I do not know how to begin this, as I do not know who will read it. At times I have seen others writing their own thoughts in such a way, and perhaps it is only now that I see the value of such a record. For even though I have no great wisdom to pass to those who come after me, I would still have them know of me. Maybe writing this down will grant me a little peace before the darkness overtakes us all, and the world ends in ruin. But how to start, that still eludes me. What would any wish to know of me? Would you want to know my name, the name of my House, the colour of my hair, the shape of my face? Would you wish to know how I come to be in this desolate place, sheltering next to a great, grey rock with two fair Elven Ladies, a fearsome warrior, and a fool? Shall I tell you of my beginning, and hope that perhaps you will see the reason for all that I am, and how I came to be here?
Years of Hope
I was born in the far-green land of Thargelion more years ago than I wish to count. The son of a great Noldor captain was I, and of course I yearned to grow into a warrior he would be proud of. Perhaps I am, or perhaps he would turn his face from mine to hide the shame in his eyes. I know that my mother would turn her head to hide the tears in hers, but she was always a gentler soul than he, or I. But they both followed the High King of the Noldor back across the sundering sea, so maybe they would understand my course after all.
I grew quickly from the flower of my youth, and enjoyed the long years of peace that the Noldor had earned for the lands of Beleriand. My memories of those days are truly joyous, although it is rare that I dwell upon them, they seem almost unreal, as though if I grasp at them too tightly I will lose them forever. But joy cannot last of course, and all too soon the peace of Beleriand was shattered utterly. I will not tell the tales of those dark, yet glorious days here; others have done so already, and with greater skill then I could ever aspire to. All that you need know is that I never faltered in my duty, in my devotion to the Sons of Fëanor. I followed Caranthir through all, until his ending. Proud, Dark Caranthir. Ah, but this world will never see his like again. My heart was broken the day that he fell, deep within Menegroth, surrounded by the bodies of his enemies. After Caranthir's fall, I followed Maglor until the very lands of Beleriand were cracked and broken, the wrath of the Valar consuming all that we had striven to build and defend.
I did not pass through the most glorious and terrible of ages of this world unscathed however, I fear that few did. I was as hale as any warrior of the Elder Days, but my spirit had been broken. Morgoth Bauglir had been defeated by the Valar, but we had lost our homes, our friends, our families, our Lords, our innocence. In my pride, I saw the Valar offer their forgiveness only to those who would bow upon bended knee to them, and I was full of anger at the idea. Had they not sat in idleness as the strength of the Noldor bled into the sweet green grass of Beleriand? They spoke of forgiveness, but what was there to forgive? The Noldor committed the crime of wishing to escape from bondage to the wide lands of their youth, lands that the latecomers sought to take for themselves. It was a crime that I had not even committed, for I was born under the Sun and not under the light of the Trees. I turned my back on the offer of the Valar that day and fled, passing eastwards over Ered Luin. I still remember with startling clarity that day, for I paused upon the jagged crest of one of those mighty peaks and turned, looking westwards. I cast my eyes across the shattered lands that I had loved, the lands where the greatest deeds of the Firstborn had been won with blood, tears and unimaginable sacrifice. I could not be sure at the time, and still I am not; but I think that I saw the last glimpse of fair white sails disappearing into the mists far from the coast. I wept then, as the Elder Days came to an end. I dropped the meagre supplies that I carried, and laid my cruel weapons atop them. Sinking slowly to the ground, I found the words that my father had sung to me as a child passing my own lips as my tears fell freely.
"We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees
The starlight on the western seas."
Was that the last time that I wept? I cannot remember another time since that day, so perhaps it was. But I am still to answer the questions that I originally posed. My name is Estarfin, a name that my father gave me due to the coarseness of my hair, which is black as a raven and hangs around my slender and serious face. What else would you know of me? I carry a terrible spear that has shed the blood of all that have stood against me, and a shield that has protected me from physical harm. What else? You would know of the Second Age? Of the Third? I will tell you then, for the tale is brief.
Years Slowly Passing
Even after all that I had seen and done, I still yearned for acceptance and love from my own kind, and so I settled by the sea in Lindon, the Kingdom of Gil-Galad. There I used again the skills of my youth, for my hands had always been skilled in the smithing of metals. I locked away my gear of war, and tried to settle to a life of peace amongst my own kind. It was difficult. Always I could see recrimination or accusations in the eyes and expressions of those who came to the forge. I began to leave my workshop less and less, and eventually began to avoid my own kind whenever I could. I shut myself in the darkness, and simply existed, for I no longer lived my life.
