The Appearance of Danel who, in reality was the shapeshifting Khahaynd of Umbar, sat down in a small hollow that was partially shielded from the easterly wind. She patted the mossy ground beside her with a small but strong hand “Estarfin, come, keep me warm; Culufinnon can make the fire for us when he returns,” she said, carelessly botching the name of the insignificant Captain of Celondim as she tried to soften her commanding tone. Though she was certain that, as some sort of nobility, Danel was in command in the absence of the High Lord Parnard, perhaps coaxing was a better approach with Estarfin, and she would take full advantage of the Captain’s absence as he gathered kindling in the dusk.
The Noldo was looking over Iavas, the horse that she found so tiresome, then nodded and went to fetch a thick blanket from Norlomë. The mare tossed her head. “Yes, I know,” he whispered to her. When the dejected Iavas walked closer, Norlomë snorted to him as if she was saying ‘Stand by me, I can also see the change in her’. The horses’ behavior did not go unnoticed. Obviously Danel was acting very unlike herself, thought Estarfin. Her present manner could be due to her earlier treatment. She could be very unwell, and that worried him considerably. And yet -
“Come, do not dawdle! Bring the blanket and sit close.” she all but purred in a honeyed tone.
He did as she asked, slowly, handing her the blanket. Then she leant in close. “Estarfin dear,” she whispered, “I would travel swiftly from this place; we must lose that fool. Take me far away from here.” She pulled the blanket round them both, and tried again her winsome smile, the smile the cat Zîr disapproved of.
Estarfin whispered back, “Who? The Captain?”
She nodded. “I would be home in Ered Lune,” she told him. Then she heard what was for Culufinnel was a loud footfall. “Oh, he returns already! We must find a way to be alone.”
Estarfin frowned, keeping his voice in a whisper which he knew Culufinnel could still hear, and said in Quenya, “You speak of the Captain as a fool?”
Culufinnel dumped a pile of sticks on the ground and began to build a fire, as quickly and efficiently as any Wood-elf could.
Now the false Danel was confused. “What did you say?” She tilted her head to one side and batted her eyelashes.
“You speak of the Captain as a fool, but you know he is far from that,” Estarfin said, again in Quenya.
She was at a loss. “You are mumbling. Speak plainly.”
Estarfin considered his words, wondering how he had been unclear. They oft spoke in Quenya with each other. His sentence was not complicated, merely an inquiry.
Culufinnel finished stacking up wood and kindling, glancing over in the direction of the two huddled Noldor. Then he got out his flint and tinder and sparked a small blaze, adding pieces of dry straw to it until it caught.
Deciding to change her tack, the false Danel asked, “You would defend me with your life. Is that not true?” She placed a hand on his arm.
Estarfin looked confused again. “You need ask?”
She smiled a genuine smile this time, for she liked his answer very much. There was a surety about it. If only she could control him, then he would be an excellent companion. “I am warmer now. You have my thanks. But I hunger, do you have much food?” She recalled reading somewhere that among Elves the males did most of the cooking. It appealed to her. “Can either of you cook something here?” Although she was still dismissive of Culufinnel, she noticed that he had managed to get a good fire blazing, and now she was hungry.
“I have some dried meat that I could stew,” Estarfin offered. He had made such a meal for himself, Danel and Parnard before, when traversing the Hithaeglir. They had always eaten what he made with no complaint.
“Cooking? We have no time for that. I have some waybread from the sailors of Celondim,” Culufinnel told her. “Would you like some?”
“No, I would not,” the apparition of Danel answered, face sour, not liking the sound of either option. Only then did she realise that no banquet would be speedily set before her under the present conditions.
“You have not yet recovered,” Estarfin said, still concerned this was the result of Danel’s recent treatment at the hands of the Umbarrim.
“‘Recovered’ - ?” she asked. “Oh, yes! I am still weak. I need a good meal.”
The Noldo glanced at Culufinnel for a moment. “You were so pale, drained of life,” Estarfin reminded her.
“Was I?”
“Yes, you were,” stated Culufinnel.
Estarfin’s face darkened a moment. “I have shown insufficient care,” he said. He searched through his supplies and found some dried boar meat, salted pigeon, a stick of tallow, which he put into his small steel cooking pot. He filled the pot with water from his water skin, then placed it on the hot ashes. They said little while the stew cooked. Estarfin kept his eyes on the pot, wishing the water would heat faster. The longer the water simmered, the better it would taste, but Danel was hungry. As they waited, the Captain studied Danel before asking her, “Did Parnard venture far? Did he say anything to you? Is he injured?”
