Dragonfly: Galadriel would find Gandalf endlessly amusing, I think.
Vicki Turner: Turn away from nice, nice Saruman? But why? Mwah hah hah hah.
Joee: Aaaaargh! You are evil! Now I have all sorts of scenarios running through my mind by which Elrond could lose his eyebrows! Aaaaaaaaaaaah! (Author runs screaming into the night.)
Mystwing: Perhaps, just perhaps, Gandalf finds him but that still doesn't save him from Saruman. I'm just being hypothetical here, mind you.
Karri: Yes, Anomen is one sad little elfling right now, thanks to Elrohir, who is such a brat sometimes.
Beta Reader: Dragonfly.
Saruman drew the cloth from the Palantír, one of the few Seeing Stones to have survived the wreck of the kingdom of Westernesse. He had no great expectations of seeing anything of import that day, merely meaning to idle away a stray hour before inspecting the progress of his breeding program. For a few minutes he casually studied the scenes that flitted before him, but suddenly he peered intently into the depths of the globe.
"Oh ho!" he chortled. "That is the little elfling who was so eager to journey to Imladris—Anomen his name was, I believe. Well, it would appear that Anomen did not meet with the welcome that he anticipated from Elrond of Rivendell. So much the better for me! He comes this way, and I shall make sure that he is very well received. Oh, yes, he will have no occasion to flee my hospitality. No, nor any opportunity, neither! Once he is within Orthanc, he shall stay here under my tutelage until I am ready to employ him as a spy."
In a most excellent humor, Saruman strode off to see how the latest goblin-orc-human crossbreed had turned out. So delighted was he that Anomen had fallen back into his clutches that he surprised several half-goblins by smiling at them.
Anomen, of course, had no such reason to smile. First of all, the further he trudged from Rivendell the more heartsick he was. Secondly, since he had not really meant to run away, he had brought along no provisions. Nor did he have any weapon but his knife. He had been foraging as he journeyed, but he was hungry nonetheless. He had tasted neither meat nor bread since fleeing Imladris, and the berries and roots he had been subsisting on hardly sustained him. Moreover, he had left his cloak behind, and he had no way of making fire, for of course he was not carrying his flint and steel. Each night he sought out a hollow tree or some such shelter in which to huddle, but he never felt truly warm. A grown Elf is not as susceptible to the cold as an adult Man, but an elfling who is hungry and tired and sad can hardly be distinguished from a human child in that regard. No, Anomen had no reason to smile.
As for Gandalf, his initial indignation over what he assumed to have been Elrond's negligence had worn off, and he had thrown all his thoughts and energy into rectifying the situation. He had been hiking steadily toward the pass where he had 'seen' Anomen, and, as he had neared it, he had cheerfully expected to encounter Anomen at any moment because he had naturally assumed that Anomen would have traveled on past the point and drawn all the nearer to Lothlórien. He could not know that Anomen had abandoned that path and was now heading south toward Isengard. Thus at length a very bewildered wizard stood at the spot where Anomen had been when Gandalf had observed him in the mirror. The wizard's cheerfulness shriveled up and was replaced by fear.
"Where ever could he be?" Gandalf worried. "Could I have somehow missed him as I journeyed out from Lórien? Or has some evil befallen him? I pray that that is not the case!"
As he stood brooding, he heard someone clear his throat apologetically. He turned swiftly about. There stood Elrond and Glorfindel.
"What are you two doing here?" the wizard exclaimed angrily.
Elrond was reluctant to admit that he was searching for Anomen, although he suspected from Gandalf's indignant manner that the wizard somehow already knew that.
"Have you just come from Lothlórien, Mithrandir?"
"I have."
"Ah, before you left there, did you happen to see Anomen?"
"I did not."
"Oh. Well, did you happen to pass him on the way?"
"I did not."
Elrond looked distressed.
"How could you have failed to encounter him!? We have tracked him to this very spot! If he is neither in Lothlórien nor on the way to Lothlórien, then where is he?"
"Why are you asking me where he is? You are the one who was supposed to have taken charge of him!"
Elrond looked even more distressed and knew not what to say.
While this conversation had been taking place, Glorfindel, ever the practical one, had been carefully examining the ground. Now he spoke.
"Mithrandir has encountered Anomen neither in Lórien nor on the way to Lórien because Anomen in fact has gone elsewhere."
"Oh, that is a profound observation," said Gandalf sarcastically.
Glorfindel was not quelled.
"Truly, Mithrandir, sometimes you talk just like a human. Would you give off sniping long enough to observe these tracks?"
Gandalf could have retorted that he was, after a fashion, to be indeed counted amongst the humans, but that would have been too humiliating an admission. Therefore, he held his peace, and both he and Elrond looked where Glorfindel was pointing. They saw smallish footprints forming a trail that had been heading east but that now took a turn to the south.
