Danel

Danel's plan appears to involve a visit to the halls of King Thranduil. Estarfin says little to start with, and she is the one who speaks with the guards they encounter. At least there are none of the Race of Men in Felegoth, or Northern Mirkwood, it seems. 

We travelled over the Hithaeglir, it not being particularly bad weather, nor their being any reports in Imladris of troubles outside the known goblin areas. I did not want a repeat of the last time Estarfin and I had been in that place.

We rode steadily, until we came to the paved bridge that led to the North High Pass. Estarfin dismounted, and walked close to the edge that, despite the swirling snow, the land below could partly be made out. 

So he stood for a short while, until I too dismounted, and walked to stand near him. 

So I sought out Lord Elrond, for who else was likely to have more knowledge of the matter? Estarfin has said he was no studier of history, and though I thought he underestimated his understanding, I also knew this matter was for me to research.

"Are we certain of the adage, 'There is no return to Cuivenen?" I asked the Master of Rivendell. 

He looked me straight in the eye.

"What is in your mind, Carnifinde? Surely we have enough pressing matters at hand, than to spend thought on what was lost to us in the First Age."

Is everything we set hand or thought to brought only to ruin? Does that include ourselves? How long does the curse, the doom laid upon our folk reach? Is there ever forgiveness? 

Estarfin seems to believe he will never be forgiven for his part in two kinslayings. Danel has other ideas. 

"I would not call you a fool, but it is foolish to have hope" he says.

They both find solace in the stars. 

Danel and Estarfin leave their horses at Mirabel, and walk along the riverside towards Caras Gelebren. Although Danel dwelt there for some time, she left before the arrival of Sauron's forces. She still feels some guilt for that. Estarfin has never been in that part of Eregion before, so he listens to Danel's tales. He still feels some guilt for things further back in history. 

I arrived at Echad Eregion shortly before nightfall. My horse stabled, watered and fed, I sat to the outside of the group assembled around the fire. Some I recognised, some were new to me. Two Dwarves there were, polite enough as is common for their folk, they offered me a share of their meal.

"Go on, lass. Dried roast has to be better than Lembas."

They chuckled in a well meaning way, and I offered them some Lembas in turn. We exchanged a little of our supplies with half-smiles, the Dwarves likely thinking their kindness had rewarded them ill.