Folks, this is the last elfling chapter for at least a week or so. I'm heading out for a conference—in Fort Lauderdale! Really, it is a conference, and I have to make a presentation. Honest.
Dragonfly: Yes, the twins and Haldir have really done it this time.
Terreis: Goodness! If I were an Orc, I would flee from you. You are as scary as Edwen Nana, what with your knocking Orcs 'upside the head'. Yes, I think it was very clever of Gandalf to use his hat in that fashion. The deuced thing finally came in handy. Ian McKellan is supposed to have hated it. On one of the extended edition commentaries, someone described how Sir Ian scrunching it up under his arm, and she wondered what the hat would look like when it reemerged. Apparently it survived Sir Ian's assault and battery very little the worse for wear. As indestructible as its owner, I guess.
Legosgurl: Marry a fanfiction? Now you're getting kinky!
Joee: A support group for Saruman? I suppose you get the Ring-Wraiths to join. And Lurtz, definitely Lurtz. He needs a little help in the area of anger management.
Beta Reader: Dragonfly
Chapter 8: Goosey Goosey Gandalf
Glorfindel and his scouts had ridden swiftly toward Lothlórien. When they reached its borders, they were challenged by sentinels who demanded that they dismount and entrust their horses to the Lórien Elves, as was customary. When Glorfindel had explained their mission, however, the urgency of that errand prompted the sentinels to permit them to retain their mounts, and the Rivendell Elves quickly journeyed on to Caras Galadhon, along the way startling many an Elf unaccustomed to spying horses from the vantage point of a flet.
When they arrived at Caras Galadhon, they were immediately escorted to the talan of the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel.
"I see that you have mislaid Anomen," the Lady said before Glorfindel even had a chance to speak. Balrog-slayer though he was, Glorfindel was abashed and strove to recover whatever honor could be salvaged from the situation.
"If I recall correctly," he answered lamely, by way of defense, "you lost him once yourself."
"Ah, but I did not lose him," replied Galadriel, smiling. "I let him go. Had I wanted to restrain him, be sure that he would even now be whiling away his time in the crest of a mallorn tree. He should not leave without my leave."
"Galadriel," Celeborn chided. "It is not like you to boast."
"I am not boasting," Galadriel answered. "How is it boasting if I speak the truth?"
"And it is the truth," Glorfindel had to admit. "Lady Galadriel is correct. It is well known that nothing can transpire in Lothlórien without her knowledge. But, my Lady, putting aside our remissness in misplacing one wayward elfling, I am sure you know that I come here in hopes that you can assist us in recovering said elfling."
"To regain your elfling, you must travel south."
"But, my Lady, we were traveling south, and we came across no trace of the lad!"
"You did not go south far enough," replied Galadriel. "He has gone to Minas Morgul."
"My Lady, how could Anomen be on his way to Minas Morgul? Again I say to you, during our entire journey south, we saw no sign of him. How could he have eluded a company of elven scouts, leaving no trace for them to find?"
"Surely an Elf knows how to elude an Elf—especially that Elf!"
"Yes," conceded Glorfindel ruefully, "Anomen is certainly unusually skilled at eluding pursuers, even elven ones. I never saw an elfling as talented as he at leaving a false trail—or no trail at all! But, my Lady, what shall I do?"
"You had better resume your journey to the south," Galadriel advised. "If you do so, you will surely retrieve at least one elfling."
At least one elfling? Whatever did that mean? But Galadriel only smiled enigmatically and shook her head.
"Make haste, Glorfindel. For your company is not the only one in pursuit of elflings this day."
More enigmatic words. Mystified, Glorfindel shook his head. There was nothing for it but to make for Minas Morgul. The balrog-slayer and his companions departed at once, their horses having been watered and their packs having been filled by the Lórien Elves whilst Glorfindel was in audience with Celeborn and Galadriel. Riding hard, the Imladris Elves rapidly regained the Plains of Rohan and commenced its crossing.
Of course, none of the other parties had stood still during the time it took for Glorfindel's band to make its detour to Lothlórien. Heading south toward Minas Morgul was Saruman's first band of Orcs, followed unwittingly—and unwillingly—by Elrohir, Elladan, and Haldir; pursuing those three hapless elflings was Saruman's second band. As Glorfindel was soon to realize, he and his company were now following in the wake of this second band—although they did not know that it was a second band. Meanwhile, Gandalf and Anomen were fleeing north from Minas Morgul, fearing lest they would be pursued by foul forces—as was indeed soon to be the case. Not to be forgotten, Taurmeldir and his scouts had retreated north from Dunland and were even now galloping through the gates of Rivendell. Dismounting and handing his horse over to an elven hostler, Taurmeldir hastened to Elrond's private chamber. "Enter" called the elven lord in response to Taurmeldir's urgent knock.
Taurmeldir scarcely paused to bow. "My Lord," he gasped. "Orcs! In Dunland! Two score at least, and very determined and reckless!"
