Terreis: I'm glad you are feeling better, and I'm glad the story helped cheer you up. Yes, I have so much fun trying to sneak in the movie (and book!) quotations, and I am glad when someone spots them. It's kind of like an "I spy" game, I guess. I agree: I think Glorfindel can be forgiven for not looking for traces of elflings that presumably are back safe in Imladris anyway. Yes, it's really bad to have a smart Orc, even if only marginally. Oooh, I like that: "a Who's Who of Pursuers and Pursuees." He he! Hmm. I haven't shown Erestor in awhile. Maybe it's time for a 'meanwhile back at the ranch' chapter. I am a bit vain about my Orcs, so you shouldn't encourage me!
Karri: Well, at least Gandalf's ploy bought them some time—just not as much time as he hoped.
Dragonfly: Yes, I did enjoy the conference. Hey, what do you mean, its "location"? Are you, ahem, employing that I went down there for the warm, sunny weather and the pool surrounded by palm trees? Perish the thought!
Legosgurl: Well, I guess maybe Gandalf could be considered cute.
Joee: Yes, Gandalf was indeed very sly. By treating them as if they were mature, he motivated them to behave accordingly. He would make a wonderful father, I think. Uh oh, I just had an idea. No! no! Someone stop me before I write again!
Beta Reader: Dragonfly
Chapter 10: Water Into Miruvor
As Glorfindel and his scouts followed the trail of elfling footprints, they perceived that they led directly toward the base of a cliff. When they reached the cliff, they saw that the prints went into some bushes. A scout crawled in after them and reemerged with a sword, which he handed to Glorfindel.
"Here is a sword that the elfling came upon yet left," mused Glorfindel. "I suppose he found it too heavy to wield."
He studied the weapon carefully.
"I know this sword," he announced at last. The scout smiled. The balrog-slayer was famous for never forgetting a sword.
"That dent there, and those scratches—I was present when the sword acquired them. Mithrandir tried decapitating an Orc whose throat was protected by a gorget, and whilst swinging at a second Orc, he scraped the sword against a column that the goblin dove behind. I offered to have the dent taken out and the scratches polished away, but he was always in too much of a rush to have it done. He said it was 'an aesthetic issue only' and that 'the sword was no less useful'."
Glorfindel uttered those last lines in a passable imitation of Gandalf's raspy voice, and the scout broke into a full grin. Yes, that was just the sort of thing that the gruff wizard would say. He was notoriously unconcerned about appearances, from the dirt on the hem of his robe, to the untidiness of his beard.
"Strange, though," Glorfindel continued, "that there don't seem to be any of Mithrandir's prints anywhere about. How did the sword get here, then? It can't have flown!"
He looked all about. Then he looked up. The scout followed his glance.
"You think he came down the cliff?"
"The sword did, anyway," replied Glorfindel. "That can be the only explanation for its presence in the absence of itsowner."
"Shall we ascend the cliff to investigate?"
Glorfindel shook his head.
"Only if Anomen has gone that way. If Elrond is right and Anomen is being drawn to Mithrandir, then, if we find the elfling, we find the wizard."
"And if Elrond is not right?"
"Then I am afraid that Mithrandir shall have to fend for himself. Our first duty is to recover Anomen. However, I believe Elrond is correct in his supposition. How else to explain the fact that Anomen's trail led us directly to this spot, to Mithrandir's sword."
"It seems hard to believe that an elfling could be drawn so many leagues by an uncanny connection with a wizard."
"True, but it is not impossible. And, my friend, when you have eliminated the impossible, that which remains, however improbable, must be the truth."
The Elves searched carefully around the base of the cliff and determined that Anomen's tracks led away from it. Glorfindel secured Gandalf's sword to his saddle, and he and his scouts resumed their search for the elfling.
Following in their wake, although still leagues away, were Elrond and his company. They were well into Rohirrim territory when they saw dust in the distance and heard the thunder of hooves. Observed Taurmeldir, "The Rohirrim are aware of our presence and ride to investigate."
Elrond agreed, and ordered all to dismount, to keep their swords sheathed, and to hold their bows loosely, leaving their arrows in their quivers.
"We are not a war party," he said.
Some of the Elves looked uneasy. Elrond strove to reassure them.
"The Riders of Rohan are Men of honor. They will not assail those who cross their land out of need, with no purpose other than to rescue a kinsman."
The Rohirrim rode up at a full gallop, spears in hand, but when they saw that the trespassers had dismounted and had adopted a pacific stance, their leader signaled to them to return their weapons to their rests. Then he dismounted and approached the Elf whom he deemed to be the captain of the elven company. As he drew near, he realized it was the Lord Elrond himself. Under his helm, the Man turned pale. Hitherto, relations between the Rohirrim and the Elves of Imladris had been cordial. Had he imperiled them by assisting the elfling in his journey? For he had no doubt that the Elves had come to this place in search of the young one. He removed his helmet and bowed respectfully.
