Thanks to the following reviewers: Enigma Jade, Elfinabottle, Opal Kitty, Apsenniel, Dragonfly, Avion Jade, Joee, Windwraith, Keji, and CAH. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.
Beta Reader: Dragonfly
Chapter 6: Falling into Trouble
After Elrond and Glorfindel left the balcony, each quickly retired to bed, and each almost at once found himself immersed in a dream in which Anomen figured prominently. For Glorfindel's part, he saw himself in a tree, studying a branch for any sign that an elfling had passed that way. At last he found what he was looking for, an almost imperceptible mark upon the skin of the tree. Following the subtle signs, he at last caught up with Anomen, who lay curled up asleep in the crotch of an oak tree. Glorfindel smiled with an amusement tinged by wistfulness. Oak trees had long been Anomen's favorite refuge. There was one in Rivendell to which Glorfindel automatically repaired whenever Anomen was reported missing, and more often than not the balrog-slayer would find the elfling hidden within its boughs. He would climb up beside the lad and, in his own brusque way, seek to soothe the elfling before leading him back to the Hall. Glorfindel always pretended to be put out when Elrond asked him to retrieve Anomen, but in truth he looked forward to these moments of quiet conversation with the otherwise skittish elfling. Now the balrog-slayer wondered whether he would ever again share such interludes with the lad. Sadly he settled himself upon a branch near Anomen and softly he called his name. Gradually, Anomen awoke and looked about in confusion.
"Where am I?"
"In an oak tree," Glorfindel deadpanned.
Anomen giggled. "I know that!" he exclaimed. He didn't say, "I know that, silly!" but his expression said as much, and Glorfindel felt a moment of happiness that subsided quickly as he again came to grips with the possibility that he would no longer enjoy moments such as these with the elfling he had come to love. Anomen sobered when he saw his mentor grow serious.
"I ran away," he said flatly.
"Yes, and you must not do so anymore. The world grows more and more dangerous. Stay close."
"I want to stay close," Anomen cried. The syllables poured out so rapidly that one word tumbled into the next. "I want to stay close to you'n'Ada'n'Restor'n'Mith'n'Wen'n'Dan'n'Ro. I want to! But now the King of Greenwood has come," the elfling sobbed. "He'll take me back to the Great Hall, won't he?"
"It is very likely," Glorfindel answered honestly, "but that does not mean that you will never again see me and the others. For one thing, you will not always be an elfling, and someday you will be able to travel when and where you will. For another, your friends will sometimes themselves be able to travel. I myself have for several centuries been meaning to take a tour round Greenwood, and, do you know, I think I may do so in the near future. Certainly I will do so if I am no longer responsible for the training of a certain elfling. I shall have more time on my hands than I will know what to do with!" Here Glorfindel ventured to wink at Anomen and was rewarded when the lad wiped his sleeve across his eyes and smiled a little.
"You must also remember," Glorfindel continued, "that Mithrandir often journeys to Greenwood. I would predict that, should Thranduil take you to the Great Hall, those visits will increase in frequency and length. You will not be abandoned, ion-nîn!"
In his fervor, Glorfindel did not notice that he had addressed Anomen as 'ion-nîn', but Anomen had, and he was both awed and comforted. 'He called me his son', the elfling marveled to himself. Impulsively, he threw his arms around the neck of the balrog-slayer and squeezed tight.
"Here now," harrumphed Glorfindel, trapped between a laugh and a sob. "Here now, you scamp, you want to strangle me, do you? Well, here is the punishment for that!" And Glorfindel—yes, Glorfindel the indomitable, Glorfindel the balrog-slayer--seized Anomen about the waist and began to tickle him, only stopping when the two very nearly fell out of the tree. Gasping, with tears of laughter instead of sorrow in his eyes, Anomen did not resist when Glorfindel suggested that they descend from the tree and return to Elrond's Hall. The two climbed nimbly down and Glorfindel took Anomen's hand in his own and gently led him home—to what had been home, anyway.
In his sleep, the real Glorfindel groaned and tossed. Sitting up, he looked about wildly, half expecting to see a tearful elfling perched at the foot of his bed. When he saw no one, he sighed with relief and sank back upon his pillow. 'Anomen is in Rivendell, and all's right with the world," he murmured before falling back asleep.
