( This story follows Wanderings: Imladris to the Shire. Part Two. )
We urged the horses forward at a walk. The fog was cloying, as if seeking to stifle our breath. A thick cloak of dread thrown over us. I noted that Gilastor trod warily. He was most unhappy. Pelorian had been in similar places before, but she was shaking her head and huffing in frustration.
Estarfin pointed at something close, a huge white stone ‘finger’, pointing at the sky.
It was one of many faint and spread out, now visible, now not. It gave no aid to our navigation.
Halting beside the pillar, we both ran hands over the rock, feeling more than seeing the inscriptions.
“These are strange markings,” Estarfin said.
“Spirals, like the markings of primitive men? They remind me of certain stones in Dunland, to the South.”
I could just make out Estarfin nodding in response.
We both moved on towards what we felt was the south west, though there was no visible sign to show any direction.I recalled the few times I had traversed Dunland and said “You have been in Dunland, of course,” before I could stop myself. Yes, I knew he had been in Dunland. I knew what he did there.
“We passed through it, on our search for Lord Anglachelm,” he said plainly.
It was then we became aware of occasional ‘figures’ passing close to us. The horses snorted, but Pelorian at least had faced something similar before.
“It was where we were forced to burn that village.”
I sighed at that, recalling all I had learned of the event. I still believed he had been put on trial unjustly…..
“They are a somewhat strange folk, very superstitious.” I moved our converse away from the burning.
“Dunland was a dreary place, from what I recall.”
And I turned to look at him, but he was not there. I remained in that spot, searching with all my senses for a clue as to where he had gone. Pelorian turned her head, nostrils flaring to catch a scent, ears twitching back and forth. But that fog dulled everything.
“Estarfin?”
Pelorian jumped out of the way as Estarfin on Gilastor came crashing down at us from what must have been a nearby ledge.
“Ah, there you are! Would that the light of the sun brake through this fog.” I said.
Estarfin was speaking reassuringly to his mighty war horse. Such a place must be worrying to Gilastor. Then, as if in answer to my plea, there was a shaft of sunlight upon a nearby incline.
“This way,” I said, “And swiftly least we lose it.”
“Let us be away from here.”
We needed no fine tuned senses to know we passed close by some fell ancient evil to our left.
“Rot and ruin is about us,” I shivered, even though I knew it could not harm us.
Estarfin pointed to what looked like an opening to a great barrow. “It comes from there, I think.” He looked at me for confirmation.
“Anything long dead should not emit such a stench, but I believe you are right. The sooner we put distance between that place and us, the better.”
Estarfin was trying to steady Gilastor again. “Easy, easy.”
“As I remember, the Old Forest lies close. It is not that wholesome save on its edges, but at least it is not full of barrows.” I pointed out, and, thankful for Pelorian’s calm, urged her up the incline, away from the barrow's maw, and towards a faint line of dull green.
“Onward my friend. There is nothing to fear here,”Estarfin muttered, though he still struggled a little with Gilastor. The jet black horse reared once, then, under its rider's reassurance, seemed to settle more.
I led us on towards a decline and the hazy treeline, knowing we but changed from one threat to another. I had hopes it to be one in which we could at least see and hear. We crossed mostly withered green grass, and passed by several smaller barrows. From some I sensed naught, but there were a few that gave off the utter rottenness of the larger barrow, though in a lesser amount.
“Away, away, to the trees and the green, “ I whispered to my mare, as she picked up her pace.
There was a slope to the left, a gentle incline, and we were surrounded by an increasing number of trees, without any hint of fog. They grew so densely that there was but little dappled light on the ground.
“These trees hold an anger, though perhaps not against us?” Estarfin spoke into the gloom.
I sighed, but nodded my agreement. “They suffer us to pass. They are damaged, but most know us to be no enemy.”
Indeed, while not actually benign, the atmosphere had changed for the better. We both heard nearby scuttling of spiders, but they kept their distance. Perhaps the trees restrained them? Perhaps they knew what elven blades could do?