And so the Second Age of this world passed me by. Every day I would work the forge, leave my creation upon the step of the workshop, and then collect the food, wine or gold that was left hastily in the porch of my home. After eating, I would walk under the stars to the cliffs that overlooked the harbour and would drink my wine. Time passed, and I fooled myself that I had forgotten the horrors of my past, that I was happy with my place in life. But even this lie of happiness was taken from me eventually. The host of Gil-Galad was marching to war with Sauron, and all warriors were called into service. I had no wish to march to battle and death once more, but I would not refuse the order of the King. The Last Alliance they called it, but that name was a lie. The last alliance had been made before the Nírnaeth Arnoediad, for that was when Men showed their true colours and the trust that had existed between us was shattered.
We were almost destroyed, but our might was too great for the darkness that stood against us. Sauron, slave-master of Morgoth was defeated, and his forces destroyed. There was great sacrifice once more though, as the last King of the Noldor fell in that hateful place, and our lamentations were great. Bitter was the victory, and the return march westwards was slow and subdued. Many tongues, both Noldor and Sindar, spoke of sailing into the west once we reached the sea, and I must say that I was tempted myself. What remained for me after all? All that I had known and loved was gone, and I was left alone in a world of increasing darkness. But still my pride and fear would not allow it. Maybe you know me well enough by now to understand why I could not leave. But Lindon had lost what little joy it once had. The busy streets were quiet, and the sound of sweet music no longer filled the air. There was a deep vein of sorrow that ran through the lands, the sorrow of a once-mighty people now diminished. I no longer walked to the cliffs under the stars, and I began to drink more heavily to keep the sorrows of the night at bay. I admit that I began to despair during the long years of my self-imposed exile there, and I grew ever more weary of the world as the days passed me by.
The Time of Endings
That brings me to this very year, and looking back at this I can see all of the different paths that I could have taken, the different choices that I could have made. But once a path has been started, it is difficult, and oft foolish to leave it. Anger and pride were all that was left to me by this age of the world. Maybe you think that I despise myself, my own kind, Men..... Perhaps even the Valar themselves? But you would be partially mistaken. My heart is too hollow to hold enough hatred for the whole world, and even I am not fool enough to curse the names of the Valar. Do I not still sing to Varda Elentári as I walk under the stars? And as for my own kind, I would happily exchange my life to defend any member of the House of Vanimar. No, there is no hatred in my heart, except for those that led us to this place. Morgoth, Sauron, and Men. I carry that burden of hatred to this day, for so sworn good or evil an oath may not be broken and it shall pursue oathkeeper and oathbreaker to the world's end. I cannot leave this world until my Oath is fulfilled, and I know that it can never be so.
What brief joy and hope that I have found in this age came about, strangely enough, from fire. Since I abandoned my walks under the stars, I took to working the forge after drinking instead. One night in deepest winter, I awoke to the sound of shouts. Quickly leaving my bed, I ran to the door, and there beheld my forge burning. I knew at once that I had left the forge burning through the night, rather than ensuring that it was extinguished before I slept. Flames had destroyed the wooden building, and it was clear that it would burn until nothing was left. That was my last day in the realm of Círdan. I packed my possessions, loaded my horse, and left as the embers were still glowing red. None stopped me, none would miss me. I rode eastwards, making for Imladris, the home of Elrond.
Ages Wasted
Upon arrival within the hidden valley, I knew at once that I had wasted the years that had been given to me. Two ages of exile had passed me in silence and misery, yet I felt my heart beating faster as I heard music in the sweet evening air. There was no tang of salt, but the scents of a thousand flowers instead. The stars overhead were almost painfully bright that night, although the Moon was hidden behind the great mountains beyond the valley. The sounds of music and merrymaking drew me swiftly down the path beside the waterfall. Arriving at the stables, I handed the stable-master a small purse of silver and simply dismounted and walked away, heedless to his calls and questions. My feet took me across a series of elegant stone bridges, and then I found myself in front of the great house itself, the sounds of voices raised in song and laughter flowing through the open windows, calling to me more strongly than the sea ever did. I set foot across the threshold, and all else was a blur. There was light, music and joy, and so many high Lords and Ladies that I felt I had stepped over a bridge of time into the Elder Days. It was there that I met Daegond, who welcomed me to the Hall of Fire and introduced me to the other tall Elves in black, Elves that I know now as my brothers-in-arms, the Order of the Hammer. The House of Vanimar welcomed me as one of their own, and days passed in a haze of joy and new friendships.
