Thank you to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter.

Chapter 10: Deceptive Appearances

Elrond lifted Arwen and set her on her feet, keeping a firm hold on her until he was sure she was going to stand without falling.  A grimace of discomfort crossed her face as she straightened, the skin around the long gash down her side pulling loose from the scab that covered it.  He smiled at her in encouragement as she moved and stretched until the discomfort lessened.  He offered her his hand then, and they began to walk slowly around the campsite.

“I am glad to be able to walk again, Ada,” said Arwen solemnly.

“I am glad also, for it means you are recovering. Why are you glad?”

Arwen looked across the campsite to where Elladan was helping Elrohir to sit up and eat. “I can help take care of Elrohir now. I can bring him food and water, or anything he needs.”

“We will be glad for your help,” replied Elrond with a smile. He guided Arwen around the edge of the camp, but noted her eyes did not leave her brothers. She adored them before, he thought, but now she nearly worships them as heroes. They walked slowly back up the slight hill and Arwen beamed as her brothers called their encouragement.  Finishing her short journey, she sat carefully on a tree stump next to them, and Elrond could see that already she was tired.

“Do I get to go next?” questioned Elrohir with a grin.

Glorfindel rose from where he had been sitting, a tree branch shaped into a crutch in hand. He had padded the top of it for comfort, and carved into it a twining vine that ran the length of the wood.

Elrond looked at the crutch and then at his son. The break to his lower leg had been bad, and a fall now, if he landed on the still healing wound, would be serious.  Yet, Elrohir looked hopeful and Elladan would be at his side. He finally nodded. “You may, but there are caveats,” he warned.

“Of course, Adar,” answered Elrohir. “I shall keep someone by my side at all times and not move out of the area of the camp, which you will have carefully checked for obstacles that might cause me to trip.”

Elrond closed his eyes and shook his head.  He looked back at his sons when he heard laughter, and saw Elladan again pretending to cuff his twin on the side of the head.

“He is definitely recovering, Adar, for his sense of humor is returning,” said Elladan dryly. “Shall I smack him again?”

Elrond was about to respond, to comment on how well his son knew him, when he saw Arwen out of the corner of his eye.  She had risen off the tree stump, her eyes flashing in anger.

“Do not hit Elrohir!” she cried.

Glorfindel caught her as she stumbled, for she had stood too quickly to adjust for her injuries.  Elrond could tell she was shaking in fury, her eyes filled with tears as she reached a hand out to Elrohir.

“Arwen, Elladan did not hit me,” said Elrohir quickly, his face drawn in concern.  “He was only teasing me.”

Elrond moved swiftly to Glorfindel, taking his daughter in his arms as she burst into tears. She buried her face into his shoulder, sobs racking her small body, as he walked over to a more private area near the spring and sat down on a large rock.  He rocked her in his arms until her sobs lessened.

“I want Nana,” she finally hiccupped.

Elrond cuddled her against his chest, and then bent his head to kiss her on the forehead. “Your naneth is coming just as quickly as she can.  She also misses you terribly.”

“I wish we were home.”

“So do I, sweetheart, so do I,” replied Elrond gently.

Arwen’s tears subsided as she drifted into sleep.  Elrond continued to rock her in his arms for a while longer, considering the journey they would undertake in a few days.  Arwen’s reaction, caused by her fatigue and discomfort, was good reason to wait until the trip would not tax either her or Elrohir. They had adequate supplies, passed over the river in the basket, and no signs of enemies anywhere in the region.  They would take their time, and perhaps all would find some enjoyment in the leisurely journey home. Rising carefully, Elrond carried Arwen back to the campsite, where Elrohir was waiting patiently for him.

“Let me hold her, Adar,” said Elladan contritely.  “Perhaps when she wakes I can convince her I am not a troll trying to hurt Elrohir.”

Elrond laughed softly. “Arwen was a little tired and uncomfortable, and not in a mind to understand that you were teasing.”  He looked at Elrohir, who was poking his brother in the leg and whispering ‘troll’, and spoke to Elladan. “While she is sleeping, you may smack him again.”

