Estarfin paced back and forth within the small suite of rooms that he kept. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn, shutting out the daylight and noises of the valley. Empty bottles, stacks of papers and various weaponry and armour pieces littered every surface, and Estarfin strode between them, a thick crystal glass in his hand. Anger and frustration radiated from him; every few strides he would run a hand through his coarse hair and take a swig of the cheap wine that he was drinking. It would have been evident to any observer that he was trying to keep his temper under some sort of control, but Estarfin had not had to entertain visitors for longer than he could remember.
As he paced, he chastised himself. How could he have lost control like that, in front of everyone? He had already heard some of the rumours that were flying around Imladris; that he had shouted at the fair Elven maid Rildheldiel in the Hall of Fire and broken the usual peace there, that he was often stumbling out of the Hall after becoming drunk once again. And now, he had shamed himself in the company of the Lady Danel, breaking glasses and causing a scene - again, within the Hall.
He paused his relentless stride, cursing himself that it was in such a public place. Had he thought that a secluded corner in that great hall was out of sight and mind of all that were gathered there? He drank the remainder of the wine in the glass and sighed. He looked around the dingy room for the bottle he had opened that morning, but he could only see empty bottles arranged haphazardly. In his frustration he closed his eyes and carried on pacing. Almost immediately he tripped over a split training shield, landing heavily on his side, knocking over a small table as he did so. He lay there for a moment, surrounded by broken glass, his hand bleeding from crushing his goblet as he fell. He lay in the dark, and he ran through all of the shameful events that he had been a part of since coming to the House of Vanimar, realizing that every slight had been forgiven. Rildheldiel, Danel, even his brother-in-arms Belegos forgave his frequent outbursts. He covered his face with his hands, trying to hide from the memories, leaving blood smeared across his cheek and nose from his bloody hand.
Letting out a low moan, Estarfin steeled himself, and pulled himself into a sitting, and then a standing position. Walking to his wash chamber, he looked as his reflection in the dark mirror. Tired eyes stared back at him, surrounded by a gaunt face covered in his own blood. He used the silver bowl of water to wash the blood from his face, and a leather cord to pull his hair back from his face. He removed the rough cotton robe that he was wearing, looking around for his hauberk. He finally found it, buried beneath a large shield and a red and gold cloak. He spent the next few minutes strapping himself into his armour, attaching the pauldrons, then pulling on his boots and gauntlets. He picked up the red and gold cloak, considering it. Shrugging, he attached it to his pauldrons.
He walked to the door and paused, his head resting upon the wooden frame. He was already overdue, but the first step from the door was always the hardest. Steeling himself, he swung the door open, letting the bright sunlight flow into his dark rooms. Blinking rapidly, Estarfin stepped into the sunlight, the smell of lavender and jasmine upon the air, the sound of running water in his ears. He stepped from the dark, and felt only despair at living to see another day.
