I filled the cook pot with water from the water skin and set it on a hot stone. I added dried boar meat and berries to the vessel and gave it a stir.
“G-give it plenty of time, it will taste better and do us m-more good,” Estarfin said. I smiled at him.
“As you say, Master Cook. Your stews are always appreciated.”
“Not by the shapeshifter,” he replied, then lay down again, wrapped in his cloak and blanket. Norlomë returned to stand behind him, tossing her head. She was glad to have him back.
“I apologise for her actions,” I said, with a sadness that the Sorceress had treated him so badly. “But you are well aware that I am not her.”
He smiled. “Of course,” then looked over his shoulder and spoke in Quenya to Norlomë. “How does the air t-taste? No? Let us know if anything c-changes.” Then he nodded at Parnard, and said, “There are Men, but n-not that near.”
“Yet I can smell their cooking fires! Roast boar, hung upon an oaken spit.”
I sniffed the air also. To me the hint of roasted meat was faint. I do not believe my sense of smell regarding far-away dinners was as acute as Parnard’s. “They are deep inside the ruins. There is no direct way through to us, even if they have heard us, or smelt our stew cooking. They will not make a half an hour trek through the cold bog on a whim.”
I passed my water skin to Estarfin so that he and Parnard could take a drink. He paused and looked at me for a moment. “W-water,” he said with a grimace, but then took a few mouthfuls. I headed back up to our diminishing pile of belongings, and took up the last two spare blankets (I always carried more than I would normally use due to Estarfin’s great dislike of cold weather) and returned to cover the horses’ backs. I checked to see that they had eaten their fill, and gave each a heartfelt hug of thanks. They knew to find water should they require a drink.
Returning to the neri, I caught the end of their conversation, as Parnard ripped the laces of the Umbari shirt that he wore: “I never thought I would miss my smelly old Mirkwood leather hauberk.”
“Our armour lies beyond, just up the hill; perhaps Estarfin has a spare tunic you may borrow,” I suggested. I sat down and stirred the stew. It was beginning to smell savoury. “I am waiting until my clothing has fully dried, and I have eaten, before donning my armour,” I said, matter-of-factly. My shift, and Estarfin’s long shirt, were lying on the river bank. Both were slightly muddy, but looked quite crisp and stiff from drying in the cold air. I went to get them and put them a little way back from the fire to warm, then wrapped my cloak around me, and wriggled out of my chill undergarments.
Estarfin looked over with sudden realisation. He wrapped himself in his cloak for modesty, this time struggling with his belt for only a few seconds, and cast it off, along with his remaining cold clothing. He smiled in the dawn’s light. “Vása has its beauty, does it not? And warmth, too, of course.”
No more stuttering through chattering teeth? He was thawing out as the day took hold.
I took up one of the two tin cups and spooned some stew into it, blowing on it to cool it slightly. “It would taste better if I had rosemary, but it is edible,” I said, sipping the broth before passing the cup to Estarfin. I filled the second cup and handed it to Parnard. “When you are finished, I shall eat. There is enough in the pot for all. Eat heartily.”
Estarfin looked lost in thought while Parnard ate as fast as he could. He paused for a moment to cool his tongue, watching the mist swirl and mingle with the steam from his mouth and the smoke rising from the campfire. “Sun burns away the bog mists to-day,” he said between sups, “but when she sinks beneath the western waves, the mists will return again.”
“I thought we may not live to see this sunrise, Cousin. Since setting foot in this marsh, death seemed to stalk us. Only Tintallë’s care kept it away. And that strange halfling, though kindly-intended, led us a merry dance across it.”
Parnard sat up. “He was a very curious fellow, that Halfling,” he said, and putting down his cup, dragged out the crude wood and twine necklace from his shirt. “Look at this talisman that he made for me, right on the spot! I must have inspired his creative spirit.”
Estarfin put down his bowl and spoon a moment, and leant forward with mild interest. “It may be large enough to stop an arrow.”
Parnard held it out so that we could see it better. “It must be very powerful, owing to its size,” he laughed. “I will hang it on the wall, when I return home, in fond memory of that halfling and his delicious bacon sandwich.”
“Perhaps it is a small, wearable shield,” I volunteered.
