(Edited but originally posted in A Haughty Spirit Falls by Estarfin. After Pride Goeth Before Destruction.' )
Falling snow oft turns my thoughts to the mountainside home of my youth. The winters in Thargelion could be long and bitter, but never did they fail in beauty. There were other places where the mountains and forests of fir moved me to awe, but none had the power over me that Mount Rerir and the encircling range had.
I had been standing by one of the high arched windows of our main tower room, my thoughts drifting between the silent beauty of the sudden snowfall that had seen my family take to indoor pursuits, and the request I was about to make of my parents.
With a finger, I traced the pattern of a particularly large flake, as something I had done in designing a recent piece of jewellry. An intricate pattern of nature not merely copied, but embellished and added to that I had even then become known as a jewel-smith of some promise. Hrivangwe was my first step to a meeting with Celebrimbor. Yet my thoughts at that time were on something more fire than ice. I breathed warmly on the glass, and the flake melted.
“Atar…Amile..” I turned to face them. “I would put forward my desire to learn of armour smithing from Forodhir. It is a much needed craft among our people and I would be of the greatest service to all. The armour smiths of our Prince are the finest in all the lands. It would be a most honourable trade. What think you of my proposal?”
My mother put down the fine paint brush she was working with, her eyes upon me with more understanding than I liked. “She is your daughter.”
The words were addressed to my father, who had been quietly contemplating the facets of a particular ruby until that moment. Although my mother’s pronouncement took on something of an accusation, her tone was mere statement of fact.
My father sighed, turned from his work, and regarded me with curiosity.
“My mother’s granddaughter are you if working with armour is what you truly desire, Carnifinde.”
“It is not that we hold your request lightly, yende. In truth, I have seen this coming for some time, …it is simply that…” my Mother began.
“Simply that we wonder at your motivation.” My father finished the sentence, showing their unity in this view. Rising to his feet he crossed over to embrace me, then set me back to view me as something most precious to him.
“If you truly seek to master that skill, then there is none better to teach it in the courts of our Prince, than Forodhir. But it is the student, rather than the teacher, who holds your interest, is it not?”
I blushed furiously, but would not back down. “His most gifted student. And there is naught wrong in me admiring him. He could also teach me much.”
“I have no doubt. Neither do I have anything against him. Indeed, he is most gifted, and holds the regard of many. But we would not have you base your choice of craft on him alone. We do not know the future, and his father, though most skilled himself, is no easy ner to get along with. Give him a few more years...let us see who he is when he comes into his own?”
The fire in me was burning hot, though I knew the wisdom of my father’s words. “I would but get to know him, even a little. I am well over one hundred years of age now, and have looked at no other. Do not put more obstacles than there already are in my path.”
My mother shook her head at that, and also came over to hug me then. “He is no longer the boy who fights others in the streets, we grant you that. But what you are thinking, such a choice is of great import, as indeed is a craft. Yet whereas we may take up many crafts over time, we take but one life’s partner. We would have you as certain as you can be before you even step in that direction.” She smoothed my hair back from my face. “We would have you happy, as we are happy. Do not be angry because we seek for your best.”
My father smiled. “My thoughts are he will make captain within ten years. Then we shall truly see who he is. And in the meanwhile..” He raised my small hands and smiled indulgently. “You are not truly of the form of most who take up armour smithing. It was not your first love, dear one, and is only of such import to you because of Estarfin. Do you truly wish to step back from the skills you are so gifted in to take up another? Do you truly wish to move amongst such very different artisans?”
“If it is to be, he will no more demand you follow his art than you would demand he followed yours. Wait a while longer, and trust that what is best shall be.” My mother kissed me on the forehead before returning to her own beloved art.
My parents were wise, for I am a ‘Mirdan’ at heart, and a Mistress of Lore secondly. I never trained to craft armour and, in truth, I would have had difficulty grasping a hammer of any size. It meant I was relegated to but watching from afar for more years, and that we never got to speak properly until those few years ago in Imladris. Ai, you did not know of me in those days, Estarfin….but I most certainly knew of you.
~ ~ ~
“In a fight to the death there is no place for niceties. There are no rules or second chances. You must take any and all chances to kill your opponent, before they kill you. I have not lived as long as I have as a warrior because I am the best with a sword, or the fastest, or the strongest. I have lived this long because I am ruthless.” (a)
So he had once said to me while trying to improve my fighting skills. It seemed to me at the time he had little regard that I had been trained in the arts of defense at the least. No sword wielding warrior I, but one whose father had seen her well equipped to survive. Who, after the fall of Eregion, had trained with the harsh Fearanie, also of Thargelion. Like many a nis, I could put up a mighty effort against an enemy should the need arise.
