“And you were saying, meldanya?” My attention was focused on him again.
He sighed, lowering his head. “I worry that the tide is rising, whether we want peace or vengeance.”
I understood. Whatever action we took, or took not, the sense that evil was on the rise again permeated all. Be it the Dark Lord, or one of his lackeys, the world was changing fast. The Race of Men was weak and in moral decline, and our folk were far too few in numbers to stand against them all.
Placing a hand upon his arm, I said “War may be unavoidable. Such is the nature of those we share this ‘Middle Earth’ with. A war separated us once, you and I, let us not permit it to do so again.”
He looked up from his thoughts, that look upon his face that he knew we may face greater odds than we could handle. But his sea-grey eyes were brighter. He nodded once.
“My mind is unclear,” I confessed what he probably realised. “I would not run from such a lesser enemy as we now face. Looking ahead, I wonder if we would not all be safer returning to Imladris? We are ill-prepared, should Men return here in great numbers.”
He inclined his head then turned and walked through to the forge. He picked something up, something leant against the corner wall, and returned.
“I am prepared for what is to come,” he said, again fixing his gaze on me.
My eyes widened and I gasped as he held out a mighty spear to show me his work, then offered it for me to take and examine.
“Yarehtar!” I whispered. “Bloody Spear. It was for good reason our Prince named you so.”
It was beyond doubt a weapon of war. Heavy in my hands, I knew the sort of chaos it would rain upon enemies, particularly in his hands. I knew of what he had done at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, how he had cut a path through the enemy. I looked at the spear, then at him again with much respect for his crafting.
“The last of my Formenos steel,” he explained. “As close a replica as I can make to what was lost.”
I nodded, knowing the value he placed on that gift from his mentor, Forodhir; the same steel he had used in part for my betrothal ring. What was a more precious resource to we Feanorian Noldor than Formenos steel?
“The better to slay many with,” I handed the spear back to him. “It appears to me as the one mislaid in the Hithaeglir. May it serve you well.” With that spear, rather than a sword in his hand, he looked truly himself again. A final healing from what happened when he fell in the Mountains, perhaps?
“So we stay?” I asked with the fire in my blood becoming more the fire of my people by the moment. Hate was a wasted emotion. Creating, and protecting what we would build between us, was far more satisfying.
“This is a statement; a weapon for war,” he answered. The fire was in his blood also, its light was in his eyes. But even as my anger was coming under my control, his was already controlled, a focused flame.
“I can see that, meldanya.” I nodded approvingly. “If we fall back to Imladris, I think we will come to regret it.”
“We shall defend what is ours, as we always have,” he said. He meant it, neither was his threat some idle gesture. He could dispose of many an opponent. But I could not have him shoulder this fight alone. We had no soldiers or guards to fight with us, but my mind was working on how we could increase our chances.
I took a deep breath. I knew, once I had committed, there would be no turning back. “You know I can fight. But I need to train more effectively. I would fight at your side,” I announced. “Ceuro and Yrill also, and Barahirn, when he is ready. We are all Noldor.”
Estarfin looked unsure. “We are not all soldiers though. It is unlikely we can fight as one.”
I was taken up with the image of a handful of Noldor stalwarts, guarding this edge of Lindon against a horde. But I was no fool. I would speak my thoughts to Estarfin, but then I would listen. He was the trained warrior, the soldier.
“Parnard will fight hard, we know that. He is certainly not trained as you are, but he is fast and eager when required. He will not flee, though will seek to protect Marawendi.”
Estarfin leant forward a little. “As is necessary. She requires training to defend herself at need. Although she is brave of heart, she is certainly no soldier.”
I nodded and continued. “I suspect you know not Ceuro well? He is a veteran of the Battle of the Last Alliance. He is trained as a soldier. Younger than us, for he was born in the Second Age, and alas, is cursed with much memory loss. But he knows how to fight with a sword and with a spear, and how to smith.”