I halted Pelorian beside a particularly old and gnarly oak, and laid a hand against its bark.
“Peace, and healing to you,” I whispered. There was a faint stirring in the leaves..no rebuttal, but neither a welcome. “Some of these trees are almost lost in deep slumber, others have such hatred. I wonder what it was that caused such?” I removed my hand with a fleeting sense of sadness.
“There is danger here, to the unwary,” Estarfin said, drawing alongside me. He looked to the tree as well.
“Those at the coast must be aware of this? These trees need healing, though it will take some time.”
“There are so many evils in the world. We cannot remedy all of them alone,” Estarfin’s voice was gentle, that though he spoke truth he also wished it could be otherwise. “Come. We should find somewhere less full of malice for the horses to rest.”
So we followed our noses, and the increasingly sweeter, fresher air, till we emerged on the edge of the Forest and Buckland. There, we dismounted, and fed and watered the horses. They could drink their fill later, at the river. It was still light, so I was disinclined to ride openly over the Stock Bridge, into the Shire until later. A few of the Periannath passed us on the road, a couple riding, and a small group walking with small hand drawn carts of produce. I doubt they saw us, seated back among the trees, on the edge of the shadows. They gave no sign.
Estarfin sat down with a sigh, I sat beside him. Glad did he seem that we had passed into haler lands, and I knew he had a fondness for the Shire, which lay ahead of us. We shooed away a few inquisitive bears, and made ourselves comfortable, taking out some waybread and our water skins.
“Your parents, do you remember them being …happy?” Estarfin asked of a sudden. “Happy when they were together, I mean.” He was watching closely for my reaction.
I relaxed, propping my back against a small rock. It was an easy question for me to answer, though I had thoughts about why he had asked it. “Yes, they were happy. We were happy, I was their only child. They were close, at least it always seemed that way.” I pondered a moment, wanting to give him as full and truthful an answer as I could. “There were disagreements at times. I think that is not unusual?”
Estarfin nodded.
“Like what happens when one insists red is scarlet,” I added provokingly.
He smiled briefly at the reference, but seemed to want to know more.
“Or over a particular event that one wished to attend, and the other did not. Or that my father must be away on yet another patrol. But it was mostly because they cared for each other, and always wanted the best.”
The only problem with answering that question was that it brought back memories of happy days for me. Days before the destruction of Thargelion, when I thought I had so much joy ahead.
Estarfin picked up a stick, and started peeling the bark off as he listened.
“They were different in many ways, yet in agreement on the important matters. They worked well together. I think they would have remained together throughout the ages, neither crowding or possessive. Each respecting the other’s interests and arts.”
“What is your strongest memory of them, if that is not too much to ask?” Estafin said gently.
“Hmm…” I thought back. There were so many good memories, but the one foremost in my mind at that time was a simple one. “I was young, less than twenty at the time. They were standing on the main balcony, overlooking the park. They were looking at a painting my mother had just completed of the city at dusk. It was very beautiful in the manner she caught the hues of the setting sun, and the emergence of the stars. She was so happy with it…and he was praising her….and, well..I felt so much peace, so much love wrapped about me. I did not want to intrude on them, but then they both turned and held out their arms to me. Their love for each other enveloped me as well. I thought it would always be like that.”
And I could not help but shed a few tears of loss upon recalling that thought. I lowered my head for a few moments to recollect myself.
“I am sorry if the memory causes you pain,” Estarfin said softly.
I looked back up at him. “It is not your fault. That memory is never far away from me.”
He nodded his understanding.
“And I am sorry also, that I have asked you things which caused you pain. Yet if we wish to understand each other better, we must speak of past and present, no?”
He shifted to a more comfortable position against a rock, “You think of them often, then? With each year that time seems further away. Sometimes it is almost as if it were a dream.”
I smiled sadly at his words. “Not all the time, but at festivals or celebrations. When I see particular works of art, or fine set gems….sometimes I see them in my dreams. I also wonder, on occasion, if Thargelion was but a dream? But it is not so. We both have memories, and some others have them also, that it was real.”
