I departed Numenstaya but an hour after the Lady, Estarfin and Parnard. I knew where they were heading. I was nigh certain what path they would take. My mare was swift, should speed become an issue, but it was in my mind any threat was still a short time away
I spoke with Barahirn and Aearlinn, reassuring them that their task would be straightforward. Should there be any unforeseen issues they could perhaps call upon neighbours, or Lelyar or Gaerion in Mithlond. I could not foresee any issues, once Hithaerial was away. Of course she was not there to see me off. Neither had I included her in any of my plans. The following few hours would prove my suspicions, one way or another.
And then I was away. Heading along the Great East Road, though keeping a little off the path. It was not long before I reached Yondershire. I spent a few moments thinking of the Periain 'friends’ the others had made. I knew Lord Estarfin had carried the four knives he had made for them to help defend themselves, and intended to deliver them to one ‘Tolbold’, or ‘Gaisarix’. I wondered at the wisdom in the deed, for though Estarfin meant well in his offerings, the Periain were not Noldor by any stretch of the imagination. No matter what weapons they held, no matter their courage, they were not mighty warriors.
I headed south of Tighfield, noting the Lady’s party had halted there a short time, intending to continue south of Nobottle, and along to Needlehole and the Boundary Gate with the Hithershire. There were few other travellers that winter’s day. I caught a glimpse of a couple of the little folk wrapped snugly in their cloaks and shawls, but they turned silently off the road on hearing my horse draw near. There were no brigands for some reason, no sign of men anywhere. I smirked slightly, understanding why Estarfin had done it, if not totally approving of his strategy. The declining nature of the race of Man concerned me too, yet they were not my personal concern unless they threatened any of my household. As familiar miles passed with just the road and wintering trees, my thoughts focused on my task, as it became undeniable another rider was following me.
I almost thought ‘She is no Elf to be so obvious?’
Now I had in truth wanted a kitchen assistant that day I travelled to Celondim. There were few folk of the ability I required, that I feared I might need travel on further to Mithlond, but that one, Hithaeriel, had something about her. She reminded me of many of the Sindarin lesser nobility I had encountered. She had that faint air of idle arrogance. And I wondered at the outset, why she asked me about employment. She did not want to serve anyone, quite the reverse? She had some half story about having to leave the Greenwood, that, if true, meant she had offended King Thranduil. But it was a half-story, and soon enough, my instincts came to the fore. I would rather have her, whoever she was, under my nose at Numenstaya, than wandering around Celondim and Duillond. And so the would-be watcher was watched.
I saw her try to look around the Lady's house, which thankfully was not open to her. She eschewed Parnard’s attempts at conversation, and begrudgingly assisted Barahirn, who liked almost everybody. I noted she gave Lord Estarfin quite a wide berth. I was sure he would have seen through the deception in her eyes. But there was not enough time between the festivities and their departure to do all I wished. I did not know who she really was, nor why she had accepted the work offered, but I knew without doubt there was something very odd about her.
As I passed Nobottle my mind was set that I would let her follow to the outskirts of Bree, and confront her there, unless she tried to ride ahead. As matters transpired, she followed me across the Shire but turned off not long after crossing the Baranduin, and headed north east. None of her actions made sense to me.
What followed was a long two weeks riding. The weather was blessedly mild, that I was caught in no snow, neither the usually frequent torrential rain nigh the Midgewater Marshes.
Naught of great interest transpired. A few men tried to attack me East of Bree. They were poorly armed and armoured. Only one had a shield. Desperate men, for some reason or another, but they did not even try to speak with me, and all seemed surprised once they saw what I truly was. They all perished. Sad, thought I, that they just threw their short lives away. Other than that, no wolves or bears, or roaming packs of Secondborn presented an issue. My quarry maintained a good pace, and I maintained a reasonable distance, save just before the Last Bridge, when they made a longer stop than usual. I retraced my steps, eventually coming across a rather irate Dwarf who said he had been robbed by a She-Elf, with a much taller and broader He-Elf standing behind her.
