Estarfin kicked some loose soil into the dying embers of the fire to smother it. Time to move on.
I watched him closely. Indeed, I had been watching his every move for some time. He was better than he had been. The fish, though there had not been much to go around, had warmed him somewhat, the fire had warmed him even more. But I thought finding Parnard alive and hale was the most warming of all. Estarfin had not failed us. He had found both Parnard and I, and we could all return home again.
“How are you feeling, meldanya?” I asked.
He turned to face me. His eyes were shadowed, his skin paler than normal, his expression drawn. But he stood, and replied, “C-cold. And wet. This land lacks charm. “
I smiled at him. His words were an understatement, though in a different situation and with more clement weather it was probable some beauty would be found.
“This is a misty, boggy land, and the lizards are growling,” Parnard informed us. He was standing on a rock, looking up at what was now a small patch of clear sky. We had disturbed several reptile nests nearby while searching in vain for Estarfin’s sword.
“I am concerned. The cold saps strength, even yours,” I said to Estarfin.
“I shall n-not be staying here,” he replied, not unkindly. “Once we are b-back with the horses I sh-shall improve. Proper w-warmth and thick clothing, f-f-food, and a fire will drive away the c-c-cold.” He hesitated, before adding, “Not that y-you have lacked in sharing your own warmth.”
I rubbed his arms again, willing warm blood to flow through his veins. “That is a mutual benefit, for you have also warmed me.” I felt his lips gently kiss the top of my hair.
Parnard suddenly called out, “Which way is north?”
Estarfin only shrugged. He didn’t have a clue.
A few more moments and our Woof-elf friend cried out, “Behold! Bright Forelen!” The tall Noldo pushed his way through the reeds, to stand beside Parnard, and I followed him. And there, in the middle of that nigh constant dark mist, were a few points of starlight, among which one star shone the brightest: the North Star.
“Elen Formeno,” whispered Estarfin, awe struck.
I bowed my head. “Thank you, Tintallë.” As if She heard me, the patch of starlight grew wider, pushing back the oppressive gloom of the cold fogs.
“Lo! The sickle of the Valar swings high,” said Parnard, excited to see the stars at last, after his lonely vigil in the marshes.
Estarfin folded his arms across his chest, and gazed in satisfaction at the stars.
“That is something else to warm you - the realization that the Star-Kindler is still with us.” I said. He smiled, the stars reflected in his eyes so that the shadows fled, and together we bathed in starlight for a little while. Renewed, at least partially, I offered to bring the horses.
Estarfin shook his head. “Not into this bog. They are brave and will want to help, but it is t-t-too dangerous for them.”
“Well then, you must call the pace. I would not have you weakened. any further”
He sighed, then frowned as he stared at the strange overcoat draped around his neck.
“It is Umbari cloth,” I said.
“Oh, yes. And a mighty poor weave it is; it might as well be made of paper.”
Estarfin shivered slightly, as if confirming Parnard’s observation. “What is the purpose of th-those - strings?” He pointed at the collar of Parnard’s shirt.
"Strings! Do I have strings hanging off me?” The Wood-elf looked down at himself and laughed. “Why, those are the laces, of course! You know how the old song goes: ‘Tie the laces, nice and neat, ready to run on happy feet’ - ?”
Estarfin shivered again, so that I moved closer. We needed to get out of the Marsh and to our horses for him to properly warm up. “Those are strange clothes. You should discard them as soon as more suitable wear is found,” I told Parnard. “Regarding the horses - I do not think we need to retrace our steps, but instead head north to the walls of Tharbad. There the horses graze, nigh the water.
“What is Tharbad, Cousin?”
“An abandoned Mannish port. It is not particularly safe, but we need not enter.” I tried to sound reassuring, and hoped that the horses had not been driven off by anything.
“We crossed many streams,” said Estarfin, blowing on his hands and rubbing them together to warm them.
“There is no way to get back without crossing the water, meldanya.” I knew it was the last thing he wanted, but we had no choice. “I am going to remove my shift and wrap it around my hair. I cannot have it getting wet again.”
Estarfin sighed, and removing his shirt did the same. He closed his eyes, preparing himself, then Parnard slipped away. “Hark! To that nearby island,” he called out. The water was only waist-deep as we followed him.
“The m-mist is getting th-thick again,” Estarfin observed. He tried to control his shivering. “Is this the place?”
“The air is colder here,” Parnard observed brightly, his wet clothing now clinging to him. Not even a Wood-elf can walk on water. “I do not see the horses. Where is food and fire?”