I paused again, and looked closely at him. He was pondering, remembering.
“Do you not remember your parents?” I asked hesitantly.
He shook his head. I felt my heart pounding loudly in my chest. Here it was, the issue that had kept us apart? His father had always kept a very tight rein on him, I had thought. But I did not wish to push for knowledge unless he was content to speak it.
“Sometimes it is hard to remember their faces,” he said, looking at the stick in his hands. “And I feel that I have failed somehow to keep their memory alive.”
“Oh no…think not like that.” Momentarily I felt some of his pain.
He shrugged.
“Memory does fade with us, be it ever so slowly,” I tried to give a possible explanation. “And some from our time who I have spoken with, remember almost naught. We and our circumstances, we are each different.”
Estarfin snapped the stick he had been peeling in half. I halted, waiting on his next words.
“You asked why my father did not approve of you before?” He smiled slightly at me.
“Yes, but only if you wish to speak of it.”
“We will always be in their shadows,” he replied.
I nodded. I would have reached out to him then, but it would have been unseemly.
Then he spoke. “I do not remember my parents being happy, not truly. For a long time I believed I was the cause of it. At least of my father’s coldness.”
I listened attentively, my eyes must have shown my sorrow for him, but I tried to maintain my general composure. I had known his youth was not always a happy one, though he of himself could be a joyful spirit.
“It was many years after they were both gone that I learned the truth of the matter,” Estarfin continued. “He did not want to leave, did not want to take the oath. But he would not leave my mother, so he did what he had to in order to keep her.”
I rose to my feet as understanding dawned on me. Estarfin looked slightly uncomfortable. I could not help it, I lay a hand supportively on his shoulder for a moment. He shrugged.
“I never guessed, though I was oft concerned that he seemed angry with you.”
“Estarfin nodded slightly. “I do not think that he disliked me, I do not think that he disliked my mother. I do not think that he disliked you.” He looked at me directly. “I believe he was simply unhappy.”
I nodded slowly as I understood. “I grieve for him, for what he endured.” I had always known that not all who travelled from Valinor were fully happy about it. I had not considered that such an esteemed Captain of our Prince had felt that way.
Estarfin pulled a few pieces of grass from the ground and rolled them between his fingers. I sat down beside him again.
“He made his choices, as we all do,” he finally said.
“The leaving of Valinor, it divided many families,” I said, thinking back on my parent’s experiences. I knew some partings were more bitter than others. “I was fortunate that my parents agreed on the leaving, if not on all that followed.”
“Did any others of your family leave with them?” Estarfin asked. “I know my mother had a brother who stayed. She did not speak of him much, nor of her own parents.” He lapsed into silence.
I nodded that it was my turn to tell of my experiences. “My father left two brothers in the Undying Lands. He still spoke of them with love, and hoped to see them again one day, however unlikely. One came over with the Noldor following Finarfin, but my father was long gone. I never met him myself, though I met my Grandmother. It may be that my father walks with them now? I cannot know.”
Estarfin looked at me with sadness.
“My mother had an elder brother and sister. Her sister came on the march East, her husband fell in the Dagor Bragollach. They had two children, and they dwelt among the people of Ambarussa. My mother kept in contact with them. It was them I was sent to dwell with shortly before the attack on our home. It was them who I rode with after I thought you dead.”
Estarfin had been listening closely. He nodded. “Do you regret that you will likely never meet those who remained?” he asked.
“I never knew them. They are but portraits my mother made, and images in my mind. I would like to meet them indeed, but one cannot miss what one has never known in quite the same way.”
He smiled at me briefly with understanding…
…and it seemed that, of a sudden I…we were back in the true world from a time enclosed in a protective silence. The fading songs of the birds heading to roost, the cry of craben, the howls of a few wolves. All nature was alive around me that I wondered where Estafin and I had been for that last hour.
