Estarfin readied his shield and spear and headed straight at Naraal, determined the Corsair would die this time. He had eluded the Noldo in Nan Wathren. It would not happen again. The man was responsible for Danel’s capture, apparently enthralled by her, and dared to touch her. She had struck him in return, but such an affront to her, to any lady of his people, could only result in this. The Dwarf could wait a little while for his turn to die.
Danel had been close at Estarfin's side. He understood her wish to finish the Man, but there could be no room for trickery this time. He would not let her fall or be diverted by some ploy. Then she was ahead of him in her own anger.
“Racarne, tread not without caution,” Estarfin warned her. “They have some scheme in not fleeing.”
And then his foot went through what had appeared as a solid surface, and he was falling into a deep pit.
When Naraal appeared and greeted the elves, Captain Culufinnel skirted around the ruins, careful to be in too much of a hurry. He suspected Naraal was using the old “lure and ambush” tactic in order to draw them closer and prevent their withdrawal. The Men could have prepared an extensive defensive position, and the place could even be a base camp for the Corsairs. Every so often, he would pause to probe suspicious piles of leaf litter gingerly with the butt of his spear, which could hide pits lined with spikes. Parts of the standing masonry, built of native limestone, were in a crumbled state due to long exposure to the elements, and at some point the river had overflowed and washed away a portion of the abutments. The stones were cracked and loose; he saw no trigger sticks or any other sign to warn of a deadfall trap, but there were many shadowy crevices where archers could lie concealed, and he would need to search each one. There, there, and there, were three possible escape routes through the rubble. Let the Men come out of their holes, if they were brave enough to meet their doom.
~ ~ ~
“Estarfin, where are you?” Danel believed she could not make a full sweep of the surrounding ruins, or Naraal would try to disarm her. She knew the Noldo would never desert her. What happened to him! Was it some trick? She flashed an angry glare at the Corsair. He would wish Estarfin gone more than Duzir would. If that Man had harmed Estarfin in any way, she would not be able to restrain herself.
Where was Culufinnel? The last she had seen him was when he disappeared behind a part of a fallen column.
She knew she faced Duzir and Naraal alone. No wonder they were laughing. It was no matter. She was more capable with a sword than either of them realised.
“Estarfin? Captain?” she called out, her voice loud and unwavering. There was no response. Naraal shrugged, almost apologetically. “It looks like you stand alone, Danel,” he said.
“I stand with my blade but an inch from your throat. Why are you here? Duzir has naught to do with you.”
He shook his head, his dark blonde braids glinting in the sunlight. “Maybe not. I was here on my own business when I encountered him. But as I see it, there is a deal to be made. A Dwarf is cunning by nature. An Elf is not. It took my mind that you might be in need of a negotiator, and what people, apart from a Dwarf, are known for their cunning?”
“The Corsairs of Umbar,” Danel all but spat. “Do not tell me that you are here to help me!” She reassessed her stance, holding the point of Sarphir steady. Though concerned for the others, she would not permit herself to be distracted.
Naraal made a second bow. “It seems you are short of friends at the moment. This Corsair has grave business to be about, but he also remembers those he looks fondly upon.”
She shook her head and reached out in thought again. “Estarfin?” There was no reply, no surge of emotion. No, he was not dead - she would have felt that! He was unconscious perhaps, or just being ‘difficult’ to reach -
“Permit me to aid you, Danel, seeing your usual reinforcement has let you down.” Naraal swept back his braids and smiled.
“What is in it for you?” she bit back.
“Ah, the joyful satisfaction of helping a lady in need when others do not, and the rare goodwill of a Dwarf in a comfortable position to aid me, as I would aid him. Are those not enough reasons? I am not the common cur you perceive me to be, Lady.”
“What have you done to Estarfin and Culufinnel,” said Danel, not impressed in the least. Surely he knew she wanted nothing further to do with him? She pressed the point of Sarphir against his throat, drawing a trickle of blood. “Where is Estarfin?”
The corsair raised both hands, ready to knock her blade aside, she knew. She was prepared. “The fair-haired Elf just disappeared, wandered off: I know not where he went, possibly into the same place as your beloved -”
She would have driven Sarphir through his throat, but then they heard a faint voice.
“Danel,” she heard Estarfin call.
“See! He is unharmed!” Naraal chuckled, and yelled, “Estarfin, you are not my enemy! Know I take good care of her, even though she would slay me.”
Stones smashed together and the ground trembled underneath their feet as one of the decayed bastions collapsed under an assault of furious blows. Danel felt that surge of emotion, his frustration of not being able to reach her. He was alone - no, not alone: Culufinnel was nearby, trying to free him.
