Andi-Black: You really like this 'ew' stuff, don't you? Hmmm.

Blessing of Earendil: It's 'sister'. And thanks! Oh, wait a minute. (Author sees whip unfurling, crawls under desk—from which, may I point out, she is unable to type. Hah!)

Thereisnotryonlydo: As you wish.

Neddie: I guess I am very cautious about the ratings. I suppose I could have rated the story PG-13. But, what with Wollust getting his eyes gouged out and his genitals mutilated, I thought I'd play it safe.

Kel: Well, you are right in suspecting that the rescue does not go completely smoothly. There will be a couple of hitches.

Karri: Yes, there is considerable risk involved. Things will get dicey there for a little while.

Legosgurl: Breathe! Breathe! And, yes, I will update "Things Fall Apart" soon.

Joee: The escape plan will be put into effect in this chapter.

Dragonfly: You're right: the rescue won't go completely smoothly. As for Wollust, yes, he wasn't eaten alive—emphasis on the alive.

Beta Reader: Dragonfly

Green and Gold: Chapter 5

With the knife hidden in the pile of sticks carried by Elrohir, the twins returned to the camp. Elrohir laid his wood near Anomen. He pulled out a stick and carefully fed it to the fire. The Cat looked at him approvingly.

"You have found a way to make yourself useful without waiting to be told. Good. If you show your new master such eagerness to please, you will fare well. Most masters have no desire to hurt their servants, for then they do not get as much work out of them. Indeed, many a master will show favor to a slave such as you, one who is willing to work hard without complaining."

Elrohir looked down to hide his face as he thanked the Cat for his words, but the Man mistook the gesture for one of subservience and was pleased all the more.

"You may get on with the business of tending the fire," he said grandly. He arose and swaggered off.

Elrohir pulled out another stick and slowly fed it to the fire. Then he handed a stick to Anomen.

"Anomen," he whispered, "feed this to the fire. When you have done, I will hand you several more sticks. In their midst you will find Glorfindel's knife. You must keep it handy but hidden."

Anomen gave no sign that he had heard, either by expression or gesture. He used his stick to stir the fire, and then tossed it upon the flames. Elrohir handed him the pile of sticks. Anomen took the uppermost one and fed it to the fire with one hand while surreptitiously drawing Glorfindel's blade from the pile of wood with the other. He slipped it under his tunic, pushing it so that the rope tied around his waist would hold the knife in place. Picking up another stick, he continued feeding the fire while Elrohir whispered more instructions.

"Glorfindel says that Elladan and I must return to the forest. After we are gone, see if the Cat will let you go into the forest as well, even if only with a guard. Glorfindel's warriors will deal with the guard, you may be sure!"

Anomen gave a slight, scarcely perceptible nod to show that he understood. After awhile, Elrohir arose and called to his twin.

"Elladan," he said, "we must gather more wood." The Cat, who had just returned to the fire, nodded approvingly as the two made for the forest. For awhile they stayed within view, at the very fringes of the trees. Hoping that the Cat's suspicions had been lulled by the fact that Elladan and Elrohir remained within sight, Anomen asked if he might go into the forest to make water. The Cat shook his head.

"As soon as those two return with the wood, I myself will take you into the forest."

Anomen played at being younger than he was. "I really have to go," he whined, shifting from leg to leg in a passable imitation of the bursting-bladder dance.

"Then make water where you stand," ordered the Cat.

"I don't want to, not in front of everybody!"

"Oh, aren't you a fine one," scoffed the Cat. "Don't want to display your goods! Well, you'll have to get over your shyness soon enough. I'll be doing you a favor if I make you start now. Cease your mewling and make water!"

"I don't think I have to make water after all," whimpered Anomen.

The Man laughed at his discomfiture, and fortunately for Anomen he did not press the matter. The elfling now made himself as small as possible and awaited further developments. At the sound of a bird call, Elrohir and Elladan disappeared into the forest, and for the first time Anomen realized that he had heard that bird in only one other place—the land of Lothlórien. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

Suddenly arrows were flying in from all sides, and Anomen flattened himself on the ground and prayed that he was about to be rescued. But Wollust had been right when he described the Cat as clever, for he immediately ordered his Men to charge toward the woods. They obeyed him without question. Even though they were heading toward the elven archers, this was in fact their best option. If they remained in the clearing, the Elves would simply pick them off. Instead, many would fall as they ran toward the woods, but those who reached the shelter of the trees might be able to beat off the Elves. It was plain that, although arrows had been loosed from all directions, the number of Elves could not be great. The Men would have the advantage of numbers if they could get under cover.