“Hmm - do you really think so, Cousin? It is somewhat large for a halfling, but not for an elf,” Parnard said, puzzling once more over the strange markings. “I suppose it was the best he could do - but I shall cherish it always as a gift of friendship between Elves and Halflings*!”
Estarfin smiled, then remembered his cooling stew and began to eat swiftly. Parnard returned to gulping down stew as if it was the best thing he had ever eaten. I watched, satisfied, and warmed by the knowledge they were regaining their strength. “We must rest before we move on,” I said.
“Give me an hour, and I shall be ready to ride,” Estarfin confirmed. He scraped the last of the stew from the pot into his cup, and handed it to me.
“It is past dawn, and we are to meet up with your brother this morning,” I told Parnard. With everything that had happened, I was not sure I was hungry, but it was wise to try and eat a little. To my surprise, I finished the remaining stew, and took up my clothing from its place by the fire, luxuriating in its warmth. “Your shirt is also dry,” I said to Estarfin.
“The food was excellent,” he said to me in Quenya with a nod of thanks. He tried to stand, but his legs buckled and gave way. “It seems my legs have gone to sleep.”
“Sleep! That is what I need,” said Parnard, curling up beside Estarfin, and went to sleep immediately.
“Thank you,” I said to Estarfin. “I cannot make that stew quite as well as you can, but at least it has helped warm you.”
He stretched out his long legs and shook them to help warm the chilled blood, making a pained expression that said his efforts were working, but it was not a pleasant experience. Then he grew still. “I thought I had lost you both,” he said in our native tongue.
I moved close to him, looking up into his solemn sea-grey eyes. “Never, meldanya. I never doubted that you would find us,” I responded in Quenya. I nestled against him, offering all the silent reassurance I could. “It was only ever a matter of time. I have always said that I trust you, completely.”
Estarfin shook his head. “I found nothing. Others found you. I simply followed.”
I smiled at him with gentle understanding, and laid a hand against his cheek. “You worked with others to find the path, to clear the path of those who would have stopped you. It was you who ran into a burning house to find me. It was you who walked into the icy waters of winter to find Parnard. Where would we be without you?” I lay my head on his shoulder and he encircled an arm around my shoulders, holding me close. But I sensed that he was still unhappy. “I realise we owe Culufinnel and Yrill our lives as well, and the Halflings, too,” I added.
At the sound of the name ‘Culufinnel’, Parnard twitched in his sleep and moaned.
“It was an effort of many hands,” I whispered. “Knowing you as I do, I am certain that you were a driving force.”
He began running a hand through my hair, but with an uncommon hesitation. Did he feel unworthy? “They could have found you more swiftly without me,” he said with a sigh. “Perhaps, had I not intervened, you would have been prevented from embarking the ship at the Naugrim port. I…” His voice quavered and he was unable to finish his sentence.
“We can speak more of what happened, or what should have happened, at a more comfortable time. But why do you blame yourself, meldanya? Is it because you did not follow our captors immediately? I know that you would never leave us in danger, if there was aught you could do about it.”
Parnard rolled over restlessly and mumbled that he could not possibly show up for drill practice. Iavas lowered his head to his hair and nuzzled it gently. I waved at the young stallion to leave the dreaming Wood-elf be. The horse stepped back a few paces, still watching. Estarfin scowled. He was angry with himself. How could I help him understand that I knew he would never knowingly fail me, just as I would never knowingly fail him? To ease his mind, I said to him, “Yrill told me it was a slow start, but the pace picked up swiftly. She told me about the camps of Men you fought through, and what you did to get to us.” Some of the details I knew. Yrill had been impressed by his determination.
“A slow start, is that what she called it? We delayed for an entire day and night, for I believed the Captain to have no honour, and to be behind it all.” He looked so angry with himself, that I kissed him, slowly, lovingly. He had done no wrong in my eyes.
“It was a mistake, anyone can make one,” I whispered. “You are here, I am here - and so is Parnard. We have everything we need. In truth, were our situations reversed, I would not have trusted Culufinnel either.”
Estarfin sighed again. Was he still trying to put the blame on himself alone? We sat in silence for a long time, then he finally spoke. “It was a mistake that should not have happened. I placed you both in danger, and insulted Culufinnel’s honour. He has yet to lay down the challenge, but I have told him I will accept it, no matter the terms.”