All of this happiness was not without cost however, for Lord Veryacano saw in me the warrior that I had once been and could be again. At his word, I donned the black hauberk of the Hammer and joined the ranks once again. For a time I was happy; the price of my acceptance was high, but it was one that I gladly paid. Daegond, Themodir, Nirhen, Belegos, Maegnor and Denebrian all marched by my side, with Sergeant Ancalasse and the Lords Tindir and Veryacano leading us. I had not seen such a force arrayed since the days of the Last Alliance, and my heart could not help but be lifted. We trained, we fought, we drank, we caroused and we feasted. I became one of them, and finally I felt acceptance.
Then came a day that I will never forget. I anxiously waited for it to come, and I was excited by it, truly I was. The day had finally come for me and the other new recruits to swear our Oaths of allegiance to Vanimar, and to the Tûr Anglachelm himself. It may surprise you that I have not yet spoken of the Lord of my House, yet have named so many others. Maybe you will understand why as I tell you what happened that day. I stepped forward from the ring of Elves surrounding Anglachelm, taking a knee in submission to his will. The Tûr asked for a witness of my Oath to step forward, and Daegond himself approached. My heart lifted to see such a mighty Lord of the Noldor vouch for my suitability, and although I remained kneeling my head rose a little higher. I spoke my Oath with fierce pride in my voice, and Anglachelm welcomed me to the House. Before I could step back to the observers however, I was presented with a gift. A silver medallion in the shape of a flying swan, a beautiful and old piece of jewellery. But it was utterly marred. The metal was scorched jet black, the only remaining colour the glaring red eyes of the swan, staring in accusation. The Tûr spoke saying "This swan could not fly away to safety, may you remember its origin." Stung by the words I took half a step back. Anglachelm stepped closer and whispered words that were meant for only me to hear. "It could still be bright now if we could have evacuated the city in time." Then he turned his back on me and walked to the centre of the circle again, and I returned to the line. What I had hoped to be a joyous day had turned to one of recriminations. I had thought that here in Imladris I might be able to finally leave my past behind me, but it was not to be. My stay with the others was brief that night, for there is only so long that one can maintain a cheerful façade when the heart is heavy with grief. That night I found myself unable to sleep once again, and so drowned my sorrows in a bottle of fine wine as I walked the paths of the valley as a ghost.
Growing Resentment
Perhaps you think that I am weak, to be affected so by a few words of warning? If that is the case, then I know that you have never committed a deed so dark that you wake every night from slumber with sweat upon your brow and screams ringing in your ears. The words of Anglachelm wounded me deeply, whether that was his intention or not. He is Tûr, and I will follow his command, but there is no fondness in my heart for him. Rather my loyalty was directed more and more towards Lord Veryacano, the Lord of the Hammer and Successor to the House. When it was announced that Hammer was to march from the valley to hunt down the goblins of the mountains I will admit that I felt joy in my heart. It was a noble cause, and one that we had strength enough to handle with relative ease. I spent many nights before we departed packing gear and discussing the mountains with Belegos who had travelled through them before. He is one of the greatest bowmen that I have seen, and I owe him my life more than once.
We marched to the mountains and slew all that we found. The wargs, goblins and Men that strode the snows fell before us, and we prepared to destroy their strongholds buried in the rock of the mountains themselves. Before we marched though, we came across an odd and bedraggled stray wandering lost in the snow, an Elf by the name of Parnard. I took little notice of him at first, but Veryacano commanded that I guard him during our assault on the stronghold of the goblins. It was there that he earned my ire, wandering away when my back was turned, placing himself in constant danger and acting as an inquisitive child rather than a warrior. I lost patience and began to deal with him with harsh words and actions, and I am not proud of it. But I could not fail Lord Veryacano, I would not. Parnard survived, but still to this day I see him recoil from me as though he fears to be near me. I have tried my hardest to reconcile the gulf between us, but some things are not meant to be.
Upon our return from the mountains, we began to settle into our usual routines. I spent my days walking through the valley, and my evenings with kin. The Hammers of course, but also the Lady Danel. She, like I, hailed from the far green country of Thargelion. Our shared history however did not guarantee peace between us, and there were nights that our voices were raised against one another. There was a fiery relationship between us that is for sure. Wine and differing opinions can turn friendly talk into harsh words in the wrong ears. Of that crime I am guilty of taking and giving offence where none is meant or needed. But still, I thought of Danel as a close friend, despite our disagreements. So it was that when she mentioned that she was departing from the valley I was troubled. When I found out her purpose, I could not believe that she would willingly walk into such dangers alone. Over an evening of wine and fond reminisces, we agreed that I would walk with her into the dangers that she faced, and would even spar with her a little in preparation for our journey. Belegos too would accompany us, for he knew the paths that led to Dol Guldur, and had unfinished business of his own there.