Elrond's normally impassive face showed alarm. Had these Orcs come westward from the Misty Mountains or northward from Mordor? If the Orcs had come from the east, they may never have encountered either Anomen or Glorfindel. But if they had come from the south—
Elrond sprang to his feet.
"I will lead out a force at once," he declared. "Taurmeldir, you take charge of Imladris in my absence."
"No, my Lord," protested Taurmeldir. "I am a warrior. I and all my scouts would ride out again."
"But you are weary."
"Not so weary as to be unable to ride to the relief of our kinsmen."
"I cannot leave Imladris leaderless."
"Erestor can take charge. He will be delighted."
Normally that latter observation would have wrung a smile from Elrond's lips, but not when both his foster-son and his dear friend, not to mention many others, might have been the targets of Orcs. He nodded curtly and hastened to order that preparations be made for an immediate riding.
'It is fortunate', he observed to himself as he strode toward the stables, 'that Haldir and the twins are off camping. If they heard of this Orc incursion into Dunland, no doubt they would be clamoring for permission to ride with the warriors. Aye, and when denied, they would try to sneak after. I must tell Erestor to keep the younglings very busy when they return from their excursion, lest, unsupervised, they make their escape'.
Of course, at this very minute the younglings in question were running across the Plains of Rohan, inexorably pursued by a horde of seemingly indefatigable goblins.
"They run," gasped Haldir, "as if the very whips of their masters were behind them!"
It seemed to the elflings that they had been running for months without rest—or at least only such rest as could be snatched by allowing their eyes to glaze over, so that their legs continued to methodically pump up and down while their minds wandered in elven dreams. They would take turns doing so, one staying alert so that the other two could recover their spirits and their strength. And in that fashion on and on they ran, drawing nearer and nearer to Mordor with every step they took.
"If only," wheezed Elladan, "if only a band of Riders would happen upon us. Don't they patrol this land?"
They did, but a patrol had already passed through and would not return for several days. It seemed that nothing and no one would come between the elflings and their pursuers. On they ran.
Gandalf and Anomen, too, had again taken flight. The wizard had awoken before the elfling and had crept to the top of a ridge to reconnoiter. Far in the distance, but not far enough to his way of thinking, he spied movement.
"No doubt," he muttered to himself, "they have uncovered my sleight of hand and are now hard on our trail."
In this Gandalf was correct. Orc after Orc had crept into the spiders' lair. After a score of them had been seized and wrapped in silk, the arachnids had settled into somnolence and permitted the surviving goblins to search the caverns. No trace of the 'old fool' was found, and at last even the stupidest Orc realized that they had been hoodwinked—or hatwinked, as it were. Slowly, fearful of the wrath of the Captain, they crept back to Cirith Ungol, there to present themselves before that fearsome goblin.
"Well," the Captain snarled. "Where is he?"
Wordlessly, one of the Orcs held out Gandalf's hat.
"That's all? A pointy hat? What'm I supposed to do with it—stretch it on the rack?"
"Heads are gonna roll," gleefully observed one Orc fortunate enough to be no more than an onlooker. "Yep! Yep! There they go."
After the heads had stopped rolling, the Captain ordered out another band of Orcs.
"I want the head what goes with this hat," he ordered. "And," he added sarcastically, "if it in't too much trouble, bring the body back, too—still attached to the head, as I mean to be the one to detach it!"
Now this second band of Orcs was drawing uncomfortably near to Gandalf and Anomen's hiding place. The wizard slipped back and gently roused Anomen.
"We must resume our march," he informed the elfling. "Here. Take a bite of bread and a sip of water."
Gandalf jammed his Orc helmet back on his head while Anomen broke fast.
"Good thing I did not cast this aside," he said thoughtfully. "It may yet come in handy. Ready now?"
Anomen said that he was, but when he tried to stand up, he swayed and toppled over.
"I'm sorry," he said, looking up at Gandalf and trying to appear stoic. "You had better go on without me. I am very small. I'll find some sort of crevice to crawl into. Perhaps they'll overlook me."
"Never heard such nonsense, no, not in all my years in Middle-earth!" huffed Gandalf. "Go on without you? Unthinkable!"
The wizard knelt down beside the elfling.
"Come, my lad," he said gently. "Climb up on my back and throw your arms about my neck."
"You don't mean to carry me?"
"Of course I do. You weigh scarcely more than this pack, which is itself not overmuch heavy. Now, then, unless you wish the Orcs to capture and dismember me, mount up—for I will not leave you!"
Anomen obeyed, crawling onto Gandalf's back and flinging his arms about his neck. Gandalf winced when the elfling inadvertently brushed against his sore shoulder, but the wizard did not let on to the pain but merely urged Anomen to grip him tightly. Then he arose and began to jog northward. Had anyone been there to witness his progress, it would have seemed a most peculiar sight—an Orc giving a pick-a-back ride to an elfling! As it happened, however, after a little while Anomen revived and assured Gandalf that he could walk. And so the wizard allowed Anomen to dismount and, holding him carefully by the hand, he gently but urgently led the elfling onward.
