The sky was a cloudless grey as we rode through the outer gates of Numenstaya. The heavy metal frames were unlocked, as usual, neither were there any guards. What need did folk in our lands have for guards on their gates unless in times or war?
But we learned that day. And others had paid for our lack of foresight.
I rode beside Estarfin, with Parnard and Marawendi following. What a sight to welcome her to her new home! We could see at the end of the road, two of the smaller houses reduced to rubble and dust. The smell still lingered thick in the air. Once you have been close to a fire that consumed houses and their contents, even flesh, you never forget the smell.
I steeled myself for what was to come. Looking over at Estarfin, I stalled for a further moment. “There is little I will not face, but a friend’s death is always a harsh matter.”
Estarfin gave a slight nod, acknowledging he understood, but he looked grimly ahead.
And we came to the bridge over the water that fed into the lake. The charred buildings were now in clear view. I felt a surge of anger again, how dare they! How dare any threaten us here! I noticed that there were two large war-tents set upon the grass some distance from the ruins. Each could house half a dozen easily. So there were others already here? I wondered who they were. Friends or well-wishers maybe, but I was hoping for some familiar faces.
Parnard and Marawendi had been silent for at least the last mile or two. It was only after we crossed the bridge and also drew alongside that I saw their expressions. Marawendi was wide-eyed with distress, like a doe cornered by hunters. Parnard was frowning darkly.
“All that is left is wreckage,” he said.
‘Well yes and no,’ I thought, for there was no charring or blackening to the grove of trees that surrounded his small dwelling, set far back from the road. I nodded in its direction. “Perhaps not all, cousin. Take a look at your home: the trees may have saved it?”
But then I drew a deep breath as my own house came into sight. One wall had collapsed so that we could see into the main hall, past several charred chairs and bed.The smell was acrid, it caught in my throat that I coughed. Alas that baked flesh was part of it.
“Half a house is better than naught, I suppose.” I drew as much breath as I could, before gagging. The others, suffering similarly, rode back a little. I joined them. The horses were tossing their heads and pawing at the ground in their own distaste.
“The doormat is still there,” Parnard observed, regaining his breath, “as if to insult us - did the Men do that on a-purpose!”
“Do not try to understand them. They are little better than wild dogs,” replied Estarfin, as he slid from Norlómë’s back.
I looked at the others. Marawendi was wide-eyed, no doubt horrified at what we discovered. At least she had no recollection of the beauty of Númenstaya before the assault. Estarfin was watching me closely. I knew he was concerned, both for me, and for what else awaited us. Then he whirled around, sword gripped as someone emerged from the path through the rhododendron bushes.
“Well-met, old friend,” I called out, dismounting from Pelorian. ‘Wander not far,’ I whispered in the mare’s ear. ‘First let me see what has happened here, then I shall tend to you at once.’
The short, brown-haired Elf hailed everyone, then said to me, “Lady, you are returned. Most sorry am I as to the welcome that awaits you. I would it were more cheerful, but I am only a healer, not a stone mason or decorator.”
I smiled a little at his familiar deprecation, but replied, “I believe a healer is exactly what is needed just now, Curumaito. How is young Barahirn?”
“He is as comfortable as can be expected.” came the non-committal reply. “He will live. He can already see again…but walking may take a lot longer.”
I understood.
“Estarfin and Parnard,” Curumaito bobbed his head in acknowledgment of my companions, but glanced hesitantly at Marawendi. “And this must be Brasseniel,” he said.
I shook my head vehemently, and seeing confusion on the healer’s face explained, “This is Marawendi.”
Estarfin and Parnard moved a short distance away and were standing over the ashes of the ruined hall. Estarfin seemed distracted by our surroundings, once he knew Curumaito was no threat.
“And did the maiden die in the fire?” I heard Parnard ask.
“Nay. Aearlinn was run through by a sword, from behind,” Curumaito called out, following on their heels. “The Men Lord Belegos slew fell here though. ‘Tis their remains you can smell.”