“This-s-s is another island. They are n-ot on an island,” said Estarfin, his teeth chattering more than ever. I looked at him, concerned. I should have gone alone to find Parnard, but he would never have agreed unless he was sure that I had fully recovered from the recent weakness incurred by my ordeal.
“How I wish I had a crispy leg of roast chicken!” Parnard exclaimed.
“Well yes, I would like that for you and us. But we have to swim again, at least once.” My friend looked disappointed, but he knew wanting a chicken leg and having one were two different things.
Estarfin gritted his teeth. “Is there n-n-no other way to the horses that d-does n-n-not involve w-w-water?” Rising to his feet he promptly slid down a steep, slippery slope; I made a grab for him, only just managing to steady him before he fell in the water. But I had seen it! From that position part way down the slope, the gap in the trees showed me another island, and there, just beyond the shore, lay stone-walled ruins.
“That way!” I announced.
Parnard traipsed across the slippery slope. “Pelorian! Norlomë!” he called, heedless of any danger.
“I have a new horse, Iavas,” I informed him, as Estarfin and I struggled to follow him up the bank. “Only a little farther through the water, until we reach food, warm clothing, and a fire.” Estarfin tried to wipe the thick mud off his hands on a bunch of reeds, but gave up. He looked at me, eyes questioning.
“Soon?” he said.
I nodded. “You can do it, meldanya. One more island, and then we will find the horses.” A small smile was on his lips, then he lost his footing again. Now I admit by that point I was very cold and tired. There was no way I alone could carry Estarfin. But I was not alone.
“Your feet are dragging, Estarfin friend,” observed Parnard, hopping from one hillock to another. I suspected that he had little else but crispy roast chicken on his mind.
“It is s-s-slippery, that is all,” the Noldo replied. I tried to walk downhill of Estarfin, so that my weight, lesser though it was, would keep him from rolling too far if he fell again. He nodded to me, but was concentrating on moving forward. “It is not far now, I can see the edge of this island,” I said.
“Let us not linger! We are almost there! The water is not very deep,” Parnard said, a little impatiently.
Estarfin looked at him with a forlorn expression. “B-but it is m-m-muddy,” he replied.
“A little dirt will not hurt,” Parnard sang out, and moved closer to Estarfin, perhaps to tow him along. Two dozen or so steps later, through knee-high water, we reached the last island. The ruins of Tharbad were in clear sight. I stood beside Estarfin, desperate to get him to shore and warmth. I wondered how long it would take my beloved to recover? He was strong, and well-used to hardship, but wading in this marsh in the wintertime was a sore trial.
Then Parnard froze, sniffing at the air and wrinkling his nose. I could smell it too.
“Orcs are near, or something equally as foul.”
Estarfin jerked his head up and looked around. He was weaponless and in no state to wrestle with orcs. I grabbed my long knife from my belt and placed it in his hand. He had lost his blade to the fish. He should not stand there weaponless -
A hatchet whistled through the fog, passing over our heads, and plunging into the dirt. We flinched, uncertain where and what the enemy was. Tall it was, and surprisingly agile for a thing so ungainly and lumbering; the 'orc' seemed to appear out of nowhere as it rushed at us. I was closer to it than Estarfin, and, thinking of my great-grandfather, Mahtan the Smith, I swung a fist at its misshapen head with all my accumulated frustration. The creature fell to the ground with a thud, and swifter than I thought him capable, Estarfin hastened to slit its throat. My hand throbbed with pain, but it was worth it.
Parnard stood there aghast. “We should go now,” he murmured.
I gazed on our fallen enemy for a second or two, not totally sure what it was. A solitary orc was rare.
Estarfin flexed his frozen hands, trying to get some feeling back into them in case he needed to fight again. “You have a blade, meldanya, and I still have some strength in my arm should we encounter any more,” I told him.
“And I have nothing,” wailed Parnard. Punching Orcs in the head was not his way.
We made it to the final stretch of water. It looked deeper, and as I dipped my toe to test it, I almost fell in. This time, it was Estarfin’s turn to steady me. “We need to swim to reach the shore.”
“Do you see anything ahead?” Parnard said to Estarfin as he peered into the mist.
“Only f-f-fog,” Estarfin replied. “And b-b-b-bog.”
Only fog and bog! I glared ahead, where the far shore should be. “There it is!” I grabbed Estarfin’s arm. “See there the shapes of trees nigh the wall? That is where we left the horses.” I was almost jumping with excitement. “There is Iavas’ grey form, and Norlomë beside him, grazing.” Estarfin ran a hand over his face, his expression softening at the welcome news, and Parnard scrambling forward jumped into the water.
“Food! Food and fire!” he cried out, and splashed away. He could swim fast as an eel, when the mood struck him, and soon disappeared from sight.