The Orcs tracking Gandalf and Anomen were no less determined than the ones pursuing Elladan, Elrohir, and Haldir—and they were gaining on their elfling prey. With a desperate burst of speed, those three elflings rounded a hill—and ran straight into the back ranks of Saruman's other band of Orcs.
"'Hul-lo, what's this!" shouted a surprised Orc at the sight of Haldir and his golden hair. "'Ow did you get in back of us?"
Haldir and the twins might have replied by asking how the Orcs had managed to get in front of them, but they were prevented by the sudden arrival of the second band of Orcs, the ones that had actually been pursuing Haldir and his companions. Now surrounded by goblins, the elflings, as valiant as they were desperate, nocked their bows and formed a circle, back to back. The Orcs, however—and rightly so—were not in the least cowed by these small Elves and their equally small bows. Instead, each goblin band faced off against the other, eager to claim the prize—plus two bonus elflings, albeit dark-haired ones—for itself.
"'Ere now," challenged the leader of the Orcs that had been pursuing the elflings. "'Ere now, hands off those pointy-ears! We bin chasin' 'em fer days! They be ours!"
"'Zat so?" sneered the captain of the other band, which I shall call the southern band for convenience. "Well, you didn' have no business chasin' 'em in our territory, didja? You wuz told to go north, and bed cess to ye if'n ye didn' obey yer orders!"
The captain of the northern band snarled and brandished his scimitar.
"They wouldn' be in yer territory wasn't fer us. Ye've been strollin' along like whiteskins, and we done all the work—and we mean to 'ave the reward in hand what goes wit' the work!"
"Ye won't never have no reward in hand," growled the captain of the southern band, "'cause ye won't never have no hand!"
With that, the southern captain suited actions to words and hacked off the hand of the northern captain. A regular pandemonium broke out then as the Orcs on either side threw themselves whole-heartedly into battle—their hearts in some cases being the only parts of their anatomy that remained long undivided. The horrified elflings dropped their bows and flung themselves upon the ground as various bodily parts flew about. Haldir let out a yelp when he was slapped in the face by a disembodied hand, and Elrohir wailed when he was kicked in the seat by a boot that was attached to a leg sheered off at the hip.
After a considerable amount of hacking and slashing, the two bands were down to one Orc each. The two stood facing each other, mindlessly taking turns whacking each other.
"Whack!"
"Whack!"
"Whack!"
The sword arm of one Orc went flying. Retrieving his sword with his remaining arm, he returned the favor, and his opponent's arm landed next to Elladan, who winced and tightly squeezed his eyes shut.
"Whack!"
"Whack!"
"Whack!"
Now the first Orc's leg went flying after his arm. Balancing on his remaining leg, he again returned the favor.
For a little while longer, the Orcs, each now down to one arm and one leg, continued to flail at each other, but at last both Orcs quietly toppled over.
The three elflings regarded one another and then retrieved their bows and began to cautiously back away from the scene. Just as they were about to turn and run, however, another Orc appeared over the crest of the hill. This one was taller than most Orcs, and—Anomen!—the goblin had a firm grip on Anomen! As one, three elflings drew and nocked arrows.
"Hold! Hold!" came a muffled voice from behind the Orc helmet. The goblin let go of Anomen, seized the helmet, and yanked it off.
"Mithrandir!" cried Haldir and the twins.
"Yes," said Gandalf, scratching hard at his newly revealed beard. "Anomen, you said Elrond would send out searchers, but I hardly expected him to dispatch elflings!"
"Oh, we weren't dispatched," Elladan assured him. "We're not supposed to be here."
"Really! Imagine that! Well, if that is the case, let us make haste to depart this land. Anomen and I have quite a band of Orcs on our tail—very persistent ones, I might add."
"Oh, you, too," murmured Haldir in sympathetic tones.
Gandalf stared at him but said nothing. Elrohir leaped into the breach.
"Anomen, you were right," he said contritely. "You did know that Mithrandir had gotten himself into some sort of trouble."
"Yes, yes," interrupted Gandalf, who was not eager to encourage a discussion along those lines. "You must understand that at the moment we really can't spare any time for touching reunions. As I have said, Orcs pursue us, and they are only a league behind us, at best. If need be, I'll employ my staff to fend them off, but I fear that the resulting pyrotechnic display will draw even more foes upon us. The best device for securing our safety lies in our feet."
Gandalf began to shoo the elflings in front of him. Each time they began to talk, to catch one another up on their adventures, he urged them to restrain themselves.
"There will be time for that later," he scolded. "Move along! move along!"
"Now I know," he murmured to himself, "how a goose must feel when trying to guide goslings that paddle every which way."
And so with Gandalf shepherding them, the flock of elflings flew north.