As the Cat had given the order, he had seized Anomen, and he held him up as a shield as he sprinted for the trees. Fortunately, he had flung his arms around the elfling's chest and did not feel the knife that was hidden at Anomen's side, under his loose tunic.

Once the Cat reached the relative safety of the forest, he threw Anomen upon the ground. "Stay by him," he ordered one of the Men, before sprinting off to rally the other survivors. The Man drew his sword and glared down at the elfling.

"Don't give me any trouble, elf-brat. You have less value by the minute."

Young as he was, Anomen understood why his value was plummeting. From the shrieks of injured and dying Men, he knew that things were still going badly for the humans—and therefore, ironically, his own situation was increasingly perilous, for the Men would slay him if it were plain that all was lost. If an Elf happened upon him quickly, well and good. Otherwise, he needed to break away before either his guard took it into his head to kill him or the Cat returned to do so. Yes, Anomen decided, he had to run for it, and he had to try to prevent any pursuit.

Moving his hands ever so slowly, his back half-turned, Anomen eased Glorfindel's knife out from under his tunic and then cautiously looked up at the Man who stood watch beside him. The human was gazing anxiously into the surrounding cover. Anomen took a deep breath and drove Glorfindel's knife deep into the Man's calf. The Man screamed and reached down to try and seize hold of Anomen, who, wisely, did not attempt to recover the knife but at once rolled to one side, then leaped to his feet and dove into the surrounding brush. Behind him the Man swore and tried to limp after him but quickly abandoned the attempt, collapsing to the ground and groaning piteously. Rocking back and forth, he was afraid to draw forth the blade because Anomen had been lucky in his blow, and the Man knew that he would likely bleed to death if the knife were removed without a tourniquet being applied at once.

Anomen had made his move none too soon. Nearby, the Cat had just abandoned his position—and his Men—for he deemed the situation to be hopeless. He had been hastening back to where he had left Anomen when he heard the guard scream. The Man quickened his pace, and when he came upon the guard, he realized at once that Anomen had escaped by his own devices, for the guard was still alive, as would not have been the case if any Elves had come upon him and his captive. This meant it might be possible for the Cat to recapture Anomen, and the Man vowed to himself that he would hack the elfling to pieces if he did manage to lay his hands upon him.

"Which way has the brat gone?" demanded the Cat.

"Into the brush over yonder," replied the wounded Man, pointing with one hand and clutching his leg with the other.

"Good," said the Cat curtly. By way of thanks, with one powerful swing of his sword, he decapitated the unfortunate guard.

"Incompetent fool," he muttered as he plunged into the brush in pursuit of Anomen. "Couldn't even keep hold of one elf-brat."

Anomen was making his way frantically through the undergrowth, and, unfortunately, in his haste he was leaving a clear trail of broken and bent branches and boughs. The Cat had no difficulty in tracking him. Anomen heard a sound and looked over his shoulder. There, only a few yards away, stood the Cat, grinning and hefting a dripping blade.

For the next several minutes, a deadly game of cat and mouse was played out amidst the trees. Anomen dodged around and around the tree trunks as the Man feinted at him with his sword. Anomen had the advantage of elven grace and speed, but he was very young, and the Man had the advantage of age and experience.

By this time, all the other Men had fallen, either wounded or slain, and the Elves were anxiously beating the bush in search of Anomen. Anomen tried to call out as he heard them shouting his name, but the Man pressed him so hard he was never able to draw enough breath to do so effectually.

It was Glorfindel who came upon Anomen's decapitated guard. At once the balrog-slayer recognized the blade that protruded from the Man's leg. That would have been Anomen's work, he knew, but the elfling could never have wielded the knife with enough force to hack off a Man's head. Glorfindel instantly saw how it had been: Anomen had wounded his guard and fled; another Man had come along—the Cat, probably—and in his anger had slain the guard before going off in pursuit of Anomen. If he caught the young one, he would kill him. Bow in hand, Glorfindel hastily set off on the trail of Man and elfling. Heedless of all obstacles, he bulled his way through the forest in a fashion that would have done an Orc proud.

