We had all thankfully changed into the clean clothing and polished armour that was presented to us. It was a job well done. ‘An honour to be of service’, several of the Elves said. My two companions looked positively shining, whereas I felt more myself, as I looked at my reflection in the water. A plain but thick, light brown hooded cloak, over a cream coloured tunic, belted at my waist, with light brown hose and soft leather boots.
“ I am no ‘Lady of Thargelion’ by dress, but at least I am a nis, not a Woman of the South,” I said with some satisfaction.
“Once and always a Lady of Thargelion,” Estarfin gave word to thought. He reached out a hand to feel the texture of the cloth I wore. “Coarser than usual. Do you think it will withstand the journey?”
I nodded. “Yes, it is still Elven made. The Umbari clothing was comfortable against my skin, but it was a slave’s garment.”
“Indeed. It was unsuitable.”
I had braided my hair, with some help from Estarfin, and now wore it over one shoulder. A scabbard had been provided for Sarphir, which now hung from my belt. I had been given two smaller knives, one placed in a boot and held by a leather loop, the other in one of my new bracers.
We were all fortified by a good breakfast of cold meats and fruit, washed down with clear water and juice. Somehow there was even orange juice, which pleased Estarfin immensely. But we had dallied long enough. We had to find Parnard. Our horses were already prepared with supplies bound to their saddles.
“You are coming with us then?” Estarfin asked me as he swung up onto Norlomë.
“Of course,” I replied, wondering if he was baiting me in some manner. His mind seemed more at ease. What did he know?
Gandolin stepped out through the crowd, leading a light but strong dappled stallion. “This is Iavas, lady. He is young and eager. He should serve you well.”
Estarfin laughed. “A good horse for you. Willful and stubborn, but nothing you cannot handle.”
I wrinkled my nose at Estarfin, then addressed the assembled group. “My thanks to you for all your kindness, to me and those who accompany me.”
Iavas nudged me a little. “Yes, we shall be friends,” I said to him, rubbing his forehead and ears. “And as fortune has it, I have an apple for you.” I reached into Estarfin’s saddlebag and withdrew one, giving my beloved a grin. He did not ask how I was. He could see for himself I was much improved.
“Come. We must make haste,” the captain reminded.
“Our guards have spied a few orcs in the ravines of Nan Wathren. You know there will be camps of them further south. Do not just ride into them,” Gandolin informed us. “We are still unsure how but a small group got through Angmar unscathed. But you did, and for that we are thankful.”
We nodded understanding and I mounted my new horse.
“Is this the end of your chivalry?” I asked Estarfin.
He smiled. “If you are well enough to ride with us, you are well enough to mount a horse.” He had a point, but his amusement told me that, while he likely would remain chivalrous, he was also encouraging me to be my old self again. That meant standing on my own feet.”
“Farewell, may the Valar watch over you.”
“May Tintallë bless you.”
Thanks were exchanged, and we three rode on, around the buildings, then with the horses wading through a shallow stream. We gave a final wave to the guards by the bank, and we were on our own. Not that I was worried, not then.
I had passed through the ravines and over the ridges of Nan Wathren a few times before. Usually I took the Greenway, or even passed along the far bank, through Taur Gonwaith. There were Orc camps of varying sizes in much of this area. In the past I had journeyed there with several companions, but I placed as much trust in those that were with me now. A little over ten minutes' ride along the path, bordered by high grey cliffs, we encountered our first threat, not that two orcs were much of a threat.
“Stay back,” Estarfin said to me, as he and Culufinnel rode forward, spears out. It was a very brief encounter. Onward we rode. The path was narrow, but nowhere near as confined as the Ram Duath, and there was more than a little green grass growing where the sunlight touched the ground. There was a stench, faint on the soft breeze. It might not be easy to place orc camps in more hidden locations, but you could usually smell them from some distance away, especially if they were in numbers. Another five minutes ride and we found three orcs, already slain.
“They killed each other, or we are not the only travellers here,” I pointed out.
The Captain raised a hand for us to halt, and stood up in his stirrups, keen eyes scanning the opening before us, for there was a wide open space and a small hillock ahead. Estarfin had his spear in hand, and I drew Sarphir. He frowned at me. The horses knew just an instant before us. Their twitching ears picked up sound, and they snorted warning.
“Stay where you are, cowards!”
I recognised the voice instantly. “It is the man, Naraal,” I whispered, and hung back.
