Kelly Kragen: Yes, it is probably a safe bet that Saruman is behind the raid. In Tolkien's Middle-earth, Saruman comes to realize that Gandalf has a great interest in the Shire. Ergo, in my Middle-earth, he takes steps to satisfy his curiosity.
Grumpy: Yes, it seems to be poetic justice that Glorfindel should end up mired in the marsh after he has tricked Aragorn and Legolas into slogging through it.
Nerwen: Thank you. Aragorn and Legolas weren't doing too badly, but it was good that they were backed up by Glorfindel. Otherwise some of the marauders might have escaped.
R.K.: Hello! I see that you have just reviewed Chapter 1. I hope you keep reading and get this far so that you see my greeting!
Dragonfly: Yes, Saul and the Chief both got what they deserved. Did you notice that Saul had bragged about once cutting the throat of a boy who wouldn't be still? Remember that Marta's brother dies when a Man cuts his throat because he protested at the way his mother was being treated? Believe me, Saul got exactly what he deserved.
Joee: Ah, I see how a reader could think that the Southron whom Aragorn killed earlier was the scout sent out by the marauders. However, he was a separate villain, although I could have made that clearer by specifying that the marauders' scout went into Bree itself and did not remain camped outside. I never call the marauders Southrons, but I do describe them as having come from the south, so it would be logical for a reader to assume that they were Southrons.
Mystwing: I will have to set up a situation where Thranduil talks with Legolas about his own youth and the mischief he got into.
Joeeand Kelly Kragen both wanted a chapter in which Aragorn poses to Erestor the arithmetic problem that requires one to calculate how many maidens Glorfindel bedded during the Second Age. Herewith is said chapter!
Chapter 49: Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics
"You won't," said Legolas.
"Yes, I will," insisted Aragorn.
"Well, you can if you want to," exclaimed Legolas, "but I am going to make myself scarce. I don't want to be around to see what happens! When I return, would you like me to bury you, or would you prefer to be consigned to a funeral pyre?"
Aragorn swatted at the Elf, who easily evaded him and vanished into the trees outside the garden, leaving the young Ranger to return alone to Elrond's Hall. Once there, he made his way to Elrond's private chamber, where he found the elf lord relaxing in the company of Elladan, Elrohir, and Erestor. Thranduil had retired for the night, and Glorfindel was absent, preparing to go out on patrol, which, thought Aragorn, was all to the good.
"Mae govannen, Aragorn," Elrond greeted him. "We are all very glad that you and Legolas have returned safely from your journey to the west."
"Thank you, Elrond."
Elrond gestured at him to take a seat and handed him a glass of wine.
"I understand from what Glorfindel has told me that you have had many adventures. You must be looking forward to a period of respite before you resume your travels."
"It is true, Elrond, that there were times when the journey was exciting and eventful, but I also found myself with ample opportunities for reflection, occasions when nothing transpired and I was free to indulge myself in mental pursuits."
This eloquent exposition was not in the nature of a typical speech from the Dúnadan, and both Elrond's eyebrows shot up at once. Erestor, however, was captivated by curiosity.
"Mental pursuits, you say?"
"Yes, Erestor. I posed problems for myself that necessitated the greatest of concentration, such as, for example, arithmetic exercises involving the multiplication and the division of large sums."
"Ah, mental arithmetic," enthused Erestor. "I pray you, do share an example with us!"
"Certainly, Erestor," said Aragorn obligingly. "Imagine that an army of Elves is marching on Southern Mirkwood. The army consists of one-hundred and seventeen patrols. Each patrol has twenty archers. Each archer bears twenty-five arrows in his quiver. The army encounters nine-hundred and ninety-nine Orcs and the archers expend all their arrows. On average, how many arrows were shot per Orc, rounded to the nearest arrow, of course?"
"Why, there's nothing simpler!" exclaimed Erestor. "First you determine the total number of arrows, which is arrived at by multiplying one-hundred seventeen by twenty, and then multiplying that product by twenty-five. Fifty-eight thousand five hundred arrows. Then you merely divide that final product by the number of Orcs. Fifty-eight thousand five hundred arrows divided by nine-hundred ninety-nine goblins. That would result in the firing of a little over fifty-eight and a half arrows per Orc. Per the terms of the problem, I will round up to fifty-nine. Fifty-nine arrows per Orc. A bit of an overkill, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes," agreed Aragorn, keeping his face perfectly straight. "But I devised another problem that was not so straightforward, one that I was unable to solve. Could I trouble you with this second problem?"
"Certainly, Aragorn. I would be delighted!"
"You are sure that you would not mind, Erestor?"
"Of course not, my dear boy! Why should I mind doing an arithmetic problem?"
"Very well. Here it is then: During the Second Age, Glorfindel the balrog-slayer beds nine maidens per fortnight. Given that the Second Age lasts for 3,441 years, by the end of the Second Age, how many maidens has Glorfindel bedded, rounded to the nearest maiden, as per usual?"
Elladan and Elrohir gasped. Elrond, with an effort, kept his eyebrows in place. Erestor stared open-mouthed at Aragorn for several seconds before collecting his wits and speaking.
"I am going to solve this problem," Erestor said grimly. He took a deep breath.
"It is really quite simple," he intoned. "A matter of division and multiplication. With proper attention to detail, I shall have no difficulty whatsoever."
