‘Your letter, this reminiscing,’ Estarfin said as bluntly as ever. ‘ I have not always been as I am, you know that. I am not blind to what you... want? Or perhaps what you once wanted, before everything was broken. …I am here, now. You are here. Tell me what you want of me. And know that I have so little to give.’
What to say? Now it had come to it, I knew not what to say that would not harm him any further, To state ‘I still want whatever you can give. I still want to be with you no matter what has transpired,’ could be more than he could accept. His words ‘..know that I have so little to give’ cut through me. I knew he was so weary that it was only his innate strength of will that kept him standing. That and his understandable fear of the judgment of the Valar.
My heart would have said then, ‘I understand more than you think. I will stand by you, no matter what.’
But could he face that open a truth?
~ ~ ~
“It is true then, that you travelled alone to the shores of the sea?”
Estarfin took me off guard by those words. Although his voice held no accusatory tone at that moment, I knew my travelling was yet causing him to think I would depart these lands.
“Not alone. Aearlinn and Ceuro journeyed with me. I received message that my grandmother was soon to depart, be that by ship or her death. She had been badly wounded. Poisoned. And though I had spent but little time with her, she is still important to me. There were others in Imladris seeking a position, and Tingruvial was more than competent to guide any transition. So it was I took horse the same night I knew of the situation.
Estarfin stepped closer. “But did you seek to depart?” he said, watching closely for my reaction.
“You think I would so choose? You think I would leave, while you remain here?” I could see how the thought may have crossed his mind, but ‘no’. I thought he knew.
I stepped back, matching his pace forward, to better hold his gaze.”Did I not say I would remain, when we spoke of this nigh Dol Guldur?”
And Estarfin looked then as if he were trying to find the right words. This was not easy for one such as him.
“I do not know your mind. But when you have spoken of remaining on these shores..” He shook his head.
So much did I want to aid him. But I would not put words in his mouth. Ha, as if that would be possible. Ever did he have his own will.
“It does not come easy to you. It never did. Not even when we were children. But I will say some words, if you will permit me?” He gestured for me to continue. “That mayhap you know more of my mind.”
How to speak now, that he would understand. Not that he was any sort of fool. By no means.
“Well then,” I began. “I am as desirous of peace from the struggles here, of seeing again family and friends, as most others. I know you hold the Valar’s judgment against our folk to be false. I know you have been twice a slayer of kin, and so fear Namo Mandos and any travel to Valinor. I know, and although I cannot comprehend fully the pain of any kinslayer, I have a measure of understanding. Was my own father not among your number? “
There was a slight dimming of the light in his eyes. He was listening.
“But I remember you as honest, noble-hearted, joyful. The youth I watched and admired, the young ner you became. You were good. Anyone would have been proud of you, even as Forodhir was. As your father..and our Prince were. That was all stolen from you.”
“You regret what happened?” He tilted his head to one side.
“The kinslayings? Aye, of course. For what they did to both sides. But I do not believe those two actions should ever define you.”
Estarfin was silent for a moment. He looked up at the brightening sky, for we had already stood in that spot for some time. Guards had passed us by at respectful distances, knowing we sought privacy.
And I thought of Melian and Thingol for a fleeting second, standing looking at each other as many years passed by. That brought a slight smile to my lips. Neither Estarfin nor I had that sort of patience.
“What is it you truly regret? What is it you dwell on?” he asked suddenly, though with no rancour.
I snapped back to focus in an instant. This game was no game. The stake was both of our futures, I considered.
“Truly regret? “I brushed my hair from my eyes again as the breeze picked up. “I regret many things. Like, not perishing in Thargelion with family, and not standing with my people in the War of Wrath. I regret not perishing with friends and fellow artisans in Eregion…”
“You wish for death?” he interrupted. He had a scowl on his face. “I do not believe that.”
“Nay. I wish for life. But it can be hard living when others are slain.”
We both paused, and I dared think we both understood something a little more. But his hair was blowing wild, like it often did. Estarfin; named for hair. Rightly named I deemed. And I remembered.
“I also wish for life for the boy I watched from the balcony of my house, and from the Citadel, while he learned to become a smith of renown, while his heart was in being a warrior. And I wish I had spoken with him, with you, in those days, rather than stood back on etiquette and let time pass. I would have been your good friend in reality, rather than a dreamer. I would we both had a good life.”
He frowned at that. “A good life? What is it we have had then?”
“We have had our lives stolen from us by wars. As have many.”
I turned my course then for a moment. “Estarfin, why did you ride here?”
“You believe a life of peace and plenty would have been possible if all had turned their backs on war? I ….” he had begun. Upon hearing my question he turned and made back to the stables. “Wait a moment,” he said.
Moving a few steps in his direction, I could see he was searching through the saddlebags of his horse. Then, a letter in hand, he returned. He held out the letter to me.
“I have been reading this, trying to understand…You wrote this. What do you want from me?” he asked.
“Ah, my letter. You did receive it.” I unfolded it carefully, knowing what I would see. But Estarfin was already making his point.
“No matter your protestations, I see the truth in your eyes. At least some part of you was tempted, yet you stayed for what? For me?”
I sighed. Perhaps this was not going as well as I thought? Reaching into my belt pouch, I withdrew a letter I had been carrying for some years, and handed it to Estarfin.
He looked over it briefly. “What I wrote is true, is it not?”
I sighed again. “First, it is true I have thought of sailing, but that not in this century. Rather, it was in the long years before I came to Imladris, and it never seemed the right thing to do, even then. It was before I knew you yet lived, having long believed you slain. This short time ago I went to the coast to aid my grandmother, and likely bid her namarie. It was never my intention to sail.”
“Not even for a moment?” he questioned earnestly. “It never entered your heart, the call of the sea?”
And I could answer with no hint of a lie. “No. Never.” I reached over to point out to him one particular line in his letter.
‘Such a sundering would be till the breaking of the world.’ he had written, referring to me departing without even speaking with him.
I stood firm. “I remained through the Second Age, and through the yeni of this one because….because I still had the smallest of hopes. I will not choose to be sundered from you till the breaking of Arda. If one or both of us is slain, so be it. I will not choose it.”
“When?” said Estarfin, screwing up the letter he wrote, and saying softly more to himself, "The days of glory, all gone.”
“When did I think you dead? You do not know? I thought I had explained….ah…… It was just before our Prince summoned a council of his warriors. When he explained the plan to regain a Silmaril from Dior of Doriath.”
Estarfin closed his eyes. I could only guess at what he was recalling.
Had I truly never explained it to him? My words wounded he and I alike.