Elladan pretended to cuff his twin as he stood, and then leaned over to take Elrohir by both forearms and slowly pulled him upright. Elrohir fell against him heavily, and Elrond stepped towards them, Arwen still in his arms, but Elladan pulled Elrohir to him and held him upright, supporting much of his twin’s weight as Elrohir’s world spun.

Glorfindel slipped the crutch under Elrohir’s arm, then stood protectively behind him as Elrohir fought to stay upright.  Elrond watched him struggle for a few moments, then laid Arwen down on her blankets and moved to his sons.

He wrapped his arm around Elrohir’s shoulders and bent down so his head was level with Elrohir’s. Elrohir’s forehead was resting on his brother’s shoulder as he tried to slow his spinning world, his breath coming in short gasps.

“Elrohir, focus on me.” Elrond spoke in a softly commanding voice.  “Take a deep breath and hold it. . . release. Breathe in again.” He continued quietly talking Elrohir through the dizziness and pain.  Soon Elrohir was able to open his eyes and straighten, though he still leaned heavily on his twin.  Elrond let him stand for several minutes, then spoke again, “This is enough for your first time standing.  Let Elladan and me help you to the ground.”

Elrohir did not protest, proving to Elrond that this step had been as much as he could bear. They lowered him gently to the ground.  Elrohir closed his eyes and threw his arm over his face. Elrond could see the clenched muscles of his jaw, and tear tracks running from his eyes and down into his ears, his frustration obvious.  Elladan sat down next to him, resting one hand on his twin’s shoulder but remaining silent until Elrohir recovered.

Elrond waited until Elrohir had uncovered his face and Elladan had propped him up, and then gave him a small cup of miruvor.  Elrohir sniffed it cautiously, then lifted an eyebrow at his father.

“It will refresh and restore you, but you must rest. If you wish to stand again this evening, we will help you. Otherwise, tomorrow is soon enough.”

Elrohir drank the contents of the cup, and Elrond was pleased to see his eyes brighten and face clear a short time later.

“I think Arwen and Elrohir both seemed better than they really were,” said Elladan suddenly. “I guess appearances can be deceiving.”

“Adar, Glorfindel, I think I healed much faster when I was a child and you told us stories to pass the time,” said Elrohir, again grinning.

“Your injuries were not nearly so bad when you were a child,” replied Elrond. “But perhaps we can think of a tale you have not heard.”

“Continue in the Second Age,” suggested Elladan.

“The dark times of the Second Age were just beginning, though we did not know it,” replied Elrond, “for creatures of shadow came disguised as creatures of light, and their appearances were also deceptive . . .”  

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Elrond was in court when word came of a visitor at the gates.  An emissary had delivered a scroll, which a messenger now handed to Elrond.  Elrond noted the fine parchment, and upon opening it, the beautifully written script.  He quickly read the letter.

“Is the name Annatar familiar to you?” asked Elrond. He looked up at Gil-galad, who shook his head in reply. “There is an emissary of Lord Annatar at the city gate. He bore this letter, wherein Lord Annatar seeks your leave to come to Lindon.  His claim is great: he is neither elf nor man but bears skills that will aid both.  He wishes to come to Lindon to learn of our ways and to teach us even greater skill.  He promises that friendship with him will benefit us greatly.”

Gil-galad took the message and read through it himself.  “Fair words and even fairer promises, yet he does not say of which peoples or lands he is lord, nor what skills he possesses.” He paused.  “Have a message sent to Círdan. Perhaps the name is familiar to him. Invite Glorfindel to join us as well.”

* * *

“Annatar,” said Círdan slowly.  “He calls himself a name meaning the ‘Lord of Gifts.’” He paused in thought for a long moment.  “This is not a name I know. I would not trust such a message.”

Gil-galad turned then to Glorfindel, who also shook his head. “Nay, Gil-galad. That is not a name I know either.”

“If he is neither man nor elf, then what is he?” questioned Gil-galad. “His claim seems to put him on the level of the Maiar or Valar, for he is certainly not of any mortal species of Middle-earth.”

Círdan’s eyes darkened and narrowed as he stared out over the water. “If the Valar send emissaries on their behalf, we will recognize them as such,” he stated firmly.

