Chapter Four: Something On the Wind
Erestor sighed for the fifth time in ten minutes. This was not at all what he had been looking forward to for the past few months. He had expected a pleasant ride for a few days, then a stay in Mithlond full of new sights and stimulating discussions and debates, then an equally pleasant ride back home. What he got instead was a chance to ride behind Glorfindel and his group of new devotees. He might as well have been a piece of baggage on his horse's back.
He could hear Glorfindel talking and laughing with the other warriors near the front of the procession. Glorfindel, he had realized, could charm a smile out of almost anyone: even Arandur, who seemed to look at everyone but himself with scorn, was completely taken by Glorfindel.
"Only I have not fallen to his blithe madness," grumbled Erestor. He had absolutely no desire to be any closer in friendship with Glorfindel than he was with Glorfindel's horse. The Vanya was either reckless, giddy, or touched in the head. Perhaps he was all three.
The weather was unpleasant as well—the sky was heavy with gray clouds, the kind that meant snow. White flakes were already falling, and he had to pull the hood of his cloak up so that he would not have wet hair later. He could walk atop snow—though he was not sure whether or not his horse could do the same—but at the same time it was a nuisance. Another nuisance on the ever-growing list of nuisances.
Suddenly the whole procession came to a halt. It happened so quickly that Erestor had to hold on to his horse Súlfëa's mane, so that the mare did not throw him to the ground in her surprise. "What is the problem?" he called to the front, annoyed.
Belegon turned around to speak to him. "The river has frozen over, and we do not know whether or not the ice is thick enough to cross safely."
Erestor dismounted and led Súlfëa to the front, to get a better look at the river. Sure enough, the water was covered with ice and a light dusting of snow. "It must have frozen last night. We should probably wait a day or so, to make sure that the ice is thick enough to cross."
Glorfindel came and stood on the other side of Súlfëa. He shook his head. "We need not wait. When I came through here on my way to Imladris, the water was already cold. It has probably been frozen for at least a week."
Erestor shot Glorfindel a look of disapproval. "It would be safer not to simply assume."
The warrior gave a sigh of longsuffering and turned to look at him. "There's no reason for you to be so paranoid all the time, Erestor. We have neither the time nor the supplies to simply camp by the riverside until the dead of winter! Elrond and Círdan will think that we were lost along the way."
He ignored the barb. "We do not have to stay for weeks, just overnight, to be certain! Would you rather wait a few extra hours, or have yourself and your horse fall through the ice and freeze to death?"
Glorfindel laughed. "Oh, stop your ceaseless worrying. No one is going to fall through the ice. Here, watch and see for yourself." He moved past Erestor and stepped easily onto the frozen surface of the river.
"Stop! Should you not at least wait for Captain Belegon's orders?" Erestor called, but it was no use. The reckless Vanya was already nearly halfway across. Erestor turned to Belegon. "Should we not call him to turn back and wait?"
Belegon held up a finger. "Wait a moment." He called across to Glorfindel, "Is the ice thick enough?"
Glorfindel and his horse reached the other side of the ice, perfectly fine. Glorfindel slid a little bit, but he clutched his horse's mane as the animal stepped onto firmer ground. "Wonderfully thick!" he called back to Belegon.
Belegon turned to Erestor and the others. "Well, if he says it is safe, there is no use lingering. Be careful, though, and do not ride. Lead your horse slowly and watch for cracks."
Erestor waited until he was last in line before he put his boot onto the slick surface. His breath formed a misty cloud around his face. He tried to avoid the footprints in the snow of the Elves and horses that had come in front of him, just in case their steps had weakened the ice. He had absolutely no desire to fall into the river.
He and Súlfëa were nearly halfway across when Erestor's worst fears were realized. He had begun to relax a little, and he had glanced casually up at the company beginning to reorganize on the riverbank. Without noticing, he stepped right onto a crack in the river. The ice gave a moaning, creaking sound before it shattered right under his feet.
