(After No Escape by Estarfin)
“No weapons, no strength, no hope! Leave me be. GO!!”
His voice still held a tone of command, but in truth his words spoke of his deep despair, his frustration at his weakness. A tried and proven warrior from the lands now beneath the waves was he, now as helpless as an infant, unable to defend himself, let alone another.
I sat down on the snow close beside him.
“There is nothing you can do. Go back, Danel. Please.” Estarfin whispered. “Please just go, before they return.”
Tears stung my already reddened eyes, as I fought to maintain my resolve. He knew the only way he could still protect me was by pleading with me to desert him, to make my way to safety. I was never one to take commands easily unless it suited me. He knew that. But the sudden softness in his voice had the controlling effect on me that his wrath could have on others.
There was an almost soporific effect on my own will, that I wanted so badly to do as he asked, that I did not grieve him further. Then my own stubbornness returned. I had already made up my mind. I drew Sarphir from its scabbard, and laid the blade he had made me across my lap. “I am truly sorry, Estarfin. But this time I cannot do as you ask.” I whispered in reply.
We sat in silence for a short time, eventually I spoke in a soft tone of my own, to try and explain.
“Would my father have left you here, had you served him? Would your father have left me? We are Noldor, and of those who followed King Feanor. We do not fear, nor turn to save ourselves while close kin perish.”
There was a strange sound, that I thought for a moment he was laughing. I turned swiftly to look to him, but he was shaking his head in rebuke of me.
“Do not presume to know what our Lords and Captains would have done at dire need, Danel. I do not tell you to leave because I think you are afraid. I do so because it is foolish that we…” His words were halted by a choking sound, then the coughing up of a little more blood. He sank back onto the snow, exhausted.
“Please. Let me be.”
I saw there was dampness at the corners of his eyes, even as there was at mine.
Returning to my position of watchful guard, I thought of all I wished I could say to him. That he had rallied himself to make suggestions for our escape filled me with admiration. It was so like him. If only I could get him to a healer, I believed he would still find the strength to pull through. He would be strong and well again, given time. To have found him in this wilderness against all odds, only to let him die alone, such was not possible for me.
I indulged myself briefly in my earliest memories of him, that I sought to watch him, though he knew not of my growing interest. I had watched him in the forge with the other students and with Forodhir, when I could contrive to do so. I would take a sketchbook and appear as If I was making close drawings of nature in the meadows, when in truth I turned back to watch him as often as seemed likely for one whose eyes should have been on her own work. A child’s game? Nay. I had known from that time who I wanted in my life. I had seen him wrestle and coax form from metal with such determination. He would not accept defeat.
I had watched from the balcony at the top of our tower, and when I could from the window of the Prince’s library, because both had views of the smallest of the training grounds, where he should not have been, yet was. “His father will not permit him to train as a warrior,” my mother had told me on one occasion, when another boy had knocked him to the floor. “This is the only way he can learn, and that in secret.” I watched him rise to his feet and beckon the boy to continue the fight. And young as I was, I dreamed of a day when I could walk proudly at his side, knowing he would ensure no harm came to me.
But we lived in different worlds in those days. He likely knew not whom I was. Nor was there much chance of speaking with him, as apart from my sketching, I was mostly taking lessons in the library or with our prince’s gemsmiths, or having private lessons in swordcraft. Neither was he likely to approach me, as the few times there had been chance of striking up a conversation he had hurriedly backed away, as if I was something beyond his reach. “Please, stay?” I remember saying at one such time. But he must have heard me not. If only….
And pleasant though it was in such a dark situation, I rebuked myself for allowing my mind to wander as I looked to the sky with dismay.
The golden rays of Anar were turning the snows and sky over the Western Mountains into a many hued splendour. A final blaze of glory before the early night set in. Soon the warg riders would return.
Again I turned to look at him. He lay still upon his back, though his head was turned away, as if in rejection of me.
“Estarfin?”
There were snowflakes in the air as I stood and walked to his side. Not as heavy as the previous night were they. Kneeling down, I tore another strip from my sleeve to wipe the fresh blood from his lips. He turned his face further from me, as if in agitation at my offer of aid. My thoughts were momentarily distracted by his refusal to acknowledge me. I did not hear or smell the warg until it leaped upon me, flattening me in the snow.
