(This story is after :Wandering: Imlad Gelair | The Laurelin Archives )
I was to meet Estarfin at the stables, I was early, so I had time to talk a little with Ladrochan on the condition of our horses, and see for myself that they were ready to travel. Pelorian called to me eagerly, and even Gilastor managed a toss of his head in greeting. I also asked Ladrochan if he had any news concerning Parnard, as he was more aware than many of those coming and going in Imladris. As expected, there was nothing to report concerning our Wood Elf friend.
Now we were planning on riding West, to the new Homestead I had inherited near to the River Lhun, and not that far from the bounds of Yondershire. I would be going ‘home’ for the first time in three years of wandering, and Estarfin was not adverse to joining me. My heart was gladdened at the way matters were progressing between us. Initially, at Ered Eregion, he had said he would travel with me for a while, and ‘after that we shall see’. It seemed as if we would continue to ‘see’. Of course, I sometimes thought my hopes could be wrecked if Lord Veryacano were to call him back to active service in the Hammer. Such could happen at any time. Although there was no imminent need for our forces anywhere, there was that constant undercurrent of darkening days, and troubles in the Hithaeglir. Our freedom to roam together as we willed, could end at a moment's notice.
I had garbed myself in a white riding skirt and jacket, with soft leather boots, belt and gloves. White was not really my colour. But for once that call of light to me was strong, overcoming my usual black or brown, or my defiantly Feanorian red. I would ride back to the Sea garbed in light.
Estarfin approached, he having made an effort already, in wearing a paler robe than I had ever seen him in. But he stopped, took one look at me, and turned back the way he came.
I knew I had not annoyed him. He would have told me. But he was always particular in appearance if he could be. I was proved right in my suspicions as he returned some quarter of one hour later, also clad in white.
Estarfin…in white! Actually, I thought it rather suited him. I did wonder where he got a hauberk and cloak from at such short notice. No matter, we would both appear as shining ones to any who encountered us after dark.
He nodded approval to me, and I returned the compliment. Ladrochan just smiled at us with amusement.
So we departed the Vale. I always felt a mix of emotions when I left Imladris. I was there when it was built, indeed, as a survivor of Eregion I helped with the first building. I had dwelt there so many times over the ensuing years that it was ‘home’ of a sort. It was safety, it was knowledge, and wisdom, it was the place where most of the remnant of my people dwelt. But there were also times when the West called to me. Although the Sea Longing had no hold on me,(1) yet I loved the long silver beaches and the rolling waves. I loved the hills and forests of Lindon.
Estarfin had, at his own admission, been cooped up in Imladris for some time. It would be good for him to have a change of location, though I did not know how long it would be before he wished to return. Putting such thoughts aside, for I did not want that parting which would possibly come, I focused my ‘farewell’ on the lights of the darkening Valley, and the cool embrace of the night air. At the top of the hill, nigh the Gates of Imladris, Estarfin halted, and paused to look over the Vale a final time. We were both silent, each taken up with our own thoughts and memories. Yet I did not feel excluded. I found myself making a mental image of that scene, of the fragrance of the tall firs and the sound of the birds as they settled for the night. .
And of him, of course, the white garb shining in the dark as a lesser light to Tintalle’s.
“Come. We should ride,” I said gently. We had some distance to travel.
He nodded, and turned Gilastor to the High Moors.
“We shall return in due course,” I spoke, which I hoped was true. Just not too soon, I added in thought.
~ ~ ~
Crossing the High Moors and Trollshaws was uneventful. It was a path both of us had followed many times, though less often had we passed over the Last Bridge. Under orders from Vanimar Lords, we were more likely to be sent into the Hithaeglir or Eregion, than the Lone Lands, unless we were riding as escort to Mithlond. I say ‘us’, but although there were few occasions when I was ordered to ride anywhere, my spirit was always with the Order of the Hammer, most like unto the soldiers I knew in my youth.
As we approached the guarded bridge, I spoke, “This next part of the journey is the one I am least fond of. The area around the Mannish fort at Ost Guruth.”