Elrond sent word to the emissary that the king declined his lord’s offer, for though Annatar wrote fair words, his missive held little of substance.

* * *

A few months later…

Elrond was in the library when the king summoned him.  He met Glorfindel in the courtyard, also responding to a message from Gil-galad, and together they entered his private meeting chamber.  He was sitting at his desk, another scroll written in the same elegant hand before him. No words were spoken as he handed the letter to them.  Glorfindel read it over Elrond’s shoulder.

“The undertone of this letter is almost threatening,” said Elrond finally. “Veiled, perhaps, but beneath his words of honey lies the sting of a bee.”

“He claims other elves have made his association and prospered greatly, and questions why we want neither the benefit of his association nor the ability to help other realms be as fair and free as Lindon,” mused Glorfindel as he read through a second time.

There was a long silence as all pondered their thoughts on the mysterious Annatar.  “I do not know who this Annatar truly is, nor what motivation lies beneath his veiled threats, but Lindon shall not treat with him,” declared Gil-galad.

“Will you consent to send messengers to Eregion and beyond, to all the settlements, in warning?” asked Glorfindel.

“You think that he poses more danger than he appears capable of?” asked Elrond.

“The misgiving in my heart grows.  We know not what he is capable of,” replied Glorfindel, his expression troubled. “He may have strength that we cannot see.”  He turned again to Gil-galad. “Send out messengers, my lord.  Warn them of danger and not to treat with him.”

“I will send out messengers warning against him, for though fair-seeming we do not trust him. I will not, however, forbid them from making his friendship.  The settlements are free, and I have not proof against him,” replied Gil-galad firmly.

Glorfindel bowed his head in acquiescence, but Elrond could see in the stiffness of his shoulders that the discussion was far from over.

Nonetheless, the emissary was again denied, and several days later, messengers rode east bearing messages from the king.

* * *

The following summer . . .

Glorfindel left the city early in the morning, riding his stallion east to the hills and then just beyond into the countryside.   There he alternately rode and walked, spending his day exploring the lush grasslands that begged to be farmed. Near midday he rested, allowing his horse to graze in the tall grass while he lay nearby. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the scent of sweet grass and honeysuckle, and listened for the birds, identifying each by call and song.  The nickering of his horse, followed by the thud of him lying down in the grass, caused him to open his eyes and sit up.  The powerful stallion was rolling on his back in the grass, all four legs in the air as he snorted and nickered his pleasure.

“You overgrown kitten,” laughed Glorfindel.  “I shall tell all those beautiful mares you have been courting about your coltish behavior.” The horse snorted at him again. “You shall have no chance for recourse, my friend.  And I shall take extra care to make sure you do not see me with a pretty elleth, to whom you might tattle my follies.”

Just then, in the distance, Glorfindel heard a noise, of hooves and the sounds of travel.  He motioned his stallion to stay silent and hidden in the grove.  He ran lightly across the ground until he had an unencumbered view of the road that led to Lindon.  In the distance, a party approached.  Guards rode in a loose formation about a tall being on a great horse.  His long dark hair was unbound, flowing freely over his shoulders and blowing gently in the slight breeze. He was fair, even beautiful, and his eyes were bright.  Dressed in a long tunic of midnight blue, decorated in silver and white trims that sparkled in the sunlight, he was a stunning presence.

Glorfindel watched the being approach with growing uneasiness. Neither man nor elf, yet he carried power about him like a mantle.  He had a regal bearing, as one who was not often denied. Suddenly, Glorfindel realized that this must be Annatar. He carefully slipped from sight, waiting until the small procession had passed before returning to the grove.

“We shall take the less traveled paths, much as we came, and your speed will be an extra gift,” whispered Glorfindel into the stallion’s ear.

Glorfindel passed through the gates before the visitors came into view.  Dismounting, he warned the gatekeeper of the impending arrival, and then went to the palace. He saw Elrond about to enter court, where Gil-galad greeted visitors and heard petitions, and motioned for Elrond to wait.

“Mae govannen, Glorfindel,” Elrond greeted him.  “Did you enjoy your ride into the hills?”

