Sometimes I wonder if Lord Estarfin is in his right mind. But what is right? When he was laid low by illness, his thoughts wandered from their usual paths, as a drunken ploughman might veer across the field, away from his formerly straight furrows. During the time of his affliction, the lord forgot who he was, or that which he became over the long years of his life, and truly, he was more like a child again in mind, taking delight in simple things: gazing at the stars, and watching the leaves on the trees flutter, and skipping stones across the water. His appetite and strength have returned, and accordingly, his once scattered wits have settled down into their old familiar tracks, and now he thinks stone skipping is a mighty foolish and useless pursuit. And so his lost wits have been found and returned to him, but I am not certain if they were ever made entirely sound and whole.
When the Lord Estarfin recollected himself, he was very surprised to find the pockets of his white robe heavy with skipping-stones, and all his money and weapons gone. He demanded a full account of his current state, and we told the lord what happened to him in the small space of time after we entered the wood. Though our telling is correct, he doth not seem to believe it. I have considered this, and either he cannot recall it (which is not unlikely, considering his confusion of ideas), or he is sore ashamed to hear of his lunacy. I shall not remind him. Mentioning it again to the Lord Estarfin is needless, unnecessary, and cruel, especially if it causes his honour embarrassment and ignominy to recall it. Lady Danel showed me his writing, which I mistook as his report to the Lord Veryacano of our doings, but this was nothing but raving mad scrawlings. He seemed to be under false perception, confusing his friends with his foes, which is most worrisome. Perhaps his vision was affected by his illness, and therefore told his brains incorrectly, or perhaps there is some very slight trait of countenance in his companions, which remind him of someone else, former enemies maybe, that made him recall some past transgression and stirred up his wild passions.
His reason comes far short of the mark at times, and he seems easily puzzled and at a loss for words. It may be this is not any unbalancing of his mind, but its natural state, which I would know little about, having known the Lord Estarfin only a short time, and thus imperfectly. I have not had any meaningful discourse with him: often, those who are strong with arms and warfare do not possess sagacity and subtlety of thought, and I do not seek them out, because we would have little to say to one another. I had also avoided his company whenever possible. His business is to fight, and hurt and kill any thing that stands against him or the Bar-en-Vanimar. Let every foe beware of him, and keep far away from his ferocity! To his friends, it is a sure benefit to have such a protective, zealous companion, as long as this battle-rage stays checked, and doth not break out against them. I hope I do not remind him of anyone he strove against, and I pray he has forgotten about Vindurhal.
My thoughts have often returned to that troubling time, when I, smarting with my wounded arm and near frozen by the bitter cold, was the unwitting target of his vengeful spirit, but it still eludes me to this day why I made him so very angry, and I know not what I should or should not have said to him. Maybe I should not have been so careless as to laugh, as he may have thought I was mocking him, but I could not help myself. I wish I had not laughed, because it brought forth nothing but the opposite of mirth and joy. It is of no importance. Rarely doth it serve fruitful purpose to brood and dwell upon what may or may not have been, if this or that was or was not done. If I did this, I would not have time or the will to do anything else again in life. It is a consolation to me to think that the Lord Estarfin hath forgotten all about this time, as I have almost forgotten it myself, and that he cannot recall the reasons for his sudden fury, or what I said, or did, which made it burst forth. If this is the case, it is well for me.
It is likely his apprehension of our road ahead that confounds the Lord Estarfin. Our way is not well plotted, and remains dark and uncertain, so he doth not have a perfect, clear and distinct view of our destination. Therefore, his reason is faulty, for it comes too soon to an end of its reckoning. But Lord Estarfin is not alone in this anxiety: the scout Belegos is in great doubt of our journey, and he admitted that he has no plan whatsoever for entering the terrible Tower! Will it avail any of us how near we get to it, if the doors are shut tight? Yet the Lady Danel hath put her full confidence in his guidance! A most miserable blind leader of the blind is the Lord Belegos. And, if that were not bad news enough, Elloen boldly declared his intention of coming along with us, so that he can earn the right to flaunt a piece of frippery, some gilt brooch or bracelet, and said he would protect us! At this fresh absurdity, and the grim face which he wore as he spoke this bizarre pronouncement, my gloominess at leaving Caras Galadhon was utterly overcome, and I was seized by such a mighty fit of laughter, that I was near convulsed into knots. I thought he was jesting, but it turned out to be the woeful truth. It seems the Lord Estarfin’s madness ended by finding itself a new landlord, and hopping into Elloen’s head to keep house. I told Elloen that he was making a gross error in judgment, but it was no use.
Crazy folk sometimes go very far in life, for they believe what they say, and know what they want: until they find themselves no better-off or happier after all their struggles, when their lives come crashing to a hideous end. I have a far simpler remedy for Elloen’s strange jewelry-lusting: he should renounce this foolishness straightaway, and go back to the Valley. If we were all to turn back now, and return to Imladris, we would arrive before early Spring, when the pear trees are in blossom. Then we would stand before our great and glorious lord, and give him a reckoning of our journey. And, after the telling, Lord Anglachelm would tell us how brave we are to have even dared such a thing, but we are wise to have given up our recklessness, because it is better to be wise and alive than foolhardy and dead. Then we would say that we would never leave the Valley again, unless he commands it, else we shed many tears, so many that our hearts would shrivel up from the agony and well-nigh break into a thousand tiny brittle pieces.
But I am not crazed, nor vainglorious, nor blind, nor craven, and I intend to keep my promise. I told the Lady Danel I would help, and I am not a covenant-breaker. I mean to find a way into the Necromancer’s Tower: if anyone can, I shall do it.
