I walked onto the biting ice of the Hithaeglir to save him. He walked into the flames of a burning house to save me. Perhaps we are equal now? Not that I ever held it to be some sort of contest, nor that I would not do it again. Thinking thus upon our past reminds me of the talk we had when returning from Imladris to Falathorn for the first time. We stopped on the edge of the Old Forest, just in sight of the Brandywine bridge. We sat hidden until it grew dark, and most Halflings would be abed.
“There is undeniably something between us, though I know not if it be for good or ill?” he had said.
I was taken aback. How could he possibly think what was developing between us would lead to ill?
“Explain, if you will?”
“Good needs no explanation. For ill - I mean that of surety one of us will lead the other to their death.” He looked not grim, merely as one stating a fact.
I had never seen our lives that way. I saw the surety that both of us would go to the other's aid. That did not mean going to our deaths. I wasn’t totally sure how to answer.
“I would never deliberately lead you into danger again, nor do I believe you would do so to me.” No, I would not repeat my actions regarding Urussë. “But if ever you are to be endangered, I would give every attempt to help, I would give my life.”
He looked at me with a nigh inscrutable expression. He knew from experience I would do so. “I do not wish to lead you to your death.”
I pondered those words of his for some time. I think I came to understand. Neither of us were quite ready to say what we more recently have, and that because neither wanted to hurt the other in any manner, but I knew even then that I would rather follow him to death than spend the Ages without him. The Hithaeglir had made that clear.
I had ridden onwards, following the trail of star-marked goblins. Estarfin had been busy. There were few tracks of any sort; he had left his horse at a lower level to return to the stables it seemed, and continued on foot. But the snow was falling thicker with every hour and much that could have told a tracker was obscured. A couple of times Pelorian skidded on underlying ice, though she made no sound. A heavy mist descended, which was not a rarity, and that muffled most noise, although a couple of times I heard the faint howling of wargs. Then there came a mighty squall, blowing snow into drifts, and lifting it high into the air. Pelorian slipped and fell, thankfully throwing me some distance away. Thankful that I was not crushed, aye, but I could not see a white horse in a snow storm, and neither of us dared make a sound.Then there was a mighty rumble as an avalanche swept us down hill. I survived, as I had experienced other, lesser, avalanches in my youth, but of my mare there was no sign. Fortunately I had managed to keep my grasp on Sarphir and I was wearing my thickest, warmest cloak. I had a small travel pack strapped to my belt. Otherwise all provisions were lost. I did not expect to survive long after that, let alone rescue Estarfin, but I was determined to try. Back up the hill I struggled, the thick snow to my advantage by muffling any sound and lessening sight and scent. There was a noise from the camp above, a roaring and screeching.
I slew several goblins with my knife as I ascended, cutting their throats and clamping a gloved hand over their mouths. A few scoops of snow over them was all acknowledgement I would give. Then, as my breath shortened from the exertion, I was at the top of the incline and hurriedly ducking down from the view of around a hundred of them. And there he was, still defying the odds.
“Die! Die! Why won't it die!” screeched a spear-wielding creature, standing nearer to me than I liked. It ran forward, hurtling its feeble spear at Estarfin, who effortlessly swept it aside with his shield, to add to the pile of broken spears near his feet.
But there were too many of them, and some rode wargs. I remember calling to Tintallë to ask her to give me strength to die fighting at his side. Though Sarphir was an excellent weapon, it could not do as much damage in that situation as a spear. ‘Let us take as many of these abominations with us to greet death,’ I thought.
Then he was almost encircled, with his back to the cliff edge.
It was Marawendi’s voice that broke the still evening, shyly she had sought permission, to which Parnard had nodded, and she had opened her mouth to give praise to Tintallë, the Lady of the Stars. Sweet of sound was her voice, although not as polished as some. I thought it would pay for her to take some lessons, perhaps with the Bard in Celondim? It was something I could discuss with Parnard later.
And we rode on, under the canopy of stars, towards the Shrine of the Lady. The midsummer night was cooling, but would still retain some of the day’s heat for a while. There was an enchanting fragrance from the moonflowers and night-scented stock planted by the path. Parnard looked back and waved to the small group assembled.
I urged Pelorion forward to match pace with my beloved’s mare, Norlomë, and lay a hand on his arm. “I feel as a Lady riding beside her Lord at a procession. Do you remember them as they rode around the Lake at festival times?” I suspected he would protest he was no Lord, as he usually did.
He laughed softly. “Is it the outfit?” he retorted.
“It is an excellent choice,” I chuckled, “but I would feel the same no matter what you had chosen.”
He inclined his head, and smiled, seeming reluctant to take his eyes from me.
Marawendi stopped her song for a moment, and adjusted the enormous blue bow on the top of her hair. She nodded to Parnard, then both Wood-elves resumed singing, and continued until we passed Duilond.