“I was looking after their horses’ he had said, with more than a hint of indignation. “I offered them a place to rest among my own folk, and they said it was not safe. Dourhands, they said! As if we would allow any of them near our dwelling.”
“Have you checked if they were correct?” I asked him.
He coughed, and muttered, “It is safe enough now.””
I offered him silver coin as compensation. He looked offended.
“It’s the principle,” he said. “As if I was going to run that She-Elf through or something.”
At that I left him, knowing the Lady and Estarfin at least had been there. Knowing also she would not have robbed the Dwarf.
The Trollshaws past in a blur. I did encounter four of my people travelling East. ‘To the ships,’ they said in passing. “And to the Land beyond the Sea.”
“Safe travels,” I gave them what small blessing I could.
Then I was crossing the Bruinen, the High Moors and into Imladris itself. It never failed to lift my heart, that view over the Vale, that ride down the steep slopes to the houses below. There is something very unique about Lord Elrond’s Haven, I have always thought. But this time I had to take care I was not spotted by any who may know me. I went straight to my sister’s house, in the south of the Vale.
Losshell was…well, unsure about seeing me?
“I wrote to you that I would be visiting?” I said in way of greeting. “Do not tell me it is an unsuitable moment, sister?”
I saw the frown on her pale face, and she shook her head and beckoned me in.
“Do not trail mud through the house,” she said without thought.
“Since when have I ever done so?”
“I know not what to expect with you staying with Estarfin and Parnard. For all I know, you will be putting your boots on my table.”
I made a sour face, as if I was sucking lemons. She grinned. I laughed. All was well.
“Your horse is stabled discreetly, yes? Then come in, put down your travel bags and I shall bring refreshment.” Losshell said. “I have missed you, sister.”
She walked away to her kitchen, singing “The Fortress of Air and Light,” ever one of her favourites, in a loud voice.
There was the sound of crockery being moved about, of a kettle being boiled, of wine being uncorked.
“I must say, sister, I was surprised by your last letter. You seem to..disagree with me concerning Parnard and Estarfin. You find them…acceptable company?” There was a hint of disapproval in Losshell’s tone. “Do not tell me that Parnard is in a semi-permanent state of drunkenness…”
“Why would I tell you that? It would not be news.”
“Ha! Nor that Estarfin has learned to pick up after himself. That the floor is not a wardrobe?”
“No,” I replied with a small smile. “But he has learned the fish pond is not a sink to drop his armour in, and he does try to…not drop things everywhere.”
Losshell reentered the room carrying a tray with tea, wine, and to my delight, currant cake. “You will never alter the likes of those two,” she said brightly, because I seemed to agree with her.
“Again no. I never will. But it seems each is changing a little by their own will. As I wrote to you, I find Parnard’s company exceedingly refreshing. He is nothing like how you described him to me.”
Cutting the cake in thin slices, but plenty of them, Losshell halted a moment, then snorted. In her mind, Parnard was a drunken, idle, flirtatious elf whom she termed ‘frivolous and featherbrained,’ in her letters to me, and told me, "I never thought I would see the day when my sister would be taken in by the likes of him."
I took two slices of cake upon a side plate, and started to pour out the tea into beautiful cups adorned with ivy paintings. “ Parnard seems at ease at Numenstaya. He may not be at home in the Greenwood, but he is among dear friends there.”
At this she harrumphed. “Estarfin is an old drinking companion of his. Give it time; they will tire of him eventually – they are Noldor, he is not. Why Estarfin…”
I put the teapot down rather loudly.
“Sister, I am truthfully pleased to see you again. I would catch up on your news and tell you mine. But I am not here to have you insult an Elf I have come to know better than you ever did. No, no...” I raised a hand to forestall her muttering. “No, sister. I heard much of him from you, and certain others here. Those who actually know him, speak of him with respect. Yes he can be dark of nature…but no darker than we were, a time long past?”
I watched her falter a moment. She knew what he was, what he had been, and that the same as I…and as she. It did not take long for one who had followed their Prince into a cursed conflict, to recognise a similar spirit. We three were all kinslayers.
