Folks, the chair of my department has assigned me to teach a course on Tolkien during Spring Semester, 2006. He he! Now I've got a great excuse for continuing to pour over his works: I'm preparing for my class!
Dragonfly: Yes, Gandalf should have known better. Anomen will stick to him like the burrs on his cloak.
Kel: Yep. More adventure, more peril. If a cat has nine lives, then surely Anomen has at least that many. Appropriate number, that.
Joee: So who says he doesn't get sold to the Southrons?
Legosgurl: Stay out of trouble? Stay out of trouble! Anomen could never stay out of trouble (and do we really want him to?) By the way, I'm going to guess that you are British. In an earlier review, you referred to 'adverts' for KitKat bars. In the U.S. we call them 'ads'. Did I guess right?
Karri: Yes, a dire twist—and about to get direr. Thanks for pointing out the mistake for the name of the ring, an error that has now been corrected. Dragonfly noticed that mistake, too, and sent me an e-note. Good thing the old challenge was not in effect—find an error and you get to propose the next story topic! Anyway, challenge or no challenge, I figure I'd better start relying on a Beta Reader again, and so…
Beta Reader: Dragonfly.
Chapter 3: Falling Into The Sun
Elrond and Glorfindel stood together on the balcony looking up at the stars. Glorfindel looked more than usually content, even for an Elf.
"I suppose you have had a very pleasant day," Elrond commented sardonically.
"Yes, a very pleasant day," agreed Glorfindel. "Very pleasant—pleasurable, really."
"Indeed?"
"Yes. Lovely spot, the garden. But what are those? Rather large for bats. Besides, they do not flit about as bats do but move along a straight path, as the crows fly."
Elrond looked at where Glorfindel was pointing.
"Yes, they are assuredly not bats. As you have said, they fly along a decidedly straight path, after the fashion of crows."
After a few more minutes it became apparent that the night flyers were crows. The birds flew directly to the balcony and perched upon the railing. Each held a bit of bark in its beak. Elrond gently retrieved the two pieces of bark, handing each bird a small piece of biscuit in exchange. The birds bobbed their heads in acknowledgment and flew off. Elrond, followed by Glorfindel, went into his chamber and held the bits of bark near a candle.
"This one is marked with the rune for 'M'; that one by the rune for 'A'.
"Another message from Mithrandir?"
"No, this message is from Anomen, and it contains alarming news. Anomen and Mithrandir have become separated, and Mithrandir is in need of immediate aid."
"How do you know that Anomen sent the message and is not in fact the one who needs assistance?"
"Oh, I am sure that he does as well, but it is Mithrandir who is unable to communicate. Had he carved these letters, he would have used the rune 'G' for 'Gandalf'. It is Anomen who would use the rune 'M' for 'Mithrandir', for he addresses him only by that name. Glorfindel, there will be no dallying for you tomorrow. I am afraid that I must ask you to ride out."
"There will be no dallying tonight, either," Glorfindel replied grimly. "Mithrandir is unable to send a message, and Anomen is on his own. Did you really think I would wait until morning before setting out?"
Elrond smiled a little.
"No, I suppose that would be a foolish notion. I shall roust up the Head Cook and have him pack foodstuffs. How many scouts will you take?"
"Mithrandir was heading south, through Dunland. The Dunlendings are easily cowed, but they have commerce with other, stouter folk, such as Southrons. I shall take a score of warriors."
Elrond nodded.
"Very well, my friend. I shall see that the Cook is so informed."
In short order Glorfindel's scouts were in the stable saddling their horses, and to the stable the Cook and his skivvies carried packages of food to be evenly distributed amongst the saddlebags of the riders. The newly risen moon was still high when Glorfindel and his troop galloped across the bridge and vanished into the woods surrounding Imladris.
The moon also shone down upon Anomen as, hidden in the bushes, he surveyed the Dunlending camp before him. He had been hoping that after supper all the Men would lay themselves down to sleep, but instead one was keeping watch while the other two slept. No doubt the Southrons would be equally vigilant, if not more so. Earlier that evening one of the Men had briefly left the camp and returned to tell the other two that the Southrons would stop by the camp in the morning. Anomen decided that he had no choice but to act, even with one of the Men awake. Gandalf was seated with his back to a tree, his wrists bound to it. Carefully the elfling crept up behind him. As he did so, the wizard became aware of his presence.
"Anomen," whispered Gandalf when the elfling was directly behind him. "Anomen, you must flee at once."
"Not without you," Anomen whispered back. "Don't you remember that you said you didn't want to leave me to my own devices?"
"Circumstances have changed," Gandalf whispered urgently. "Be off with you!"
"You can't very well make me," retorted Anomen stubbornly.
Gandalf sighed. No, he could not very well make Anomen do much of anything, and that even when his hands were not tied!
"Very well," he said resignedly. "You may untie my wrists, but if the Man should notice anything amiss, you scamper off straightaway!"
Anomen set to work on the knots, but the rope proved too thick and stiff for his small fingers.