The apparition pulled her long red hair out from under her cloak collar and shook it loose. “Ah, that is better. Where are the spices, Estarfin? Where are the herbed dumplings?”
Estarfin looked almost ashamed as he shook his head, and continued stirring.
She looked at him, and for an instant it was as if she saw him through another’s eyes. She saw his frustration with what he believed was his failure to help her. It hurt her as if he mattered to her. She looked away.
“Well? Is my brother injured?” Culufinnel asked again, before she could fully compose herself. She felt tired from trying to act ‘considerately’ to the others, it drew on her ability to hold the form she now did. Appearing as herself would not do.
Her annoyance was growing. “Maybe so,” she said in curt reply. Her words were like a push away.
“What do you mean, ‘maybe so?’’ Culufinnel said. “What did he tell you?”
“That one is troublesome, too full of himself - he threatened me, you know.” The false Danel wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. “Estarfin won’t let him harm me now.”
Estarfin looked up from the steaming pot. “Why would Parnard wish to harm you?”
She shrugged. “You will have to ask Parnard that,” she answered. She moved closer to Estarfin, just in case.
Culufinnel sat in silent disbelief, then burst out, “I do not believe it! He threatened to harm you when you reached out to him in thought? Why would my brother do such a thing!”
Danel paused a moment before replying, “I fear he may be under a bewitchment of sorts,” this time remembering to soften her expression to show her concern.
“What!” he cried, drawing back in alarm. “Why did you wait to tell us about this, miles down the road! What else did he say?”
The form of Danel was finding it hard to contain her feelings of frustration. She wished to travel far from that land, and put distance between herself and any threat from Zairaphel. She did not care about the High Lord! He dared to raise his hand against her! “Nothing of any significance,” she all but spat back.
Some miles south, Danel sat under the stars. She was cold, but not extremely so, for the great cat, Zîr, lay by her side, sharing his warmth. They were behind a large boulder that sheltered them from the cold East wind. Zîr purred a deep rumble as she stroked his black fur.
“I wish you had a different life,” Danel said softly. His keen ears twitched. “You and your mistress both. It is still possible to change matters. I suppose those who she flees from will pursue you both far?”
Zîr raised his heavy head from her lap, and yowled low. He blinked his amber eyes at the nis. “Yes, I understand. But they must return to Umbar sometime? Perhaps it will be possible to avoid them? There are none of your kind in the land I dwell in, though there are further North. But you are a Cat of the Southern Jungles, and there are no such jungles near here.”
The Cat shook his head, then laid it back again on Danel’s lap with a sigh.
“If your mistress would cease her desire to slay me, we might even have come to an understanding,” she went on to tell him, but Zîr had closed his eyes. He felt safe with the Elf with the silver and gold sword, and she felt safe with him. She glanced up at the stars overhead, slightly different from the familiar view from Lindon. ‘Ai, Tintallë, watch over Estarfin and Culufinnel, wherever she leads them, and bring them safely back.”
“It cannot be true!” Estarfin said to Culufinnel. Never would Parnard deliberately harm Danel. This did not sound at all like the Parnard he knew.
“You must tell us everything he said,” said Culufinnel, trying to reason with the false Danel. “It might not mean anything to you, but it could be of vital importance. Tell us everything, starting from the very beginning.”
She tilted her head to one side. “And then we go home, to the Ered Lune?”
Culufinnel sat back in astonishment. “You said that Parnard is in no danger, but he is alone, wandering northward with his brains more befuddled than usual! Did he tell you exactly where in Ered Luin he was heading? Numenstaya, or somewhere else?
“He has gone to the place he usually does.”
The captain ran a hand through his hair. “Which is where, Lady? Reach out to him again, I implore you. Find out where he is now, and I will ride there with all speed.”
“Now? I am fatigued,” the apparition of Danel whined, then she sighed, and waved a hand for him to stop pestering her. “I may try again, later.”
Estarfin stopped stirring the pot to stare at Culufinnel, who took the hint. “Of course. I beg your pardon,” the Captain said, and made an apologetic bow. “You must rest. I shall keep guard.” He took up his spear and got to his feet, then moved a small distance away. Perhaps Estarfin would have more success talking to her.
The false Danel patted the ground next to her. “Come and sit close, Estarfin. I have not had any time alone with you for ever so long.”