In his own bed, Elrond, too, was sleeping fitfully. In his dream, from his window he saw Glorfindel and Anomen nearing the Hall, and he flinched when he saw how trustingly Anomen clutched the balrog-slayer's big hand with his little one. 'Like a lamb to the slaughter', he thought bitterly, 'and I am to be the executioner'. Despondent, the dream-Elrond left his chamber and went to meet Glorfindel and his charge. He stood at the entrance of the Hall, and when Glorfindel saw him, he released Anomen's hand and gently pushed the elfling forward. Anomen needed no further encouragement. He ran full tilt at Elrond and threw his arms around his waist. "Ada Ada Ada Ada," Anomen murmured as if chanting the name would create a bond between the two that would prevent anyone from ever spiriting away the elfling. 'Or perhaps', thought Elrond sadly, 'he is trying to say that name over and over again against the time when he is no longer able to address me by those syllables'.
Elrond was reluctant to break Anomen's hold upon him, so he simply scooped the elfling up and carried him inside to his chamber, where he, Anomen, and Glorfindel, soon joined by Erestor and Mithrandir, ate a private breakfast, free from the eyes of the many who broke fast in the dining hall—secure, also, for a time, against any interruption by Thranduil. Elrond knew, however, that the meeting between Anomen and the King of Greenwood could not be long delayed.
Indeed, at this very moment Thranduil was eagerly entering the dining hall. One of his warriors had been out in the garden, enjoying the sunrise, and had spied the balrog-slayer returning with Anomen by his side. He had hurried to the King's chamber and informed him of this development. The King, in the midst of dressing, hastily finished his morning toilet, confident that he was about to be reunited with his long-lost son. His disappointment at not finding the elfling in the Dining Hall was exceeded only by his fury. "No doubt," he raged, "the Peredhil, the Half-elven, thinks that he can hide Laiqualässe hereabouts. But I will not be denied!"
Accompanied by several warriors, Thranduil stormed toward Elrond's chamber. When he reached it, he aimed one mighty blow at the door and flung it open without waiting for a reply. Inside, his eye fell upon Anomen, curled comfortably upon Mithrandir's lap, drowsing after his night of fitful sleeping out of doors. Thranduil let out an enraged roar, and the elfling, startled into wakefulness, looked up into a face contorted with fury. Thinking that Thranduil's anger was directed at him, the lad leapt up in terror and before anyone could stop him he had made use of his preferred escape route: the window.
Unfortunately, Elrond's chamber was on the second floor, and Anomen in his haste had leapt blindly. No tree limb spread its boughs outside the window to welcome him. The adults heard a cry of fear and then a thump that was not followed by the sound of scurrying feet. All within the room sprang to the window, jostling one another in their anxiety and haste. Below lay Anomen, unconscious, one leg splayed out like a broken branch dangling from a tree after a fierce hailstorm.
Had Elrond loved Anomen less, he would have struck Thranduil down upon the instant. Instead, all his thoughts were with the elfling. He shoved someone out of the way—it was Mithrandir, but the wizard never rebuked him for it—and bolted from the chamber. As he ran, he heard wails coming from the garden. Arwen had been playing in amongst the flower beds and had found her beloved Nomie sprawled upon a greensward now stained red.
When Elrond reached Anomen, he had first to gently urge Arwen away from the lad's side. Fortunately, the other adults had arrived hard upon his heels, and Mithrandir took upon himself the task of coaxing the little lass into his arms. Once he had secured her, he carried her into the Hall and entrusted her to the first elleth he encountered before hurrying back outside. Whilst he did so, Erestor ran for bandages and splints so that Anomen's leg might be bound before he was moved, and Glorfindel hastened for a litter. As for Thranduil, all he could do was wring his hands until the others had returned. Once Anomen's leg had been bandaged, however, the King insisted upon being one of the litter bearers. He and Glorfindel simultaneously seized upon the same handle, and for a moment the two glared at one another other, each unwilling to let go. It was Erestor who brought the rivalry to an end, albeit a temporary one. "Glorfindel," he said firmly, "leave it. We can deal with that matter later. For now, Anomen needs to be brought inside, where Elrond and Mithrandir can better tend to him."
