It took us nigh an hour to ride to the place near Tighfield. A high dark ridge was to our right, like a shadow looming against the starlit sky. The air was cool and fresh, with just a small promise of rain and a far off hint of fire. All was still, save from the occasional hoot of an owl. Some distance ahead and off to the right, a few lanterns could be spotted, twinkling like far lesser stars in the windows of some of the Halfling’s homes. There was no sound from that direction.
Estarfin rode slowly, searching the cliff top for signs of the castle, and any slope that would permit us access to the heights.
Then I saw them, at least a few of them, near the edge of the cliff top with torches in hand.
Bidding us all halt, Estarfin gestured for silence. Four men, maybe more behind them, out of our line of sight. And they were looking out below. Did they expect an attack? I knew not. But they were at least considering maintaining watch.
I raised a brow at Estarfin. ‘Sixty,’ I mouthed silently.
He made a small nod back at me. ‘With care, we can take them,’ he silently replied.
I knew that. I also knew we were not invincible, he was not invincible against a large number of enemies. I remembered the Goblins at the Hithaeglir.
“We shall be very careful,” Parnard drew Swan-Hoof alongside my mare, and joined in the silent ‘conversation’. "Lead on, friend Estarfin, and we shall follow carefully.”
Estarfin frowned, as he looked around for something other than a sheer cliff that may grant us a way up. I dismounted, bidding Pelorian stand, and I walked back a short way in the direction of Ered Luin. I had a memory of a group of fir trees at an angle, that just might conceal a slope. Within a few minutes I found it, and beckoned to the others to join me.
At the foot of the slope, Gilastor stopped and shook his great head.
“Peace, Gilastor. Peace” Estarfin addressed him in the usual Quenya. He too dismounted, treading carefully, as he moved to stroke the warhorse’s nose. “Go then, if you must. Seek rest. You know what to do.” he added gently.
The mighty horse nudged his rider slightly, an apology almost. Then turned away.
Pelorian watched after him, then batted me with her nose. She too was tired, but not from a trip to and from Mithlond. She would stand, and so it seemed would Swan-Hoof, who was prancing about in eagerness. ‘Like riders like horses’ I thought momentarily, as Gilastor shook his wild black mane before disappearing into the shadows.
Parnard also dismounted and he and I bid our mounts wait in silence. Climbing that slope on them was unlikely to be a good way of surprising the men.
Two of us garbed in black, and one in a dark green not so far removed in colour from the firs, and on foot, we stood a chance of reaching those on the cliff’s edge undetected.
Moving to the further side of the slope, Parnard crept up alongside the stone wall. His footsteps were truly silent, as I supposed was warranted among Wood Elves.
I crouched low in the undergrowth and pulled my black hood up and over my hair. Stealth was always good, though not always as easy in steel armour.
Estarfin stood in the deepest shadows, now looking up as a patrol of five relieved those on the cliff edge. He looked to me and shook his head. He need not speak in any form for me to know his thoughts. ‘ No great force of men here. Inefficient. They know not how to maintain any meaningful watch.’
Indeed, from my hiding place I could observe that three at least were considerably drunk. None seemed to have well maintained weapons, with one holding what looked like a hoe, and the others shorter rusty swords. None wore good armour, and a few looked as if they may be wearing Halfling’s trousers, as they did not even reach to their calves.
Estarfin moved nearer to Parnard, trying to keep in the shadows. He was almost in arm’s reach of one of the loitering first set of guards, who was eating what looked like a stale loaf.
“Ohh, that one got too close’, Parnard turned back and ‘said’ to me, as Estarfin lowered his blade and pulled the body back into the undergrowth.
One down, fifty nine to go, I thought. But already something seemed odd. It just didn’t ‘feel’ as if there were that many men here.
Parnard was pointing again as another Man headed in Estarfin’s direction.
Estarfin pulled a short knife from his belt and weighed it in his hand a moment, then stepped back into the shade of a nearby doorway. And Parnard ran forward, like a firework on a midsummer night. We had known from Pembar some few years ago that Parnard was no coward. But never had I seen anything quite like the speed with which he moved.
