We rode on. I had expected the further north we travelled the colder it would become. To some extent that was true, but it snowed less and the sky was more of a watery pale blue-grey. Even such little light was welcome. As we drew nearer to Bree we were passed on the road by two travelling groups. One consisted of cozily garbed Dwarves, who made a brief but polite acknowledgment to us, as we did to them.
“Cardolan lies under snow,” I informed them. They nodded and one bowed his head in ‘thanks’.
“We are prepared for whatever lies ahead,” he replied.
Dwarves were not the only travellers we met. A few men hurried by without stopping to greet us, which was just as well. I rode up alongside Estarfin, and whispered “I know, meldanya, but our aim is to get home, and to restore ourselves there. There shall always be more Men.” He sighed but nodded. He knew I was more hesitant than him in any slaying of the Secondborn. He also knew I understood why he acted so.
“Home,” he replied. “And the end of travelling unless necessary.”
He never enjoyed travelling. He said he saw no point in it. Whereas I had travelled oft since the times of the Kinslayings. I had told him I was now prepared to remain in one place. Once, I questioned myself as to why that was, and I realised that I wandered from place to place because I was always searching for home again. No place matched Thargelion, the homeland of our youth. Imladris came the closest, and Ost-in-Edhel had been an acceptable refuge. But where was the home I had searched for, if he was not there to share it with me? Together we would build our own small sanctuary in the dell in Ered Luin. We would build ‘home’ again.
As before, we traversed the Barrow-downs rather than ride too close to the town of Bree. We could hear its distant clamour, for it was early afternoon and the folk would still be on the streets and in the marketplace. We could smell smoke from many chimneys and the faintest hint of roasting meat. But that was no place for my beloved to venture. The wraiths, wild hounds and re-animated bones of the Downs were far simpler to face.
“We kill the dead yet again,” he said as he unsheathed his sword and raised his shield.
“You had plenty of practice in Angmar.”
He shrugged. “They do not take much practice; they fall apart at a touch. It is the malevolent spirits controlling them that is the issue.”
Riding double behind me, Parnard unsheathed Steel-Thorn, and sang out, “Elven steel will teach those unwary wights to seek housing elsewhere.”
“We are Eldar, the people of the stars. They cannot stand against us,” Estarfin said, and urged Norlomë forward. He would destroy any who tried to stand in our way. Few did.
I headed Iavas straight at the shadows that rose out of the mist, wailing and howling. Iavas feared them not, having been born and raised among my people, and bright Steel-Thorn struck out. Whoosh, whoosh, and the wights flew to pieces.
Next on our journey home was the road through the Old Forest. Who is to say which is worse, the Barrow-Downs or that wood? To Men, it is likely that both are as bad as the other, while to us, our light was stronger than that darkness. But the Old Forest has many types of trees, not all of which were corrupt. And trees were usually of the light, unless foul enchantments had been invoked. As before, we rode not into the depths of the darkened wood; we were not hunting twisted spirits, and were merely passing through. From some corners I sensed a heavy and oppressive brooding: some ancient evils lurked close by. Estarfin searched the darkening sky overhead, nodding whenever he saw the stars glimmer through breaks in the clouds.
“Tintallë sees us still,” I said.
Ahead were a few winter trees, bare of leaf, but not of life, sleeping until the stirring of Spring. The sense of brooding malevolence faded. The horses became lighter of step, and soon we saw the bridge of the Baranduin ahead. We paused for a moment to stare at the sight.
“Do you remember this place, Danel?” Estarfin said, breaking his long silence.
How could I have forgotten something that occurred only two years ago? “Of course,” I told him.
He nodded and asked no more questions. Two years ago, at this very spot, he first admitted his reservations. There was undeniably something between us, he had acknowledged then, but he was unsure if it would lead to good or ill.
“What we have between us has led to both,” I murmured, riding my horse closer. “To ill these past months, but now to good, no?”
There was a small smile on his lips. He remembered.
“‘To evil end shall all things turn, that they begin well,’” I said, repeating the Doom of Mandos upon the Noldor. “Worry not. Our love began in days of evil happenings, the Fall of Thargelion, and again these recent months, so I deem the words may now be reversed?”
