, Elrond. It is unheard of for wolves to attack two full-grown Elves. Moreover, this is naught but a lone wolf. See. From the tracks it is plain that this wolf is lame. Crippled, it has been forced out of its pack, and hunger drives it to behave in a fashion atypical for its kind."
"I am well aware," said Elrond impatiently, "that wolves generally do not molest full-grown Elves. But it was not of ourselves that I was thinking. Pray remember that it is an elfling whom the wolf stalks."
"It is true," acknowledged Glorfindel, "that Anomen is an elfling, and smaller even than most younglings of his age, and so the wolf thinks perchance he can bring him down. However, as Anomen is safe in a tree, it does not matter that the wolf hunts him. He merely need stay out of its reach. Let us continue the search."
"You are overlooking one important fact, Glorfindel," replied Elrond, only partly mollified.
"What is that?"
"It is as difficult as Mordor to track any Elf through the treetops, and our task is made the harder because it is Anomen whom we pursue!"
"You are right," conceded Glorfindel, chagrined. "I had forgotten. But at least the moon is full, and as Anomen wishes to be found, he will take care to leave signs."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps, unnerved by the fact that a hungry wolf paces beneath him, he will forget everything save moving surreptitiously through the trees."
Glorfindel sighed.
"I suppose the only thing to do is climb this tree and look for traces of him."
Elrond sighed, too.
"I suppose I had better disencumber myself."
He undid the fastenings of his robe and then, dressed only in his tunic and leggings, he leaped up and laid hold of a branch from which to spring into the tree. Glorfindel followed suit. Had anyone witnessed their passage from branch to branch, he would scarcely have been able to guess how many Ages they had dwelled upon Middle Earth, so effortlessly did they move through the treetops as they searched for signs of the missing elfling.
Ai! Elrond was right. When Anomen had spied the wolf skulking in the undergrowth, he had forgotten everything save scampering out of the predator's reach. The Elves could find no sign of his passage. At last, stymied, they sat side by side on a large tree limb. Suddenly Glorfindel began to laugh. Elrond looked at him in amazement.
"I fail to see the humor in the fact that an elfling is alone in the forest at night and being tracked by a wolf!"
"We are fools, Elrond."
"Speak for yourself, Glorfindel!" retorted Elrond indignantly.
"Anomen is being tracked by a wolf, undoubtedly by scent alone. Now, the wolf does leave tracks upon the ground, ones which we can find. Ergo, we should be tracking the wolf."
"Who will thereby lead us to Anomen!" finished Elrond.
"Exactly."
Feeling a little silly, the two Elves swung down from the tree and began to rapidly follow the trail of the wolf.
This clever plan would have worked quite well, had it not been for the fact that at about this time Anomen was engaging in some cleverness of his own. He had been springing from tree to tree in an effort to shake the wolf, but the beast was doggedly pursuing him. No doubt, lame as it was, the wolf had learned to rely heavily upon its sense of smell, so no matter how quietly or how quickly the elfling moved, the wolf caught up with him again. Now the elfling was perched in a tree looking down at the wolf that guarded its base.
"However am I to get shut of that wolf?" wondered Anomen despairingly. "His sense of smell is much too keen. Ah, that's it. I've got to give him something to keep his nose occupied whilst I slip away!"
Anomen looked about him until he spied a gnarled branch that he thought might do. It was a green branch and so could not be easily broken from the tree, but he sawed at it with his knife until he was able to pull it free. Then he used the same knife to prick his finger. Squeezing blood from the small wound, he smeared it onto the branch. Meanwhile, at the smell of blood the wolf had grown quite alert and was pacing at the bottom of the tree.
"Hah! That's got his attention!" exulted Anomen. Careful to keep out of sight of the wolf, the elfling whipped the branch back and then threw it with all his might into the neighboring tree, where it caught on a branch and dangled. Attracted by the noise and then captured by the scent, the wolf fixed his attention upon that tree. Meanwhile, Anomen was quietly scampering off in the opposite direction.
