Estarfin

We parted with the Hobbits on Kingsfell around midday, them taking the faint and infrequently used path to Trestlebridge, Bree Town and then their home. We bid them a rather fond ‘farewell’, being a little concerned for their safety, but also knowing they were far from incapable. They were a tough and hardy folk at need. 

I must have fallen asleep, resting back against Estarfin. No bumping of armour against armour this time, as I was clad in flimsy southern garb, but with his thick cloak wrapped round me. It was comfortable for me, more so than anywhere else I had been for several weeks. 

We rode with them Elves as far as the North Downs. Them took a turnin’ ter what they said was an Elven Haven. A place where the Lady could get a horse and some more suitable clothes. Not that I thought she or Lord Estarfin minded riding together, but the poor horse likely had a long journey ahead, an’ would do better with just one rider. Norlomë was her name. I liked her, even though she be very tall. Henepa liked her too. 

“I can tell ‘em about it, if yer like Lady?” Gaisarix moved closer to me. He was still quite shaky on his legs, and his hair and clothing seemed a touch singed, but he didn’t seem as weak as I was. He had had a rough time as a captive himself, and from watching how others, particularly Henepa, had been treated. But he was of sturdy stock, and wanted to help if he could. 

I reached out, even though what was left to me of clear thought told me he could not be there. Caranthir was long since in the Halls of Mandos. But something about ‘seeing’ him stoked up my spirit. Would he have ever given in, that cousin of mine? 

This Angmar place was not growing on me one bit. Covering me in dust, yes, and making me cough and sneeze like I really didn’t want to. I didn’t like it. Any of it. Oh, how I longed fer me own bed, be that in me Ma an Pa’s house in Glenwood, in me burrow near Michel Delving, or me new room at The Bent Elbow. A proper bed, with pillows and blankets and a fluffy down cover. Ah, that be the life. 

Henepa looked apologetically at the elves. They were not unmoved by her predicament, her ragged and filthy clothes and her pain shadowed eyes, but they had their own quest, their own folk to rescue urgently. 

The Captain nodded at the water skin. “Keep it,” he said to her.

Estarfin halted beside the bodies of the other Men. Dismounting briefly, he took up two half-filled water skins and a handful of gold coins from the corpses. He took a cautious sip from one water-skin then, with a look of unexpected surprise, drank a mouthful or two. He held the skin out to the others.