Struggling to move from under its weight, I was glad Sarphir was still in my hand, but the angle was wrong. If only I could turn to aim a blow. Claws raked at my left shoulder, tearing through leather and cloth armour with ease, and leaving deep welts on my pale flesh.
I cried out in pain…..or was it Estarfin’s voice that echoed in the stillness as he rolled over to face me, smashing his right arm into the snow in an effort to distract my attacker. The warg was not so easily fooled. Why leave the swifter prey when you have it trapped? My left hand sought my boot knife, but the weight was too much for me to bend my knee enough to reach. In desperation I rammed back with the hilt of my sword, hoping I could do some damage to the wargs face.
“Again!”
I obeyed Estarfin without hesitation, ramming back the hilt a second time, and feeling the crunch of bone.
The Warg, a smaller, brindled creature, took a step or two back that it only pinned one of my legs down. It was enough. I could see blood pouring from its nose as it tried to lick the slight injury. With great effort I drew back Sarphir, then lunged forward, aiming at its chest even as it sought to bound out of my reach. My shoulder was aflame with the effort of the movement, as the pain of the claw marks began to register. With a snarl that turned to a yelp, the warg looked at me in surprise. Then I fell forward as it collapsed into the snow, dragging Sarphir with it. Its limbs twitched slightly for a moment, then it was still.
Gasping and shaking, I wiped the blood from my own lips with the back of my hand. My legs would not support me.
“Danel, come here. Show me the wound.”
I was on my hands and knees turning to grasp Sarphir and crawl back to him when I glanced to the right, and saw two menacing yellow eyes staring at me.
“Danel, swiftly!” Estarfin’s voice was a harsh cry of warning.
Unsteadily I rose to my feet, struggling to free Sarphir from the corpse and find my balance to strike again.
Heavy foul stinking breath was on my face, as a far larger, darker warg approached. Then it turned its huge head, nostrils flaring at the scent of close blood not of its own kind, and looked at the prone form of Estarfin. Loosing a howl to the now darkened sky, it made to leap at him. Desperation leant me strength to wrench Sarphir from the chest of the first warg, and to stand between the second and the Noldo who was trying to rise.
“You come through me,” I hissed at the monstrous face, raising my weapon to strike.
On the periphery of my vision I could see Estarfin trying to stand, trying to step backwards to make room to defend himself.
The warg ignored me, making straight at him, jaws snapping, claws raking through the air in an attempt to bring him down and finish him. But I was between them, my downward blow intended to hamstring the beast and hamper its movement. I slashed down at a hind leg. It let out a yelp. I let out a scream of pain as it turned on me, claws tearing at my face and neck.
Estarfin may have found something to throw, to knock the warg off balance for an instant, for it hesitated.
And I could not see it. I could not see anything. I raised my hands to feel sticky blood running down my cheeks. Shaking in horror at what I might find, I moved my fingers to touch my closed eyes. I could not see anything.
“Raise the sword to the right, Danel…now!”
I followed his words, lunging where he said. The warg howled.
“Again. Lower..much lower.”
I drew back Sarpihir and plunged it forward with all my remaining strength.
“Danel……Danel, ……..Carnifinde?”
I heard his voice calling to me faintly. Then there was no more.
~ ~ ~
I was being carried. Wrapped up in a warm cloak and carried in strong arms, I felt an odd sensation of peace… and the blowing of a light and cold breeze upon my neck. There was no sound save a faint falling of snow, and a heartbeat; no smell save a hint of pine from the forest, or from he who bore me so gently. I felt safe.
‘Belegos?’ I thought in that instant, for the pace of movement reminded me of the Bow-Master from Gondolin who was a friend to myself and Estarfin.
“Belegos, is that you?” My voice was faint and rasping.
“Rest, Lady,” he of the lightest step replied. He moved me slightly in his arms, so that he could better wrap the cloak about me. “I am Gwaedir of the Arrow. We found you in the Northern High Pass. We are taking you back to Imladris.”
Gwaedir? I recalled the name…..though could not see the face.
“And Lord Estarfin. Did you find him also?”
Before he could answer, the pain was back like a fire in my eyes and down the left side of my cheek and neck. Darkness took me.
