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Beta Reader: Dragonfly
Chapter 5: Tug of War
Several weeks after Penidhren had departed from Rivendell, Elrond and Glorfindel were again standing on a balcony upon an evening, this time to admire the Northern Lights, or, as the Elves called them, the Dance of the Sky Butterflies. "Elrond," Glorfindel said as casually as he could, "let us imagine—just for the sake of discussion, mind you!—that Penidhren had not ridden away believing that I am Anomen's father. Let us imagine that he suspected someone else to be the lad's progenitor. Let me see—why, I could easily see him settling upon a Greenwood Elf as Anomen's Adar! Anomen's hair color is not unknown in that kingdom, as I am sure you know. Let us assume, then, that there exists a Greenwood Elf who long ago misplaced a golden-haired son. Let us also assume that Penidhren goes to this Elf and reports that a mysterious elfling, father unknown, sits at the table of Elrond in Imladris. The bereaved Greenwood Elf shortly thereafter comes galloping through the gates of Rivendell to check upon the truth of Penidhren's report and to ascertain the identity of this elfling. If such an event were to come to pass, what would you do, Elrond? Remember that I am, of course, speaking hypothetically," Glorfindel added hastily.
Elrond shut his eyes tightly and pressed his fingertips to his eyebrows. This scenario had in fact occurred to him. The previous night he had had a very involved dream in which the bereaved Elf had indeed ridden posthaste up to the doors of Elrond's Hall. In his waking mind he could still see the approach of this rider as clearly as if the events of his dream—his nightmare!—had happened under the eye of the noonday sun. Fortunately, he had not been taken unawares, for in his dream Glorfindel had been on patrol. Espying the approaching party of Greenwood Elves, and recognizing who rode at their head, he had sent Lindir back to warn Rivendell.
"Ride as fast as you can," the balrog-slayer had ordered his messenger. "It is the King of Greenwood who approaches, and Lord Elrond will want to make appropriate preparations." Innocent as to the import of these words, Lindir had obeyed with alacrity, and Elrond had had a few hours in which to decide what to do.
After he had received the news, Elrond at first could only pace back and forth whilst he considered his options, each as undesirable as the other. If Thranduil demanded his son and Elrond yielded him, Thranduil would be mollified. But what of Anomen? Was the lad ready to return to Greenwood? Elrond did not think so. If he concealed Anomen from Thranduil, then, he would be protecting the elfling from an ordeal he was not mature enough to face. Yet by doing so, he would be wronging Thranduil. Ai! This would be a dilemma for even the Wisest of the Wise. At last, Elrond decided to stall for time whilst he continued to consider the matter. 'Anomen is a shy lad', Elrond told himself, 'and Thranduil is a formidable figure. It would be best if Anomen were not dragged straightaway into meeting the King of Greenwood. Mithrandir departs upon the hour on a journey to Rhosgobel. Perhaps he can be prevailed upon to take Anomen with him. I know that Radagast is fond of Anomen and would not object if Mithrandir brought him along. That would take Anomen to Greenwood, of course, but to the southern half, miles from the portion ruled by Thranduil. In any event, it hardly matters, as Thranduil will be here in Rivendell'.
Elrond hurried to Mithrandir's chamber. As he arrived at its door, the wizard stepped over its threshold. In his hand he clutched his staff, and over his shoulder was slung the small bag in which he carried his few necessities.
"Mithrandir," cried Elrond, "take Anomen on this journey, I beg of you!"
"What has he done now?" sighed the wizard. "Put dye in the fountain? Glued the pages of one of Erestor's manuscripts? Braided together the twins' hair? Out with it, Elrond. What mischief has he gotten himself into that necessitates his immediate removal from the Hall?"
"No mischief, my friend. Thranduil is on his way. I fear that Penidhren has told him something that has made the King curious about Anomen."
"Well, then," Mithrandir said briskly, "I shall meet you at the gate upon the instant. Tell Anomen not to bother packing. I shall procure whatever is needful from the villages that we pass."
Elrond hastened to the library, where Anomen sat at lessons with Nenmaethor and the twins. He seized Anomen by the wrist and drew him to his feet. "You must come with me at once," he said urgently.
"But he hasn't finished memorizing—" began Erestor.
"Never mind that," called Elrond over his shoulder as he dragged an amazed Anomen out the door. "Hurry!" he urged the lad.
"What is the matter?" exclaimed Anomen, who was becoming frightened.
"Mithrandir will explain later. You're going on a journey with him. You are always begging to be allowed to accompany him. Aren't you glad to finally get your wish?"