Estarfin was growing increasingly troubled. He stirred the stewpot one last time, then carried the vessel to Danel and set it before her. She wrinkled her nose at the smell, but took up the spoon he offered to taste the stew. It tasted no better than it smelled. He watched her closely, his sea-grey eyes dark with disappointment that he had failed her.
And for an instant she felt: she felt what? A small stab of pain? Nay, she felt an ocean of time and hopes and losses. He had been so lonely.
“I am sorry I did not notice your fatigue earlier,” he murmured, lowering his head a little as he sat next to her. “And I know the food is not the best, but please eat what you can: you need to restore your strength.”
The Apparition of Danel put down the food. “Tell him to go away,” she said. “Then we can be alone together.” She found Estarfin very different to the men she was used to, neither attractive nor un-attractive to her eyes, but charismatically different. Attraction could work in many ways after all; as Men saw beauty in the Elf woman, so she could see something similar in him?
“What? I thought…”
She reached out to unclasp his cloak, snaking her hands through his untidy hair. But it was different. There felt nothing between them. Estarfin gently took hold of her hands, and put them in her lap. “We have Tintallë, that is enough, surely?”
The false Danel pouted, and said, “Do you not wish to run your hands through my hair? Is my beauty to be for naught tonight?”
Fire! There was a bright flame closing about her: blue-grey eyes in a pale face were watching her, a face ringed by flaming red hair. It was her? No! It was Danel. She gasped. Did Elves have the trained powers of the mind as she?
‘Hurt him at your peril.’
Then Khahaynd saw Estarfin watching her closely. “You are in a strange mood this night,” he said softly.
“If I am, it is likely the result of my ordeal,” she answered, Danel’s warning still ringing in her ears. But she was hurting him, and to her surprise, she found that she was not enjoying it.
“Of course.” Estarfin sighed. He pointed to the pot of stew. “Eat it, please. You must restore your strength.”
She shook her head, the petulant look back on her face. She may look like Danel, but she was still Khahaynd to the core: haughty, reckless, and arrogant. “Such a dish is unfit for one of my status.”
Estarfin laughed briefly, then saw her serious look. “Surely you jest?”
“Why would I jest? I am a noble, unused to this swill!” She kicked the steel pot over with her foot, flinging stew on the ground with a splat, and laughed. Then she saw the pain in his eyes. It was as if a knife was plunged into her own heart. What was this?
Flames surrounded her again, and a voice like the roar of a forge’s flame said, ‘You would be me? Then suffer as I do.’ Khahaynd tore a moment at her chest, as if to dislodge something.
Danel knelt under the stars, her face turned up towards them, towards Tintallë. By her side a huge black cat kept guard. “She repays his kindness with mockery and scorn. I cannot see them, but I can feel his pain, his confusion. Lady of the Stars, bring this to an end, I beseech thee! Let him understand. He knows I would never treat him so.”
“Culufinnel, I am rested enough. Prepare to ride on,” the false Danel called to the Captain. She rose to her feet, giving Estarfin a strange look. Was it shame she felt?
Culufinnel’s head popped up from behind the wall of a small ruin. “Have you decided to give up the search?” he asked upon seeing Estarfin's crestfallen expression.
The Noldo replied, “Of course not! But I do not see how he can be in Ered Luin. He is swift of foot, but even Parnard cannot run that far north so swiftly - not even on a fast horse could he do that.”
“Unless he has sprouted wings on his feet.”
“He might have found a horse on his travels,” the false Danel offered in explanation.
Culufinnel frowned at this. His brother had once ‘borrowed’ a horse before, and it had landed him in hot water with the Mirkwood Elves. “It is possible, I suppose,” he replied. Yet the Umbarrim were traveling south. After all these leagues, they simply let him go, without pursuit? Danel’s explanation didn’t seem at all right to him. She was holding a lot back.
Then Estarfin stood up, and reached for her hand. “We must stay together and not give up hope if we are to find Parnard.”
Khahaynd felt very uncomfortable. Despite her earlier effort to get much closer to Estarfin, she was assailed by how ‘wrong’ it now felt. She had wanted him, but now she did not - was she seeing him through Danel’s eyes? She slowly withdrew her hand.
“No. You two, go on without me. I will but hold you back. I shall head north, at my own pace.”
“No, Lady! You cannot travel alone!” Culufinnel protested. “You are ill.”
She was not ill, but the pain in her shoulder from Parnard’s knife strike had returned, and she was tired from maintaining the illusion and for the first time in her life, she had seen what real love was. “Go away!” she shouted at Estarfin, as he moved close to comfort her. “You make the pain worse. You make the emptiness worse.”
