A sense of foreboding and fear lay upon him like a grey shroud, so thick he could barely breathe for the despair that clawed at his heart. Helpless and at the mercy of his captors; the thought was enough to send a chill through his blood, and he drew his knees to his still-healing chest. What treatment could they expect from these tall Men? They were raucous warriors, and he remembered well the treatment that his own band of warriors had meted out to their captives in Dunland. The smell of blood and burnt flesh almost made him gag as he recalled their desperate interrogation of the prisoners, and their desperate attempts to justify such actions as necessary. What had they learned? Had any of the knowledge won them back their Lord, or was it in vain that such a high people threw away their honour. His eyes rose from the straw-covered floor and slowly drifted across the faces of his companions until they found the still face of Nirhen. What madness was it that had driven them forth from Imladris on such a desperate mission? He remembered well sparring, drinking and laughing with Nirhen - but looking at her now he felt only pity. It had been she that had lead the interrogation of the prisoners they had taken, and it had been her that had grown cold towards Estarfin every time that they took another step along the path to finding Anglachelm. And now? What could they expect from her when she awoke from her daze? She had been near madness already he thought, and now this? She would see it as betrayal, for she would have stood against the Rohirrim and died, rather than let them lay hand upon her or her sword. A part of Estarfin agreed with her, she had held her sword aloft and had spoken proud and fell words in the face of their enemy. Estarfin would have stood beside her, had Lord Veryacano not given them direct orders to stand down and to lower their weapons. How could she go against such an order, it was almost unthinkable. They had been forced to cover their tracks in Dunland, yet that had not been against a direct order. The flames hid their trail, and they had done what Veryacano had not the stomach to order. That had been against his wishes, but they had broken no order, had not spat in his face as Nirhen had done that very night with her disobedience. He had told her, repeatedly, to lower her weapon, and still she denied him. How dare she? Did she think that the sword she wore was somehow more precious to her than Estarfin's spear and shield were to him? Madness. That was the only explanation. She had seen at least as much of war as Estarfin, yet she was becoming more and more erratic as this journey progressed. He shook his head sadly, his black hair falling across his face at the small movement.
Their capture was unfortunate, but not wholly unexpected. How long could they hope to wander the flat plains of the land of Rohan before they were discovered? Men did not posses the long sight and keen ears of the Elder children, but neither were they blind or deaf to those who passed through their own lands. The company had been moving slowly, injuries and weariness taking their toll on even the most seasoned of warriors. Estarfin was proud but even he knew that they had been moving without purpose, wandering aimlessly in a hostile land. Their leads had come to naught, and they were reduced to sifting through the ashes of burnt buildings for a sign to point them onwards. Still, they could not turn aside from the path they had chosen. Veryacano and Tindir would lead them to the ends of the world, or to their own deaths, whichever came first. He reflected sadly that perhaps it would have been better if the riders had not halted their steeds, but instead had ridden them down. Perhaps he could have killed one or two before he was slain, perhaps not. But to be trapped here, unable to defend himself? He suppressed a shudder at the horror of his situation, and resolved to keep a close watch upon Veryacano and Tindir for the slightest sign of action. He must be ready when they attempted to break free of this cage, and he would sell his life dearly to these cruel Men. Perhaps not cruel, but ignorant and savage, and that was enough. They had professed a complete lack of knowledge of the Eldar, and yet treated them with suspicion, as though through speaking a different tongue a spell may be laid upon them. Would that Estarfin had such power within him, yet he was but a simple warrior and felt useless and full of fear without a spear in his hand. He had never been captured before, and all of the horrors that he heard whispered of the fate of the prisoners of Angband crawled through the corridors of his thought. No, he must endure his captivity, and must not betray his fear to his companions or captors. Instead he would sit in feigned comfort and would trade insults with the man with the blonde beard. Red, a simple name that suited such a buffoon.