Estarfin tightened his grip on his spear. “He shall die,” he stated.
“Wait, he must have followed us. He might tell us something useful.” I could not believe that I was attempting to stay Estarfin’s hand. I remembered Naraal’s arrogance, his assumption that I would want a mortal pirate captain as my spouse. What did he know of elves, what did he know, he of the lusty eye?
Estarfin frowned, spear still ready, but he did not move to attack.
Our pursuer appeared atop the hillock, astride a dark warhorse and with a cocked bow ready. “Your lives are forfeit, Elves,” he said. ”Why did you set the house aflame? Did you not even stop to think that she would be inside, in your eagerness for revenge on my people? You have slain her!”
“What nonsense is this Man speaking!” I knew Estarfin would not hold back for many moments more. In part, I did not want him to, but once slain, Naraal could give no information at all.
The Corsair did not move any closer. If he was thinking his bow had more range than Estarfin’s spear, he was mistaken.
I followed Estarfin’s glance.as he looked up to the cliff tops. He checked to ensure there were no other men in waiting, that there was no ambush. “There may be others,” he said to me in Quenya. “If so, I cannot see them.”
“Neither can I. Knowing this man's conceit, Naraal would happily try to attack us alone. But caution, meldanya, he is more skilled than you may know.”
Estarfin snorted with contempt. It was but a solitary Man. But he kept his eyes on the heights nonetheless.
“I see you, Elf demon,” Naaral called to him.
Estarfin ignored him.
Culufinnel held up his hand in a sign of parley. “I am Culufinnel, Captain of Lord Cirdan’s forces in Celondim. What do you know of my brother's fate?”
“The High Lord, you mean? How would I know? Danel was to be mine! But when I got to the house it was aflame. You set fire to it, thinking she had abandoned you, didn't you? You killed her!” I could see the bitterness on his face.
“We did not! Look for yourself, she is with us,” he said, and gestured at me to lower my hood and show my face.
Naraal gazed at me in open-mouthed surprise. “Danel! You are alive!”
“Thanks to my companions who drew me from the flames,” I told him. “Your mind is strange to me: why would those I love slay me?”
That was like a blow to him. He took a deep breath. I thought to myself that perhaps the man had some understanding after all. But it mattered not. He was delaying us from finding Parnard.
“Your sister, the Sorceress Khahaynd, set the fire, not us,” said Culufinnel. His words were more effective than his spear; Naraal lowered his crossbow, and backed up several paces, shaking his head. Then Culufinnel, seizing the advantage, advanced upon the Man, his spear pointing down like a lance. “Where is the High Lord? Where is he being taken?”
“I do not believe you! My sister, Narryd, died many years ago.”
“She was there,” I told him. “And whatever name she had, she now calls herself Khahaynd. She hated me, why, I do not know, but she serves the Dark Lord, and in her spite for you, she drugged me and set fire to the house.”
Naraal shook his head at me in denial.
“Quickly,” Culufinnel was now advancing closer. “Tell me where to find my brother.” Estarfin raised his shield in case of any Mannish trickery, or perhaps it was a threat to goad the Man into telling us what he knew.
“The High Lord Parnard will be kept with much pomp and splendor in the great city of Umbar Baharbêl,” answered the man. “Of this, at least, I am sure.” He glanced at me, and Estarfin rode forward, placing himself between us.
“I am sorry,” Naraal murmured. Then to Estarfin he said, “Know that I never shirk from any challenge, but it serves no purpose. My aim was to take my revenge upon those I thought had slain Danel, nothing more.”
“What shall we do with this cutthroat?” said Captain Culufinnel. “I would take him back to Celondim, but we have no time.”
Naraal laughed.
“Kill him on the spot,” Estarfin replied in Sindarin.
“You shall take me nowhere, lackey of the High Lord! I have business elsewhere.” And with that, Naraal turned his horse, and digging his heels into its sides, set off at a gallop.
We gave chase through a maze of ravines, fleet-footed Norlomë giving the fastest pursuit. Across open land, we would have easily caught him, but with each twist of the path, three or more separate trails split off, and so much dust was kicked up by the horses’ hooves, that he was soon lost from sight. I heard Estarfin curse.
“Ai! Ai! Stop before we blunder into an orkish camp!” yelled Culufinnel.
Estarfin bade Norlomë halt. “Too many words were wasted on him,” he said. “Next time, let steel speak first.”