~ ~ ~
His shield fell to the side of him, his spear wedged at an angle against a high wall. Estarfin drew a deep and slow breath. He stretched his arms as much as he was able to. Good, nothing was broken. He struggled to his feet in the narrow spot and looked around. He could see the pale sunlit sky above, through broken roof tiles, and hear a faint exchange of voices. One of them was hers. But to reach her he would have to scale a fourteen foot wall in full armour.
“Estarfin, all is well. Are you caught below? I shall try to get you out.”
“Oh no, you cannot do that! That would end our pleasant conversation in seconds,” said Naraal.
Duzir hopped over to the cloud of dust and peered down the cavity for a look. “Ho ho ho! He is not going to be getting out there of there any time soon! We will be well away with my prize before that happens.”
“Your ‘prize’ -?” Danel had but few choices ahead. Estarfin was alive, and sounded relatively unharmed. She now knew Duzir wanted something of her; in truth she had suspected that all along. And did she not want something from him? They seemed to have forgotten Culufinnel, however. “Speak quickly, afore you die.”
Duzir rummaged around in a pocket and drew out her plundered betrothal ring. The winter sunlight gleamed white against the metal, and made the adamant stones blaze in a scintillating rainbow of color.
In the small pit, Estarfin could make out some of what was spoken. It did not sound as if Danel was in imminent danger, but he did not trust Dwarf or man. His gauntleted fist struck again at the high wall, and he yelled in frustration as he slid further down. Then he heard a scuffling movement.
“Estarfin? Can you hear me?” called Culufinnel through a gap in the stones. “We have fallen through the earth into the barrel-vault! Are you injured?”
“You fell, too?”
“I was searching the ruins for traps when the wall collapsed. It seems I have found one, too late!”
~ ~ ~
“I know what that prize is you want,” said Danel, not moving her gaze from Naraal. “And the Dwarf wants mithril.”
“Everyone wants mithril,” Duzir informed her, an avaricious gleam in his eyes. “This ring has some mithril in it, not much, barely enough to make it worth melting down. No, Elf! I want more mithril than this puny ring!”
Danel tensed. As if anyone with any learning or notion of beauty would wish to melt down that ring! She glared at the Dwarf, angrier than ever, and seeing her momentary distraction, Naraal made a move to knock Sarphir from her hand. She jumped back, kicked him in the knee, and smacked the pommel of her sword across his head. The corsair fell to the ground.
“Argh, what is it with you!” he cried. “Don’t you realize that I’m trying to help? Put that sword away while we discuss our terms.” He wiped a trickle of blood from his forehead.
“To lower my sword would mean I trust you both. You lured Estarfin into a trap! You would have lured me also. Why should I trust you?”
The Dwarf shrugged. “Fine! If you don’t want to bargain, we will leave, and you will never see the ring again!”
Danel straightened up at this, her sword still ready to strike at one she considered an enemy. “How much mithril do you want? Two bars?”
“Two bars? Ha! My price is three bars!”
They heard a grinding sound of metal against stone as steel boots scrambled at the side of a wall. ‘If he gets out you are both dead,’ she thought. Then a sliding noise, followed by a muffled curse made her pause. He could not climb easily in full armour. She had to settle it.
“Two bars is what I offer.”
“Three, or no deal.” Duzir stroked his beard, smiling to himself.
“Give him three,” urged Naraal, who had gotten to his feet again, and was now eyeing her with a more cautious gaze. “He is a very stubborn Dwarf. If that is what he wants, he will accept nothing less.”
“Perhaps I should slay you both, instead.”
“Oh, but perhaps we shall slay you, and pile rocks on your beloved, and leave Estarfin entombed underground till the end of time?” snapped the Corsair. “Danel, see some sense!”
“How can I give the Dwarf what he wants,” she replied, drawing Sarphir back, over her right shoulder, preparing to strike. “I do not carry a horde of mithril around with me - it is you that needs to see some sense.”
“Do you even possess that amount? Or are you simply blustering?” said Duzir.
“Of course I do! It is at my home, far away,” Danel answered. ‘Come on, Estarfin, you can do it.’ But then she heard another scraping, sliding noise, and another curse. She almost closed her eyes. Where was Culufinnel? “The mithril is far away, but I give my word, I will give you three bars of mithril in exchange for the ring.”
“You expect me to accept the word of an Elf as binding?”
“Duzir brings up a good point, Danel.” Naraal had brushed the dust off his face and clothing, and rearranged his braids. The cut on his forehead still dribbled blood, but he stood tall and straight under the noonday sun. “He should know that he has someone who will vouch for her - me.” He turned to look back at the Dwarf. Duzir looked confused.
“You vouch for her? What are you vouching for?”
“Her word. Her honesty. I have learnt that much. If she says she will trade you three bars of mithril for a ring - mind you, a ring crafted by the elves, enchanted, that will wear away the spirit of any wearer other than an Elf - then she will trade you three bars of mithril! I think it is a good bargain.”