Both Elrond and Gandalf shared a look of alarm.
"If he heads south along the crest of the Misty Mountains, in the end he will come to Fangorn Forest," exclaimed Elrond. "That is no place for an elfling, especially not one as trusting of trees as Anomen. He is likely to take up with the wrong sort!"
"Or be taken up by the wrong sort," said Gandalf gloomily. "Some of the trees of Fangorn Forest make the trees of the Old Forest look positively benevolent."
"Then," said Glorfindel briskly, "let us leave off quarreling one with the other and seek after the elfling. That is, after all, why we are all here, is that not so?"
Without further discussion, the three companions turned toward the south and began to follow with all possible speed the tracks left behind by an elfling who drew ever closer to Isengard.
Gandalf's fear that Anomen would be seized by a wayward tree in Fangorn Forest proved to be groundless. Perhaps the elfling was too small and harmless looking to attract their attention. If fact, although Gandalf did not realize it, Anomen was in greater danger from the Ents, the guardians of the trees. Had those ancient creatures come upon him, they would have innocently handed him over for 'safekeeping' to Saruman, just as Treebeard had done previously, for as yet they had no inkling of the treachery of the White Wizard. Of course, it is possible that Gandalf would have come to hear of this, for the Ents would have felt no need to hide the act. If so, it is also possible that Gandalf would have been able to pry the elfling loose from Saruman. The White Wizard as yet had no wish to reveal his true nature! It is likelier, however, that, had Saruman once succeeded in getting his hands on Anomen, he would have politely but persuasively suggested that, as Elrond had lost the elfling, and as Gandalf had no fixed abode, Anomen had better remain in Isengard, where he could be properly looked after. If this had happened, the War of the Ring may have turned out otherwise than it did, and the Fourth Age of Middle Earth may have died aborning.
Fortunately, however, Anomen encountered no Ents, although he desperately wished to. The tired and hungry elfling thought it would be a lovely thing to perch upon the shoulder of Treebeard or one of his kin and be borne swiftly and in comfort to the very steps of Orthanc. He peered hopefully at every likely tree, but was disappointed again and again. Wearily he plodded on.
At length Anomen began to think that he could not be too far from the Ring of Isengard. Swaying a little upon weary legs, he stopped to think how best to approach the White Wizard.
"It would not do to stagger up to the tower and collapse at his feet," he murmured to himself. "I will stop and rest a bit before I go on. Also, my mouth is so dry that I will hardly be able to address him. I should try to slake my thirst. And I ought to at least wash my face before I seek an audience with Saruman. I look very disreputable, I am sure."
He staggered about looking for a source of water for drinking and bathing. At last he spied one, a pool of rainwater in a shallow depression. He crawled to its edge.
"I hope it is safe to drink," he murmured, staring into the pool's limpid surface. While he hesitated, far away in Lothlórien the Lady Galadriel gazed intently into her mirror, willing a picture to appear. As she did so, the water in the distant pool also began to shimmer and swirl. Transfixed, Anomen stared into the water as an image began to take shape. He found himself smiling at the face of Elrond, who smiled back fondly at him. In quick succession he saw the faces of Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, Erestor, and Glorfindel. Each of them was smiling at him, yes, even Glorfindel and Elrohir. Indeed, the latter looked at him longingly, as if he wished that at that very moment they were laughing and racing together on the greensward. "I must go home," said Anomen in astonishment. "I must go home!" He did not doubt for a moment the truth of the images, although he could never explain what made him so certain of their veracity.
The images in the pool now faded away, and Anomen, sure that the water could not but be safe, leaned forward and drank greedily. After he had slaked his thirst, he staggered to his feet and began to limp off. Isengard forgotten, he made for the north.
In the tower of Orthanc, Saruman, who was gazing complacently into his Palantír, suddenly drew himself erect in consternation.
"Whatever is he doing? He has gotten himself turned about."
Vexed, Saruman summoned one of his half-goblin servants.
"An elfling is wandering in the forest to the north of Orthanc. See that he is fetched back here straight away. Mind you: I don't want him hurt; I don't even want him frightened if it can be avoided. Send out the least hideous of your lot. And be certain that all the wargs have been securely penned. I don't want any accidents befalling this elfling, for he will make a most useful servant. Do you understand?"
"Yes, master," said the servant before shuffling off. Soon a dozen servants sallied forth from Isengard and fanned out to the north, searching for the elfling's trail.