Like a fool, I almost ruined everything, and I am not convinced that the wedge that I have driven between us can be healed. Danel asked for a friendly sparring session, but we ended up almost killing each other. Her reluctance to truly fight angered me, and I lost control. I could think of no other way of instilling in her the lesson that I needed to teach – that in a fight to the death we must be ignoble. Although I was the one that ended the fight lying in the mud for an hour before I could muster the strength to move, it seems that it is I that am now watched and talked of in hushed whispers as I pass. It seemed that all in the valley knew of the fight and had seen the injuries that Danel had suffered at my hands. I would have explained all that had happened, but it appeared as though those I thought of as friends had dispersed as ash in the wind. I would not approach the Lady Danel of course, for I knew that I had crossed a line with her, and if there would be forgiveness, she would not yet be ready. My comrades in the Hammer had mostly left the valley, taking advantage of the time to wander the woods and mountains surrounding Imladris before winter fell. All understandable of course, but I knew that Belegos was still within the valley. For days after the fight I saw no sign of him, and I knew that he was avoiding my presence. I heard rumours from Sogadan that Danel had turned all against me, and what reason did I have to disbelieve him?
An Escape
What choices did I have left? My kinsmen were slowly turning against me, and where did I have to turn? I had tried, I truly had. The joy that I had felt when I had been reunited with those of my own kind had turned to bitterness in my heart. How dare they judge me, those who have not the strength to follow a path, no matter how dark the end may be? And so I thought to leave the valley. I had made a promise to Danel, and I did not hold my honour so cheaply that I would not fulfil it, whether I was welcome or not. I spent a night in preparation for the long and dangerous march to Mirkwood, when who should disturb my preparations but that fool Parnard! Again, I tried to be courteous to the strange Elf, but he refused my hospitality and almost ran from my invitation. He left me a letter from the Lady Danel, and I read it quickly. There was nothing there that I did not expect, and my mind was already made up.
It seemed that despite the words of the letter, Danel and the group had hoped to avoid me accompanying them, for they had long departed when I arrived at the designated time. Riding hard, I managed to catch them before they left the High Moors behind. I was greeted with looks of surprise and forced smiles. Do they think that I am a fool? I am nothing to them but a disposable weapon to ensure their safety; their smiles do not change that. From Danel I expected nothing less than her hatred, and so was not surprised. Parnard seems as terrified as always in my presence, and I find that I no longer care. I have tried, but if he tests my patience again I will not be as kind as I have been. I admit that I was surprised to see the Lady Rainith riding with the group, for I did not know that she would be riding with us. She is no warrior, so I do not understand her choice – perhaps she too seeks escape from the valley. I have heard rumours of troubles between her and her husband, but I do not care for idle gossip. If she can swing a sword, then she will be of more use than Parnard.
As for Belegos, he troubles me the most. There is doubt in his eyes when he looks at me, I can sense it. He does not trust me, and perhaps he is right not to. Is the smile that he wore upon our meeting as false as the others? I truly hope not, but I have come to expect no less from this world. Anything that brings us joy or hope crumbles to ash when you try and grasp it. And so it was with a heavy heart that I rode after the others, making our way slowly to the region known as Eregion, once home to Celebrimbor. It was a desolate and harsh place, full of great lizards and things that rustle amidst the dark holly trees. We encountered foul cross-breeds; half-yrch and half-Man. The others tell me that they are the product of the wizard Saruman, but surely only a being of such darkness as Sauron himself could conceive of such evil? I care not where they come from, but I did not suffer any that I saw to escape with their lives. Danel and the others cautioned against it, for they believe that secrecy is our only chance of success. But I will not allow such foulness to walk upon this Middle Earth when I can destroy them. If they think that this journey will end in success, then surely they are all as foolish as Parnard. We will march to the doors of Dol Guldur, and there our tale will come to an end. Perhaps I will welcome it; maybe that is why I agreed to come.
And so that is my tale. I have told you all that I would have you know of my life and the paths that I have been forced to tread. And so I write this, sheltering next to a great, grey rock with two fair Elven Ladies, a fearsome warrior, and a fool. They have nothing to fear of me, yet still they do not trust in me. I will march with them, I will protect them, I will stand by them, and I will fall next to them when the time comes. All that I ask is that they trust me, surely I have earned that?