Estarfin turned his attention to me with some effort, as for much of the ride he had been watching the stars. “I do not think they are watchful enough to see us two passing in the night.”
“The Men, nay. You speak the truth. But there are other creatures there with sharper eyes and ears.” I turned my attention to the stars. They were truly a beautiful display.
Estarfin shrugged. “We shall ride past them, or over them.”
I smiled to myself. How like him! I did wonder if he knew of the giants of whom I spoke? Of certainty we could ride any orcs or goblins into the ground on our mounts, but the spear and club wielding giants, and the abominations of Talath Gaun could be more challenging.
“I would that we take a short rest before we cross the bridge,” I asked. “Some water for us and the horses, least we do need to run any enemies down.”
He nodded slowing Gilastor to a walk, then, after hailing the guards, rode down the slope to be near the river. I followed. We both dismounted, while the horses drank their fill, then he sat down on the bank. He softly hummed a tune as he checked his sword.
I sat close, and took out my water skin to drink from before refilling. The music was sweet to my ear, and I found myself relaxing. The guards kept good watch. There were rarely any enemies within a quarter of a mile of the bridge, and we were sat hidden among the foliage. We were also wearing white. I frowned a little and bid Pelorian move under the trees, as she had finished her drink. I also moved further back, beckoning Estarfin to do likewise. He gestured for Gilastor to come away from the water.
“What is that song that you sing? I have not heard it before.” I asked as we sat down again.
“Hmm?”
“The tune you hum.” I was curious. Whatever it was it seemed to put him at ease.
He looked confused for a moment. “I did not realise I was singing.”
I smiled at him encouragingly. He smiled back slightly.
“It was a song my father used to sing to me.” For a moment he closed his eyes, likely in memory. I did not wish to push him for more, yet also there were things I would know of his youth, if he would tell me.
“It reminded me of some of the old songs I had sung to me by my parents, though it was new to my hearing. Please, continue if you wish.”
He shook his head once, but his eyes were downcast in memory.
“It was about the warmth of the light when the trees mingled…” He turned to look at me.
“I forget too often that our parents lived in constant beauty.” But then I pushed on with a thought that had long bothered me. He would answer, if he were willing.
“Your Father..well….I wish I had been more to his liking.” Now it was said, I felt awkward.
His gaze rested on me a moment more, then he answered. “There was little he approved of, I think. I thought he was angry with everything. “ He sighed.
I wanted to reach out to him, but it would have been over-forward, so I muddled on with less skill in words than usual.
“I think quite a few of our folk were angry, because matters had not turned out as they hoped? With King Feanor slain, it would never be the same. Nor did it seem there was much chance to take back the Silmarils.”
Estarfin shook his head.
“I do not say your father disliked me more than others. He rarely acknowledged my presence at all.” I recalled those times he had walked right past me, even when I had been stood close to the Prince.
Estarfin leant closer, speaking in little more than a whisper, “It took me many years to understand him, once he was gone. I do not think he disliked you anymore than he disliked anyone else who followed the host East.”
There was a spark of understanding as I heard those words. I listened closely to Estarfin as he explained further. “And you understand him now?”
Estarfin nodded. “I think so.”
I smiled warmly. “That makes me glad. Your Mother spoke with me, and with my Mother a few times. She was ever considerate and knowledgeable. She gave me a book once. Alas that it was lost in the destruction of Thargelion, along with many other things.” I halted, realising that Estarfin was watching me closely.
“It is strange talking of them.” he rose to his feet and turned towards Gilastor. “Let us ride. We may speak of it further, at another time, if you wish. The memory of them is …hard. To think so much of them after so many years.” He shook his head, then turned away and wiped his sleeve across his eyes.
I rebuked myself sternly, to have brought him to tears. Memories could oft be sorrowful, and I knew from many an experience to tread softly among them. I determined to do better in future.
- This tale takes place before Danel is affected by Sea Longing.