"I can't, Mithrandir," he whispered after awhile.
"You shall have to cut through the rope, then."
"I don't have my knife," Anomen reminded the wizard, feeling very much ashamed. He had fled Rivendell heedlessly, without giving any thought to what he would need to survive in the Wild. "Mithrandir," he pleaded, "I cannot leave you! I have got your staff. Isn't there some way you can use it?"
"Let me think, my lad."
After a few moments, Gandalf had an idea.
"Anomen, I shall have to wield it through you. With one hand, you must hold my staff—the arm with the birthmark would be best, I think—and with the other you must grasp one of my hands as tightly as you can."
Anomen carefully maneuvered himself until he could do what Gandalf asked while still staying out of sight of the watching Man.
"Now, you must point the end of the staff toward those three villains. The ones who sleep are right next to the one keeping guard, so I believe I can work upon them all simultaneously. Are you ready?"
"Yes, Mithrandir."
"You will have to hold on very tightly," Gandalf warned.
"I shall," Anomen promised, tightening his grip on both Gandalf's hand and the staff. Just then, the Man keeping watch arose and with his foot nudged one of the sleeping Men, who gaped and sat up.
"My turn already?" he yawned.
"I heard something just now. Probably nothing but a hare, but I'd best have a look around."
"I must act now," murmured Gandalf.
Suddenly Anomen's body was jolted mightily as power flowed in one hand and out the other. He tried to open his mouth to cry out but found that his body would not obey his will. Around him the air crackled and burned with a white light, and he could see nothing for the brightness. 'I have fallen into the sun', he thought dazedly.
From the glow surrounding Anomen's body, a flame arced forth and struck the three Men. They were thrown several feet through the air, and when they landed, they lay quite still, smoke arising from their bodies.
"Anomen," Gandalf said anxiously. "You may let go now."
Whimpering a little, Anomen slowly uncurled his fingers, releasing both Gandalf's hand and his staff. Then he collapsed upon the ground, eyes closed, face pale.
"Anomen," Gandalf said, gently but insistently. "You must rouse yourself. You must fetch one of the Men's knives, else all our efforts will have been for naught."
Anomen opened his eyes and nodded weakly. Too dizzy to stand, he crawled on his hands and knees toward the bodies of the Dunlendings. As he drew near, the elfling shuddered when he saw that the Men were bleeding from eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. Still, he bravely laid hold of one their knives and drew it from its sheath, crawling back to Gandalf with it clutched in his hand. Once the elfling reached the wizard, he set about sawing through the rope that bound his mentor. It was slow going, though, for the hand with which he had held the staff was so numb that he could scarcely make use of it.
"Hurry," Gandalf urged him. "You must free me before the Men regain consciousness. I do not think you can again hold the staff whilst I wield its power through you."
"I don't think they will wake up very soon," Anomen said softly. "They look dreadful, Mithrandir. There is blood coming from their noses and their mouths, and their ears and eyes as well."
"Oh dear," muttered Gandalf. "I must have put more into it than I meant to."
Of course, he was not the least bit worried about the Men, but he realized that Anomen had been subjected to a more powerful force than he had intended, and he worried about the harm it may have done to him.
Anomen's hand was so unsteady that several times he nicked Gandalf, but the wizard gave no sign. At last Anomen succeeded in cutting through the rope binding Gandalf's wrists, and the wizard at once took the knife from him and cut the bonds on his ankles. He groaned a little as he flexed both wrists and ankles.
"There now—life is coming back to them. Well, I suppose I should see to those wretched Men."
The wizard groaned again as he staggered to his feet and limped over to his former captors. It took only a glance, however, before he realized that he could do nothing for them.
"Bit of an overkill, so to speak," he said to himself. "Well, can't be helped now."
He turned toward Anomen, who, very pale, was sitting where Gandalf had left him. As Gandalf watched, Anomen pitched forward and vomited violently. Alarmed, Gandalf ran to kneel by his side. With one hand, he took hold of Anomen's trembling shoulder, and with the other he pulled the elfling's hair back from his face.
"You poor lad! You were altogether unprepared for such a powerful blow. You must receive proper care as quickly as possible. Now, let me see," the wizard mused. "Which would be closer, Rivendell or Isengard? Isengard, I believe. Very well. I shall carry you to Saruman."
"Imladris," gasped Anomen.
"Isengard is nearer, my lad."
"Imladris," Anomen gasped again, trying to shake his head but quickly abandoning the effort because it made him all the dizzier.
"I suppose," said Gandalf thoughtfully, "that the happier you are, the quicker you will heal. All right, then. I shall carry you to Rivendell."
Gandalf carefully wrapped the elfling in his cloak, then picked him up and propped him—draped him, really—on his shoulder. The elfling lay there quite limply, and, with one hand steadying the elfling and the other gripping his staff, the Istar arose to his feet. He had hardly taken a step, however, before a rough voice ordered him to halt. Dawn was upon the clearing, and the Southrons had arrived.