I felt a sudden ‘snap’ as the small link I had with Estarfin broke. Although I had not been overly aware of it, there had been some form of connection between our fear(a). He had been thinking of me, even if not consciously reaching out. It was like a warm but weary presence in my mind. And all of a sudden it was gone. The cacophony of the jeering goblins stopped in that instant. There was silence that I could hear the snow fall. I felt something strike me, push me away, and all I could behold was coloured red.Then the noise returned even louder, though this time the goblins were celebrating. I had no sense of Estarfin at all.
A wave of despair swept over me. He had been pushed over the edge? I could not lose him again. I focused my thoughts on Sarphir, which he had made for me, and on the ruby ring I had made for him that he may well be wearing. It grew colder as the night wore on. I covered myself in snow, moving into a drift by a large boulder. Much as I wanted to, I dare not move far. I dare not move at all until the majority of Goblins had moved on. After a while, a couple of their Captains began to rally their fellows. I did not understand their dark speech, but from gestures and results I gathered search parties were being sent out to bring the body back. I had dared not think of how they planned to defile him if they found him. I had to reach him before any of them did. Dead from the fall or alive, I would not let them have him easily. My progress downhill was slow, moving from one place to another until most of that hoard and their wargs had departed. They were all out of sight, but not necessarily out of hearing or scent. I moved on, and the storm returned, again whipping the snow into a frenzy that would obliterate any signs. I had next to no chance of finding him, but that was as good as it would get.
It was one of the worst times in my life. Not quite as bad as when my father told me Estarfin had been slain in an Orc attack, but still a nightmare.
I focused as best I could, building an image of him in my mind, and though I sensed nothing, I held onto hope.
After around half of an hour, the sound of a Warg howl broke through the stillness not far from me. I hurried toward it to come into a spot slightly sheltered by a large boulder and long dead tree. The otherwise pristine snow was marked with fresh blood, with a mounted Warg rider jabbing a spear into the split in his armour…
…the Warg had Estarfin’s leg in its jaws…I already held Sarphir in my hand. ‘Concentrate’ I tried to cut through my rage, even as I broke the spear and dragged the Goblin from his seat to dispatch him swiftly. The Warg I pierced through the neck, severing its jugular, then I ran to fall beside Estafin, and see how, if in any way I could ease his pain.
I was utterly prepared to lie down in the snow and die beside him if there was no other alternative. “Be at peace, my Lord,” I whispered in his ear. “Soon we shall go home together, you and I.”
“We cross together,” Estarfin said to me.
We had left the horses outside the circle of marble stones and statues, having bid them remain as we would not be overlong. Parnard and Marawendi had done likewise, and were fastidiously seeing to their costume, he smoothing back his hair, and she again fluffing that giant blue bow, then they followed in silence a short distance behind us.
I nodded in turn to Estarfin. “Together.”
Crossing the short bridge side by side, we approached the central statue. He knelt before Her image as I made a deep curtsey.
“Ithil is full and bright this night, and the stars are a canopy of light. We come before you, Lady of the Stars, to ask for your witness of this ceremony between us, as did our ancestors.” Only then did Estarfin rise to his feet.
I took the opportunity to look back over my shoulder, and noticed Marawendi’s nervous expression. She was afraid to come any closer, it seemed.
“This ceremony is usually for family and close friends, Marawendi. We hold you and Parnard to be both. Draw a little nearer, if you will.”
She smiled shyly and hurried forward. Then she pressed into my hand something that gave me a moment’s pause. A bunch of flowers, fragrant Aiglos it was, white flowers a’bloom, bound with a green silk ribbon.
“Fearanë and I gathered these for you, Lady.” She bobbed me a curtsey and handed them over.
Parnard smiled at her, and said, “Be not afraid - and be quiet, too.”
Estarfin was in a very bad way. The fall from the cliff had been partially broken by the deep snow drift, but even so his right leg was shattered and mauled by the warg. From the way he was breathing it appeared he had broken some ribs and, by the angle it was held, most likely his left arm. He was bleeding severely, the blood trickled from his lips. He saw me briefly and managed a half smile before he passed into unconsciousness. I could not move him far. It was most likely his last resting place. The nearest aid would be the Dwarven Hall of Hrimbarg, and even if we had horses I doubted he would survive that journey.
I removed my thick cloak and wrapped it around him as best I could, checking each wound as I went, and wiping his wounds clean with tincture of witch hazel, and cloths soaked with nettle extract to slow the bleeding. I was thankful for the limited provisions. Alas that they were limited, and the majority were still with Pelorian, wherever she was. I could not risk giving him even a sip of water, less it worsened deep wounds I could not see. I gave way to tears then, as I would not have done had he been conscious. Parnard was our only remaining help - that is, if he had not dallied over long in the company of Sogadan so that even now, Lords of Vanimar were riding to our aid. They would be angry with us both, but they knew roughly where I was heading. I lowered my head, and prayed silently to Tintallë
I almost fell asleep, my head nodding down to my chest. Had I not woken it would have been the sleep of death. There was a noise, something smacking into the snow. I turned to him swiftly to see he had tried to sit up, but had fallen back at another strange angle.