“There are a lot more above, up that slope,” the Wood Elf called.
I exchanged glances with Estarfin, who stepped forward pulling the two closest men towards him, and cutting their throats. He then threw the knife into the back of one giving chase to Parnard.
And Parnard had cut two down already, though all nearby now knew of his presence. They likely knew of Estarfin also, but not yet of me. I drew Sarphir and carefully followed after Parnard, seeking to protect his back.
The Wood Elf had scrambled up the side of a bank, holding Steel-Thorn carefully in one hand, then he leapt on the second man, running him through. He kicked at a half open crate near where the body slumped.
“Ham! Rotten!” Parnard announced. He waved the smell away with a hand, and turned to look for another abuser of Halflings. Instead he saw a tent, which he knocked down and trampled into a nearby fire.
I could hardly believe what I was watching as Parnard careered ahead. Estarfin was taking a more controlled approach, silent and deadly, and making sure any he brought down remained down. He ran through another, and watched dispassionately as the body fell from his sword into a fire. Then he turned through the arch and I heard a few moans and then silence. Whoever had been in that part of the ruin no longer lived.
And one came running from the lower camp, I was spotted at last. I swung Sarphir into his throat, and turned the point on him for good measure. He smelt awful.
Giving Estarfin a wave as I headed uphill after Parnard, he gave me a curt nod in turn. He knew where the majority of the men were gathered.
Another two approached the base of the upper slope. Both with swords drawn. Neither were as swift as me. I spun into both, severing off a head and plunging Sarphir through the neck of the other.
Then all three of us were up the slope, and the sun was touching the horizon as Parnard was stomping and slashing another tent to pieces. “More ruined suppers,” he announced, kicking over two crates of spoiled meat.
I gave him a nod of understanding. I never enjoyed slaughter, but to think of the fear and degradation these men had inflicted on the simple living Halflings was almost too much.
Estarfin was still breathing normally, as was I, though Parnard's breath was a bit heavier as he halted his rush of destruction. Estarfin nodded at him. “A good start, now for the rest of them.”
“Yonder,” Parnard replied, pointing further up the hill.
I was counting in my thoughts. I reckoned we had brought down at least twenty? How many more were there, and were they now grouped together in a place they could defend. Somehow I doubted it.
“These are not men though! Are they?” Parnard suggested. “Some seem to have fangs.” He nudged the nearest body over with his boot, so we could see the face. Whatever it was, it was very ugly.
Estarfin shrugged. “They are the enemy, whatever they are. We need finish them all.”
Shaking his head, Parnard uttered, ‘What wickedness is this?”
Then we all heard booted feet on the slope below us.
“Guards,” I whispered, and indeed a group of ten armoured guards were upon us.
Estarfin strode forward brazenly. “Dawn has come, yet in brings naught but death for you,” he said in Quenya. That I was the only one who understood him mattered not. Quenya had a power of its own.
I swung round to stand beside Parnard, who looked as if he may run fast soon. And he did, up to the next level. Estarfin waded into them, disciplined, effective, bringing them down swiftly. I took those to the left, fighting with clear sighted determination. ‘Death to these enemies’.
I did not hesitate.
And Parnard had jumped down from a tree, bringing two of the guards crashing to the floor. He looked a little surprised, but he laughed.
Meanwhile Estarfin was wandering around the apparently empty ruins on that level, banging his sword on his shield and searching for the next enemy. To me they seemed to have fled or hidden.
An arrow flew at Estafin’s chest, and he raised his shield in time to stop it. “Any more?” he shouted, again in Quenya.
Parnard looked annoyed, and was off like a lightning flash, rushing from ruin to ruin looking for any in hiding. He set fire to another tent.
I saw movement, as a few men were trying to slither like snakes in long grass to the slope.
“There!”
I was on them, this time noticing more clearly their baseness, as if dragged from the dregs of Mortal society. I dodged back as one swung at me, making a close miss of my lower arm. I struck back, not missing his heart. Then the other two fell under the same sweep of my sword.
