“I know not where they are,” insisted Culuninnel, biting back at Estarfin's accusation. “But this cloak means -”
Again the Noldo advanced so that his large horse almost trod on the Captain.
Culuninnel stepped aside. “Stay your horse!” he commanded.
Yrill had been watching the exchange with growing concern. She would abide by Estarfin’s words, but she could stay silent no longer. “Lord Estarfin, look at the Captain’s face, I ask of you. He is as surprised as we are,” she said, thinking that Captain Culuninnel looked more furious than surprised, but it was better not to mention that.
Estarfin glanced down at Culufinnel, not the slightest bit convinced. “Indeed? Are you surprised, Captain?”
“As I was saying,” began the beleaguered Captain, as Estarfin urged Norlomë forward. The golden-haired Wood-elf again leapt away, his hand now gripping the hilt of his sword.
Yrill exchanged a look of desperation with Ceuro. What would they learn if blades were drawn?
Ceuro caught the Huntress’ eye: his expression, like hers, was one of worry and desperation. ‘You speak; I shall support you if needed,’ was the look he gave her.
Yrill spoke, “Lord Estarfin, for the sake of the missing, please stop this.” She would not easily contradict one she respected, but she also had long years of experience in survival, and her instincts told her Culufinnel was not to blame. “Captain,” she said to the Mirkwood Elf, “For the Valar’s sake, if you do know anything more of the disappearance of Parnard and Danel I beseech you to tell us. We have already suffered the loss of one friend dear to us and the attack upon Numenstaya. Tell us, if you can.”
Culufinnel moved his hand away from the sword. “Wine,” he replied. “Too much wine is my verdict,” he said.
Estarfin glared darkley at him. “Who? Danel rarely drinks more than a glass.”
“Parnard's cloak was found on the rapids to the north, near where they were last seen. I know my brother well: they drank too much wine and pitched themselves off the cliff, accidentally.” He nodded to himself as he said these words: such a ruinous fate was long-foreseen by him; it was merely a matter of time until Parnard's inordinate love of the grape overthrew what little sense he had and resulted in this calamity.
“You speak as if you care not if your brother met such an end!” Ceuro exclaimed. “I too have known the Lady Danel for some time. She would not do such a thing, nor would she permit it of Parnard.”
“Unless I have news to the contrary, it’s what I must assume.”
“Then you will give up searching for them?” Yrill was swift with her accusation. “You would have us give up also? Lord Estarfin is partly correct. You had them for some reason, but it is no game.” ‘If you cannot beat another’s theory, make up one of your own,’ she thought.
“I do not give up,” Culufinnel defended himself, pushing Norlomë away. “You asked me where they could be found. You found the cloak in the river. So in the river one of them, perhaps Parnard, must have been, or at least near it.”
“The cloak is almost undamaged, so it could not have been in the water, through the rapids, that long ago.” Yrill told him. Her own voice was showing signs of strain with the ‘argument’. “Hurry, let us find them while we may!” She drew nearer Culufinnel. “And did one of them kill a man with a sword, and tear out another's throat, and make many hoof prints in the mud before or after they were drunk?”
“And the arrow you put into the grey horse.” said Estarfin, leaning forward in his saddle.
“I loosed no arrow,” Culufinnel said.
“Danel’s mare was shot in the shoulder,” Estarfin elaborated.
“So it was, and not by orcs from the feathers,”
“Indeed, no.” The Noldo and the Wood-elf finally agreed on something, even if it was a minor point.
“Typical Mannish fletching, more specifically, Breeland arrows.” Again Yrill tried to turn the discussion to action.
“Breelanders, but somehow with a nearby place to hide in instead of riding home?” Ceuro said, now mounting his horse in an unspoken plea to move on. “The port of Kheledûl is close.”
Culufinnel looked up at him. “Yes. And the Dourhands are ’unfriends’ to Elves, as Yrill has told me. Perhaps unfriendly enough to aid a plot against us?”
“Particularly if paid to help. They do have honour of a sort, though some may be bought if the price is right.” Ceuro turned his horse towards the hill leading out of town. The day grows long: can we not search there before nightfall?”
Estarfin tilted his head, as if in consideration of this suggestion: perhaps he was listening after all, thought Ceuro.
“The Dwarves could have sheltered them? That would explain why we haven’t found them. But Dwarves aiding Men?” Culufinnel looked curious.”Perhaps the Captain of Celondim should pay them a visit.”
Then Estarfin urged Norlomë menacingly close, saying, “Perhaps the Captain of Celondim should simply return that which he has taken?”
“Stay your courser, you Noldo who speak in riddles,” Culufinnel said, and reached for Norlomë harness. Estarfin turned her away and the mare reared up.
Ceuro positioned his stallion between Estarfin and Culufinnel, and spoke swiftly: “Our friends are better served by investigating Kheledûl, I believe. The horse tracks headed in that direction and the cloak came from upriver nigh the Port. If Captain Culufinnel rides with us, we shall soon see if he is in league with them.” The smith had almost reached his limit of forbearance. Whatever the Captain had done or not done, it was evident that he wished to find his people.
Culufinnel turned the matter over on his mind. Many of his guards were out searching. It would be unwise to travel to the Dwarven port alone. If the Dourhands did have the missing Elves, or know something about them, the dour Noldo would have someone else to blame and menace.
Yrill echoed his thoughts when she said, “I would not ride there alone: there may be many of them. But four of us stand a better chance than one.”
Norlomë now stood a few feet away, looking eager to be off, but Estarfin said, “He is proven false already.”