“Suilad, Elrond,” replied Glorfindel. “A visitor approaches. If I were to guess his name, I would say Annatar has come to Lindon personally.”

Elrond’s eyes widened and then narrowed in what Glorfindel read as a challenge.  He found himself grinning in spite of himself.  “I need to go refresh myself. If you go personally to the gates, I shall go with you.”

“Are you asking to accompany me, or telling me that you plan to accompany me?” asked Elrond, a glint of amusement in his eye.

“Telling, my lord, of course,” replied Glorfindel as he bowed and then retreated to his chamber.

* * *

By the time Glorfindel returned to the Hall, Elrond and Gil-galad were reading through a letter in the now familiar script on a fine linen scroll. A messenger waited patiently nearby.

“You may return to your post,” said Gil-galad. 

The messenger nodded and left, not questioning the lack of reply nor what his king might do instead.  Gil-galad turned to Elrond.  “Question him, but he is not to enter the city.  Glorfindel is to accompany you.”

Glorfindel laughed and Elrond glared at him, but they left together with equal measures of apprehension and anticipation.  A small crowd had gathered at the city gates, listening to the visitor as he spoke of what Lindon should offer to the rest of Middle-earth, and promising them what good he would bring to Lindon.   The visitor continued to speak even as the crowd parted and then fell away as Elrond and Glorfindel approached.  The normal guards were visible at their posts near the gates, but others approached, blending invisibly into the walls of the city.

Annatar walked several steps forward to greet them, bowing his head slightly at Elrond.  “Greetings, Elrond Half-elven, herald to the high king,” he began.  “I am Lord Annatar.”

Elrond studied the visitor for a moment, then asked, “Of what lands and people are you Lord?”

“I have been Lord of many, but now serve all of Middle-earth. My labors are many, yet my work would be greatly enhanced with aid from Lindon, fairest of realms.”

“From where do you come?”

“I come from afar, from my travels in the east, and before that from the north and the west.  No lands do I call my own, however. I seek knowledge and understanding of all peoples, to know their ways and the measure of their hearts, to learn of their craft and impart what I have gained from others.”

“What business have you in Lindon?”

“Only to bring what knowledge I have gained in my years of travel, and to learn also from you.  No realm have I seen this fair or fine in all of my journeys.  Surely wisdom and craft you may teach me, and perhaps I may add to that you already possess.” As the visitor spoke, he turned slightly to meet the gazes of all those near him, graceful hand gestures including all of them in his praise for the realm.

Glorfindel watched the reactions of those in proximity.  Most of the guards seemed duly impressed by Annatar, and many smiles were to be found on their faces after he praised the fair realm to which they had contributed.  Elrond, however, remained guarded.

“You speak in generalities,” chided Elrond. “You do not name a land that you call home, nor do you speak of specific needs or skills to be acquired. You say you come from the west, yet Lindon is as far west as one may now travel.  Did you live once in Beleriand?”

“My travels did take me through Beleriand, many years before its destruction,” acknowledged Annatar. “Such times are long in the past, however. A successful new start your king has made here. Now is the time to end the desolation and the darkness that pervades much of Middle-earth, and make all of elvendom as blissful as your Lindon.”

“Indeed,” replied Elrond. “What knowledge do you possess of Lindon, that you speak of it so?”

“You seek flattery!” cried Annatar in delight. “Word of the grace and beauty of Lindon travels far from her borders.  Few have not heard this truth, my friend.”

“Nay,” said Elrond evenly. “It is not flattery I seek, but facts. Still you evade my questions, deftly stepping around them as if our conversation were but a dance.”

“You do not find dancing pleasant? I have heard of your serious demeanor, Master Elrond. But it is true, more serious discussions do await us. Perhaps we should now meet with your king?” Annatar’s voice held a slightly mocking tone, yet his smile was still present and he reached to Elrond, as if to wrap an arm about his shoulders and move into step with him.

