Estarfin

The Ambassador inquired whether there would be any objection to his communicating with the prisoner. There was not. Mirdoron and Mallenhadh seemed to think nothing important would likely result, and that the skinny, mild-mannered elf seemed harmless. They waved him aside.

"I should prefer to speak to him alone, in more comfortable surroundings - perhaps the Hall of Fire? No? Well, have it your way, then." Parnard smiled affably.

“It is not your place to command me, I am free to stay or go by my own will!” Galuoneth spoke the words with a certainty that she did not feel, not when faced with the grim Noldor before her. Estarfin stood to the fore, dressed in a thick leather apron, carrying a heavy hessian sack over one shoulder, a wooden case of tools in his other hand. To his left stood Ruineth, dressed in a tabard of thick suede, turned almost black from long years spent before the forge.

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.