"Lord Elrond, I am honored at your presence," the Man began carefully, "as I would be honored by the presence of anyone from your household. I would be pleased to assist you in any way, as I would be pleased to assist anyone from your household."
Elrond raised his eyebrows even as he inclined his head to acknowledge the greeting.
"And have the Rohirrim lately had any occasion to assist anyone from my household?"
The Man put on a delighted expression.
"I am glad to be able to say that, yes, we have. Recently it has been our pleasure to provide provisions to one who eats at your table, aye, and more: it was within our power to carry him further on his path and to put him down close to his destination. We would have denied nothing to a kinsman of Elrond of Rivendell."
Elrond had to grudgingly admit to himself that the Man had chosen his words very carefully, so carefully that he could not take offense at the Man's actions. Indeed, had the situation been less dire, he would have laughed at the Rider's cleverness. However, the situation was dire. He could not laugh, but he did answer with equal courtesy.
"This traveler whom you assisted, was he rather small as Elves go?"
"Why, yes, he was! But he was clearly an Elf, and thus no doubt much older than he looked and therefore capable of great deeds. So we did not hesitate to help him on his way."
"I am touched by your confidence in my kinsman's abilities," said Elrond sardonically.
"Oh, do not mention it!"
There was a trace of a smile about the mouths of both Man and Elf. Each knew that there would be no rupture between Rohan and Rivendell on account of the fugitive elfling.
"We are desirous of checking on the progress of our small but brave warrior," Elrond continued. "Where did you encounter him?"
"Not far from here. We can guide you there."
Here the Rider looked down at the ground and frowned.
"But I see that others have been here before us—those are Orc tracks!"
"Aye, and as you see, the marks of elven horses not our own are laid over them. We are not the only ones who pursue our kinsman. Another band of Elves set out earlier, and we fear lest they have encountered the Orcs who left this trail."
"We will convey you as rapidly as possible to the point on our border where we parted from the elfling. We dare not cross that border, for then we would risk open warfare with—with a power to the south of us. But we shall remain encamped there, so that we will be near if you need assistance on your return journey to the north."
His real meaning was unspoken but understood. If the Elves ventured into the land of the Dark Lord in order to rescue Anomen, it was likely that they would be pursued on their return. The Rider was offering to serve as a rear guard. Elrond was genuinely moved. His smile in return was open, with no touch of mockery or playfulness.
"I thank you," he said with unmistakable sincerity, and then he surprised the Rider by bowing deeply.
"Well," said Rider gruffly, trying not to seem too impressed by the gesture, "we had better mount up."
He suited actions to words, and the Elves did likewise. Together, Man and Elf, they galloped southward. When they neared the border of Rohan, the Rohirrim, as promised, dismounted and commenced setting up camp. The Elves meanwhile rode on and boldly crossed the frontier. The Fair Folk were not concerned with maintaining an uneasy peace with the forces of Sauron, for there was no such peace to be maintained. The hand of the Orc was ever raised against each and every Elf. If an Orc encountered an Elf, he would try to slay him, and the Elf, knowing the inveterate hatred of Orc for Elf, would not hesitate to return the favor.
Some say that the Orcs had an especial hatred for Elves because, corrupted though the Orcs were, they still somehow dimly sensed that the Eldar possessed all that they had forfeited: beauty, grace, wisdom, and, above all, love. The Elves were reminders to the Orcs of the depths of their depravity, and they were obsessed with obliterating these living rebukes from the face of Middle-earth.
Whatever the reason for the hatred of Orc for Elf, Elrond did not spare any time for reflection upon the matter, for all his thoughts dwelled upon Anomen and Glorfindel—where they were, whether they were safe.
On the company rode. In due course, they reached the point where Glorfindel and his scouts had abandoned the Orc trail and begun to follow the tracks of the solitary elfling.
Oddly, the elfling footprints looked a little smaller to Elrond than the print they had earlier discovered, but he dismissed that as a trick of either light or memory. What mattered most to the Lord of Imladris was this evidence that both Anomen and Glorfindel were following a course separate from that of the Orcs. With relief and hope, he and the others journeyed on.
Elrond would have felt considerably less of either emotion, however, had he known of Anomen's condition at that moment. Gandalf's shoulder had been getting worse—infection had set in—and therefore Anomen was becoming weaker and weaker. Trying very hard to conceal his dizziness and pain, the elfling marched on without complaint. At last he found himself laboring to keep up with the others as they climbed a hill. When they reached the top, without saying a word, he collapsed.
The other elflings at once looked expectantly toward Gandalf.