Estarfin was back at my side, catching his breath and leaning against an upright stone.
“All slain on this and the lower level,” I said, and he nodded in response.
“With care though. Some may yet be hidden.”
Parnard continued moving from tent to tent, setting each on fire. He burned all the supplies as well. Nothing seemed salvageable for the Halflings.
“No crates of their linen?” I asked.
“Ah, I may have burned them,” Parnard replied with a sheepish laugh.
“It is likely for the best,” I made my thoughts known. “Once taken from them, the items would be tainted with bad memories.”
Estarfin smiled. “It matters not. There is no depth such folk will not sink to. Put it from your minds.”
I would do as he suggested, and my thoughts moved on. “Not sixty here,” I observed.
“These are not all the men that Master Tatersfield spoke of. Nor do they seem like men….not real brigands and fighters,” Parnard added, crouching down to clean what blood he could off Steel-Thorn.
Estarfin shrugged. “Those who were here are here no more,” he also began cleaning blood from his sword, with great care.
“And, I did not sully my new hauberk,” Parnard commented somewhat gleefully.
I sat back against another stone. “This is a place of evil. Yet it seems more an outpost than a base.”
“I tell you, this is not the place.” the Wood Elf looked over at me, then to Estarfin. “There is a castle on the hill, with a waterfall and a nice tree.”
Both Estarfin and I were listening.
Parnard took a stick and drew a rough map in the soil. “Here we are…and here is the Halfling’s hovels….and here…here is the castle.”
Estarfin nodded that he understood. “Is that place far? Can we get there on foot, for Gilastor will not carry me.”
“It will take some time..and… “ Parnard shook his empty wine skin.
“I venture we return home, rest the horses and restock on water…and wine if you wish, and set about that place tomorrow?” I suggested. We would not be fit to fight if Estarfin had to walk everywhere. Better to wait a day or two, and make a fight we can win.
And although Estarfin looked a touch aggravated at the delay, it was agreed.
The only problem was that Gilastor had already walked home.
~ ~ ~
Estarfin and I rode into the homestead around mid afternoon. Both of us were in good moods for our more youthful behaviour. Pelorian was in a good mood despite having to carry us both, and she whinnied loudly to the other horses as we approached the stables.
Barahirn walked out towards us. I saw the expression on his face, that momentary wonder not that we were on the same horse, but at our state of disarray, and the armour strapped to the saddle.
“My Lady, my Lord,” said he with a bow.
He moved forward to take Pelorian’s head and address her in a kindly tone.
“All is well?” he addressed me.
Estarfin was off Pelorian already.
Barahirn gulped.
“Your horse returned some hours ago, my Lord. He is resting. He has been watered and fed and groomed. And Master Parnard was back before midday.” The stable lad looked away and muttered, "He is also likely fed and wined.”
“Thank you, Barahirn,” I managed. But it was to Estarfin I looked as I dismounted.
“See Pelorian is treated likewise,” he said to Barahirn. “She has aided us well this day.”
Barahirn nodded, but still seemed to feel awkward in our presence. Then again, he barely knew either of us.
“It shall be as you say, Lord.”
Before he could lead Pelorian to the stalls, I reached up to stroke her ears. “My thanks to you, my friend.” I whispered to her.
“And mine, stout-hearted one.” Estarfin added. He patted her neck, and she butted him with her head.
Alone again, I turned back to Estarfin. He looked…happy?
I brushed some of the leaves out of his hair. It seemed to attract them like little else.
He smiled. “It was good that we spoke.” He brushed some leaves from my hair in turn. “We seem to share this issue, among others.” There was a touch of humour in his voice.
I nodded. My hair was nowhere near as wild as his, but it could have similar tendencies at times.
“And..we should ride out again sometime soon?”
It was his turn to nod.
I thought I momentarily saw Parnard at the door of the house, but when I looked back, he was gone.
That night we stood under the stars again. Parnard did not join us, though we heard him moving across to the Lake, and saw him from a distance wandering under the stars, wine glass in hand. I loved Parnard’s presence, but that night I was more than content with Tintalle and Estarfin.