And I had bested him in the end, after he had driven me to the deepest anger. Something that shames me greatly.
Had he let me win the spar? Nay, for that was not in his nature. He was never one for sweet-talk, nor mere formality. And was that not why I had asked him to test and train me, rather than one who would ‘hold back’ because I was a Lady. It had been imperative I knew I could still fight before we left for Dol Guldur. And he had reminded me!
A Lady of the Noldor, indeed I was….but the same determination and yes, ruthlessness at need, was awakened in my blood that day.
So it was now, as I moved slowly across the snow of the Hithaeglir, having lost my mare in an avalanche, I was truly alone. But wherever he was, I would find him. The sense of ‘him; in danger that had propelled me from Imladris in such a hurry, grew but stronger. Whether it was the crafted ring I had gifted him, or something else, I knew not. Neither was I under any illusion that I alone could make an attempted rescue or charge that would bring me aught but doom. That was the most likely result of my hurried and unprepared pursuit anyway, I knew. But I would find him. I would not sell my life cheaply, that we would die together as we should have at Dol Guldur. I thought momentarily our Prince would have understood, and approved.
Now it was to my advantage that snow was a terrain I preferred for a fight. The sense of smell was lessened in such cold, neither would the sound of my footfall, nor rustle of cloak lost with my mare, reach any goblin’s ear. There would be no clinking of metal from my soft leather armour, nor from Sarphir, held firmly in my hand. They would not know I was there until I was upon them.
Nonetheless, circling the steep slope downwind of the yammering goblins was natural. The two scouts left at the bottom could not have known of my presence until I sliced deep of the throat of the first with my boot knife, and turned to greet the astonished second with the point of Sarphir.
Good, still no sound nor sign that would give me away.
I moved forward under cover of the tall firs and their shadows, as far as possible.
“Anger will help you, but rage will not.” He had said. “Focus your anger, do not scream and wave your sword like a berserker.”(b)
I smiled dryly as I remembered. In my youth I had oft been guilty of waving my sword in rage. I had not done so since Eregion. I would not do so now. I knew the time for fire, and the time for ice. This was the time for both, but in balance.
A narrow path lay ahead, running next to a sheer drop and reaching up to the heights and the noise and the cruelly glaring torches. He was up there. I could feel it. So it was my path.
From the loudness of the cries, the calling and the cursing, there must have been nigh a hundred goblins up there. Too many! There were far too many for anyone to stand against them alone.
So be it. He was not alone.
I moved purposefully up the incline, cold air about me, cold fire in my blood. Four more goblins, all with their backs turned, mumbling and cursing to each other most likely that they were missing the fight, blocked my way.
The knife again took the first without sound, the second and third would have remembered Sarphir, had they lived. The last stared at me, open-mouthed. “She-elf” he hissed in surprise, before I broke his neck.
I crouched low, hoping his words had not been overheard. ‘Clumsy’ I berated myself. I needed to do better. Again I moved forward, hugging to the rock face that I was less noticeable to any who gave more than a passing look.
A horn sounded, shrill in the air, above the harsh cries of the assailants.
More goblins were being summoned. Ai Tintalle, how many would be set against him, I called to her in my anguish. Give me strength to reach him, Lady, that we may fight side by side and take as many of these abominations to their death as we can.
Higher still I moved, that I passed by the bodies of the dead and dying alike. Estarfin had already taken a toll.
“Do not turn your back on an enemy unless they are no longer a threat.”(c) He had whispered those words in my ear while holding his own sword to my throat. Lesson learned, I slit the throats of those still alive as I passed. They would be no threat.
Of a sudden the hated calls ceased. I stopped in my tracks, taken aback by the quiet. Silence, save the wind and the softly falling snow.
I felt a sharp pain, as if something had snapped, and there was a red haze before my eyes.
Then the noise arose again in a shrill cacophony of celebration.
I could sense nothing of Estarfin, Whatever our link had been, it was severed.
Quotes from ‘A Hard Lesson , by Estarfin.
Yende - Daughter
Nis -Female adult elf
Ner-Male adult elf
