Yaelithe in Linhir was possibly her only hope. But it was a distance away, and Khahaynd was injured in body and even more so in spirit. She was not sure she would make it. She had fled the Elves, not because of their weapons, but because of their love. Strange, unknown, unwanted emotions had been evoked in her. She had no time for them. Pitted against those two elves, Estarfin and Culufinnel, whose love for others was as formidable as the sharpest blade, made her retreat in tears.
It had taken Elves to show her what was wrong, and what love, real love, was like.
She was crying for herself because no family member had ever loved her enough to make a proper search for her after she had jumped off the cliff. That her parents had all but sold her off to an old man with wealth and a high position, rather than even considering her heart’s choice. Where was the love she craved?
It certainly was not with the Abysmal Order. She had crossed Zairaphel, and that would bring only one response, death. If Danel had perished in the fire as she planned, then it was unlikely that the Lady of the Order would have suspected that she was behind the plot. It was unlikely, but not impossible. She had known that when she started the housefire that she was taking a risk. But why should her brother Naraal get what he wanted? Why should Balkumagan act like a love-struck fool over Danel?
Of all the people she had encountered in the northern lands, Yaelithe was the only one who had seemed to understand her. They had formed a good relationship almost immediately, like ‘friends’ rather than competitors. She had found Tanneth to her liking as well, but the woman was too Gondorian of mind to totally trust. And Esult of the Cara Luth could have almost been a sister to her, but she had clan and kin to tend to. No, Yaelithe was the one. The Mistress of gems and potions lived alone in Linhir, and even more importantly, she harboured some doubts about the Order.
~ ~ ~
The three Elves rode further South as Anor rose full and bright for mid-winter. It was cold, but not as much as it could have been. The horses all seemed in high spirits, Iavas especially so after the recent escapade. Danel and Estarfin rode ahead on the crumbling Causeway, their mounts matching pace, Captain Culufinnel guarding their backs. No more mistakes. They would find Parnard that day or the next, he had been assured by the Noldor.
Yet Estarfin was scowling. “I know not where she went. One moment a horror stood before us, the next moment she was gone,” he was saying to Danel.
“And you did not search for her?”
“With you alone? Of course not!”
Danel smiled, no beguiling come-hither look, but a genuine and deep love for the Noldo. “Of course not,” he had said, as if it was unthinkable. “I know nothing of her skills or abilities,” she continued, “but she has been taught to close her mind to thought transference so that she may not be easily fooled. My ‘power’ such as it was, was that she was trying to be me. That gave me a foothold.”
Estarfin managed a smile at that. “She let you in?”
“In truth, it seems you are harder to reach than most, meldanya, unless you are in some form of pain. Then it is I who hears your call. But if Khahaynd is needfully blocking Zairaphel’s searches for her, if that Sorceress is capable of making them, it eats away at one’s strength. She underestimates our kind if she thinks we are incapable of protecting our fea from attack.”
Estarfin was far more content now that he was with the real Danel. “The dawn was a beautiful crimson,” he said with an innocent smile.
“Nay, it was a scarlet dawn,” she countered playfully.
He laughed. It was good to have the real Danel back. He removed his gauntlet to take her hand in his. “One day, you will see more clearly.”
She nodded and replied, “Perhaps on the same day you do: shall we then argue from the opposite position?”
“There will be time enough for gentle banter and holding hands, after we find Parnard,” Culufinnel said, riding up to them. They should keep their eyes on the target, not each other. “Danel, tell me again what you saw when you searched Parnard’s thought.”
“Parnard is nigh Tharbad. Why he headed southward, instead of northward, is hidden from me. Perhaps he thought Zairaphel would expect him to head back to Ered Luin if possible. He is on foot, confused, and hungry.”
“That is not so unusual,” said Culufinnel, but he did not look any less troubled by this news.
“He is in a marsh, perhaps on an island that is in the river. I could ‘see’ pools of water, a few cranes and some rushes. He is unhurt but very weary.”
“We must find him!”
“Tharbad is less than a mile away. I can see some of the walls of the old port from here,” said Culufinnel, eager to ride onward.
“I have only been through the place a few times, and that was well over an Age ago. It is a brigand’s den in recent years, I hear. We must tread carefully,” Danel searched her memories and found nothing good to relate. “There may be some more honest traders too, not all who come here are corrupt…just most.”
“Men?” Estarfin asked.
“Men and Dwarves mostly.”
Estarfin snorted with contempt.
“Could Zairaphel shapeshift into Parnard?” The Captain asked a question that had been unspoken but in Danel’s own mind. “By now she must be familiar with his mannerisms and peculiarities.”
“Could she appear as any of us?” Estarfin asked. He did not believe he could be so fooled again, and that the only reason he was deceived was because of his concern for Danel. She had been so weak when they found her.
“Yes,” Danel answered with a sad sigh. She knew that the sorceress could easily shape herself in the guise of Parnard. “If you ever have doubts about who I really am, then ask me for a password, information that only we three would know. Though I am not certain these sorceresses could successfully deceive us again, it would not harm us to take every precaution.”