As Glorfindel was frantically racing through the forest, the Cat had at last succeeded in trapping Anomen against a tree trunk. His feline instincts aroused, with his sword the Man poked and prodded at the elfling.

"Thought you could escape me," he hissed. "But you've only succeeded in providing me with some entertainment."

Anomen sank to the ground and huddled into a ball. Peeking out, he saw Cat raise his sword to deliver the killing blow. The elfling squeezed his eyes shut.

Glorfindel had at last caught up with Anomen and Cat and was a horrified witness to this tableau of murder. To his dismay, he couldn't get a clear shot at the Man. Dropping his bow, he charged through the brush even faster than before, his momentum breaking saplings, and he threw himself toward Anomen, landing on the elfling as the Cat's sword descended. The sword pierced the balrog-slayer's shoulder, and he quickly rolled off Anomen, his move wrenching the Cat's weapon out of his hand. Then he drew his own sword and thrust forward and down, disemboweling the Man. Glorfindel was grimly satisfied when he noticed that the blow had cut the Man through to the crotch.

"Taste of your own medicine," he said to himself as he stood above the dying Man. "I suppose I ought to put you out of your misery, but, really, what with my injured shoulder, I think I only had the one blow in me."

Fortunately for the Cat, Berenmaethor came up just then. He canted his eyebrows at Glorfindel and then knelt beside the Cat and cut his throat. Then he arose and addressed Glorfindel, who was stooping over Anomen to assure himself that the elfling was, in the main, unharmed.

"You seem to have sprouted an appendage in your shoulder."

"I know," Glorfindel replied calmly. "A trifle painful, I must say."

"Would you like me to draw it forth?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all."

As he listened wide-eyed to the banter between the warriors, the events of the past days at last became altogether too much for Anomen, and he fainted.

"Wish I could do that," said Glorfindel wistfully, looking down at the unconscious elfling.

"Oh, by all means, feel free," said Berenmaethor as he laid one hand on Glorfindel's shoulder and gripped the sword hilt with the other. "As usual, I am going to count to three."

"Of course."

"One, two—"

"Ow!"

Also as usual, Berenmaethor had yanked at 'two'. This was an old joke between the two friends. Glorfindel had first pulled the trick on Berenmaethor a thousand or so years ago, and they had been trading off ever since.

Berenmaethor quickly and efficiently bandaged Glorfindel's shoulder—one gets very good at this sort of thing over the course of centuries—and then the balrog-slayer knelt down beside Anomen, who was beginning to stir. The elfling gazed up at a hazy globe the color of the sun. Gradually the scene resolved itself, and he found himself looking at Glorfindel, his face framed by his golden hair.

"You're not green," Anomen said confusedly.

Glorfindel snorted.

"I should say not! I'm no leprechaun or any other such imaginary creature. Can't you see that I am an Elf and no figment of your imagination?"

Anomen reached out and seized Glorfindel's hand. Yes, he was real enough.

Glorfindel's manner softened, and he gave a little squeeze to the small hand within his large one. Then he cleared his throat and tried to reassert himself as the balrog-slayer.

"Well," he said gruffly, "you and your brothers have given us all a dreadful turn."

"I'm sorry, Lord Glorfindel," said Anomen humbly. "Truly I am."

"You'll be even sorrier when your Adar sets you to laboring when you return to Imladris."

"Oh, no," said Anomen earnestly. "I don't think I could possibly be sorrier than I am now. You are hurt, and it is my fault. I will be so very glad to do any task set by you or Lord Elrond because then I can make up for some of the pain I have caused you—although I know I can never make up for it altogether!"

Glorfindel found that he once again had to clear his throat.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that, my lad. We all make mistakes, and we all pay for them. When you have paid for your mistake—you already have begun to!—there will be an end of it."

"Do you really think so?" said Anomen hopefully.

"I do indeed," said Glorfindel firmly. "And now let us go to where your brothers have been hidden. After we've looked you over and seen to your injuries, we'll be able to make for Imladris."

Anomen's hand still in Glorfindel's, balrog-slayer and elfling went off in search of Elladan and Elrohir.