It was a sad reminder, for they knew nothing of the world or of its making. They did not realise that one they spoke to with scorn had dwelt across the Western sea ere the Sun rose. Estarfin shook his head sadly at their folly, and looked to Veryacano who leant against a large, empty wooden keg, his face down turned and in shadow. How could he stand it? How could he keep so composed in the face of such ignorance and insulting suggestions? Ere the Sun first rose, he had walked upon Ea, yet these brief animals treated him as though he were less than them. As though the deeds of the Noldor had been naught but stories, told to them on dark winter nights when the fire burned low. What had these fools expected of the Elves? Had they merged all legends and tales they had ever heard with the little knowledge that had passed through the generations until all history was forgotten in a haze of mysticism and forgetfulness? Such is the lot of Men, when they do not remember how the world and its inhabitants were shaped. If there was room in his heart, he would have felt pity for them. But the deeds of men proved one thing; even when they knew the truth, they could still turn their backs upon the light. Had not Nírnaeth Arnoediad proven that beyond all doubt? And the drowning of Númenor also? The arrogance of the Golden King. Estarfin shook his head once more in disbelief at this private thought and ran a hand through his smooth hair. Ar-Pharazôn had thought to challenge the Valar, the powers of the world? He knew the truth, but still fell to foolishness and evil ends. These men of Rohan could not understand the truth of all that had befallen this world, and the paths that had been trodden by figures too great for them to even comprehend. And yet they stand in judgement of those who stood against the darkness when all hope had been lost, and victory was impossible. They ask for stories, yet surely they would think them fiction. They cannot comprehend Elves, and they cannot see beyond the borders of their own lands. They think Saruman the greatest threat their lands face, and only dimly do they fear the greater power in the East. Think they that the petty kingdom of Gondor can withstand that tide? If so, their faith is poorly placed. Built by the very last of those who shared the blood of the Atanatári , their fortress may indeed hold, for the Men of Númenor were more skilled with stone than any of their race that followed them. But the men that man the walls and great gates are greatly diminished. Who can be sure that they themselves will not turn and accept the yoke that Gorthaur offers, seeking to spare their own miserable lives? Estarfin felt anger inside himself, rising up and smothering the fear and pity that had taken hold of his heart.
They offer us food; dry bread and cheese, and they can ill afford even that. War is coming to them and soon they will no longer be able to till their fields or to feed their livestock. What is it that they seek to achieve through our capture? We have no secrets to tell them of our purpose in these lands, for Lord Veryacano has laid our mission and dearest hope clearly at their feet, yet still they will not let us go. Such idiocy is frustrating, and I can barely stand to touch the food, let alone eat it, despite the nagging hunger that I feel. I still have my pride, and would happily sit and starve in their captivity rather than accept any small mercy that they offer. Perhaps the food is poisoned, and they seek enjoyment at watching us thrash and moan in pain before succumbing? I clench my fists at the thought. Would that their search had been less thorough, or that I had slipped my dagger into the back of the man who had searched me. But we had our orders, and orders must be obeyed. We are oath-bound to obey. What Nirhen was thinking, I simply do not know. What will become of her? I wonder at what the punishment for directly disobeying an order is, before I realise the ridiculousness of such thoughts. I am a fool, we will not escape here alive. Either news of our crossing of the river against the will of Grimbold will come to light and we will be slain, else we will languish in this mouldering storeroom forever. Or at least until it becomes so untenable that I will welcome death and will meet it smiling with the blood of my captors upon my face. Between us we have enough blood upon our hands to leave a red trail in the great western seas as we pass by on our journey to Mandos. A few more drops will make little enough difference to the tally I have reaped, and the scales set against me will hardly be moved I think.
What is it that we have achieved in this quest? Nothing. Was it then in vain to give chase to our Lord? Perhaps, and we are victims to our own vanity and pride. But we could not abandon him to an unknown fate. Did Fingon abandon Maedhros upon the face of Thangorodrim despite the impossibility of the task of finding him? Our pride drives us on, to foolish ends at times. Such is the case with me, and I think with many of the others. Perhaps some were simply stirred by the fiery rhetoric of Veryacano and were swept along on this journey before they could come to their senses. I smiled slightly to myself. The others may not agree, but at least there had been no terrible consequences of our decision to leave, unlike when Fëanor himself stirred the Noldor into exile and the cost of Elven blood was high. This time the only price so far was in the blood of men, a cost that I was willing to pay again and again. I hated them, and for a moment was almost overcome with the compulsion to rush at them and tear at them with my bare hands. How dare they touch me, my gear and weapons. If I get the chance, I will kill them all, and laugh as their little wooden town is devoured by flame and smoke. Let the dark tide roll over this land for there is nothing of worth here. The wise have spoken and said that it is in Men that the Elder children must place their faith. Our time on these shores will come to an end, and they will have the dominion. Perhaps it is better to burn all before we leave if that is the best that these lands can hope for. How long would Men alone be able to stand against Sauron and his forces? No, all will end in fire and blood, and soon. The tide is rising, and if Men turn on us, that is simply another bulwark against the dark destroyed. Do the Men holding us captive even realise this? Are they too feeble-minded to see? We were not their enemies, not until they dared to assail us. Now their lives are forfeit, and the great burning of this place will act as a warning to all. Nothing can stand against us and live.
I will watch Veryacano and Tindir for a sign, and then the killing will begin in earnest. My heart is already hardened against the screams of the dying and the heat of the fire. Already I see them covered in blood; torn open and left for the sport of the crows. And what a feast they will soon have. Perhaps we will be overcome before we slay all of them. Perhaps not. I will sit, and wait, and watch. I will pass pleasant words with these Men to lower their guard, and I will eat their food and drink their water to regain my strength. Maybe I will tell them stories of when Men and Elves stood together against the darkness, in days of glory too bright almost to believe that they occurred. I will do all of this with a smile upon my face. And that smile will still be there when the screaming begins.
