Eventually we were rescued, of course, else I would not be recounting this.
(1)We still spoke a little, Estarfin trying to get me to abandon him, and I as stubborn as Fëanor over what I would do. Of course I understood, had our positions been reversed I would have done the same as he. But they were not, and I would stay. They came back under darkness, not Goblins, but two wargs. I did not sense them until I walked a few steps away, to keep the blood flowing in my legs. One jumped on me from behind. It flattened me into the snow. I struggled to turn, to raise Sarphir to strike, but it had already raked my shoulder with vicious claws, pushing aside the pauldron and tearing through leather and cloth armour with ease. Its foul breath so close to my face was suffocating. Estarfin was shouting, and smashing his good arm into the snow in an effort to draw the creature from me to himself. Unable to turn my sword to strike, I rammed its hilt into the side of the creature’s face.
“Again!” hissed Estarfin.
I obeyed him without hesitation, smashing the hilt a second and third time. I felt the crunch of bone, and the warg, a smaller brindled creature, took a step back. It was enough. I could move Sarphir so plunged it into the warg’s chest. But the pain was like a fire in my arm. I struggled to regain my feet.
“Danel, come here. Show me the wound,” Estarfin said urgently.
I was on my knees when I glanced to the right, and saw two baleful, menacing eyes looking at me.
“Danel, swiftly!”
Unsteadily I got to my feet, and freed my blade from the first warg’s body. It was difficult, the pain from my mauled shoulder was draining my strength.
The approaching Warg was far larger, and dark of hue. Its nostrils flared at the scent of blood, from my arm and from Estarfin’s wounds. Loosing a howl to the darkened sky, it made to leap on him. Desperation leant me strength to stand between the would-be attacker and the Noldo who was trying to rise to his feet.
“You come through me,” I shouted, raising Sarphir to strike.
On the edge of my vision I saw Estarfin trying to place himself between rock and tree, so that while weaponless, he could try and defend himself.
The warg ignored me, making straight for him, jaws snapping, claws raking through the air. But I was still between them. I slashed downwards, intending to hamstring it and lessen its movement. I missed, but managed to cut deep into its hind leg. It stopped and let out a yip; I let out a scream of pain as it turned on me, claws tearing at my face and neck.
Estarfin must have found some rocks, something to throw to knock the warg off balance for a moment or two.
And I could not see. I could not see anything. I raised my hands to feel sticky blood running down my cheeks. Shaking in horror at what I might find, I touched my closed eyes.
“Raise the sword to the right, Danel …now!
I followed his instruction, lunging where he said. The Warg howled.
“Again, lower… much lower.”
“I drew back Sarphir and plunged it forward with all my remaining strength.
“Danel…! Danel… Carnifindë!”
I heard his voice calling to me faintly. Then there was no more.
When I awoke it was to find myself being carried downhill by Gwaedir of the Order of the Arrow. I could not see a thing, but the pain had lessened, no doubt from the ministrations of the healers.
“Is Estarfin here? Is he alive?”
I was unconscious again before I was told the answer. A while later, as we neared the horses, I was told Estarfin was in a bad way from his many injuries, but that the healers and some others had made a sledge to draw him on. He was not far behind us. Pelorian had also found the searchers and was only bruised. I was unconscious again.
Back in Imladris, I was tended by Elirael and Elloen, and although it took some months, my eyes did heal, and I was hale again. Estarfin took much longer. He was abed in the hall of healing for some time, which did nothing for his mood. It would have altered the mood of any soldier to remain so inactive. I visited him at first, as much as I was permitted. Alone, or sometimes with Parnard, we tried to lift his spirit, even just a little. The healers would often send us away, not wanting him to become more restless or morose.
I still visited Esfarfin’s bedside until, one day I overheard Ruineth speaking of how Parnard and I were holding back her dear Lord’s recovery. She visited him regularly, and there was no need for me to remind him of our misadventure.
I stopped going to see him then. Not because I believed her, but because I wanted no strife of any sort to cause him grief. I asked the healers for news of him regularly. One evening in the Hall of Fire Parnard said to me, “He has asked after you, you know. You two are such great friends, I am surprised you have not visited him lately.”
I had to be strong and give Estarfin every opportunity to get well. He had argued once with Parnard, and I knew that set him back. Over the next year and a half I kept a distance, while Ruineth hovered round him, seeing to his needs.
There came a time when a messenger arrived at Imladris, bearing dire news. My grandmother, Istarnië, who was still on these shores, had fallen foul of a poison arrow and was being taken to Mithlond (which was nearest) for the attention of the healers. I was called upon to visit, as it was not known if she would survive.
It all happened so swiftly. I asked Aearlinn and Ceuro, who were both close to me, to ride with me that very night. I packed a few things, and wrote a brief explanation for my departure to Lord Anglachelm. And I left. I did not say farewell to Parnard - others would explain. I also did not say goodbye to Estarfin.
As it transpired, Grandmother needed to Sail West. Her survival was questionable if she remained much longer.
And I remained to take on her Hall in Forlond, attended by her stewards and my apprentices.There was much to sort out from her Ages spent here - much to record, and a few things to send to the ships. I would return to Imladris eventually, I thought. I had every intention of doing so.
Then, after a few days had passed. I received a letter from Estarfin. He asked why I had left without even speaking with him? He said he knew I would sail, even though I had always denied it. He said that our parting would be till the end of time.
I could not believe he thought that. The idea of never seeing him again was beyond me. I admit, I cried when I first read it. Curumaito, the healer, was still attending my grandmother. He listened to my distress, and encouraged me to write back. I did so, sending the letter setting straight my thoughts, and to some large extent, my feelings. It was the most openly I had ever communicated with Estarfin.
I waited and watched for any messages arriving at the Halls, but no reply came forth. And my heart and hope sank. Surely he understood what I had written? ‘Death aside, I am bound to you, son of Thargelion, in a way you have not realised.’ (2)
There was no reply. I took to riding out, sometimes with others, oft by myself. I visited Imladris twice. I found Belegos there, but not Estarfin. I tended to journey through Eregion, my ruined home of the Second Age until, one day, I decided I would wait no more on any reply. I would head for Imladris, and abide there until he and I spoke face to face.
As chance would have it, at that same time, Estarfin was riding out to Eregion, to find me.
After a few more years getting to know each other better, here we stand, about to start our life together, with Eru and Tintallë, Parnard and Marawendi as our witnesses.
I sometimes wonder if that was Tintallë’s plan all along? The voice I heard in Imladris, his voice calling to me, that had not happened when I heard. He would have still been slaying his way to Goblin Town. The image in my thoughts was of him broken, lying in the snow drift, and bleeding from many wounds. That happened when I was already there. So it was not osanwë. What then could it be? Foresight perhaps, though I never thought I was gifted thus. But he and I both honoured The Lady of the Stars.
(1)When the Lights go out. | The Laurelin Archives Some of this section is taken from the previous tale
(2) Reply to Estarfin | The Laurelin Archives