“I like him, sister. I like Estarfin and I like Parnard. Estarfin can be difficult, but he is also part of the answer to my riddle. I think soon I may be able to lay down my quest at long last.”
Smoothing out her gown, she sat upon the spotless cream coloured couch and reached for a small silver pitcher. “Milk?” she said.
“Tell me about your recent times, dear Losshell, then I shall tell you more of mine,” I smiled. She was as difficult in her own way as any other I had met. But she was still my younger sister - I still wanted the best for her.
So it was I sat and listened, and drank much tea and a few glasses of wine. I ate more cake than was wise, but oh, it was delicious.
And I relaxed after my long and solitary journey. Listening to my sister in part as she mentioned her more recent employers from Lothlorien, and their impeccable taste; my thoughts began to journey elsewhere, back in time to the beginning of my mission...
I was young, no more than three hundred years of age, but I was already appointed one of Prince Celegorms Captains due to my skills in tracking, (it was said I had the sharpest hearing of any of our hunters) and with a bow. He oft included me in general hunting parties for food and sport; always did he include me if we were hunting orcs or heading to battle for I was accomplished, one of his best, though there were others he held as high as I. For my part I was honoured to serve him, as all my family had been, and particularly honoured when he asked to ride with him and but four others to Amon Ereb, where his brother, Caranthir, had set up camp with his refugees from fallen Thargelion.
I would have none mistake my sense of honour for joy. There was little joy to be had in any land after the Battle of Sudden Flame swept away all we had known. But some of us fared better than others. The people of Ambarussa had always travelled lightly with little thought of larger town or fortress, those of Maglor lived as much on their horses as elsewhere…and we, the people of Prince Celegorm, did we not live to hunt? Were we not oft on the move? Our main Fortress at Himring still stood, but the power in Thargelion and its many Hill Forts was gone forever.
And to all that remained of Prince Carathir’s realm, on that fortified hill of Amon Ereb we then rode. Four trusted captains of our Hunters, and I, the fifth.
Prince Celegorm had said little of why he wanted me there, but those closest to the Prince knew he had been experiencing disturbing dreams of late. Not that he had confided their content to any. What did surprise us is he chose to ride to Caranthir at that time, rather than Curufin, his favoured brother.
We gave sound to our horns as we approached Amon Ereb, and were welcomed by several horn blasts in return. Within minutes Prince Caranthir had headed to the gate to greet us.
“Aiya, Turko!(1) Well met, brother!” he cried loudly.
We rode through the camp, with Caranthir striding apace alongside his brother’s mount, seeing a goodly mixture of Noldor turn to greet us, mostly folk of Caranthir but some of Ambarussa from their colours, and a fair number of Green Elves. There was a small group of men who looked to us with curiosity.
Then we dismounted, our horses led to the stable yard to be cared for, while we five silently followed our Prince, he himself now laughing a little and slapping his brother on the back in greeting. “It is good to see you again, Moryo!”(1) “You must tell me all of how you are faring.”
Then he halted a moment and spoke in little more than a whisper. “This matter, we speak alone, you and I. It is not something for your council.”
Caranthir nodded once, and gestured for some attendants to see to our needs, to rest and refreshment and possibly hot baths.
“Wait!” Celgorm pointed at me. “Filignil, you are to attend, but remain silent until told otherwise.”
A slight chill went through me. Excitement at being so singled out? Perhaps? It was not fear.
Caranthir turned his gaze upon me for the first time, dark eyes seeking to see into my very spirit. Was I loyal to his kin? Was I honourable? He nodded his head thoughtfully. I understood. Ever were the brothers on guard against treachery. “She may attend, if you wish, brother. I reserve the right to summon an attendant until I know what this is about.”
“It is about Carnifinde,” Celegorm said firmly, indicating we three should move swiftly to the appointed room. “Carnifinde…and our mother.”
- Turco. A shorter version of Turcafinwe, Celegorms’s Father-name.
- Moryo. A shorter version of Morifinwe, Caranthir’s Father-name.
