Chronicles of a Sword (Chapter VII - The hound)
We were on the road for days, Cirdamir and me, knowing we have a large group of elves in front of us, leaving a trace only other elven eyes would see even at such numbers. I suspected is one of the Vanimar groups returning to Rivendell and kept our distance to be sure.
I felt more and more tired with each day, and Cirdamir’s concerned look upon me each time I waked up from a dream told me even more than I remembered of how restless my sleep was. I was finding hard to immerse in the surroundings enough to notice any subtle thing out of place as a scout does, or I would have notice them.
We just passed the last bridge when his voice barked to us to stop. Daegond, the Hound of the Order of Hammer, followed by Meiva of the Arrow made themselves visible to us. The talk I expected and feared followed: probably Reiven did raise the alarm because Daegond knew well what item I carry and asked for it, in about the same words as Themodir had for the sword when we talked last.
To my surprise this unpleasant Daegond bothered to try to convince me destroying the sword is the thing to do instead of just stating this. But the same time he was unshaken in his will. I would not take the sword to the cave. He will stop me in any way needed. I was tempted a moment to defy him. When he asked me to see the sword I held it properly, by the cold steel hilt that seemed to strengthen my arm.
We quarreled further. Each seemed to have another agenda and seemed to trust little the others. Even my dear Cirdamir was asking me to abandon my plan. Meiva offered to take and guard the sword herself. And Daegond would not stop at any threat or mean to demand the item. My grasp on the hilt strengthened..
“The sword.. beware.. the blade”
The warning came again to me, as real as if Daelith stood a step behind me, with such concern and torment in his voice that I lowered the blade instantly. What was I about to do? Fight sword in hand against one of my own house, wearing the same colors with many dear to me? Force Cirdamir and Meiva pick sides and stop one of us, at any cost? This was madness! I was not sure what was with this blade but I was sure the Daelith I knew would not want it to kill elves of his house. At any cost.
I felt weak. I had little power to continue to fight them all. I asked again we follow my plan. Investigate again the cave. If nothing then ask advice from Veryacano, the wisest of those who had any insight in this long story and cared enough for me to trust he would not pick the easiest way out of the problem with no interest in what this was all about. No one cared and no one trusted me, my will to do the right thing, even I was the one resisting to all this the best until now. I felt at the end of my strength. When Cirdamir asked he would carry the sword the rest of the way to Imladris to finish this stupid argument I accepted. He would not rush to any decision I would not agree with, not one I care so much of, he treasures our bound and my trust too much and trust in return is the only worthy answer.
Daegond readied to “escort” us. Cirdamir fixed the sword to his saddle. His eyes were fixed on the road and he seemed to fight himself. He started to sing an old song with strange words. I felt he does so to help him focus. What was he fighting? He dismissed my question.
We stopped and parted ways near Darnur’s grave. Cirdamir was in a grim mood and singing to himself. I could not follow his words. I needed to rest to be able to think. He could see that much and objected nothing to me doing so.
But I also needed to see what awaited me in the dark heart of the rock where another story ended so different than how I wanted.. And I could not resist to just wait..