Silver badger: Thank you. Hope you enjoy the update.
Jebb: Yes, and those disasters and catastrophes are going to begin—now.
Kitsune: Actually, in that case we are probably past the expiration date!
Justin: I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so far. Hope you like this latest installment.
Farflung: I think the 'ruing' is about to begin. As far as the pork—well, it rhymes with Orc and allows me to have fun with the Oink! Oink! opening. As far as Glorfindel (also Erestor) not eating it, it's an aesthetic thing. Rooting pigs offend their sensibilities. Swine are, well, orcish.
Joee: Yes, it turns out that even Glorfindel has his funny side.
Grumpy: Yes, "lots of excitement" is pretty much inevitable.
Athena Diagon Cat: Oh, I wouldn't feel too sorry for Erestor. He does bring a lot of it down on himself.
Dragongfly: Yes, I wouldn't feel too bad for Glorfindel.
In another fortnight Elladan, Elrohir, and the others would be departing for Mirkwood; and Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor were meeting in Elrond's chamber to determine the best route, given the season and the latest reports of the scouts. Erestor had of course come equipped with several maps.
"As it is full summer, we can take any one of the passes through the mountains. We need not attempt Caradhras," observed Glorfindel, "and of course we can always travel as far south as the Gap of Rohan, although that would be taking us out of our way."
"True," said Elrond, "if you go through the Gap, you will add several leagues to your journey, but that route has the advantage of taking you near Isengard. It would be good if Elladan and Elrohir stopped to pay their respects to Saruman, and they could also deliver a letter on my behalf, plus one that Mithrandir entrusted to me when last he visited."
"No!" Erestor blurted out unexpectedly. "We should not go that way! I do not trust Saruman!"
Elrond and Glorfindel stared at him in astonishment. First of all, Erestor never 'blurted'. Second, whence came this sudden dislike for the White Wizard, head of his order?
"Erestor," said Elrond, "Saruman has ever been a friend to the Elves, and he has oft done us valuable service. Have you forgotten his careful nursing of Legolas, who might have died else?"
"Nay, I have not forgotten," replied Erestor. "And have you forgotten that Legolas was convinced that Saruman administered to him a potion that kept him in a stupor?"
"Erestor," Elrond said patiently, "I myself am a healer, and I know full well that medicines may be accompanied by unwanted side-effects. Indeed, the most powerful and beneficial nostrums, because of their very strength, are most apt to bring on painful symptoms. Be glad that Legolas suffered from no more than sleepiness! I have seen Men and Elves sweat and vomit and writhe as a result of my potions."
Erestor argued on. "There is also," he pointed out, "the matter of the Orcs and half-goblins and wargs who always materialize in the wake of that wizard. I myself was attacked by two half-goblins shortly after exchanging speech with the Lord of Isengard."
Elrond shook his head and smiled slightly.
"Erestor, you surprise me with this reasoning, more worthy of an elfling than of you. Surely it is to be expected that a foe of evil creatures will be found in the vicinity of such beasts. How else is he to counter them if he does not seek them out? You could make the same charge against Mithrandir, could you not? Is he not often found in the vicinity of Orcs and other foul creatures because they are our enemies, and he would learn of their movements so that they may be destroyed?"
Erestor could not deny that this was true, and he subsided into silence. Glorfindel, however, proved to be an unexpected ally.
"Elrond is of course correct that Saruman is worthy wizard. However, I must agree with Erestor: we should take one of the mountain routes, the nearest one to Lothlórien, I think, for we will surely want to visit that land."
"But why not visit Lothlórien and Isengard?" asked Elrond.
"Lothlórien represents less of a delay. Do not forget, Elrond, that Estel travels with us. It is true that the reports of the scouts are favorable, but even so danger may lurk. Estel should be exposed to danger no longer than necessary. We should journey directly to Lothlórien and from thence to Mirkwood."
Elrond nodded thoughtfully.
"True, he will be on a pony and would be able neither to defend himself nor ride to safety if your party were assailed. The less time you are on the road, the better. Very well, make your way by the most direct path to Lórien."
Erestor shot a grateful glance toward Glorfindel. However, mayhap he would have been less grateful if had realized that the balrog-slayer had another, unstated motive for desiring to travel by the quickest route. The faster they arrived at Mirkwood, the sooner Glorfindel would be shut of Erestor! Oh, it was true that Estel would keep Erestor occupied for much of the time, but Glorfindel had known Erestor for too many centuries to hope that the little human could keep the tutor entirely busy. And when Erestor turned his attention to other matters, one of them was sure to be Glorfindel's management of the expedition. Ai!
Although Erestor was oblivious to Glorfindel's true motives, Elrond was not. The elf-lord hid his amusement, however. Let Erestor believe that Glorfindel had buttressed his cause, and let Glorfindel believe that Elrond was in the dark as to his reasons for favoring the direct route. It mattered not one whit, so long as peace was maintained. A little judicious dissembling was not always a bad thing.
When Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel were informed that the party would not stop at Isengard, they were delighted. Elladan and Elrohir had no interest in that place, which had always struck them as dreary—awe-inspiring, yes, but depressing, too, with its razor-sharp, unnaturally smooth walls. As for Estel, he knew little of Saruman, having met him only once, but he remembered that he had preferred Radagast to the thin-lipped, sharp-featured wizard. Moreover, child though he was, Estel had divined that to Saruman he was a paltry being unworthy of his attention. The boy had resented the slight in his own childish way, and he was glad that he would not have to visit the wizard who had disdained him. Of course, Estel did not realize that it is sometimes a very good thing to be overlooked by the Istar of Isengard!
It was a happy company, then, that a fortnight later assembled outside the Hall to bid farewell to Elrond and the other Elves who would be remaining behind. Berenmaethor and Thoron were amongst the latter, but Baramagor and Celaithand were delighted to find themselves numbered amongst the riders. The two were once again quite good friends, Celaithand having forgiven Baramagor for dallying with his sister Celaimîr on that memorable night when Estel and Gwaurant had run away.
As Elrond stood, dignified, and called down the blessings of the Valar upon the company, he felt a little wistful. He, too, missed Legolas. Moreover, since the Elves were stopping in Lothlórien, they would have the opportunity to see Arwen. In this he was mistaken, however, for his daughter was visiting in the north of that land and would not be at Caras Galadon during the few days that her friends and kinsmen would sojourn there. Perhaps it was better so, as the elven maiden likely would not have known what to make of Estel, who was still a 'diamond in the rough'. He was long past being a cute toddler, and he had not yet developed any of the attributes that would have made him tolerable—let alone appealing—to the graceful elleth.
After the company had ridden out of the gates of Rivendell, Elrond stood for a while silently. Then he sighed and reentered the Hall. He had gotten his wish, he supposed—it was blessedly quiet—but already he longed for the return of his friends and kinsmen.
The next several days continued quiet, and Elrond worked his way through several missives. Then, most unexpectedly, Gandalf returned, even though he had set out only a month earlier and had told Elrond it might be a year before he dwelt again in Rivendell. Yet here stood a messenger from the Door Warden, breathlessly announcing that the Grey Pilgrim had arrived—"and barefoot, my Lord!"
"Barefoot?"
"Aye, my Lord, barefoot and soaked and his clothes in tatters—and without his hat!"
Elrond raised both eyebrows. It was hard to conceive of Mithrandir without his hat.
"I trust that the Lord Mithrandir is being provided with all that is needful."
"Aye, my Lord. He has gone to his old chamber, and a bath is being prepared for him whilst the Master of the Wardrobe rummages about to find suitable garments for him to wear."
"Good. See that the Cook prepares him something warm to eat and drink. The Mannish beverage he likes—tea—that would be good, I think. With honey in it. And tell the Lord Mithrandir that I would be happy if he would share a glass of wine with me in my chamber after he has dressed and supped."
The messenger bowed and hastened away. Several hours later Elrond heard a knock on his door.
"Enter."
A subdued wizard slouched into the room, shoulders bent.
"You are the picture of weariness, my friend," observed Elrond.
"You try fleeing from Orcs for a week," retorted Gandalf. "I doubt you'd look any more rested."
"Fetching shade of mauve," teased Elrond. "Isn't that one of Erestor's old robes? And those buskins look positively elegant—although you have tied them in a rather odd fashion."
"They are too large for me. I had to knot the laces in that peculiar manner to keep them from slipping off my feet. But really, Elrond, 'tis hard to be twitted in this fashion when I have barely escaped with my skin."
"With your skin, yes, but without your hat or your boots. I trust you lost your pipe as well."
Gandalf scowled at him.
"I am happy to say that I managed to come away with my pipe."
"Pity," said Elrond, handing his friend a glass of wine. "In any event, whatever happened to reduce you to this lamentable state of affairs?"
"As I said, I was being pursued by Orcs. My hat fell off as I scrambled down a slope, and you may be sure that I did not trouble to go back and retrieve it. As for my boots, one of them became trapped between two rocks, and I could only extricate myself by pulling my foot from the boot and abandoning it. The other boot I discarded because it was easier to sprint without any boots at all than with one alone. My clothes were shredded as I forced my way through a field of brambles, and the remnants of my garments were soaked when I swam across a river."
"My friend, there does not seem to be an obstacle that you have not confronted. How did this happen when you intended merely to journey to Lothlórien and then cross back over the Misty Mountains in visit your belovéd Shire?"
"As I returned from Lórien, I was assailed by many Orcs at the western end of the pass. I did not wish to squander my power—you know I shall have need of it!—so I chose to flee. My enemies pursued me almost as far as the Northern Waste, and then I turned west, hoping that they would not follow me toward Bree-Land. At last they left off the pursuit as I neared Weathertop. Then I came here straightaway."
Elrond was staring at Gandalf in horror. The wizard grew alarmed.
"Elrond, whatever is the matter!?"
Elrond answered in a near-whisper.
"They have gone that way."
"Who has gone that way?"
"Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel. Glorfindel and Erestor, too. They have an escort, but you say the Orcs were many. When they left off pursuing you, no doubt they would have once again taken up position at the pass, for it must be their purpose to ambush travelers entering or leaving Lothlórien."
Gandalf stared back at Elrond, equally horrified. The Elves and one little human were heading straight into a trap.