Estarfin

Lord Khalis

Today I went to the place where the broken officer Estarfin lay, but finding the chamber-door locked, I returned to the Hall of Fire, where I stayed a little while talking with Lord Dolthafaer, who speaks exceeding easy, yet with great authority.

The lavenders poked their pale petals through the arrangement of green herbs, among which they nestled themselves. From their many vantage points around the room, laid over tables, draped over shelves, they spread their light scent throughout the room, welcoming everyone with a peaceful atmosphere as they entered.

When Parnard had sufficiently recovered from the shock so suddenly induced by the scholar’s gross and glaring indiscretion, he repaired to his office and feverishly set to work.

My dearest journal,

I finally know what it is I have been searching for all these years! All those patrols on the moors, scouting for enemies and beasts, yes...but also more. Something tugging at my mind.

Up in the misty Mountains with my captain and fellow Arrows...I tasted it on the crisp air, heard it with the wargs' howls and felt it as the snow and wind nipped at my face. The thrill, the adventure of being somewhere I had never been. Danger waiting on the next hill. Every movement and sound, a sign that meant life or death.

Dolthafaer found himself standing a lonely vigil on one of the balconies of Elrond’s house, watching the stars light up one by one as night crept across the Valley.  He was clad still in the garb he had worn upon the road, the thick fabric and leather stiff and caked in mud.  He had lost his cloak days ago in the effort to bind Danel and Estarfin’s wounds.  He was exhausted, hungry, and uncomfortable.  His task was over, and it was time for him to return home.

A scene of confusion met her eyes as Uilossiel opened the door to the healing room, piles of fresh bandages in her arms. A mangled body lay upon the bed, which she assumed to be Lord Estarfin, and Lady Danel sat very still in the corner of the room, attended by Elvealin. Eliriael and Laurelindo were already hovering over the patient on the bed, while various other lords of Vanimar spoke in hushed tones nearby. She caught a glimpse of Dolthafaer standing in a corner conversing with Lord Anglachelm, but quickly looked away.

It continued to snow. It was enough to cover the deep scar left on the white ground by Estarfin’s sled, and the footprints of those carrying Danel’s stretcher.

Talkale looked down at the white parchment stretched upon the teak desk in front of him, wondering to himself if he was following the proper course of action. His intentions were good and he had already raised the matter once. No action had occurred, so further steps were needed. Such were the burdens he shouldered and at times they could become wearyingly heavy. Rolling his head from one side to the other to stretch his neck, he dipped his quill into lavender ink and began to write in his usual beautiful script.

***

Lord of Bar-En-Vanimar Anglachelm,