Estarfin

We dismounted, leaving our horses in the care of a stable master I did not recognise. He told me Master Lelyar and (my steward) had appointed him a little over two years past, and that he was proud to serve. Lelyar and his wife, it seemed, had gone into Mithlond for supplies and were not expected back for a week or two. But there was food in the pantry and wine in the cellar, 

I would make time to know all servants of my House, but Estarfin and I needed a little  rest and refreshment first, I felt.

And we arrived early in the afternoon. The last part of our ride was an easy one. I had a sense of coming home, though I was uncertain how Estarfin felt beyond his stated wish to be by the Sea again.

It was my hope these small halls, on the outer edges of the declining town, would give us space and sanctuary from much that had gone before. But as Estarfin said 'A war is coming'. Likely our 'sanctuary' would be a temporary one.

Lord Estarfin refused the wineskin, saying he had an early drill in the morning with Lord Veryacano, and burst into laughter. It made me laugh anew, and I looking over at the Lady Danel, saw that she was not laughing; instead her eyes were bright as dwarf-steel, and they flashed a sharp warning. Her look and her grimace quite killed the merriment in my heart; my laughter died on my lips and my smile faded, but Lord Estarfin was still smiling just as broadly. Smiles often hide the truth, but the eye doth not deceive, so I looked closer into his eyes and saw at once it was true.

Estarfin looked out over the farmlands nigh the small village of Hobbiton. We would wait until the stars shone, then pass over the lands to Needlehole.

"If the Siege had never been broken, do you think we would have grown as safe and comfortable as these Halflings?' he asked.

Tears are falling freely from my eyes, whether from the smoke or sorrow I no longer know. I am covered in blood, and it is not my own. This night has brought nothing but madness and awful grief. I stand before a small house, the roof burning, the acrid smoke mingling with the pall of smoke from a hundred other fires. The Haven is in ruins, the last shelter in Beleriand destroyed by our own hands. The occupants of the small house lie at my feet, and my heart nearly breaks as I look down at them. The smallest of them could have run, could have hidden.

By first light we had reached the old camp the wandering folk oft used. And with that dawn, Belegos caught up with us. He did not consider us much of a challenge to track, he said with a smile.