“To good ends shall all things turn, that are begun in evil?” Estarfin shrugged. “I hope you are right, but I am not convinced.”
“No matter. For good or ill, this is the path I have chosen. I shall not turn aside.” I knew that he feared that one of us would lead the other to their death. Of course it was possible, we were each other's doom as well as love. But what would life be if we did not take the chance?
The bridge came into sight. Two Bounders stood guard with serious faces. I pushed Iavas ahead of Norlomë, not that I was overly concerned. Estarfin had always displayed a tolerance towards Halflings, perhaps even a fondness, although he could hardly tell them apart from one another.
“A good evening to you. We are Elves returning to Lindon from an overlong journey. We wish to travel through Yondershire, to our home.”
The first Halfling was slightly taller, and he hailed us courteously. “Elves’ word be good enough fer us. No mischief, mind.”
Estarfin gave him a look. I gave Parnard a look. Parnard protested that he had only just arrived.
“‘Ave yer seen any men on the road,” the other guard asked us. “We had a few of the rougher sort passin’ through of late.”
At that, Estarfin looked up. “How many? When and where?”
Then the Chief Bounder approached, his yellow feather curling around the brim of his felt hat, and reassured himself that we were not ‘rough’ men. “Only about eight been seen, Master Elf. Them not be a crowd, but them ‘ave knives and swords, and steal food an’ coin if them can.”
“Then we shall keep an eye out for them,” I replied, before Estarfin could ask anything more about the latest sightings. “We do not approve of such behaviour, especially to gentle folk like yourselves.”
“Oh, me an’ me lads can handle ‘em. But not if them come in a big swarmin’ gang!”
“Fear them not. They are cowards at heart, and if alone,” said Estarfin.
The Chief Bounder raised his peaked hat. “Yer keep safe yourselves,” he said, then took a closer look at Estarfin’s weaponry and chuckled. “Safe travels, Elves. May yer get back ter yer homes swiftly.”
We all nodded and inclined our heads in turn. Then we were away.
“They are hard-pressed, these Halflings,” said Parnard, as soon as we had crossed the Baranduin.
“They are brave and know their lands. They will not be easily broken,” I told him.
Estarfin sighed. “Certainly not while the men are in small numbers.”
“When we helped them, the Men took their revenge,” Parnard recalled.
We spoke no more of it. How could we dwell peacefully beside the Halflings in this land, if they were threatened so?
“The horses need a rest,” said Parnard after a short time. He looked tired.
Estarfin bid his horse halt. “There is an old Elven campsite close by. Danel and I once encountered Belegos there as we rode west. Lead on, Danel.”
I chuckled. “You do not know where to find the campsite, do you?”
He smiled and said nothing. Onward we rode, at a slow pace as we moved past another hamlet, past many well-kept homes and fallow fields. The Halflings were close to the land, and that was something we could honour.
Into the land that the Halflings called the ‘Green Hill Country’ we rode, the horses speeding up to a canter as we passed a few small villages to our right, hiding now in the misty evening, their window lamps being the only sign of their whereabouts. It was an evening to be indoors, though it was nowhere near as bitter as it had been in Cardolan. Off the road we traveled uphill, winding our way through closely growing trees. Then there came the clearing. Trees on three sides gave way to an open view to the east, and what appeared as a natural ‘Great Hall’. The clearing was empty.
Parnard slid from Iavas’ back and traipsed over to what looked like the long-dead remains of a fire. He began to gather kindling. Estarfin strode back and forth a little, ensuring that no one was there hiding among the trees. This was deep into the Halflings’ land, and apart from our folk who sometimes took this route to the Havens, few others travelled that way.
Unlike the marsh nigh Tharbad, it did not take long to prepare and light a small fire. The horses had good grass to graze on, and we led them in turn to the swift flowing stream beyond the road. We still had the meat of three rabbits that Estarfin had caught back in Cardolan. Already cooked, we decided to make a stew with some of the wild onions and garlic that grew nearby. I took out the iron cooking pot from Estarfin’s belongings, and set to with preparations, while Parnard picked and cleaned the greens.
From our viewpoint we could see the Halflings’ village, and its lanterns shining through the trees around it. “The Halflings are not our business,” I said to Parnard, “but I cannot help but be fond of them. Estarfin says they are one with their land. I think he is right.”