Glorfindel moved in that instant, stepping in between them and catching Annatar’s hand in his own.  He felt a flicker of power course through him as their skin touched, and a sudden feeling of menacing cold blanketed him.  Annatar snatched his hand away and stepped back, and just as quickly the power and cold faded. Glorfindel would almost have thought he imagined it, except for the momentary gleam of anger that remained in Annatar’s eyes.

Elrond had not flinched, but stood firm. As Glorfindel stepped slightly aside, but not out of reach, he spoke, “My king has provided an answer to all your previous emissaries.  It has not changed. Lindon will not treat with you. You may camp overnight, if the need is present, under that grove of trees a half league beyond the gate.   Our guards will escort you and keep watch, that your entourage may properly rest before you return to wherever it is you call home.”

Elrond turned his back to Annatar and strode purposefully away even as guards materialized from the city walls. He did not see the burning hatred in the glare that followed him, for it lasted only an instant.  Annatar bowed after the retreating form of Elrond.

“Alas, it is a great loss for Middle-earth when the mightiest of her leaders will not deign to labor with others to improve the lot for all who love these lands.  Come,” he said, motioning to his small entourage, “we will find others more willing to serve.”

Glorfindel watched as Annatar turned, proud and regal, yet apparently greatly saddened, and began to walk down the east road away from Lindon.  Several of the guards looked at Glorfindel in confusion, for Annatar’s words had moved them. Did not they all wish to improve Middle-earth?

“Clear you minds of the honeyed words of a deceiver,” said Glorfindel sharply.  “Shadow and deception masquerade as light, but at their core they remain evil.” He motioned to a contingent of guards who had stepped forward at Elrond’s earlier command.  “Follow them at a distance and ensure they leave these lands.”

Glorfindel walked away, his heart uneasy as he pondered who Annatar might be or whose power he harnessed.  Clearly Annatar would seek out the other elven settlements, and attempt to seduce them with the same words he had used in Lindon.  Quickening his pace, he strode into the palace and entered the king’s private office, where Elrond also waited.

“He will travel from here to Eregion, seeking from them what he could not obtain here,” he said bluntly.

“Celebrimbor could be more easily deceived,” added Elrond. “He seeks only to improve his craft and will welcome one with goals to rid the Earth of darkness, for they match his own.”

“Messengers have been sent warning the elven settlements to neither welcome nor treat with Annatar,” Gil-galad reminded them.

“You are the recognized high king of the elves of Middle-earth.  Demand it,” said Glorfindel suddenly. “Do not allow them to be deceived.”

Gil-galad’s gaze hardened as he looked at Glorfindel.  “Only in Lindon would I declare this as rule. Galadriel and Celeborn are in Ost-in-Edhil, and rule over the city.  Galadriel will not be swayed by Annatar, nor will Oropher or Amdir.”

“It is within your power to order them not to treat with him,” argued Glorfindel.

“No,” replied Gil-galad, his hand held up to stop Glorfindel’s argument. “I have supported those who wished to settle realms of their own, and their loyalty I have earned by supporting and encouraging them.  To demand their action in this could mean an irreparable splintering of the elven kindreds.  This is not sufficient reason to take such a risk.”

Glorfindel bowed his head for a moment. “There is a power in him of which I do not know the source. He may be more than we can imagine.”

“If he is,” replied Gil-galad, “it may take all of us to stand against him. We cannot risk the sundering of realms.” Gil-galad held his eyes steadily. “This is not Gondolin, and I am not my uncle.  What Turgon could do in a hidden kingdom among a united kindred is not what I can do in realms spread out over hundreds of leagues and including Noldor and Sindar, Falathrim and Nandor, Silvan and Avari.”

Glorfindel slumped into a chair in front of Gil-galad’s desk. The three were quiet, as all considered the import of Glorfindel’s concerns and Gil-galad’s practical considerations.  Elrond rose and poured three cups of wine. Glorfindel accepted his gladly. He understood the king’s position and could not solidly argue against it.  He knew for fact only that Annatar was more than he seemed.  He felt a desire to seek out Círdan, for he knew that Ulmo still communicated with the ancient elf.  Perhaps he would have insight that would help put Glorfindel’s mind to rest.

The three drank their wine in companionable silence.  

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

“Annatar was Sauron,” breathed Elrohir. 