Shortly after Anomen had thus succeeded in making his escape, Elrond and Glorfindel arrived on the scene. The wolf had settled down to wait under the decoy tree, but, perceiving the approach of two full-grown Elves, he now arose and skulked away. Elrond and Glorfindel hastened to the base of the tree and looked up hopefully. They saw no one.
"Anomen," called Elrond, thinking that the elfling was perhaps hidden in the crown. No answer.
"Look," said Glorfindel, pointing, "that species of wood has no business in this tree."
Glorfindel picked up an old chunk of wood from the forest floor and flung it into the tree, knocking Anomen's branch loose. He bent down to pick it up.
"The base of this branch has been cut with a knife," he observed, "and it has been smeared with blood."
"No doubt elfling blood," said Elrond, torn between pride at Anomen's cleverness and disappointment over the fact that he had slipped off before they could reach him.
"Now how are we to track him?" brooded Glorfindel. "No doubt he has taken such a fright that he will not soon return to the forest floor."
Elrond nodded gloomily.
"I think," he said reluctantly, "that we had best return to the Hall. Eventually Anomen will make his way home, and we will simply have to patiently wait until he does."
"But he will not know how badly we wished to find him!" exclaimed Glorfindel, appalled.
"Elladan will tell him that we went in search of him," Elrond pointed out.
"True—if he returns to hear the tale! But what if he is doubtful of his welcome and wanders on? We can by no means be certain that he will come back to Rivendell!"
Elrond nodded unhappily.
"You are right, Glorfindel, but I do not see how we can track him."
"I will not leave off searching for him," said the balrog-slayer with such vehemence that his friend was taken aback. "You may return to the Hall, but I will not!"
Elrond shook his head.
"No, I will go with you. We shall simply have to contrive to be as clever as Anomen, as impossible as that may seem."
"As clever as Anomen," said Glorfindel thoughtfully. "He has given a wolf the slip; what would his next move be?"
"I am certain he hoped that we would catch him," observed Elrond, "but the wolf spoiled his plans. If he were sure of his welcome, he would turn back. But either pride or fear—or both—may keep him from doing so."
"If he were reluctant to return to Rivendell, where would he go, Elrond?"
"He would seek out Mithrandir."
"Who has no fixed abode!" cried Glorfindel in frustration.
"True, but there are some places that he frequents with some regularity. When he visited us last, he said he meant to journey on to Lothlórien, for he was desirous of consulting with Galadriel and Celeborn over some matter."
"Did Anomen know this?"
"To my knowledge he was not in the room during this conversation," said Elrond. "But," he added wryly, "that does not mean that he was not there!"
As frustrating as the situation was, Glorfindel could not help but laugh.
"Yes," he chuckled, "I have never met an elfling who could slip so easily into such a variety of odd corners."
"Well," he continued briskly, shaking off his humor, "Lothlórien is certainly a possibility. He has been there before; it has that in its favor. If he makes for that land, he is sure to try to cross the Misty Mountains, for he would be reluctant to enter Dunland, as he would be required to do if he wished to pass through the Gap of Rohan and so turn north again. Let us make for the nearest pass through the Misty Mountains and see if we do indeed pick up his trail."
Elrond was agreeable but suggested that they first return to the Hall.
"We must inform Erestor of our plans, as he shall have to be in charge in our absence; and, as we propose to cross the Misty Mountains, we need provisions and weapons."
Glorfindel saw the wisdom of this, and the two friends turned their steps to the Hall.
As Elrond and Glorfindel were making their way back to Rivendell, Galadriel was beckoning to Gandalf.
"Mithrandir," she said softly, "I think you should look in my mirror. I have seen a most curious sight."
Gandalf looked at her quizzically.
"A new peril that I must face?"
"'Peril' would be too strong a word. Let us call it a 'complication'."
"A complication?"
"Yes. A small complication."