I nodded with understanding. “Though I would far rather this became no duel, it is a right and proper action. I believe Culufinnel is an honourable elf, as are you.”
Estarfin sighed. “I believe so too. I do not wish to kill him.”
I smiled at his self-assuredness, though it was warranted. “Then do not do so. Find another way to satisfy honour? And apologise, perhaps? Estarfin, you are as bright Vása to me; my light in the dark, my warmth in the cold, my sun in the heavens. I find it hard to bear your self recriminations, or the possibility you could kill a friend. Remember when you challenged poor Parnard to a duel? We found a way around that.”
He stroked my hair, no longer hesitantly, then turned to regard Parnard with sorrowful eyes.
As if feeling his gaze upon him, Parnard suddenly sat bolt upright and looked around in confusion. Then he saw us, and pulling the blanket around him tighter, looked up at the sky.
“Ah, Cousin, feeling a little better?” I said, and smiled warmly at my dear friend.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“It is almost noon,” said Estarfin, moving to stand, and test his legs would hold firm. “At least a few hours.”
“Did you rest? You two must have spoken of the pleasantest things.”
“We spoke a little,” I answered.
“We spoke enough for now,” Estarfin smiled, somewhat enigmatically, and Parnard gave a knowing laugh. He asked no more questions about the topic of our conversation. Instead, he hopped to his feet, and said how much he looked forward to spending the rest of the winter season with his friends at Númenstaya.
“I am just glad you are both safe. It is beyond what I could have hoped for,” Estarfin said.
Parnard laughed and clapped Estarfin on the back, and told him he was the best and most cleverest fellow in Arda to have rescued them. “And we will toast you upon our return, when we have a tremendous feast!” he declared.
“Come. Let us ready ourselves for the journey home,” I suggested.
Estarfin nodded. “My cloak is damp and chilly. I will welcome wearing my armour.”
We all walked uphill, the two horses slowly trailing behind, knowing they would soon be needed. Estarfin, leaning over our pile of gear, picked up his spear and held it for a few moments, as if his hands were remembering how to wield it, then he glanced over at us. He could see my long knife was now back in its sheath hanging from my belt, and then his eyes settled on my sword, Sarphir, that he had forged for me. Taking it up, once more he placed the weapon over his arm for me to take, and once more I bowed as if accepting it for the first time. Only then I noticed that under his still unruly and tangled hair, upon the chain about his neck, he still had my betrothal ring, strung beside a ruby pendant which I had made for him a couple of years earlier. As I reached up to touch the ring, he took my hand for a moment.
“Thank you for keeping it for me. But we know that this is not the time or place to return it to me,” I said. He nodded approval. Then he showed Parnard his spare items: a set of crimson robes, a black arming jacket and undertrousers, a short mail jacket, and a long dagger.
“Choose what you want, Parnard.”
I thought that the clothing and armour would be far too large for Parnard who, although tall for his folk, was of a slender build. Nevertheless, he had worn Estarfin’s clothes at times of need before, and did not seem to mind his sleeves dragging in his food.
At last Estarfin looked content. Much of his angry self criticism had gone, though I suspected we would have a few flares, like smouldering embers, before all was finally settled. He walked away several steps with his armour and raiment, and attempted to get dressed in them without letting his cloak slip. I turned my back respectfully.
“It was so not like you, throwing off all your clothing,” I said with a wry tone to my voice. “Quite unseemly in some ways, yet necessary, given the effect of the Ice Blood sickness.”
“Hmmpf.” He was concentrating on getting his clothes on quickly. “I do not believe you were so afflicted. Welcome though your warmth is, I do not understand why you undressed also!”
“Laying cold damp cloth against you would have made you worse. Only the warmth of skin against skin makes a difference.” I knew that as the truth. He laughed, and put his hand on my shoulder. He was a warrior again, armed and armoured to the teeth. “Better?” he asked.
“Wisely warmer,” I replied with a small grin. “And now to meet with Captain Culufinnel.”
*: All of the Elves’ guesses as to what the necklace represented were, of course, entirely wrong. On the placard, painted in bold red letters, was the following cryptic warning: Beware! Crazy Elf!