Estarfin regarded me closely.
“Warriors and soldiers are not always the same thing. It is difficult to fight together, if you are not used to doing so.”
“I understand what you mean,” I replied. “Ceuro could train with you perhaps, with us, if we have time. I believe he is a fast learner? Yrill is a Mistress of the Bow, and a huntress. She can rain arrows upon would-be attackers, much as Belegos did. So could Filignil, should she ever return,” I added, with concern for our errant Housekeeper. I hoped so much that she was safe, and thought briefly on how angry she would be when she found out what happened here.
Carefully laying his spear against a wall, Estarfin nodded.
“I would we were nearer Forlond, and closer to our own kind, but we must make the best of where we are. Curumaito is a Noldo. He used to ride with Maglor’s folk. I shall not ask him, he has already helped us greatly, but I believe he will help again when needed.” I pointed out.
Estarfin sighed. “Better a few who really know what they are doing, than a greater number who know not.”
“Indeed. We have fought well together in the past. As I have already said, I would fight at your side, if you will permit it. I do not wish to be a hindrance or distraction. If we may train together I shall better understand how to use my skills to match yours.” I knew he would not nay-say my request lightly, but I did not want his focus torn between whether I was in danger and a battle. I knew each encounter was oft fought alone, no matter if folk desired to give others aid.
He did not hesitate. “If that is what you wish.” I doubted it was what he wished, but he knew I was capable. We needed to become soldiers rather than warriors.
“I wish for peace, but as it seems we may be denied that, I wish to stand with my betrothed, and as my father’s daughter.”
At that moment a different thought came to me. “You have used the last of your Formenos steel you say. But I have enough Tirion ore untouched in my house to make one item, should you require it. And you may melt down Urussë if you wish?”
“But Mahtan crafted Urussë,” he objected. “It would be foolish to break something that is already whole. I remember well my lessons from Forodhir - ‘You must see what the metal yearns to be, for if you force it into another shape it will be unlovely, flawed.’ But the offer is generous, you have my thanks.
I knew enough of seeing what metal and gemstone wished to be, to know what he meant. “Urussë is one of the few swords my great-grandfather made. He liked not swords. It is too heavy for me to use, too unwieldy for my hands. At present it can serve no purpose save as an heirloom. If a need for the metal arises, it is yours to use. It is all I can offer from my kindred as a gift.”
He inclined his head, and for a moment a smile touched his eyes.
But back to the present situation, thought I. “We should send a message to Lord Cirdan,”
He shook his head. “To what end?” he asked.
“To ask after his appointment of the new Captain in Celondim to investigate the troubles from the Men.”
Estarfin looked a little confused. “We have always come under the jurisdiction of Mithlond itself?”
“He likely wanted someone based here. But Estarfin, we know it is Parnard’s brother, Culufinnel…the one who caused him grief.”
“The one who took him unawares from Imladris?” Estarfin’s eyes narrowed.
“The same.”
He frowned as well. “He did our friend a great disservice.”
“Which is why I would have a word with Lord Cirdan about Culufinnel’s suitability. Is he to be trusted with such responsibility? Curumaito encountered him in Celondim. He was not impressed. He said this new captain wants to build walls and towers all over Celondim.”
“There are few enough of us to watch such towers,” Estarfin pointed out.
“Culufinnel does not seem to take such matters into account. I do not even know why Celondim needs a Captain?”
“I do not know either. It seems like a strange development.” Estarfin smiled faintly.
Then there was the sound of someone light of step in soft boots, walking down the stairs.
“We did not…” Estarfin began, then stopped and looked across the Hall and kitchen to the staircase. Raven haired Yrill was walking towards us, still garbed in her green and brown leathers.
“Aiya, Mirdanel, Lord Estarfin,” she said in a husky but soft-spoken voice.
I smiled a warm greeting to one who remembered me from Eregion. Estarfin nodded a swift greeting.