Meanwhile, sick and weary and oblivious to his pursuit by both friend and foe, Anomen trudged on as quickly as he was able, retracing his steps through the foothills of the Misty Mountains. He gave no thought to hiding his trail, and probably would have been incapable of doing so even if it had occurred to him. Thus it was that one of the half-goblins came upon the elfling's tracks.
"Oh ho," he cackled. "If I'm the first to reach the brat, there'll be a reward in it, no doubt." The greedy half-goblin scuttled off along the trail without alerting his fellows, for he had no desire to share the prize.
The further north Anomen traveled, the steeper and more broken the ground became. Slower and slower he trudged, and nearer and nearer the half-goblin drew. At last the half-goblin came upon him and broke cover. Hearing the snapping of a branch, Anomen froze and looked over his shoulder. There stood a singularly ugly human who looked more than a little like a goblin. Anomen gazed fearfully at him.
Not wishing to frighten the elfling away, Saruman's servant put on his best semblance of a smile, curling back his lips and baring his teeth as he did so.
Anomen let out a shriek at the sight of his sharp, yellow fangs.
"Here, now," squeaked the half-goblin, alarmed, "don' be doin' that!" He didn't fear that Anomen's cries would summon aid—after all, who would be about?—but he didn't want Anomen bringing the other goblins down upon them. He raised his hands in what he hoped would be a soothing gesture, but Anomen let out another shriek at the sight of his sharp claws.
"Woncher be quiet?" begged the half-goblin. "Don' know no lullabies, if that's wot ye want, but if ye come along quiet-like, I'm sure the master does."
This idea was, of course, ludicrous—Saruman singing lullabies indeed!—but the servant was desperate to keep Anomen still long enough so that he could sidle near enough to grab him. He took what he thought would be an inconspicuous step toward the terrified elfling, but it was not inconspicuous enough. Like a deer that, seemingly frozen, has watched a wolf draw near, Anomen suddenly bolted.
During all this time, Elrond, Glorfindel, and Gandalf had been traveling doggedly south, and now they were close enough to hear Anomen. At the sound of the first shriek, they had begun running in the direction from whence it came. Soon they could hear branches breaking under the feet of the half-goblin who was pursuing the elfling, and they followed in his wake.
When they caught up with the half-goblin, he had pursued his quarry to the edge of a cliff. There Anomen teetered, flailing his arms about. As the half-goblin scurried toward him, the terrified elfling lost his balance and tipped over, grabbing at roots and vines as he did so. Fortunately, the cliff was several degrees short of vertical, so Anomen was more sliding down its face than falling. Still, no doubt he would have been badly bruised if he'd tumbled all the way to the bottom. Likely he would even have broken some bones. Luckily for him, he slid feet first onto a narrow shelf of stone and so his fall was arrested.
Above him, Glorfindel, who had drawn his sword when Anomen had first screamed, charged at the half-goblin, who now went flying in different directions—head one way, torso the other. Elrond and Gandalf had meanwhile raced to the edge of the cliff. Peering anxiously over it, they saw Anomen teetering on the ledge. He looked very weak and dizzy, and both the Elf and wizard feared that he would swoon and tumble the rest of the way down the cliff. Without hesitation, both Elrond and Gandalf slid down the slope, one coming to rest on the shelf on either side of the fainting Anomen, and each simultaneously reached for the youngling.
"I've got him," shouted Elrond, grabbing Anomen's left arm and pulling him toward him.
"No, I've got him," exclaimed Gandalf, seizing his right arm and yanking Anomen toward him.
Back and forth they tugged the elfling, who, after he recovered from his faintness and initial shock, found he very much enjoyed being battled over. Glorfindel, however, soon put an end to the tug-of-war.
"Here now!" he bellowed, looking down over the edge of the cliff. "Are you trying to dislocate his shoulders? Leave off yanking him back and forth!"
Suddenly coming to their senses, Istar and Elf stood stock still, although neither of them relinquished his hold on the elfling.
"Well," said Gandalf with as much dignity as he could muster, "I am glad to see that you are trying to make good this unfortunate situation—although, if you had exercised due diligence in the first place, we wouldn't be in this unfortunate situation!"
Elrond still having use of his eyebrows, they both shot up very nearly to his hairline.
"Do remember, Mithrandir, that Glorfindel and I have tracked Anomen all the way from Imladris!"
"My point exactly," replied Gandalf haughtily.
Elrond could not make out the logic of this answer, and gave up arguing as a bad business. Instead, he turned to the matter in hand, so to speak.
"Anomen looks poorly. We had best camp hereabouts to allow him to recover his strength before we return home."
At that word Anomen inhaled sharply. Gandalf looked shrewdly at him.
"Is that agreeable to you, Anomen—to rest before you return to Rivendell?"
"Oh, yes," Anomen said eagerly.