“He was,” answered Elrond, “but we did not know it then, nor for many years to come.  He did not reveal himself until he was discovered.”

“Glorfindel, you were right,” said Elladan, a troubled look on his face. “This is what you and Gil-galad disagreed about.”

Elrond looked at Glorfindel, who smiled at him in return.

“We were all right, and which decision would have proved better is unknown,” replied Glorfindel. “The One Ring would not exist, perhaps, had Gil-galad issued the order and the elven realms had obeyed and not splintered their loyalties.  Had the order been issued, and a realm both welcomed Annatar and splintered their loyalty from other elves, then not only would the One Ring have been forged, but we might not have been able to drive Sauron out of Eriador and none of us would be here. History will judge our actions, in particular Gil-galad’s, for such decisions ultimately rest upon the king. But while history judges the outcome of the choice we made, it still cannot provide a better answer or say with surety what should have been done, for history cannot predict the outcome of another choice.”

“Choices are like the threads of a spider’s web,” added Elrond.  You may follow the silk to a fork in your path. You may choose to meander the way of the right tine and ultimately end up in the spider’s grasp. It was a bad choice.  However, you have no way of knowing if choosing the left tine would have ultimately changed your fate, much less led to a better end. The path ahead twists and turns, and you cannot know what other obstacles you may encounter that will further help or hinder your journey.”

The twins were silent, and Arwen still asleep, though now in Elladan’s arms as he did truly intend to ensure she awoke to his loving touch and not to a remembrance that he was beating her beloved Elrohir. 

“I suddenly feel very young and insufficient,” admitted Elladan.

“You are very young, but far from insufficient,” said Elrond with a laugh. “None of our decisions were made without council, and I hope that you will always seek out good council for any important choice you must make.”

“Your legs are an insufficient pillow,” grumbled Elrohir. “Arwen has the comfortable spot.  Adar, will you roll me a blanket for a pillow?”

Elrond and Glorfindel both laughed, and moved to pamper and spoil Elrohir into a comfortable position.

“You are such an elfling,” whispered Glorfindel as he gently shifted Elrohir.

Elrohir only smiled.  For once, he was glad to be just an elfling.

* * * * *

Author’s Notes:  The Tale of Years in Appendix B states that in SA 1200 Sauron endeavors to seduce the Eldar. Gil-galad refuses to treat with him. There is one statement in HoME that Annatar went into Lindon, but it is noted that this contradicts the statement in the Silmarillion (below).  The Silmarillion says they refused to ‘admit him to their land’ and UT says that Gil-galad refused Sauron’s emissaries and Sauron himself.  Thus, I had him send emissaries and then show up himself, but be refused entrance into Lindon proper.  One could argue he didn’t go close to the city himself.

The Silmarillion Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age

‘Men he found the easiest to sway of all the peoples of the Earth, but long he sought to persuade the Elves to his service, for he knew that the Firstborn had the greater power; and he went far and wide among them, and his hue was still that of one both fair and wise.  Only to Lindon he did not come, for Gil-galad and Elrond doubted him and his fair-seeming, and though they knew not who in truth he was they would not admit him to that land. But elsewhere the elves received him gladly, and few among them hearkened to the messengers from Lindon bidding them beware; for Sauron took to himself the name of Annatar, the Lord of Gifts, and they had at first much profit from his friendship.  And he said to them: “Alas, for the weakness of the great!  For a might king is Gil-galad, and wise in all lore is Master Elrond, and yet they will not aid me in my labours.  Can it be that they do not desire to see other lands become as blissful as their own? But wherefore should Middle-earth remain forever desolate and dark, whereas the Elves could make it as fair as Eressëa, nay even as Valinor?  And since you have not returned thither, as you might, I perceive that you love this Middle-earth as do I.  Is it not then our task to labour together for its enrichment, and for the raising of all the Elven-kindreds that wander here untaught to the height of that power and knowledge which those have who are beyond the Sea?”’

Unfinished Tales, History of Galadriel and Celeborn

‘….while in Lindon Gil-galad shut out Sauron’s emissaries and even Sauron himself.’