The elves liked this suggestion very much, so Danel said, “My secret words are ‘The Yule ball in Thargelion’. Only Estarfin and I would recall that.”
Estarfin smiled slightly. “The last one. How could I ever forget it?” He nodded. His password would be the same.
“Swamp Chestnut,” was all that Culufinnel offered as his password, his chin held high, still watching Tharbad for any signs of life. The others did not ask for an explanation, as the meaning seemed evident enough, him being a Wood-Elf.
~ ~ ~
Zîr had swiftly made his way back to Herne. He hid in the fore-dawn darkness, unseeable to mannish eyes. Not that many men were about at the first touch of dawn. Soon it would change, soon it would be busy.
He found the dark grey mare,Tahri, in the field of the house they had stayed in. She snorted a greeting to him. He had expected Zairaphel’s men to take her with them, one could never tell when another horse would be useful. But as it was Khahaynd’s horse, brought from Umbar, perhaps they had thought twice? There she was, anyway, swishing her tail around almost as much as if it was a summer’s day, and the horseflies were bothering her.
‘We go to the mistress,” the Great Cat thought to the horse. He showed her in pictures Khahaynd wandering a lonely path a short distance south. ‘We go to her. She is weak and confused.’
The mare snorted and tossed her head. Her tack was in the stable, so she would have to go as she was.
It was too early for the lone horse and panther to be spotted just off the road. Few would have pursued the Great Cat even had they seen him.
~ ~ ~
There were several more groups of ruins dotting the road as they approached Tharbad, each with a tale to tell of a once-thriving river port and place of trade. The port was but a sad shadow of its previous glory, its causeway only a crumbling remnant of the Great South Road, which was hardly ever trodden, since the bridge was broken.
“I remember,” Danel said with a sigh, so that the others turned to look at her. “I remember travelling here from Ost in Edhil when Lady Galadriel came to meet Aldarion.”
Estarfin shrugged, while the Captain said “Really? I had not heard that,” in a disinterested, albeit polite, way.
“Their meeting place is now a mostly-forgotten ruin of the Secord Age. Though Tharbad was restored on a smaller scale, for a time. I never came here after the Fall of Eregion.”
Suddenly Culufinnel called out “Parnard!” at the top of his lungs, sitting high in his saddle so that he could see as much of the encroaching fen lands as possible. Around a corner of the path, behind a copse of trees, appeared a few dirty–looking men. They looked as if they had been roused from their meal, as some were chewing and clutching hunks of bread. The men stared at them, briefly, then slunk away into the woods, muttering amongst themselves. “The more I see of Men, the less I like them,” said Culufinnel, his somber green eyes reflecting the cold light of winter.
Danel’s hand hovered over Sarphir. The sword was singing out for blood, but she had grown used to it, and could almost ignore its calling. “Most Men, yes. But even now, I know that not all Men are alike.”
Estarfin looked at her for a moment. “I was going to call out to Parnard,” he said in Sindarin. “To remind him of the time we swam in the sea together, in case he thought it was a trap. But the men may overhear, and mention it to him themselves, if they find him, and so entrap him.”
“That is wise, Estarfin. We cannot afford to make any careless mistakes.”
“Will we return this way when we find Parnard, do you think?”
Danel knew what he wished to do, as she was resisting the urge to draw Sarphir and chase after the straggling men. “I would go home, meldanya,” she said. “I think we do enough by recovering our friend. Though Lord Elrond should be informed. Perhaps we shall return through Imladris, or at the least, send a message to him?”
The tall Noldo agreed. “We will send word, if possible.” Then he lowered his gaze to the ground. “I regret delaying our pursuit of the Umbarrim. At first I did not believe Culufinnel when he said his brother was captured.” He sighed.
Danel laid a hand on his arm. “We both believed him to be untrustworthy - until we discovered the truth of his words.”
They rode on for a little distance before Danel halted Iavas at the edge of a large semi-circle of broken walls and rubble. No grass nor plants grew in that space, and there were no trees. There was a solemn stillness in the air, as if they were being watched. Has Parnard been swallowed up in this wasteland? thought Captain Culufinnel, his heart full of foreboding. The short wintry day was now closing. Another day gone, and there was still no sign of his brother! Urgency seized him to act. “We must search here, before moving on,” he said, breaking the silence, and hopped off his horse.
Then they heard a low, wheezing chuckle. The elves quickly formed a small circle, back to back, weapons ready.
“What was that sound?” said Estarfin.
“I do not know, but it was not the wind blowing over stone, that is for certain,” said Culufinnel.
“Someone was laughing, I think,” Danel said. “I have no idea what they find so humorous.”
“Parnard!” Estarfin shouted, forgetting all caution as he ran through the ruins, spear grasped in his hand.
Captain Culufinnel was more wary. “It could be Goblins,” he called after him, his gaze scanning the lengthening shadows for any sign of that foul folk.
