Estarfin walked over to stand before me, even as Parnard ran from the hall, all but dragging the sobbing Marawendi behind him. There was a mixture of controlled rage and concern on his face.
“Do not blame yourself,” he said, knowing my thoughts.
~ ~ ~ ~
And I was so relieved when we arrived at Imladris. So pleased our long journey was over, and that finally we could show Marawendi what she had left the Greenwood for. I felt for her. I wanted her to see what her new future could bring. She was to dwell with us and our small household at Numenstaya, and learn from me.
But it was not to be. Oh she would travel with us if she wished, but it was not to the future I hoped for her.
A tall, light haired ner had entered the Hall shortly after us. ‘Eltiriondir’ he had eventually told us his name. More importantly, he was a messenger of Lord Elrond, looking for us, or to leave a message with Sogadan, who was known to be one of our friends.
He informed us of the news, of what had happened at our home in Ered Luin. He spoke as gently as possible, considering the gravity of what he had to say. Then he left, compassion in his eyes, but knowing there was no comfort he could give us.
It hurt. It drew my breath that I could not speak for a few moments. Parnard was immediately distraught; he wailed aloud, and that in turn dismayed and upset Marawendi.
Estarfin’s expression was cold fury, a black rage burning in his eyes.
Our home had been attacked, much of it destroyed by fire. Barahirn was badly injured, and worst of all, Aearlinn was slain. I could have screamed with rage; I could have run any man through with a sword or knife. (It was fortuitous there were no Men in the Hall of Fire at that time.) My fingers itched to be holding Sarphir. All we had made of that place, our home, our sanctuary, desecrated. And my young and eager apprentice’s life was taken. Where was Filignil? It seemed there was no news of her, yet I knew her for one who would defend the others to her utmost. She was trained, she was dangerous at need. Had the men overcome her? I could not fathom it. I had happily departed knowing I left Numenstaya in good hands with my Celegorm’s folk trained ‘cook.’
I was numb with grief, yet my spirit cried out for revenge - my mood waxed and waned and I tried to regain control of myself.
Never had I been good at dealing with messages concerning death. I had raged when my father told me Estarfin had been slain. (He was lying, but I knew that not at the time.) I had wanted to go out with the next patrol and slay all I could. I had outwardly accepted the news brought to me when I was riding with my cousins in a Wandering Company, that my father and my Prince were slain in Doriath. But I had screamed and struck at walls with my fists, collapsing in a flood of tears when alone. And all those other times, during the wars, during the invasion of Eregion, each instance had run me through as if the knowledge were a knife. I wrapped my arms around my waist as if I had been knifed in the gut. I was trembling, ice cold, yet my heart was thundering in my chest.
Not again! Not another slain.
Estarfin was watching me closely. He understood, though was likely suffering a sense of loss himself.
As Parnard fled the Hall I thought I would fall to the floor, but I knew I was made of stronger stuff. Estarfin approached even as I drew a deep breath and grasped the back of a chair, determined to hold firm, determined not to betray myself.
“Alas, Estarfin, I have learned too late. I should have listened to you regarding men, and I say this not for the first time in past weeks. You saw what their true nature was.”
“They prove it time and again,” he replied.
“Aearlinn, “ I mumbled as my inner restraint broke and lowered my head. “She is dead,” I said through tears.
Estarfin sighed and took my hand. His offered warmth and strength flooded through me. The trembling ceased. The cold retreated. I did not stand alone. I bit at my lip to stop crying and nodded forcefully.
“Thank you for being here,” I said, managing a faint smile, though that was a weak response on my part. I was very glad of his presence. “I must contain my anger. I need a calm mind for what lies ahead.”
Estarfin nodded. “Do not neglect your grief. There will be time for anger once we find them.”
“I will show them what Elven rage is,” I muttered, knowing he and Parnard likely felt the same. “Aearlinn was so young, little more than a child, and Barahirn but a few years older, and little like his name. He is far from fiery of nature.”
I gripped Estarfin’s hand more tightly. He was my support in this time of need, my voice of reason. Yet I would be strong again very soon.
“Barahirn will recover with time,” Estarfin reassured me. “At least in body.”
“As you did? Perhaps. He has not your strength, but he has youth. And we can try to aid in any healing of his spirit, no?”
Estarfin knew what it was like to have a badly broken body. He knew what it did to the mind and spirit. Though our bodies could heal from most things in due course, the spirit could be another matter. I thought perhaps he could speak encouragement to Barahirn, when we returned.
I brushed a few strands of hair away from my face with my free hand. “Although Parnard is considerate of Marawendi, we should also think of her needs. She believed she was coming with us to safety and security. Safer than Mirkwood, perhaps? But we have given her little but uncertainty.”
Estarfin nodded. “Is it wise to take her back with us?”
“I will ask her if she would rather remain in Imladris,” I replied. “But if she wishes to come, she must remain in whatever is left of the houses, and not ride out with us. She is no warrior.”
Estarfin nodded again.
“It may be we even leave Parnard at Numenstaya? He will not like what we must do.”
“He is strong, and he will not stand idle.”
I smiled a little more at Estarfin. He was right. “He will want to come with us,” I said, knowing it for the truth.
And Estarfin looked at me with concern. “Do you wish for time alone?” he asked.
“Nay, meldanya, your company is always welcome. We both need to rest and prepare for tomorrow's ride.”
“I must visit the armoury. I do not know what is left of the weapons at Numenstaya,” he said.
“I will see you back at the house, then.”
He squeezed my hand, then turned and left the Hall of Fire.