“Peace, Peace. There is no need for this, Danel. Do not despair,” he said in Quenya. All she understood was the affection directed at her.
Culufinnel’s short stock of patience was running out. “Very well! Remain here if you wish. I will find my brother,” he told them, and strode away, calling for his horse Cloud-born.
“Captain, wait!” Estarfin said.
Danel rose to her feet and held out the cloak. “This is yours, Captain. My thanks for its use.” She wiped tears from her cheeks. He cared so much for his brother. If only her brother cared for her as much -
“Keep it. You have a greater need,” Culufinnel said.
“Why do you seek to send him away? He has proven himself true: I do not understand,” Estarfin said to Danel in Quenya.
She turned to face him, unable to stop the tears from flowing. “I do not understand you. Speak to me in Sindarin.”
“But we both spoke in Quenya as our first words!”
She sidestepped away, so that he could not easily touch her, the pain in her chest more acute than ever. Was her very heart breaking into pieces?
“Ride on, both of you. I shall be well,” she found herself saying. Estarfin moved to follow her, but she held up a hand, and blurted out, “I am not Danel.”
“What is this? You have been very ill.”
She shook her head. “I have not been ill at all, apart from this shoulder wound the High Lord meted out.”
“If you are not her, then who are you?” Culufinnel said, and he reached for his spear.
Khahaynd defiantly tossed back her mane of red hair. “Danel waits by the road where you left her; fear not for her safety as she has a loyal guardian. And you must find your brother, before he is too far for you to reach. Hurry now.”
Estarfin advanced, his hands held up, utterly confused. “Danel, please, you are very unwell…”
“More so than you can understand,” she replied. Then she was no longer able to control the illusion. The figure before them shimmered in the growing dawn light, and took a new form. She had been unable to control the change as much as she usually did. Part of her knew that Zîr was Cat again anyway, and had been for some time. He hated being that old dog. But she was the Sorceress of the Abysmal Order, servant of Sauron. Tall and lithe, with long dark auburn hair that reached down almost to her heels, her olive skin bearing patterns in black and gold ink. A fell death mask covered her face. Red silks wound themselves around her sinuous body, and she had a crown of gold upon her hair.
“What is THAT thing?!” Culufinnel shouted. The horses, startled out of their senses, bolted away.
“I am Khahaynd of Umbar, Servant of the True King, Follower of the Lord of Arda, Adept of the Abysmal Order.”
Estarfin finally understood. “Is Danel safe? Answer truly, for your life depends on it.”
“She is safe and unharmed: save the pain I caused you. Return to her. Travel South, towards Tharbad,” Khahaynd continued. “You will see her by the lake. Go find your people. As for me, I go to seek my death, and perhaps peace at last.”
“We have been tricked!” Culufinnel cried. “What fools we have been!” He hurled his spear, but it passed through nothing and fell to the ground; Khahaynd was no longer there.
Estarfin called to the horses, who soon returned, fleet-footed Norlomë leading the others. He shook his head. “Now I see through clear eyes. I must find Danel.”
The elves galloped south again, retracing their path to the stony wall beside the Old-South Road, eager to right their mistake of the previous day, and find Danel again. The horses sensed their changed mood, and tirelessly bore them. Two Elves and three horses all but flew through the town of Herne towards the place where they had left Danel. And then…
Zîr heard them before Danel did. He hopped to his feet, waking her with a nudge of his broad head, then ran off towards the east.
“Be safe my friend,” she called after him. “It is my hope we shall meet again.” Then she turned to face the road. The winter sun was shining weakly on the frozen landscape. She could sense the approach of a brighter light in her life. Standing on her tiptoes, she raised her hand to wave as soon as she saw them, far away across the fields.
“Estarfin! What kept you?”
When he was close enough, he slid off Norlomë’s back, and she ran over to him. His eyes were hopeful, but he looked wary. It is you?” he asked in Quenya.
“Estarfin, meldanya, of course it is me,” she answered in the old tongue, searching his face for assurance.
She raised a hand, placing it lightly against his cheek. “You are here, I am here. What more do we need?’ she repeated a phrase they used. “There is no need to say more, unless you wish it. I am Carnifindë of Thargelion, and I would never refuse you, nor your stew. Your boiled eggs and beans, is another matter.”
He looked curiously at her for an instant, then his shoulders relaxed with relief and his un-gauntleted hand was stroking her hair as he pulled her close..
“I know,” he said.