"First," he continued, "we need to take into account the number of weeks in the year—"
Elrohir groaned.
"—the number of weeks in the year," repeated Erestor, shooting an indignant look at Elrohir. "I trust you remember that number, Elrohir."
"Fifty-two," muttered Elrohir, abashed.
"Exactly. Fifty-two. But Aragorn has specified amorous activity per each two week period. Which means, Elrohir?"
Elrohir gaped at his old tutor.
"Hmmph," snorted Erestor. "Not so clever after all, are we?" He turned to Elladan.
"What say you, Elladan? Do you remember more mathematics than your laggard brother?"
"I suppose," said Elladan slowly, "that, as Aragorn has specified amorous activity per each two week period, we must divide the year into segments, each two weeks in length."
"And how shall we do that, Elladan?"
"Um, by dividing fifty-two by two?"
"Excellent. Which gives us?"
"Twenty-six!" shouted Elrohir, anxious to redeem himself.
"So you are capable of simple division," said Erestor tartly. "Let us see what else you are capable of. Are we confining ourselves to the amorous accomplishments of one year's time?"
"No," smirked Elladan. "We have the entire Second Age to consider—all three-thousand four-hundred forty-one years of it."
"Well, Elrohir," said Erestor, "what use must we make of the number three-thousand four-hundred forty-one?"
Elrohir was once again reduced to gaping foolishly.
"I know," said Elladan triumphantly. "It is necessary to multiply three-thousand four-hundred forty-one by the number of fortnights per year."
"And, again, that is?" prompted Erestor.
"Twenty-six," replied Elladan promptly.
"Which gives us?"
Elladan's face fell. He had been better at mental arithmetic than Elrohir during the centuries during which they had been lessoned by Erestor, but lately the figuring he had been required to do in his head had run along the lines of, "One bottle of wine can serve four guests. Sixteen guests will be attending. How many bottles of wine should we filch from the wine cellar?" Multiplying three-thousand four-hundred forty-one by twenty-six was a bit out of his ken, to put it mildly.
"Well?" said Erestor impatiently.
"I'm thinking! I'm thinking! Uh, uh—eighty-nine thousand four-hundred and sixty-six!"
"Took you long enough," growled Erestor. "Now, eighty-nine thousand four-hundred and sixty-six what?"
"What?"
"What does that number measure?" exclaimed Erestor, exasperated.
"Oh, yes, of course: number of fortnights within the given period."
"And why did we want to know the number of fortnights?"
"To, to, to, oh, why ever did we want to know the number of fortnights!?" stammered Elladan. Now it was Elrohir's turn to smirk.
"If Glorfindel bedded nine maidens per fortnight, how many maidens did he bed during the Second Age?"
"That is indeed the question, Elrohir. And the answer is?"
Elladan snickered as Elrohir's face lost its smirk and assumed a look of intense concentration instead. "Total number of fortnights times number of maidens per fortnight," he murmured. "Um, that means I must take eighty-nine thousand four-hundred and sixty-six and multiply it by nine."
It took Elrohir several minutes to work out the problem. At last he said tentatively, "Eight-hundred-five thousand one-hundred ninety-four?"
"Correct. Assuming that Glorfindel bedded nine maidens every fortnight for three-thousand four-hundred forty-one years, he would at the end of that time have bedded exactly that number of maidens."
"Not necessarily, Erestor," interjected Elrond, who had been listening to this entire discussion with the greatest of amusement.
"What do you mean?" spluttered Erestor.
"That would be the number of times Glorfindel bedded a maiden, period. As he may have bedded some maidens on more than one occasion, it does not represent the total number of maidens bedded. To determine that number, you need more information. For example, Glorfindel may have bedded ten percent of the maidens five times each over the course of the centuries, twenty-five percent one time only, thirty percent four times per, and so on and so forth."
"Fine," growled Erestor. "You go ask him the number of times he bedded each particular maiden. I'll warrant that if you do, you'll never again bed any maidens of your own!"
He turned to Aragorn.
"Well, young sir, I hope you are satisfied with the solution to the problem that you posed!"
"Oh, yes," Aragorn assured him. "Impressive! Quite impressive!"
Elrond hid his smile. It occurred to him that it was rather likely that Aragorn meant not that Erestor's performance had been impressive but that Glorfindel's had been!
"Well?" said Legolas later that evening when he returned from the forest.
"Well what?" said Aragorn insouciantly.
"Did you ask him?"
"Of course. I told you that I would."
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"What happened, you obtuse human!?"
"Obtuse," intoned Aragorn as insouciantly as before. "An angle that is larger than ninety degrees." He turned and began to walk away.
"Aragorn!" fumed Legolas.
"Next time," the Dúnadan called over his shoulder, "do not absent yourself when Erestor gives a demonstration of mental arithmetic. You have only yourself to blame for your ignorance!"
With that, Legolas scrambled about for the fallen fruit scattered under an apple tree and began to fling said fruit after the retreating Ranger. Reader, I leave you with an arithmetic problem. If an Elf flings an average of seventeen apples per minute for five minutes—and never misses—how often does he succeed in pelting his unfortunate target? When you have solved this problem, then and only then will we recommence our study of the history of the concluding years of the Third Age.