His concern for the elfling outweighing all else, Glorfindel nodded and stepped back, but Elrond knew that the balrog-slayer, if not prevented, would still find a way to 'deal with' his resentment toward Thranduil, and it was going to take all Elrond's diplomatic skills to stave off the disaster that would then reverberate throughout elvendom. For now, however, he was going to focus all his thoughts and energy upon mending Anomen.
Once Anomen had been carried inside and laid upon a bed, Elrond ordered everyone out but Mithrandir. Thranduil balked. "I will stay by the side of my son," he insisted. Glorfindel shot back at him.
"If you truly cared for your son," the balrog-slayer challenged, "you would not interfere with his well-being."
"Are you suggesting that I do not love for my son?" growled Thranduil.
"My words stand," Glorfindel said stubbornly. "If you truly cared for your son, you would not interfere with his well-being."
Thranduil hesitated. Rationally, he would have to concede that Elrond and Mithrandir would be better able to tend to Anomen if they were not distracted or impeded. Yet it seemed to him that Glorfindel's words might have an import beyond the sick-room, and it therefore might be dangerous to concede a point that might later be used against his claim upon his son. Still, he did not want to endanger Laiqualässe.
It was again Erestor who brought an end to the stand-off.
"Thranduil," he said mildly, "the library is quite near—within shouting distance, really. Although," he added hastily, "I do not approve of such behavior in its environs. However," he continued, "if you will accompany me there, I shall see to it that Lindir and some other of the runner-elves are posted outside this room. Should anything occur, you will be summoned upon the instant. Surely you will not be accused of neglecting your son if you await word at a place that is so close to hand. Is that not true, Glorfindel?" added the tutor, cannily drawing in the balrog-slayer.
Since Glorfindel had just minutes before been insisting that Thranduil leave the sick-room, he could not very well object to a plan that had the desired effect. Grudgingly, he muttered an 'aye'.
Relieved to have been provided with an opportunity to back down without losing face, Thranduil followed Erestor and Glorfindel from the chamber. Glorfindel did not wish to wait in the same room as Thranduil, so the balrog-slayer took up his station in the garden at a point from which he could descry through a window the movements of Elrond and Mithrandir. Meanwhile, Erestor showed Thranduil to the library and excused himself to fetch runners. In his absence, an agitated Thranduil moved about uneasily, picking up and putting down object after object as he sought for something to distract him from his fears. At length his eye fell upon a table on which were neatly stacked exercise books, rulers, glue pots, and other items indicative of the elementary student. He crossed over to the table and picked up the topmost exercise book. Flipping it open, upon the inside of the cover he saw neatly written, in childish letters, "Anomen Elrondion, his book." On the pages that followed were exercise after exercise, each corrected by a mature hand in a fashion no less careful than the one in which the exercises had been written. That would be Erestor's hand, no doubt. At last Thranduil closed the book and, deep in thought, resumed pacing.
Once the supernumerary Elves had left the sick-room, Elrond and Mithrandir set about in earnest the task of mending Anomen. Mithrandir had some potions of his own to mix while Elrond removed the temporary splint and carefully examined Anomen's leg. "There seems to be only one break," he said, "and that is good. On the other hand, the jagged end of bone has punctured the skin, and that is not good.
"I am including in this salve several herbs that fight corruption of the flesh," Mithrandir said, "and I shall apply to it several spells such as will not be too powerful for one of his size and age to endure."
Quickly Mithrandir reeled off the list of herbs that he was using. When he was finished, Elrond spoke approval and suggested two additional ingredients that he kept in his chamber. Mithrandir went to the door and dispatched one of the waiting Elves to fetch the necessary herbs.
"The messenger will return shortly," said Elrond when Mithrandir turned back into the room. "Meanwhile we should set his leg. You hold the upper part of the limb steady whilst I manipulate the lower portion."
Mithrandir took firm hold of Anomen's leg just below the knee while Elrond put one hand above and the other below the break. He meant to apply pressure as gently as possible, and he prayed that Anomen's unconsciousness was so deep that he would feel no pain. Slowly he began to manipulate the bone.
A few seconds later, a shriek rang out that reverberated throughout the Hall, and all who heard it answered with their own cries of pity and fear.