“Where is Yrill?” asked Culufinnel.
“Looking ahead,” answered Estarfin as he adjusted his gleaming armor.
“I was looking as well: up there,” Culufinnel said, motioning above.
Estarfin looked up at the stars. Too soon it would be daybreak and they would fade from sight again. “Even here, they are beautiful,” he murmured, a smile playing across his face, then realized that the Captain meant the cliffs high above, and said, “I thought you spoke of the stars.”
“In a way I suppose I was. I was looking at them while I considered the path the Men are said to have taken once they reached land. We must go.”
“Once Yrill has returned,” prompted Estarfin.
'We cannot tarry here for much longer. She might even have gone far ahead to track them down. Do you think it possible?”
“Perhaps. The horses need an hour more to rest," replied Estarfin. “What say you?”
Captain Culufinnel rubbed his hand behind his neck, over his jaw, then behind his neck again, and frowned, as if he was stumped for the answer.
“You have much experience with horses?” Estarfin asked. Not waiting for a reply, which did not seem forthcoming, he explained, “An hour saved now is a bad trade, else the horses will be heavy of hoof all day, unless the quarry is within reaching distance.”
Culufinnel looked somewhat abashed. "We do not ride horses willy-nilly through the trees of Mirkwood,” he admitted.
“You need open lands,” Estarfin said.
“The woods offer protection. We will not clear the trees.”
Estarfin smiled slightly. “No, indeed. I meant that you need open lands to ride a whole day.”
Narrowing his eyes, the Captain of Celondim said, “The Men have horses as well. If you are so knowledgeable about horses, perhaps you may use that knowledge against them.”
“Some of their horses must bear the weight of two riders. They will not outpace us.” Estarfin spoke slowly, as if he were explaining things to a child.
Culufinnel nodded, the muscle in his jaw twitching, but rather than trusting himself to speak, decided to examine the point of his spear instead. Several minutes passed in stony silence, then he announced in a loud voice, “If Yrill has not returned after the Morning Star has sunk below the hills, we will depart. She will find our tracks.”
To this Estarfin unexpectedly agreed, and Culufinnel secretly rejoiced at his success in commanding the old battle-hardened Noldo, because it was just the sort of opportunity that strengthened the proof of his Captaincy. He returned to examining his spear-point, and satisfied at its keenness, set it aside, and began to methodically check his other gear, feeling Estarfin's eyes on him.
“You did not agree with the treatment of the Man last night?”
Culufinnel glanced up. “What 'treatment' - ?” he asked.
Estarfin pulled out a long dagger from his belt and laid it across his open palm. “Finding answers,” was all he said.
Culufinnel gave him a quizzical look.
Estarfin stared at him for a moment, then tried again. “You could not, or would not watch. I was wondering why that is.”
The Captain crossed his arms and shook his long golden hair, marveling. “After all that, you wish for an audience. Was my presence needed?” He already knew the answer.
Satisfied with that response, Estarfin said, “Do you trust his words?”
“Whose?”
Estarfin blinked in surprise, then said, “The Man who spilled his innards and then his secrets.”
“How would I know? I could not hear what he told you.” Culufinnel leaned closer. “What did he say?”
“He said that the Men came by boat, met a larger group of Men, and rode away. They had with them an elf woman with long red hair. He did not mention your brother.”
“Did you ask for news of Parnard?”
“He did not see a male elf, but that does not mean he was not there,” said Estarfin, his voice lacking conviction.
“We must overtake them! Where is Yrill?” Culufinnel moved to secure his shield.
Estarfin looked around the nearby hilltops, then shrugged.
Culufinnel took up a piece of charcoal from the fire, and on a nearby flat rock sketched a large arrow and the Tengwar for his, and Estarfin's name beneath it, then said, “I saw a track leading up the mountainside ahead. From my position high above did I survey the land. It is ten leagues to the land of Fornost."
“I thought they rode that way?” said Estarfin, pointing in the wrong direction.
“No, they went this way. The road to Fornost goes east.”
Estarfin shrugged at being contradicted; his sense of direction was never strong, and he well knew it. Culufinnel bundled up a few remaining articles from his camp kit, which he hoisted onto his broad shoulders. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Estarfin stowed a couple of small bags on his horse, then turned to face him. “I will accept your challenge, of course. When you are ready.”
“Challenge?”
Estarfin nodded.
“If the challenge is to ride up that mountain, and find what we seek, then you and I shall undertake it together.”
“But the Man proved your words true, and mine unjust,” Estarfin said, frowning at his admission of fault.
“We cannot tarry in this wasteland. I spotted many ruins crumbling to dust, tombs of Men, scattered across the fields.”
“Better that they lay in their tombs than are alive and opposing us.”
“This is a forlorn place where baugrim gather, I warrant.”
Estarfin pondered the unknown word. “Is that the name of the unquiet spirits in your wood?”
“You have never seen one?” said Culufinnel, surprised and delighted that he knew something that the Noldo did not. “They are creatures who flock and frolic around dying Men. They are lovers of wastelands and abandoned roads, and are found near their settlements.” Captain Culufinnel looked up and down the broken and forgotten highway. “This is the way the Men went, so this is the way we must go,” he said, then urged his pale horse forward.