“If the Dourhands threaten him not, but openly treat with him, then we have sufficient proof, Lord? It will be but a confirmation we are not misled?” Yrill could not bear to see matters be turned aside again; they must take action. She said to the tall Wood-elf, “I do not say you have them, Captain Culufinnel, in truth, that makes very little sense to me, but we cannot ignore any possibility with lives at stake.”
Culufinnel listened to Yrill, realization slowly dawning on his face. “You…you think I have taken them?” He managed to look offended and deeply incredulous at the same time.
Yrill glanced at Estarfin, who remained silent as he watched the Captain, and said, “Lord Estarfin believes you play a game on Parnard, as you did once before, and that Lady Danel is caught up in it.”
“A game? Life is not a game, huntress.”
“Well I know it. I have lost many friends over the yeni, I will lose no more if I can help it. We heard in Imladris some years ago, that you had given Parnard some draught that made him unconscious. That he did not have opportunity to farewell anyone, nor communicate with his betrothed, as you slipped him away to Mirkwood.”
Culufinnel's eyes widened. “Who told you such nonsense? Of course! Parnard is the one who told you. Say no more.”
“I heard it not from Parnard, Captain, but from several others in Imladris, Sogadan among them.”
Culufinnel held up his hand, as if he wished her to say no more. “Sogadan? That trader of gossip?”
“‘That trader’ often spoke perceptive truth amidst his nonsense,” countered Yrill.
The Captain glanced at Estarfin for a moment, then looked upriver. “A visit to those Sour Dwarves is what we must do, Sourhands I mean.”
“Dourhands, Captain,” Yrill sighed. She could feel Estarfin and Ceuro’s gaze on her, ready to intervene. But they seemed willing to let her land the catch.
“Are they in league with the Breelanders?” The surprise and anger had faded from Culufinnels voice and demeanor: he was now feeling in control again, and recalled his authority.
“I know not. They usually have no care for any others, nor do they make alliances. But there may be something else at work here. Something persuading them? The Men are, by and large, rough, uneducated bullies. The Dourhands are for the Dourhands. They would not normally strike up an alliance together. If they are cooperating, a third party is certainly involved.”
“We must go to Kheledûl. If they are there, where would they head? Not back through Ered Luin, but North..by ship? Forgive me, I have not been in this place very long, or I would have realised sooner.”
“Kheledûl is not that far from Numenstaya. We know the way: follow us,” Yrill said, and she pumped her fist in the air. Ceuro sighed. Finally! At last they were taking action.
And Estarfin said. “Do you say that Parnard lied?”
Never, ever, had it crossed Yrill’s thoughts that one day she would wish to throttle Estarfin. Some mentioned he could be ‘difficult’ at times, but this intransigence was pure folly.
“Lord Estarfin, we must ride for Kheledûl. The Men may have a ship,” she pleaded.
“I have no time for this.” Culufinnel strode off towards the stables.
“The accusation was made by Parnard,” Estafin had just a hint of hesitation in his words. Just a sliver of doubt.
Culufinnel halted in his footsteps and turned, perhaps realising how sincerely Estarfin held his beliefs. “So we must find him. Then let him accuse me. I must tell you that he said nothing about this to me when we spoke two days ago. All this talk of poisoning him and stealing him away, and to think! He said nothing of it, not one word.” With that, the Captain firmly crossed his arms and stared at the Noldo.
“So you call him a liar, and me a fool for believing such lies?”
Culufinnel sighed wearily. “I said no such thing. You are putting words in my mouth.”
“Stop arguing, I beg you both!” yelled Ceuro the Quiet, Ceuro the Thoughtful. “While we bicker like children, it is possible our friends will be taken North. Can we not take a rest, and continue arguing after we have checked the Dwarven dock? And let me add something else that Barahirn reminded me of when I went to get my horse. The Men who attacked Numenstaya were calling on you, Lord Estarfin, but also on Lady Danel and eh… ‘High Lord Parnard’. Is it not more than possible that those Men returned and are now kidnappers?”
“Why us?” Estarfin asked in Quenya, eyes bright.
“I know not, but also Lord..my Quenya is very limited,” Yrill replied.
And Ceuro, who had never uttered or shown any knowledge of Quenya, replied in that tongue, “I hazard a guess it has something to do with the Periannath who you aided? I know not all that transpired, but Barahirn told me you three cleared a few ruins of brigands. Perhaps these Men were their friends?”
Estarfin stared at him for a moment. “Danel…Parnard…” he said softly to himself.
“I ride, with or without you Golodhrim,” the Captain said, and walked away to the stables.
Estarfin frowned, looking torn. Again he spoke in Quenya. “If he is proven false, and they come to harm, I deem it not against our Laws to slay him. Do you agree?”
Ceuro nodded firm assent. “If he does have them, and they do come to harm, then I shall wield the blade.”
Yrill had understood the part about slaying Culufinnel, she hesitated. But then, knowing Ceuro as she was coming to, and knowing he would not agree to something morally wrong, she too nodded. “To Kheledûl!” she cried.
The journey was a bitter, silent one. Culufinnel had quite a lead, though Ceuro at least hoped he would not actually enter the port without the Noldor accompaniment. He felt bad for not speaking more convincingly to start with. He felt bad for betraying his knowledge of Quenya. It was easier to keep it secret.
He considered that Estarfin was struggling with his conviction that Danel and Parnard were captives of Culufinnel. If Men did have them, and even now were spiriting them away, Ceuro dreaded to think of the effect it would have upon him.
