Estarfin

It has been quite a long time since I was at home, and it shows. Or at least it did until I dusted and cleaned up the place.

Now I am lazily enjoying, in peace and safety, a glass of wine with a warm fire in the living room, my instruments all cared for and at their usual places. I am quite sure no one will need my skill in the minute, either as a minstrel or as a healer.

Am I lazy to think so and enjoy it ? Tonight, yes.

We reached the Valley in good time. Lord Estarfin was more quiet than usual, perhaps contemplating the making of the sword he had been charged with crafting for our Lord Anglachelm. Close by the chalk path that leads to the Valley, we met a elf lady, a soldierly-type, by the name of Limiriel.

My Lord has heard Lord Veryacano say that I arrived to talk the company out of searching for him. I say that this is a wrong-headed assumption, and the reasons for my accompaniment were to gather news for the remainder of the House waiting impatiently in Imladris, and secondarily, to see what resulted from his leadership.

It ends like this. Apparently.

The pain is unbearable. It burns as if Nirhen has spent the days swallowing hot coals, and fills her head and throat as if now she is choking on the smoke they let off as they eat away at her insides. She had never really considered what the ending of this might be, and now, watching them flutter like frantic birds around their golden-haired Lord, it is worse than anything they have done so far.

When I came back to the place we were given to rest in Caras Galadhon, there was no one here. I had no idea where to find lord Estarfin, and so I took the time to care for my instrument. I was playing a melody when I was finally joined by the others.

It was nice to be able to play once again without a care in the world. Without wondering if the sound was attracting beasts or men to us. I'd have kept on playing if lord Veryacano didn't joined us as well to talk of what we were going to do.

We reached Lórien, and found great reason to praise the Gracious Lady, who had watched over and guided us through her land, unto the present hour, and had food, beds, and everything else, neat and clean. In the Wood, I found a lively and generous people, many of whom were hungering and thirsting for news outside their little land. I obliged them with tales of our ventures south, and wandered round the place, in all the high and low places, talking to whomever I could find.

"There must be another set of bellows, surely? Search the whole city if you have to!" Estarfin snarled the last command at the wide-eyed assistant, pointing out of the door of the crafting hall as he did so. Nodding briefly, the brown-haired Elf almost fled from the forge, keen to distance himself from such anger. Left alone finally, and dressed only in his old boots, filthy trousers and undershirt, Estarfin turned back to the forge with a determined expression. He would repair the shield; he must.

Believing that Lord Anglachelm was taken north towards the Southern Greenwood, we made shift as well as we could to reach the Great River through the bluffs of the Horse-Men, and after a day of hard travel, we arrived at a hillside overlooking a camp. It was full of swarthy Easterlings, and by a gilt-fringed tent stood a tall and robust Man, with dark, expressive eyes, and a sneering countenance.

Numerous beyond counting, the stars reflected upon the surface of the lake could have been a second sky, so clear was the image. Watching them in silence brought a sense of peace to Estarfin such as he had not felt for a long time. His breathing was slow, his coarse hair shifting slightly in the cool breeze that rippled across the surface of the water. As he stared at the black mirror bathed in starlight, memories came to the forefront of his mind of Lake Helevorn in the green lands of Thargelion and the joys of an all-too-brief childhood spent upon the shore.