Parnard began chopping the vegetables. “They seem to be a sensible folk,” he said as he sliced the vegetables into the stew pot, “gifted with a deep and perceptive intuition for sizing the true worth of others.”
“Is that so, ‘High Lord’?” So the Halflings of Tighfeld called Parnard upon meeting him for the first time.
“Can I help it if they perceive my character? It is but my nature, and I cannot hide that from such sharp-eyed folk.”
Estarfin returned and settled down beside me, sniffing at the bubbling broth.
“It is almost ready, meldanya.”
He smiled and lent back against a tree, looking more at ease than he had for some time. “It is a nice evening for a campfire. It is warmer here, and the stars seem brighter.”
“Perhaps it is because they are the stars of home.”
“You eat first,” Estarfin said, gently pushing the bowl away. “It is enough for me to just watch you under the stars.”
That may be, but there was plenty for everyone, and he knew he would eat his fill soon.
There was something on my mind, something I wished to speak to him about, and sooner rather than later. Parnard ate quickly, licking his bowl and spoon clean, as usual, then said, “If you two do not mind, I shall stretch out on the grass and rest my thoughts. Rouse me as soon as you wish to rest, and no later.”
That was convenient for me. So as soon as he had flung his cloak over his face (which was his peculiar way of resting) I began.
“Estarfin, meldanya, there are matters I would ask about.”
“Hmm?” he looked up from his meal.
“Two matters, really. The first is: can we delay our wedding so that it is after Coirë?”
He looked questioningly at me. “Is aught wrong with us?”
“Nay, beloved, of course not, but after our recent experience I would like a short time to...well, to be myself again.”
He put his spoon down and grew serious. “That I can understand. It has been a trying time. But now that I have you and Parnard back, it will improve for me.”
I lent against him, eager that he did not think there was any issue between us. “What I wish for now is a warm bath and bed, plenty of rest and quiet, and Filgnil’s skillful cooking. I think of wandering around at home and reacquainting myself with the other elves, and with tasks dear to me.”
He nodded. “I, too, would appreciate a hot bath, and peaceful quiet.”
“What I really want is for my thoughts to be fixed on us, and not on feeling exhausted.”
At that he laughed. “I understand. Let us wed when we are not worn, when you are ready.”
“It shan't be very long. Perhaps we shall wed at Midsummer? When we are our best, not our worst.” I ran my fingers through his long tousled hair, as I oft had done.
He nodded, then raised my hand and pressed it to his lips. “And what is the second matter?”
“Finish your stew and I shall speak.”
He did as I bid. Calmly, knowing nothing I said would be that much of a problem.
I sighed when he set his bowl aside. I did not want to say it, but I could not hide my thoughts from him. “My promise to you, to leave these shores when all strongholds fall, when all forests burn…I do not believe I can keep it.”
“Danel, why do you worry? It is merely a promise for the end of days here.”
I admit that I pouted a little at this, though not petulantly, I hoped. I did understand his reasoning. “I will not leave you,” I told him. “Whatever the end of times here brings. If I take ship I will be separated from you until you are restored from the Halls of Namo.”
He reached over to raise my face to his. “I can stand whatever will come in the days ahead, save one thing. If they take you - and hurt you, and I am not able to stop them - ”
“I would die at your side first, as a daughter of Thargelion.”
“Danel, please - !”
There were tears on my face. I understood. “Very well. I shall not break my word to you, unless you free me from my promise.”
“We already spoke of this at Mithlond. You know I do not want a long widowhood for you.”
“And you know that I would rather die beside you, and my spirit be housed in Lord Namo’s Halls.”
He shook his head. “We shall both ponder this more, then. But as I first said, this is not for now, but only when naught is left here.”
“Save you,” I whispered. He wiped a tear from my cheek. Never would I ask him to sail to Valinor. We both knew that. His course was set in Middle-earth, the only matter left to settle was whether I could join him when the last war raged. As we sat and watched the stars, hand-in-hand, the pain in my heart faded somewhat. We were together again, at last, and this night would be one of several that lived ever in my mind.
(Picture: 'Almost Home' by Estarfin ' )