(1) “Lord!” I managed to say, as I hurried over to him. I only ever called him that when baiting him for a denial, or when most earnestly afraid for him. He was bleeding from his mouth again, so I tore a strip from my tunic and used it to clean his face. Oh dearest one, would that I could change our places!
He choked, then coughed, but managed to say, “Help me up.”
“You should remain where you are, Estarfin. Your wounds …”
“Will be no worse whether I am lying or sitting. Help me up, please.”
Against my better judgement I assisted him up until he was propped against the withered tree by the rock.
“How bad is it?” He managed to steady his breathing from the effort, and looked down at himself.
I told him, my voice catching briefly at the list. “I tried to bind most of the wounds as best I can. But I do not have all my supplies.”
He nodded, grey of face and his breathing labored. “I can feel bones grating against something as I breathe…you are right about the…broken ribs.” He looked up briefly at the weak afternoon sun. “They will return with the darkness…we must be gone by then…gather my weapons and call the others...”
My heart missed a beat. He thought I was one member of a rescue party! Tears filled my eyes.
He looked closely at me. “Danel? You are wearing that long face for me? These wounds will heal with time…my strength will return…call the others, let us be gone from here…”
I had no choice but to tell him. “Lord Estarfin, there are no others. I came alone with all the speed I could muster when I…when I heard you were missing. My mare was lost in the mountain storm, along with my provisions. I have crossed the snows with nothing to aid you.” I hung my head in shame. My eagerness to reach him had probably sealed our fate, and the rescue party from Imladris would arrive too late.
We sat in silence for several moments. Then he spoke again, slower, and in a gentle tone. “Then we must attempt to flee on foot…or sit here and await death. I can use my spear as a crutch, though you must carry my shield, if you will?”
I shook my head, my thoughts desperately searching for a plan, for hope.
“No? What is this strange mood? I laid upon the snow under the stars and called upon Tintallë, though I have always believed we dwell with only her light upon us, and that the Valar remain uncaring of the unhappy fate of this world. Yet you found me in this endless whiteness. Such things cannot be ignored, and cannot be wasted. Take heart. Pass me my spear, and help me to my feet.”
“Your shield and spear are not here, Estarfin. Neither were with you when I found you. I have searched. Believe me, I have searched thoroughly. All I found were a few personal positions, I have them in my pack.”
He raked his right hand through his hair, unable to believe that news. “Are you sure? Can you be certain?”
Yes, I understood how hard that news would be. His precious spear and shield, with which he had fought through Ages, were lost. “They are gone, Lord. Perhaps taken by goblins?”
He let out a curse at that notion, his eyes flashing with fire.
I thought, ‘and they will burn the hands of any foul being that touches them,’ but I did not think saying such would help. “I only carry Sarphir. You must try and walk, I will support you all I can. We head downhill to Hrimbarg, though there is yet a chance a party from Imlardris is searching for us.”
I rose to my feet, and held out my hands that, with some difficulty I pulled him to his feet. He would have been lighter if I could have removed some of his armour, but I dare not try for fear of aggravating his injuries, of how much the armour was holding him together. I lay his shoulder around my neck, taking as much weight as I could from his injured leg. I was smaller in build than many a nis, but as a descendent of Mahtan, I was far from weak. “There,” I said. “We may still surprise any hunters.”
Estarfin took a hesitant step forward, but let out a gasp of pain as his leg collapsed under him. He held on to me, as we both struggled to stand, but despite our best efforts it was too much. He was too heavy for me to support. I cursed myself for not being one of our strapping warrior women. I cursed myself for not being true to my bloodline. He slid to the ground with a howl of pain, spitting out a mouthful of dark blood onto the snow, and rolled onto his back, gasping for breath.
“Go! Just go,” he muttered. “You cannot help me.” I saw his face flush, and tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. “No weapons, no strength , no hope. Leave me be.”
I sat in the snow beside him. I would never leave him to die alone.
“GO!” he shouted, then sank back weakly and started coughing. “You seek death here? That is all you will find if you stay…go back.”
I sighed, but my mind was made up. I could fight off a few should they attack. I could try to keep him warm through the bitter night. Perhaps, just perhaps….
“Please,” he whispered, “please just go before they come back.”
I sat close beside him, offering what warmth I had, and gripped Sarphir tightly.
NB The herbs mentioned are just ones I have read about and are in no way meant as medicinal advice.
(1)Much of this section through to the end is taken from ‘No Escape’, by Estarfin.
(2)Fear - Spirits
