Herne was an old town in a very Mannish style: a few wooden outbuildings next to run-down houses with stacked stone walls and adjoining fields, all surrounded by an abundance of oaks and larches. We approached it at a steady pace. It was late morning, Anor was bright, but the air was chill. It was a good excuse to be wrapped in our cloaks, though our bearing and stature and the noble blood of our horses possibly caused some to regard us twice. There were a few wagons on the road, plain wooden ones, and none were black. Folk went about their business, some carting wares or heading to the fields. The road ahead of us forked soon enough, one path leading into the town, the other, the Royal Road, winding around it, heading eventually to the ancient port of Tharbad if my memory served aright.
Estarfin was less than happy. He did not want to enter the town. I understood it was because he would struggle so much with the Men nearby, and I did not want a repeat of Trestlebridge. I believe Culufinnel had come to understand that aspect of Estarfin also.
“I shall take path around and meet with you at the far end of the town. I shall keep within hearing distance should I be needed,” he said to us.
It was good enough for me. I recalled the acorn whistle he presented to me during one of our first adventures after meeting again at Echad Eregion. It now lay in a chest of jewelry in Numenstaya. The thought of whistling for him to aid me made me smile.
“You will hear me at need, and I ride with the Captain. All shall be well.”
He did not look totally at ease, but it truly was the best option.
So Culufinnel and I rode into the town without him.
The stable master was a good starting person for our inquiries. He was likely to know of any arrivals out of the ordinary.
“Good day to you. A few questions if you will,” I began as I dismounted from Iavas.
The man looked up from his brushes and combs, and lent back against the old stable wall, now brushing his sandy brown hair from his eyes. He gave me a swift, assessing look. “Hello!” he said, cordially enough. “We don’t see many of your folk around here. You want your horses stabled?”
Culufinnel did not dismount, but regarded the man in a somewhat friendly, yet distant manner, and said, “I am Captain Culufinnel. We are looking for someone: one of our people, dark of hair, swift and agile, quick of tongue and -”
“Ain’t seen no other Elves for a long time,” the man told him, cutting him off. He spoke more brusquely, as if he was busy, but he had nothing to hide.
Culufinnel tried again. “Have you seen a black wagon, drawn by two black horses? Or three riders, tall Men, pass by?”
“Maybe. I seen a woman, I think she was, anyway. She was swathed in a long black robe and kept her hood up. It was only her voice that gave her away. She must have been one of them Southrons or something, because I -”
“Are they still here?”
At that the man hesitated. I sensed that he was not exactly greedy, but he knew he had struck upon something of value.
“It is most important to us that we find our friend, sir. Please, tell us what you know.” I spoke softly, encouragingly.
“Well,” he said and scratched his unshaven chin. “They came and took to let the last house at the end of the main road. Belongs to Old Brychan. You should go ask him.”
“What about the black wagon?” Culufinnel pressed, leaning forward.
“I never seen no black wagon,” he answered, seeming finally to realise this was important, and not wanting to aggravate the Elves.
I took out the dagger in my bracer, as the Man’s eyes widened slightly. Then I cut free a small emerald embellishment from one, re-sheathed my dagger, and passed him the gem.
“Oh my!” He hadn’t asked for anything, though he could have. The information was worth a reward to us.
He pointed out the house to us before we left, his eyes fixed upon his gem. “Last house on the left,” we heard him say as we rode away. As we got closer to the place we halted a few houses down and crouched low beside a stone wall to listen. There were faint voices coming from the house next door, and a dog was barking, but the last house on the left was silent. There was no sign of a wagon or horses.
“They must have gone ahead,” Culufinnel whispered. “Perhaps Estarfin has discovered them.”
I stifled a choking sound and shook my head. “We would have heard the sounds of fighting and dying if he had.”
The Captain sneaked to a side window of the house and peered through its dirty panes from behind the cover of a viburnum shrub, while I slipped over to the slightly ajar door. I gave it a small push, my other hand on my sword Sarphir as I entered. Then Culufinnel was at my side, his long spear ready.
“There is no one here,” I said, as he searched through the two-room dwelling.
“Are we certain this is the right house? Here are remnants of a meal. Parnard would have eaten it all.”
I agreed with him. Parnard was a tidy eater who liked to clean his plate. He would leave no food behind.
“There is blood on the floor - just a few drops.”
“Someone could have cut themself with a small knife? Or perhaps there was a struggle?”
The room seemed in order, except for the uncleared dishes and blood drops. In the other room was a tumble of blankets piled on the bed, its pillow still bearing the indentation of the head that had rested on it. A used but unmade bed. That could mean anything. Then a scent of fragrance struck me. It was rich, green, creamy, and slightly sweet, like a yellow flower growing in an verdant oasis - a waft of strong perfume. “Do you smell that, Captain?”
“Flowers? In winter?” he said, sniffing doubtfully as he looked around the dreary room. “It must be perfume.”
“It is not the scent of Zairaphel, for it is not quite as cloying. Perhaps it is the sillage of Khahaynd, or even the Corsair Naraal. I know it from somewhere -”
“How could Naraal have arrived here before us? He rode off northward!”
I did not know, and a thorough search of the rooms gave no secrets away, either. There were no more discoveries than the half-eaten food, unmade bed, and a fragrance that evoked memories of a far-away desert realm. “Is there no trace of them outside? No wagon tracks?”
We both hurried out of the house, mounted up and headed down the road to the town’s gate. “Look!” said Culufinnel, pointing to the ground as he rode ahead. I saw hoof marks on the softer places of the road, and wide, deep wheel tracks. Scattered on the tracks was fresh dung, no longer steaming in the cold air, but all signs indicated that they were no more than a few hours ahead!
“Estarfin!” I called out, over and over, as we galloped away from Herne, hoping my voice and sense of urgency would carry far enough. In no time at all, he was riding up the sloping path towards us.
“What news?” he said.
“Coming here was worth the risk. This is where they stayed. The wagon and riders have already left.”
“Where do we head now?”
“We follow them, of course,” said Captain Culufinnel. “When we find them, if my brother is not with them, we will demand answers.” He gave Estarfin a meaningful look.
“This is the road to Tharbad, now a smuggler’s cove, a real den of thieves if ever there was one. But they must cross the ford there to get to the ports.” I said, and smiled a little sadly.
“If only we could reach out to Parnard by thought!” said Culufinnel. “Even if I had the skill, I do not think that he would listen to me,” Culufinnel frowned as he looked at us both. “Have you Noldor tried?
“It does not come more naturally to us than to your own folk, Captain. Estarfin is my betrothed, and sometimes interchange of thought comes naturally between couples, as it sometimes does between parents and children. After that time, when I ‘heard’ Estarfin from the Hithaeglir, I thought it would be easy. Alas, it seems not so with us. If we cannot easily connect in thought, it is less likely I would reach and hear Parnard.”
“It seems I am not adept at thought transference,” Estarfin said, as though he was not proud of that fact. “Forodhir used to say I was too stubborn, or too stupid.”
“You are far from stupid,” I reassured him. “Not everyone has the ability to send and receive thought.”
“But you have not even tried with Parnard!” cried the Captain.
“I never thought it would be necessary, but given the present situation, perhaps I should.” It was something I had not considered after my failure to reach Estarfin. There had been times in my childhood when I had spoken so with my mother or father, though that had faded sometime after I reached fifty. I am willing to try, but I shall need a quiet place where I am undisturbed.”
From the corner of my eye I thought I saw a dark shape, move from the cover of a large bush to behind an equally large rock. It was a cat.