Now thoroughly curious, Gandalf followed Galadriel into her glade and watched respectfully as she poured the silvery water into the basin, where it shimmered briefly before swirling about to form the pictures that allowed Galadriel to cast her mind throughout Middle Earth. Gandalf wondered if the lost palantiri had been as delightful a method of projecting one's vision. He doubted it.
Now he bent over the basin, waiting for the waters to still so that he might see what it was that Galadriel had thought so important.
"Hey!" he exclaimed suddenly, too surprised to be dignified. "Whatever is he doing wandering about in the wild!? I left him safe in Rivendell!"
"Apparently he has become misplaced."
"Misplaced? Misplaced!" spluttered Gandalf indignantly. "How can one misplace an elfling? If this is some carelessness on Elrond's part, I shall, I shall—affix his eyebrows to his ears, that's what I shall do!"
The wizard had seized his staff and begun to stomp from the clearing when he suddenly realized that he did not know where in the wild Anomen was. He returned to the basin and studied the scene intently.
"Ah," he said at last. "I know that pass. Well, my Lady, it seems that I must be off to collect my little Elf. Perhaps this time I shall bring him here, as Elrond has proved to be a most unreliable guardian."
"You are forgetting," said Galadriel, "that he has absconded from this land as well. Moreover, would you truly wish to trust him to the tender mercies of Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin?"
"Hmph!" snorted Gandalf. "Wouldn't be much worse than leaving him in the company of Elladan and Elrohir, I'd warrant. Still, I'll give Elrond a chance to explain himself before I make up my mind."
"And before you rearrange his eyebrows, I trust."
"Well, well, perhaps I spoke too hastily. Elrond makes great use of his eyebrows. Wouldn't want to tamper with them unnecessarily."
"I am glad to hear you say that," replied Galadriel gravely. She hoped the wizard would leave quickly because she didn't think she could keep a straight face much longer. Fortunately for her, Gandalf obliged by hastening from the glade and departing straightaway for the pass in the Misty Mountains toward which a tiny figure was toiling.
That tiny figure was a dejected one. Anomen walked with head down, shoulders stooped, and eyes tear-filled. It is true that he would not have minded spending time in Gandalf's company, but he had never truly meant to run away. Elrond had been right: although Anomen had not been consciously aware of it, he had been trying to leave a clear trail so that the elf-lord could find him. Had Elrond done so, that would have demonstrated to Anomen—and Elrohir!—that the elfling was indeed wanted. But the wolf had ruined this ingenious plan, and Anomen had no way of knowing that not only Elrond but Glorfindel had been diligently tracking him.
Once Anomen had eluded the wolf, he had briefly contemplated returning on his own to Rivendell, but he quickly abandoned the thought. He knew that he had been gone long enough so that it was plain to all that he had run away. To go creeping back now would be too humiliating. Elrohir would be forever rubbing his face in it. "Now I truly must find Mithrandir," he mournfully thought to himself. "I hope he won't be too dreadfully angry that I didn't stay put where he left me." Anomen hardly dared to think what he would do if Mithrandir turned him away. There was always Greenwood, of course, but the prospect of crawling back to King Thranduil was even less appealing than that of returning to Rivendell.
Now another thought occurred to Anomen. What if Mithrandir were not in Lothlórien? Anomen had run away once from the Lady of Lórien, and now he feared that his prior ungracious behavior would make the Galadhrim chary of hosting him. Perhaps if the wizard were not there to vouch for him, he would be turned away at the border. Whatever would he do then!?
Anomen came to a halt, irresolute. He was fearful of going back, but now he was equally fearful of going forward. He imagined grim Galadhrim blocking his path, bows drawn and nocked, arrows pointing at his face. He shivered. The tears that had gathered in his eyes now began to roll down his cheeks. He was, after all, only an elfling.
As he stood weeping, he suddenly remembered that there was one other place where he might seek sanctuary. Saruman had said that he would always be welcome. Saruman had said that there would always be a place for him at Orthanc. Yes, he decided. He would flee to the White Wizard.
Thus resolved, he abandoned the path to Lothlórien and turned his steps south—toward Isengard.