Only a few days time and already the memory of the frigid climes of the Misty Mountains had begun to fade. Rest and food -- hearty <i>meals</i>, not lembas or dried trail food -- did wonders for the restoration of both body and soul.
There was still gnawing worry for the rest of his company, however. Not even the peace of Imladris could ease that burden until all had been accounted for. Tinurendis’ tale of goblins did nothing to reassure; he hoped that perhaps the others had escaped, or at the very worst had been taken into goblin mines as slaves.
But he feared this was not the case.
Much better than her news was the encounter with the haughty, noble Elves in the Halls of Fire. Neither Barangolf nor Tinurendis were entirely sure what branch of Elves they were -- certainly not wood-elves, but so much more intimidating than the Sindar who ruled their home. There was rumor that Imladris was home to Noldor, but surely that couldn’t be -- as intimidating as the Lord of Arrows and his companions had been they had also been patient and kind and reassuring.
Nothing like the stories told by older relatives, or by friends and mentors who had fled the destruction of Doriath. The Noldor were usurpers, corrupters, conquerors, murderers. They were not helpful and kind.
Noldor would not offer aid to those who had lost friends and family within the Misty Mountains, not unless it benefitted them in some way. And maybe it did; Barangolf had overheard them discuss an expedition for Hithaeglir. Perhaps had they not already had plans they would not have agreed.
But more likely they were simply more cultured Sindar, and thus full of generosity towards the more rustic wood-elves. And for this Barangolf was grateful.
Neither he nor Tinurendis had known precisely how to respond to them once they had begun their introductions; full of bowing and fancy titles! Barangolf’s trading at times took him to Erebor or to Dale, but there he only interacted with the other trader, not with nobility. And his battle excursions had been much the same; dealings with those directly superior to him, not with the woodland King himself.
And most certainly not with the <i>other</i> Kings…
But no matter. Had the Nobles been offended they hadn’t mentioned it, and they had offered their help regardless.
He simply hoped that their help would be enough to find the rest of the woodland caravan alive.