Anomen was too confused to be glad. "Shan't I pack?" he cried as he realized that they were making straight for the gate.
"No! no! Mithrandir will provide you with whatever you need. Hurry!"
Running by now, they arrived at the gate, where Mithrandir awaited them. Elrond's grip on Anomen's wrist was exchanged for the wizard's. Mithrandir took one great stride forward, and Anomen took two to keep up. To Elrond's dismay, at that very moment Thranduil's party broke from the forest, their horses lathered, the Greenwood Elves having galloped the final stage at the urging of the King. The King of Greenwood recognized his son at once. With a cry of mingled rage and relief, he leaped from his horse and seized Anomen's free wrist. Reflexively, Mithrandir pulled Anomen toward him, and Thranduil instinctively reacted by yanking the lad in his direction. Elrond, whose actions were equally automatic, seized Mithrandir around his waist and lent his strength to the wizard's.
This tug of war went on for several minutes until a terrified Anomen found his voice. "You're hurting me! You're hurting me!" he screamed.
Horrified, the adults all released their grips, and Anomen bolted for the forest. Thranduil recovered first. "After him!" he shouted to his riders.
"Are you mad?" shouted Elrond. "You can't mean to run him down with horses!"
"The first Elf who stirs," bellowed Mithrandir, "I shall turn his horse into an ass—aye, and the rider, too!"
Thranduil's Elves had wheeled about and begun to ride toward the forest, but at Mithrandir's words, they reined in their horses and looked over their shoulders nervously.
Wizard, King, and Elf-lord stood glaring at each other, and Elrond found himself spluttering like a petulant man-child. "Look what you have done!" he shouted at Thranduil.
"You. Have. My. Son." Thranduil replied through gritted teeth.
"Not anymore I don't," Elrond shot back angrily.
Mithrandir took a deep breath to settle himself. "At the moment, nobody has him, and if we don't calm ourselves we are all likely to lose him forever."
This had the desired effect. Everyone fell silent, and Thranduil, who had been very red, turned pale. "What shall we do?" he said in a voice so tiny that it might have passed for Anomen's. Elrond felt a pang. 'Even if Thranduil has not been an ideal father', he thought to himself, 'he is not without love for his son'.
Wizard looked at King and King looked at Elf-Lord, who looked at Wizard. "Well," said Mithrandir impatiently, "is this the best we can do: stare at one another?"
"First we need to find him," said Elrond.
"I never would have thought of that," said Mithrandir sardonically.
"Sarcasm won't help," said Elrond angrily.
"It already has," Mithrandir pointed out.
"Let us not expend our energy quarreling," interrupted Thranduil. Surprised that such a sensible suggestion should be uttered by the King of Greenwood, Elf-Lord and Wizard at once ceased sparring.
"Where is Glorfindel?" asked Mithrandir. "If there is anyone who can track Anomen, it is he."
"He cannot be far behind my riders," said Thranduil. "We drew ahead of him only a few miles back."
Even as he spoke, they heard the sound of hoof beats, and shortly thereafter Glorfindel and his troop cantered into the clearing. Glorfindel looked as pale as Thranduil, and suddenly Elrond wondered what his face looked like. In fact, his color had not changed, but his eyebrows had gone off in different directions, giving his face a look simultaneously fierce and perplexed. Glorfindel stared at him but said nothing as he dismounted.
"You may as well get right back on that horse, Glorfindel," called Mithrandir. "Anomen has run away, and he must be found before he gets into trouble. More trouble, I mean," he added.
Glorfindel looked at Elrond, who nodded. "Yes, Glorfindel," he said somberly. "The one thing we can agree upon is that Anomen should not be out wandering in the wild. I am sorry to send you out when you have only just come in from patrol."
Glorfindel shrugged. "It is not as if I haven't done this before," he observed wryly as he swung himself back onto his mount. Holding his horse to a walk, he kept his eyes fixed upon the ground, looking for the mark of Anomen's feet. When he found footprints, he watched for the trail to disappear, for it would be at that point, he knew, that Anomen had taken to the trees, which he would have to do likewise.
Once Glorfindel was out of sight, Elrond remembered that he should act the host.
"My Lord Thranduil," he said, speaking as if the King had but newly arrived on a routine state visit, "you must be tired after your long journey. Rooms will be prepared for you and your companions. In the meanwhile, you will no doubt wish to bathe."