"I don't know what you are all staring at me for," said the wizard irritably, although his real feelings were of fear and concern.
"You are going to heal Anomen with your magic," said Haldir.
"I can't change water into miruvor, if that's what you think."
"But you can do something," said Elrohir, looking at the wizard piteously. "You are a powerful wizard and can do anything you please. Except change water into miruvor," he added hastily.
"You certainly have exaggerated expectations about the power of magic," Gandalf harrumphed. "I suppose you think that all problems may be solved by waving a wand and chanting 'abracadabra'. Well, you have been reading too many fairy tales. The real world doesn't work that way."
"Not to mention," the wizard added grumblingly, "in the real world there are no fairies."
"We know that," said Elrohir indignantly. "We're elflings, not infants!"
"Yes," added Elladan, equally indignant. "Fairies! The very idea!"
"I am glad to know," said the wizard, "that your notions of reality are grounded in, well, reality!"
"Excuse me," said Haldir timidly, "but, in reality, Anomen is still very much in a faint."
Gandalf instantly forgot his irritation. Kneeling by Anomen, he took the lad's hand in his and rubbed it while muttering some words under his breath. The elfling's eyes fluttered open.
"I am sorry, Mithrandir," were the first words out of his mouth.
"You haven't anything to be sorry for," the wizard said kindly, "unless it is wrong to care for another and journey through great danger and difficulty to rescue him from torture and despair."
"But I am slowing down your escape!"
"Ah, but do remember that there wouldn't have been any escape in the first place if you hadn't made your way to Cirith Ungol."
"Well, he's slowing down our escape, too," interjected Elrohir, rather unhelpfully, it may be added. Gandalf shot him a fierce look from under his bristling eyebrows.
"I don't believe anyone invited you along on this expedition, Master Elrohir, so any difficulties you find yourself in are of your own making."
Thoroughly quelled, Elrohir fell silent and dropped his eyes under not only Gandalf's withering gaze but the indignant glances of Haldir and Elladan.
"Now, then," said Gandalf, returning his attention to Anomen, "you must drink a little water and have a few bites of both bread and meat."
"Is there much left?"
"You needn't be concerned about that. If necessary, I will conjure up more than enough food and drink for us all—aye, and turn the water into miruvor while I'm at it."
"But you said—" Haldir began.
"Never you mind what I said, Master Haldir!"
Gandalf sent the Lórien elfling a look as fierce as the one he had visited upon Elrohir, and Haldir was silenced just as effectively. Looking on, Elladan resolved not to say anything more himself until they were safely back in Rivendell.
Urged by Gandalf, Anomen managed to swallow a few bites of food, and then Gandalf held a water bladder up to Anomen's lips and encouraged him to drink.
"Well done," Gandalf said with a show of joviality. "Are you ready for a pick-a-back ride, with an Orc as a mount?"
In spite of the food and drink, Anomen still felt faint.
"Truly, Mithrandir, I am not sure I can keep hold round your neck."
"Ah, no matter," replied Gandalf, still feigning cheerfulness. "I will carry you in my arms."
This would of course be rather hard on Gandalf's shoulder, but he was not about to let on that he was in difficulty. He handed the pack to Elrohir, scooped up the elfling, and trudged on, talking lightly as he went of how they would all soon be ensconced in comfortable beds.
"Once we have crossed into Rohan," he said, "doubtless we shall encounter a Rohirrim patrol, and they will take us straightaway to Edoras. There we shall loll about whilst a message is sent to Imladris. Elrond will at once dispatch a troop to escort us all home in grand style."
Listening to Gandalf's comforting voice, Anomen's eyes glazed over. Unexpectedly, however, he spoke in an odd sing-song voice, as if he were in a trance.
"Mi-thran-dir," he chanted, "they're baa-aack."
At once the wizard halted. He carefully laid Anomen upon the ground.
"Do you suppose," he said anxiously to Haldir and the twins, "do you suppose, if worst came to worst, that you could make shift to carry him?"
"We will do our best," said Elrohir stoutly.
"There's a good lad," exclaimed Gandalf, his earlier anger forgotten. "I am going to go back a short distance, in order to see whether we are once again being followed."
Gandalf retraced his steps until he went out of sight around a bend in the trail. In a little while the alarmed elflings saw him running back at full speed.
"The Orcs are on the hunt again," he gasped.
Without another word, he stooped down to pick up Anomen and then resumed running, Haldir and the twins at his side. The elflings knew that this might be a race to the death—Gandalf's death, anyway, for they understood that the wizard meant to sacrifice himself if they could not all make their escape. Haldir, Elladan, and Elrohir began to silently cry, and they were all three grateful that Anomen had slipped back into unconsciousness. Frightened and sad, on they ran by the side of their beloved wizard.