“And who are you?” Parnard said, addressing Curumaito for the first time.
Now I knew Curumaito from a few hundred years past, and more recently when he attended my grandmother. I knew him to be an odd-humoured but extremely competent healer.
“I am Curumaito, as the Lady has already said. I am a healer from Celondim, and many places prior to that. I was summoned by Lord Belegos through Lelyaro, shortly after the event. Alas, there was nothing I could do for Aearlinn, but Barahirn’s injuries are another matter. Does that satisfy you for now?”
Parnard replied, “Thank you for your service, then,” and made a polite bow.
Motioning over his shoulder, Curumaito said, “The men did not reach the Hall; it is undamaged, and neither did they find your dwelling, Parnard, hidden as it is among the trees. So there are two places that we can still dwell in.” He turned to look at Estarfin with a kindly but curious expression. “At this moment Barahirn lies in your bed, Lord. The air is much more wholesome around your dwelling. I hope that is no inconvenience?”
Estarfin shrugged in his usual manner and answered that he is welcome to it.
Parnard tapped his fingers on his belt. “Any news of the men that committed this atrocity?” he asked Curumaito.
“How many were there?” Estarfin demanded to know.
Holding up a hand, Curumaito’s expression became most serious. “I shall say what I know, which is unfortunately little. Ceuro, and Yrill of Eregion are here, and they hunt as we speak. Yondershire and further. Though I think we all know where the trail will lead.”
“To the Breelands?” I whispered.
He gave a curt nod. “Bree, Combe or Archet most likely. The others, Lelyaro, and my wife, are visiting your neighbours. They have been most supportive. They discuss rebuilding, if that is what you wish, Lady?” He turned to Estarfin. “As to the number, it is estimated to have been fifteen. Barahirn is the best witness, though with his face badly broken he is only just able to speak with clarity. He must not be pressured. Your friend, Lord Belegos, slew three. Aearlinn slew one herself, after another man killed her bear.”
“They killed her bear, too - ?” Parnard burst out.
Curumaito nodded. “The old she-bear came to her aid, when she saw Aearlinn attacked. One of the men ran her through, another turned on Aearlinn. She slew him while his friend crept up behind her. They are cowards as well as murderers.” He looked to the hill-side in front of the Hall. We buried Aearlinn and her bear over there. Oft together in life, may they be so in death.” Then he suddenly turned and bowed to Marawendi, who had been quiet since her arrival at Númenstaya.
“Lady, forgive my lack of manners,” he said with a deep bow. “This has been a trying time for all, but it is no excuse for ignoring you.”
I noted the concern and kindness on his face as he spoke. It was not like him to ever be discourteous to a nis, especially one so young.
Parnard stepped to her side. “This is Marawendi, “ he said with a gallant bow, “plucked fresh from the Greenwood. She is hoping to be Lady Danel’s apprentice.”
I nodded agreement, even as Marawendi blushed at the prospect. “I had hoped we could offer our best, but we must work with what we have.”
“Welcome, Marawendi,” said Curumaito. “Alas! You do not see any here at their best.” The elf-maid hung back behind Parnard, too distraught to say anything more than a few murmured words of thanks.
We fell silent as the soft lilt of Quenya was on the air. Estarfin had turned to face the hill and the grave, and spoke more to himself than us: “Tintalle, look kindly on her, speed her swiftly from his dark halls to walk once again on green grass.”
I trembled a little, not with fear, but with outrage at what had been done. Our home was one matter, but Aearlinn, her old bear, Gli, (and Barahirn too, if they had their way) that was unforgivable! Homes could be rebuilt. Lives could not.
“We shall have justice,” I muttered angrily. I looked down to see blood on my palms, realising I had been clenching and unclenching my fists with such force, that my fingernails had pierced my skin.
“There will be time enough for anger,” Estarfin gently reminded me. “We should visit the grave, should we not?”
He was right, of course.
