We rode on for nigh half of an hour, mostly in silence save for comments on sound or movement nearby. Though I had no fear of falling I was still struggling between sitting upright or bouncing off armour. We were no longer in any danger. None of the men would be this near. Indeed, none of those men had survived. I slowed Pelorian as we approached the bridge over the stream.
Estarfin let me loose and slid off the horse’s back.
“Let Pelorian have a rest and a drink. She has done well.” he said, walking swiftly to the river and reaching up to help me dismount.
A strange gesture, as I had never required nor asked for help. But neither would I be so ungracious as to ignore it. It struck me momentarily that the last we had been as close was when I had tried to support him in standing, when we had been in the Hithaeglir a few years past. When I had found him lying broken in the snow, and had desperately fought to lend him my strength. I had not been strong enough, and for once, neither had he. He was much improved since that time. Healed in body to nigh his full strength, I thought…..though what went on still in his mind was a different matter.
I reached up to brush a lock of that wayward black hair off his face, and he looked at me questioningly.
“We should drink also. And perhaps walk a way to give Pelorian a short break?” I said, restricting myself to matters at hand.
He nodded, thanked Pelorian in Quenya, and moved so we both stood a little upstream of her. All three sought the cleansing, cooling water.
Estarfin and I had both cleaned our swords as best we could on the hillside grass, and cleaned what blood we could from ourselves, save a few stains on our armour. But there was always something about soaking hands and arms in water after any such slaughter, that washed away more than grime and gore. Killing was never a pleasant business.
Pelorian had her muzzle in the water, and was making loud sucking noises, while her tail swished slowly from side to side. I stood and went to check her saddle and the attachments tied to it. Estarfin’s large shield was well placed that it lay against her flank smoothly without much movement. She had carried a shield before, but not often as I rarely used one.
“You are doing well, my friend. I am proud of you.” I whispered in her ear. She raised her head and curled back her lip that for all purposes she was laughing at me. I could almost hear her say, ‘and you do less well, my friend.’ She butted me with her head. So following my horse’s advice I went to sit with Estarfin on the bank of the stream. He was refilling his water skin, but looked up as I sat.
“Less than an hour to reach home,” he said. “It is not yet midday. We can afford to walk some of the way.”
“I nodded in agreement. “This day went well.” I said. “The Halflings will be safe..safer. I cannot think there were as many men as I expected. Parnard thought there was a second camp. Somewhere to the north of Tighfield.”
Estarfin acknowledged my words, splashing water over his face and hair. “We should let the horses rest, and I need check on Gilastor, but we can ride again tomorrow if he is recovered?” There was more than a hint of concern in his tone.
“And kill more men.”
He turned and gave me a small nod of his head. “It was well done today. Swift and thorough. You did not hesitate”
I crossed my legs, though left a hand dangling in the water. “I fight with you, not against as I was wont to do at certain times.”
“Yet your heart is not in this fight I fear, at least not all the way. After all these years you do not see them for what they are. It would be easier if you did. You struggle at times.” He sighed, frustration rather than anger in his voice.
I lowered my head. It was true I did not take to the fight as he seemed to do, but I still knew I was slaying an enemy.
Moving my arms behind me for support, I stretched out my legs, enjoying the change from riding.
“I may not always agree with you, but I trust you, Estarfin. You may make mistakes, but they are rare. Slaughtering those Brigands is no mistake.”
He looked at me briefly, as if gathering his thoughts. “A strange word to use: mistake. I can look back against time and see many actions that I regret. But I would not call them a mistake. Sometimes terrible deeds are needed, whether we want to or not.”
Now I had not been pondering *those* deeds as mistakes, more the general lack of infallibility that affects us all.
“You know my thoughts on the race of Men. In fact you know more than any other. I would see them all slain, and would wield the blade without hesitation. But that will never come to pass, and it seems likely I shall fall in battle attempting to achieve that end, or another similarly foolish hope.”
I nodded, though looked down. I knew.
He reached over and raised my chin that we looked eye to eye again. “I do not ask you to share my actions, Lady. But I need you to know, to really know what I am.”
And I raised a hand to brush back his hair again. I knew…I had known for the longest time, what he was capable of. And why he did it. Oh he did not forgive men for their betrayal of Caranthir, but there was more to it than that. He was a protector of our people, trained to defend us and our way of life. Even more, I had pondered for some time it was born in him to be that way.
“I understand all you have told me,” I replied. “I know why you feel as you do, and to the largest extent I am in agreement. I also know why you fight so. You cannot be other than you are. Someone has to be the one who takes up spear to defend us all. Many have filled that role. You are one of those who still does.” I felt warm tears on my face as I continued. “A fell warrior, indeed, but the joy you have is from doing your duty. Not from the slaughter itself. It is needful even now, and so you do it, so that we do not have to face the full horrors.”
There, I had said it clearly. “If I have ever implied you slew men for fun or for sport, please forgive me. Any joy, if such it can be called, is from doing what you are meant to do, and that so others may live. You are a warrior, aye, but you are not mindless or ignoble. You are our guard against a dark world. And I trust you more than any other.”
It was as if I had been freed from a prison of my own making, a fence of folly that I was not totally vulnerable. There, that was the Estarfin I knew. I *still* saw the eager youth in him. I still loved him.
I felt a little odd, but then he drew me closer and kissed my hair. “And I trust you, Danel.”
~ ~ ~
We walked beside Pelorian for awhile, each in our own thoughts again, but she certainly walking in a more sprightly fashion for her rest.
After some time I spoke again. “Are we changed from what we should be, do you think?”
He looked questioningly at me. “How so?”
“I mean some of us, you and I and Belegos, and some others, have lived lives very different from what is ‘normal’ for our kind. We have not families of our own. Nor have we settled as many have.”
He was thoughtful, that I could believe he had considered similar notions. But he simply shrugged.
“It is hard to put into words. I cannot think of any choosing to bring a new life into this world the way things are. There are very few children now. I think many no longer have the will."
“Our kind are either leaving these shores, hiding in their forests, or preparing for the battle to come. I do not believe it is a question of will, but perhaps a lack of hope?”
I wasn’t sure I had the answer I wanted or not, but then I wasn't totally sure of the question. It did seem that in this matter at least, we thought alike.
Then he was unfastening his breastplate and pauldrons, and attaching them to the saddle on the far side of the shield, that they did not aggravate Pelorian.
“Come. We have walked awhile. Let us have a more comfortable ride for the last few miles.
I did not need asking twice. I unfastened my own metal armour and attached it in a similar manner to the saddle, then swung up on Pelorian’s back, with Estarfin climbing up behind me.
He was right. It was a lot more comfortable with just linen tunics.