Thranduil forced himself to reply with a calmness he did not feel. By now the King of Greenwood had remembered that he was miles from home and accompanied by only a small force of warriors. It had likewise occurred to him that it might take some diplomacy to extricate his son from this place. Therefore, it behooved him to requite Elrond's politeness with equal or superior courtesy.
"My Lord Elrond," he said smoothly, "I would be glad of an opportunity to wash away the dust of my journey."
Elrond bowed slightly and gestured for Thranduil to walk beside him. He led the King of Greenwood to the finest of the bathing rooms. After making sure that the room was well stocked with all that was needful, Elrond bowed once more and excused himself. He hurried to his study, where as he had expected, he found Erestor and Mithrandir awaiting him. In his anxiety Mithrandir had quite forgotten that Elrond had forbidden him from smoking indoors, and he was emitting fumes at such a furious rate that the ceiling of the room was all but invisible. As for Erestor, his distress could be measured by the fact that he had overlooked an opportunity for scolding the wizard for his foul habit. Elrond sighed and strode through the room and onto the balcony. Erestor and Mithrandir followed. The wizard did not cease puffing upon his pipe, but a stiff breeze was blowing, so the situation was tolerable.
"Elrond," began Mithrandir, "what do you propose to do?"
"I don't know," Elrond replied bluntly. Erestor gaped. Elrond was rarely forced to admit himself at a loss.
"Elrond," Mithrandir said somberly, "you cannot deny Thranduil his son—not on your own authority, that is."
Erestor seized upon Mithrandir's last words. "Not on his own authority," he echoed hopefully. "On whose authority, then, must we rely?"
"You know that as well as I," Mithrandir answered. "Only a Council can declare a father's son forfeit. But I ask you, dare we force matters to such a point? The Elven kingdoms must remain united against the danger that is to come. Should a Council deem Thranduil not capable of rearing his own son, doubt not but that the King of Greenwood will abrogate every treaty to which he is a party. We want to do what is best for Anomen, true, but we must also do what is best for Middle-earth."
Elrond could not hide his indignation. "You speak as if Anomen is a hostage to be bartered for political advantage."
"He is the son of a king. He has been a hostage from the day of his birth."
Both Elrond and Erestor cried out in protest at Mithrandir's blunt words.
"How can you be so unfeeling?" objected Erestor. "And here I have always thought that you loved the lad. Was it nothing but show on your part?"
"It was not show," Mithrandir replied acerbically, "but whether I love the lad or no, I cannot change who he is—or what he is. If you are determined to keep him out of Thranduil's hands, no doubt you will have enough votes on the Council, for Thranduil has never deigned to cultivate any allies amongst the membership of that body. In addition to our votes, and Glorfindel's, you can count on Celeborn and Galadriel, and as for Círdan, he will follow Galadriel's lead. Radagast I can govern. And Saruman—"
Here Elrond interrupted. "I think we should leave Saruman out of this," he said earnestly. "I suspect he will throw his vote to whichever side seems strongest, which would be to our advantage. But to gain his vote we would have to reveal to him both the existence and the location of the Prince of Greenwood. This is information that he may someday wish to use for his own ends."
Mithrandir rolled his eyes. "You sound like Galadriel. For some reason—I know not why!—she has taken a dislike to Saruman. However, as you wish! We will have more than enough votes, even without Saruman's, to outmaneuver Thranduil."
"Then I shall at once begin to prepare vellum for the messages that must be sent out," declared Erestor, leaping to his feet.
"Hold, Erestor!" cried Mithrandir. "We could prevail at Council. The question is, do we want to? Remember, if Thranduil is denied his son, he will return in a rage to Greenwood. We need not look to him for reinforcements in the battles that are yet to be fought. What of Dol Guldur? What if we should need to move against it? We will need Thranduil's troops."
"What are we to do, then?" asked Erestor unhappily.
"I am afraid," said Elrond, with equal unhappiness, "that we shall have to behave as the leaders of our folk. In this matter we, too, are hostages. I am not free to act as I would, as Anomen's foster-father. Nor are you, Erestor and Mithrandir, free to behave as his mentors. The Prince of Greenwood shall have to accompany the King of Greenwood back to the realm he will someday rule."
"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," Mithrandir said softly.
"Or the one," murmured Elrond.
"What's that you are saying, Elrond?" came a voice. Elrond startled. Glorfindel did not belong in this portion of his dream. Then he realized that he was standing on a balcony next to the balrog-slayer. Bemused, he gazed at the colored curtains of the Northern Lights that rippled across the skies, and the remainder of his dream slipped from his memory. 'How does it end?' he worried. 'How does it end?'