Meldanya,
I have been dreaming. Not a foreshadowing of things to come I think, neither a message of doom. But it has left me confused upon waking. I would warn you, if you could but hear - just in case there is more to the dream than is usual.
I was with Parnard and our captors, in a place with green hills and an abundance of fir trees. There were tents, simple ones, tough of material and standing staunch against the weather. The Men around them were of more primitive sorts, rough, Hillfolk rather than Breeland brigands. They seemed to ignore our presence, as if we were not there, or as if we mattered not to them. They were respectfully wary of our Southron captors.
All seemed quiet, then we heard a clamor of shouts and clashing metal coming from the lower end of the Vale.
“Do we join the fight?” one of the brigands asked.
Pharazagar, one of the Umbarrim, shook his head and replied, “We depart soon enough; let us see if this brings who I believe it will,” his hand resting on the hilt of his great-sword.
Balkumagan looked more wary. “I would not be so nonchalant about it, brother. This is someone with thousands of years of experience with swordplay: it is possible that he may defeat even you.” He, too, laid a hand upon the hilt of Steel-Thorn which, since the death of Burrwood, he now wielded.
The sound of fighting increased as the Hillmen joined in the fray, and rushed against the intruders. And then I saw you. From a distance it was. But I saw you, and you saw me.
Yrill was with you, standing by the edge of the encampment, loosing her arrows of death. Another Elf was there…ah…’twas the young Captain Culufinnel, hacking and slashing his way forward.
I could see you, fighting with that mighty spear of war, cutting down those who stood between us.
“Danel!”
I heard your call, and everything in me longed to be at your side.
“Estarfin!” I struggled against the ropes that bound me, breaking the one around my wrists.
Pharazagar drew his sword, taking up a fighting stance, several of the men standing at the ready beside him.
I saw your eyes, saw the flame therein, and knew you would slay all and any that were between us. Then Balkumagan had my arm.
“Come away,” he whispered in my ear. “Seeing you held prisoner is torment to him; he will rush upon us in his fury and slay us all. Or it may be, in his madness, we even slay him?”
So it was I understood, and with a breaking heart I went where the Umbari Corsair dragged me, up a steep incline, over some large rocks and into a hidden tunnel. I could still hear you calling to me.
Parnard was brought along too. I could hear him speaking but could not understand his words or meaning. My thoughts drifted.Then all seemed dark about me, as I awoke, and for a moment knew not where I was.
Estarfin, I know not what this may mean. Perhaps it is nothing but my desire to be with you, manifesting in a strange form. But I would that you understood this: whatever transpires, do not throw away your life. Not if you see me, not if you believe they are about to kill me…or Parnard. What point is there in rescue if you are lost to me?
~ ~ ~
We passed by the old city of Fornost earlier yesterday. I had wondered if we would halt for a short rest in enemy-held lands, but it was not so. It was then that I realised that the Umbarrim were expected to deliver us without delay.
“How long until we get where we are going?” I asked of Balkumagan, when I again rode with him.
“A week, ten days if all goes as planned,” the steely-eyed Mariner replied. “I would try not to hurry, and for your sake; it is not a wholesome place that we take you to. But I have my orders.”
I looked at him curiously. In his own way he was a man of honour. He had not asked for this mission, but would follow his Captain’s commands.
“When we deliver you - well, my Captain is not such a bad man. He will listen to your words and concerns, not merely dismiss them. He will keep you safe if it be possible.”
“Will he keep Parnard safe, too?”
Balkumagan shrugged. “It is you that he saw, you that he wants, not the High Lord Parnard.”
And that was all he said.
Would that this Naraal knew how shallow his ‘feelings’ must be, to look upon another and desire to have them captured. Perhaps Balkumagan was right, and he was in some ways a good Man, but his attitude towards me seemed more of one under enchantment at beholding an Elf, or that of someone who considered others as his property. Whatever the case, my answer was a resounding ‘no’! He had no understanding of Elves to act as he did, nor could he see in my eyes that my heart was already given away to another.
But I could sense Balkumagan's thought. He had something in mind. Halting the horse he slid off, taking my arm so that I was dismounted, and stood on the grass by him.
The rest of the men halted around us.
“It seems those who track us are lost, or simply slow. I would have us all face them before we reach Angmar, and on our terms rather than theirs. This I do to draw out your lover, that there will be a sign for him,” he stated. “We shall not hand you back to him.”
He drew a long and sharp dagger from the belt about his waist, then turned me away and grasped a hank of my unbound hair, pulling my head back.
For an instant I wondered if he would slay me, but I looked up, and there opposite where we stood, high upon the ridge, stood Yrill Urugdagnir in actuality, her arrow aimed at Balkumagan’s throat.
I tried to shake my head to give Yrill a sign. No, not this one! I thought, even as his blade ripped through my hair.
Yrill hesitated, and seeing that he did no real harm to me, lowered her bow and stepped back a pace. So you do have her as tracker with you, Estarfin! She will tell you the truth of this.
Balkumagan cut across his own palm, and wiping the lock of hair on it, tossed it in the dirt.
“Let him miss that clue, and he deserves to lose you to my Captain,” he said. “Now, onwards to the Ram Duath.”
What game is Balkumagan playing? He works for my enemy, for this man Naraal, yet he is not at peace about it. I almost dare to think he wants you to find us. You will recognize that lock of hair (you have caressed it with your hands often enough) but will the blood encourage you to hurry, or to despair? Is that his aim, for you to lose focus or hope that I will turn to his Captain? You know that can never happen.
We moved on. As the party travelled through a narrow pass that led from Annúndir, the last two Men of the group fell from their horses, each with a white fletched arrow in their back. Yrill could have slain more to my mind.
Estarfin, fear not, but hurry. I know not what we face in Angmar, or even before, but I know our captors are concerned over what the ‘Elf demon’ will do. They fear you.