Elrond beamed and looked a little too triumphant for Gandalf's taste, but the wizard knew Rivendell truly was the best place for the elfling.
"Very well, then," he said, "but whilst we camp I expect you to make my tea!"
Now it was Anomen's turn to look triumphant.
"Oh, yes," he said happily. "I can fetch water and I can fetch sticks and I can kindle a fire and I can boil the water and I can steep the tea leaves and I can pour the tea—"
"Enough!" exclaimed Gandalf, laughing and holding up his free hand. "I hereby declare myself convinced that you are eminently well suited to making my tea! But first we need to get you off this ledge and onto more secure footing."
Glorfindel lay on his stomach on the top of the cliff and reached down his arms as far as he could. Meanwhile, Gandalf helped Anomen scramble up until he stood on Elrond's shoulders. While Gandalf kept a steadying hand on Anomen's legs, the elfling stretched up his arms until Glorfindel was able to seize hold of his wrists and draw him up beside him. That left Elrond and Gandalf standing on the ledge.
"Now we need to contrive our own escape," observed Elrond.
"Ah, that's easily done," said Gandalf. "You give me a leg up, so that I can reach Glorfindel's arms."
"That's all very well for you, but what about me?"
"You, my dear Elrond," said Gandalf with great aplomb, "are an Elf, and Elves are renowned for their grace, strength, and sense of balance. You can therefore manage to get off this ledge on your own!"
Gandalf's argument left Elrond at a great rhetorical disadvantage, and, so, grumbling, he had no choice but to boost up the wizard and then, unaided, climb up the face of the cliff as best he could. Fortunately, Gandalf was indeed right in his assessment of elven physical prowess, and so Elrond really had no great difficulty in achieving this feat.
Once all were safely on the top of the cliff, Glorfindel suggested that they look for a likely campsite.
"We won't find any water up here," he pointed out. "We must descend to the valley."
"Actually," said Elrond thoughtfully, "we are quite near to Isengard, are we not? Instead of making camp, why should we not push on to that place? Anomen will be very well housed and fed if we do, and Saruman no doubt has a stock of herbs and simples so that we may dose him if needful."
Glorfindel and Gandalf were agreeable to this plan. Anomen, however, did not wish to hear of it. Eager as he had before been to reach Orthanc, now he was equally eager to avoid it. He had succeeded in capturing the attention of Elrond and Gandalf and even Glorfindel. If they went on to Isengard, he feared that these three would engage in endless weighty discussions with Saruman. Anomen had no mind to share his rescuers—especially not Gandalf, whom he saw so rarely, and who, because he and Saruman were of the same order, would no doubt spend even more time than Elrond and Glorfindel in the company of the White Wizard. He cast about for a way to avoid going to Isengard. He commenced by groaning a little.
"What is the matter, Anomen?" said Elrond anxiously.
"I am so very, very tired, Ada," whimpered Anomen. "I suppose I could climb down to the valley, but I don't think I could walk on to Isengard. Couldn't we make camp in the valley?"
For good measure, the elfling winced and rubbed at his legs.
"Perhaps it is most important that he rest," opined Glorfindel, "and he may do so as conveniently under the stars as in a well-appointed chamber in the tower of Orthanc. Let us do as he wishes."
"What do you think, Mithrandir?" asked Elrond.
Gandalf smiled and winked at Anomen. He was fairly sure that he understood Anomen's reason for wishing to avoid Isengard. Aloud, he said that he could think of no objection.
"Between the three of us, we have cloaks enough to see that he is kept warm and comfortable," he observed.
Having reached agreement, they descended to the valley, Glorfindel in fact carrying Anomen so he did not have to exert himself even that far. If the elfling still harbored any doubts as to the affection that his elders felt for him, now they must have vanished utterly.
Reaching the valley, they found a sheltered spot next to a brook, and Anomen was soon nestled, comfortable and content, in the cloaks of his elders, who bustled about making camp. Elrond filled a camp kettle with water, Glorfindel drew forth dried meat from his pack, and Gandalf lit a campfire. The latter usually lit fires in the ordinary fashion, with flint and steel, but as Anomen was watching, he instead kindled the fire with a dramatic flourish of his staff and the muttering of an impressive incantation. The flourish was, of course, completely unnecessary, but a successful wizard knows when to be theatrical.
In short order, two Elves, one elfling, and a wizard sat down to enjoy a meal that, thanks to Glorfindel's centuries of experience at camp cooking, would have done even the Master Cook proud. They tucked into the food with such enthusiasm that for some time no one had anything to say. At length, however, Gandalf sighed and leaned back against a tree.
"Well, Glorfindel," he said jovially, "I trust you have something extra special in mind for dessert."
With that, half-goblins came swarming into the camp.