“It did not sound like Parnard,” Danel crept forward, Sarphir carefully balanced, ready. “Nor did it sound like Goblins.” She tilted her head, straining to hear. She looked at the horses. They were not showing any skittishness.
“There is no sign of Goblin filth,” Estarfin confirmed, his search complete, and he returned to stand beside her, but did not relax the grip on his spear.
“Yoo hoo! Yoo hoo!” called out a voice, followed by a guffaw, as a short, stocky figure waved a frilly handkerchief at them from atop a pile of rubble on the far side of the open space. As soon as they turned to look, the figure disappeared behind the rockpile.
Danel gasped, “It is Duzir!”
“Who, or what, is that?” said Culufinnel.
“Duzir is the dwarf servant of the Sorceress Zairaphel. He has my betrothal ring!”
“Come out of the ruins, Dwarf,” the Captain of Celondim yelled. “We only wish to speak with you. We will not harm you.”
A loud rude laugh was the reply. Danel glared at Culufinnel, her face pale with anger. She may well hurt Duzir, he realized.
Estarfin leant close to her. “What manner of evil has this creature done?” he whispered in Quenya.
“He took my ring, the one you made for me, and he serves those who took Parnard away,” she replied. She hesitated, considering their next steps. “We must capture him alive. He is cunning and malicious. It will not be easy.”
Duzir popped up on another rock and sang out something in a language they did not understand. It was a signal to Naraal, the Corsair Captain, who made the countersignal in his native Harad tongue as he approached the ruin. He was none the worse for wear since their encounter in Nan Wathren, and as he came into sight, he held up one hand in a gesture of parley, while his other hand rested on the hilt of his cutlass.
“It is that skulking Southerner,” muttered Culufinnel, lifting his shield in reply. “He wishes to speak to us. Do not trust him!”
Estarfin said nothing; his feet were searching for the fastest way to reach the Man across the broken ground of the ruins, Danel following close behind him. “Have a care, meldanya! You have seen this man before, but that dwarf is uncommonly strong.” She was not truly concerned for his sake; great was her trust in the martial skills of her companion, yet she knew that even Estarfin could be taken unawares. Perhaps she was treading less cautiously than the heavy-booted Noldo, as she dearly wished to wring the dwarf’s neck, but she found herself outpacing Estarfin. From the corner of her eye she saw Culufinnel snaking his way around the stones, then he stepped behind a cracked pillar and disappeared from sight. She could not afford to look back. Her gaze was locked on the beady black eyes of the dwarf, who stood only a few steps away. “Tell me where Parnard is, and give back the ring you took,” she said to him.
Duzir seemed very cheerful while he watched the elves close in; his eyes shone and his fingers twitched at the ends of his black mustache, as if he were smiling to himself at some amusing thought. “Naraal,” he called out in Adûnaic. “Where did you go, dammit!”
Having reached the pile of stones where the dwarf stood, Danel whisked the point of Sarphir so that it was almost poking his broad chest. “I know you did not understand the ring was mine when you took it,” she told him, “neither did Zairaphel know what the ring signified when she gifted it to you. It is made of mithril, as you know so well, but it is also forged of steel from the lands of the Valar. Such metal is not for you.” She saw Duzir hesitate for a brief moment, then a hot breath blew on her cheek. In an instant she whirled around, sword ready to strike.
Naraal bowed elegantly to her. “What is this I hear? Duzir has something of yours?”
Taking advantage of Naraal’s distraction, the Black-Dwarf scampered to the top of the rubble. “The ring was given to me! The elf has no claim upon it!” he crowed.
“I have every claim, and so will Zairaphel, I believe. You did not tell her what you knew about how valuable it is.” Danel stood her ground, not fearing either Duzir or Naraal, but also having no trust in them. She kept her blade pointed at Naraal’s neck.
“It is not my fault she cannot recognise the hand of an artist, or the gleam of true silver,” Duzir called down.
“You know her better than I, ‘tis true, but will she see it that way? I think not.”
“Ha ha! How will Zairaphel know any difference?”
“Who can say? Perhaps one day, she might receive a random message from someone concerned about her thieving servants, or perhaps Estarfin has something to say about it - I will have you know that he made the ring especially for me,” said Danel.
The Black-Dwarf held his sides as he laughed and laughed. “Yes, I saw you two making kissy-faces at each other,” he managed to gasp out between guffaws.
Ignoring his taunts, Danel narrowed her eyes and murmured, “He will gut you, you know. That is, if he is in a good mood. I advise you to give me back my ring - now.”
“No, my dear, he will not be gutting anyone,” Naraal explained with a rakish smile. “We are quite safe from your beloved warrior, Danel. Take a look behind you!”
She knew before she turned. They would not dare to make such impertinent comments had Estarfin stood behind her, as she thought he did. She felt his absence before she saw it. Backing up a few steps, so that Naraal could not easily disarm her, she took a swift look over her shoulder. There was no sign of Estarfin.