“I was in Mithlond this past fortnight, a rare trip for me. I came here as soon as I heard the news.”
“Do you know Estarfin?” I asked her, unsure if they had met in Imladris.
She shook her head, but smiled and inclined her head to him. “I know of him,” she answered. Then she turned to him directly. “And I know if Mirdanel trusts you, you are to be trusted. She does not associate with fools.”
“Mirdanel?” Estarfin asked, turning to me.
“The original form of my epessë, when I dwelt among the Mirdan.” I answered, feeling my spirits lifted by Yrill’s reminder of my former title.
“Ah”
“Yrill of Eregion,” she introduced herself. “A one-time student of Lore of Mirdanel’s.” She smiled in my direction. “And since the fall of Eregion, also ‘Urugdagnir.’” She patted the long knife she wore. “My usual occupation is Orc-slayer, but I can change that to Brigand-slayer.”
I looked to Estarfin who, as I suspected, was nodding approvingly. “That is good news indeed, for it will be needed soon.”
Yrill smiled and pushed a strand of her silken hair behind her ear. “At the moment I am merely beating Curumaito at chess, and came downstairs to fetch some wine, but if either of you require my assistance, just ask. Tracking, hunting, slaying, they are all my specialties.”
Now I knew Yrill was no general slayer of Men, but I also knew she would not hold back if any started an attack, nor if any threatened us. She was a war-hardened specialist, whose family had been among those slaughtered by the forces of Sauron, and who would never have her fill of vengeance.
“Oh, and the Men who did this are now in Bree and Archet. I can write a full report of my findings, if you want. It will be on your desk early tomorrow morning.” She headed to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of one of Limael’s wines and two glasses.
I waved a hand. “That is not necessary. I would rather you took a good rest, then spoke with us again?”
She nodded once. “They appear to have but two reinforcements so far. Both men from the Southlands. They are better armed and armoured than the Men of Bree, but not better than us.”
“I know not Bree, my lady always advises me against going there for some reason,” Estarfin glanced at me with a similar expression as to when he was calling my hair colour ‘scarlet’. “I am told it is too large a town to burn them out. Would you agree?”
Yrill was silent for a moment. “It is a large town, but we could do much damage,” she replied.
And Estarfin turned back to me, his eyes alight with possibilities.
I trusted Yrill, and what she had said was true, but she did not yet know Estarfin well, nor that sometimes it was wise not to support his wilder ideas.
“But I think the folk there are better organised than in many places. They have a Watch, they have soldiers, ruffians, sometimes a Dunedain or two, at least from what I saw. An open attack could well be rebuffed,” she continued. “We would be vastly outnumbered. It is wise to scout the place first. Under a thick hooded cloak, and walking with less grace than usual, they would not suspect that we are among their throng.”
“I still think Bree is too large a target, Yrill, “ I said, trying to lessen Estarfin’s obsession with the place. “Though maybe a discreet scouting expedition is in order?”
Estarfin shrugged at me.
“We will consider it.” I informed Yrill. “Though we do not want to start an open conflict with that place.”
She nodded. “I will go back upstairs then, and win the game. But it is good to see you again, Danel.” She chuckled slightly. “And to meet you, Lord.” She bowed to us both, then turned back the way she had arrived.
“We can scout if you wish, Estarfin,” I said, aware I had spoken for us both when I probably should not have. “The choice is yours.”
But Estarfin was also chuckling slightly, only at me. “How many folk are in your household, Danel?” he asked.
He was teasing me. “I have someone hidden in every cupboard,” I answered with a wink. “You know me. They are also garbed all in red.”
“As you say, Scarlet Wolf.”
We both laughed. “In truth, there are just the two of us, Parnard and Marawendi, Barahirn, and Filignil, when she returns. Yrill and Ceuro will only remain while they can be of assistance. I do not host an army here.”
“A shame,” he replied, but he ran his fingers affectionately through my hair.
He was planning something.