“No ring will wear me down!” protested the Dwarf.
“Maybe, or maybe not. Elves have secret arts, hidden magic - you would not want to be cursed!”
“Hmpf. When you put it that way, I see what you mean. Very well, then! How is the mithril to be brought to me? I must go where Lady Zairaphel goes, you know.” The pounding sounds were getting louder. “That Elf is on the move. Pray that he does not find the way out,” he said to Naraal in Adûnaic.
“Then I suggest that you hurry up and accept her terms.”
“Send Dwarves to Celondim and they shall be told where to go. Naraal also knows where I dwell. He can collect the mithril for you, if nothing else can be arranged,” Danel said, almost without thinking.
“I will do that, most gladly,” said Naraal, a smile on his face.
Danel’s face reddened with anger. “Either you, or one of those other brigands under your employ will. Go to Numenstaya, and I shall see that Duzir gets his payment, in three to four months’ time.”
“Three months!” cried Duzir. He put the ring back in his pocket.
“Look, Dufus, if we don't close this deal soon, that big elf will set upon us,” Naraal told him. “Forget the mithril! Maybe we should just kill Estarfin!” Naraal wished he hadn’t spoken those last words in Westron, as a well-placed kick brought him to the ground. He raised a hand. “Do not kick me again!” he growled.
Duzir made a low chuckle in his throat. “And how can I trust you, boatman?”
“Because I serve the Lady Zairaphel’s nephew, you blasted Dwarf! And you forget - Zairaphel does not know the true value of that ring - and I might slip up and tell her, one of these days…”
“Then we would both be turned into frogs!” said Duzir. “But the ring is mine! I am no thief. She gave it to me.”
“We already know that!” Naraal was close to the end of his patience. “This is about exchanging something you should not have, a perilous ring, only a small little thing, hardly any mithril in it, for a great lot of mithril! Shall we get on with it, Duffer?”
Duzir grumbled, but realised time was short. “If she doesn’t pay, then you must swear to take on her debt!”
Naraal nodded. “Agreed. I have no mithril though. I will have to pay out in gold. Give her the ring!”
Duzir glared at him, then threw it at Danel.
Naraal winked at Danel. “What luck that we trapped your beloved so! Now, I am trusting him to look after you for me.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” said Duzir, and he drew out an egg from another pocket. “A deal’s a deal! May the curse of the Black Dwarves be upon any who break it!” And with that he threw the egg on the ground, and disappeared in a puff of smoke. The Corsair ran away, through the ruins, disappearing in a less spectacular manner.
“Estarfin!” Danel clutched the ring in her hand and ran over to where Estarfin was trapped. She could see him, far below, his face and hair grimy with dust, and she almost laughed with relief. “Let’s get you out of there, meldanya.”
“Bring a horse, and some rope,” Culufinnel called up. It did not take long to extricate the two elves from the hole.
“Are you unharmed?” Danel asked.
Both Culufinnel and Estarfin nodded their heads. “I am not happy to have missed the chance at slaying them both, but I am unharmed,” replied Estarfin as he brushed dirt from his armour and cloak, as Danel shook dust from his hair. “The walls were sheer, and crumbled easily,” he said as a way of explanation. But he also looked carefully at Danel. “And you? No harm has been done?”
She smiled up at him, drew the ring from her pocket then opened her hand to show him.
“The dwarf had your ring?” he asked incredulously.
“It is a long tale, meldanya. The brigands took it, then the Sorceress Zairaphel, who gave it to the dwarf. I asked for it back.”
“‘Asked’?”
“He was given it. Had he stolen it, Sarphir would have ‘asked’. He needed a little convincing.” She saw that he looked confused, so she added, “He is an enemy, both of them are, but he is not a thief.”
Culufinnel ran his hand through his hair as he flickered a glance over the ruins. “I know not where either of them went. They know these ruins quite well.”
Danel nodded. “They must both still be hearabouts, but I would find your brother, rather than pursue them. We may yet have another chance to deal with them.”
“The river leads to the marshlands. Can you be more specific about Parnard’s whereabouts?”
“I know he is near; I can almost ‘see’ where he has been. He crossed part of the river, and is on a small island surrounded by tall rushes.”
“Then we must split up to cover more ground,” said the Captain.
Estarfin shook his head. “I will not let Danel search alone yet. We two will go together, and search over the river here, and you can look upriver.”
Danel handed the ring to Estarfin, who took it with a look of surprise. “Glad though I am to have it back, my ring has gone through various hands of late, none of them with good will. Would you keep it for me awhile, that I receive it back from your hand in due course?” He smiled slightly, and nodded, then placed it on a chain about his neck.