He gasped with surprise and grabbed at Súlfëa for support, clutching fistfuls of her snow-white mane. Súlfëa, who had already been nervous on the frozen river, whinnied with fright and bolted. She dragged Erestor off of the sinking ice and sprinted a few paces before she listened to Erestor's half-shouted commands to stop. He tried to stand as soon as she had come to a fidgety pause, but his boots had become wet in the freezing-cold water and the thin layer of ice on the bottoms of the boots gave him no traction whatsoever. He shuffled and slid to something resembling a standing position, but his first attempt at a step toward the safety of the opposite bank was a miserable failure. His foot slid out from beneath him and he came down painfully on his left knee.
Belegon stepped back out onto the ice. "Erestor!" he called. "Are you all right?"
Erestor pushed a few strands of wet hair out of his face with a free hand. He was slightly embarrassed at his careless fall and inglorious pose, and the chagrin was swiftly turning into extreme irritation. "Of course I am!" he shouted. "The ice is wonderfully thick!"
Belegon did not answer. He turned back to the group of warriors and resumed talking with them.
Erestor huffed with frustration, both at the ice and himself. Belegon had only meant to help, and he had gone and snapped at him. "Valar, why did we have to bring Glorfindel?" he whispered. "If he had not been here, we would have waited." No doubt Belegon would have decided to wait; after all, it was the smart thing to do. Glorfindel had simply charged recklessly forward, and now Erestor was paying for it. "Imbecilic Vanya," he muttered.
It was a full five minutes before he finally made it to the other side of the treacherous ice. He had to clutch Súlfëa's mane the entire time, an action that did nothing to help the skittish mare's temperament. It was nearly impossible to walk on the ice without putting weight on his knee, and cold snow was beginning to melt through his sleeves. He dragged himself up onto the bank, and immediately Belegon stepped forward and helped him to his feet. "Are you all right?" the captain asked.
He sighed. "Yes. I apologize for snapping at you; I did not mean to lash out."
Belegon shook his head. "It is long forgiven. Come and join the group. We will continue as long as we can before stopping for the sake of the horses."
"Very well, Captain."
The warrior nodded and gave Erestor an encouraging slap on the back before heading on to join the others.
Erestor looked back at the frozen river and scowled at what he saw. Not only was the spot where he had fallen barely noticeable, his footprints were also already nearly hidden by a deepening blanket of snow.
He shook his head and walked on to join the others.
Glorfindel paused for a moment to shake snow out of his hair. He had neither put up his hood nor even braided his hair back since they had left Imladris, and tiny bits of white powder were catching in the loose golden strands.
He turned to Belegon. "How are the horses, Captain?"
The captain nodded. "Fine for now, but if this snow continues, we might have to seek shelter. Do you remember any ideal locations from your journey from Mithlond?"
He shook his head. "No. I kept an even pace, and only paused every few hours. It all went by very quickly."
"Let us hope that this journey does the same," said Belegon, frowning up at the clouds. "I fear that the horses may lose their footing in the drifts. Besides, I would like for all of us to rest a bit before we continue. It would not do Imladris any favors if we were to all come limping and panting into Mithlond like bedraggled waifs."
Glorfindel laughed and dropped his voice. "Only one of us will be limping! Though as long as he takes care to wipe the scowl off of his face before we enter the gates, he might look more like a respectable Chief Advisor and less like an indignant wet cat."
The warriors that were close behind them burst out laughing, and Belegon was taken by a sudden coughing spell. Glorfindel glanced back to see if Erestor was glaring at him, but the advisor was trudging along a few feet back and did not appear to have heard. The dark-haired Elf glanced up and saw Glorfindel looking at him, but Glorfindel just gave him a wide grin.
"Glorfindel, that comment was unnecessary," hissed Belegon as soon as he had regained his ability to speak.
Glorfindel gave him a sidelong smile. "What do you mean? I only said what everyone else was thinking."
"It was still unnecessary. Would you appreciate it if someone said that about you?"
He shrugged. "It would make no sense. I don't look like an indignant wet cat."
"No, I agree, you do not," came a voice suddenly from behind them. It was Erestor's voice, and it was tight with pain and irritation. "You resemble a large, overconfident dandelion. Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, indeed!"
Glorfindel frowned. If anyone else had called him that, he would have laughed as hard as everyone else was laughing. The way Erestor had said it, however, made it sound like a serious insult.
Belegon stopped laughing and looked at Glorfindel, then at Erestor. He sighed. "Valar, can a peace exist between the two of you for even one hour?"
"Oh, Captain, they mean no harm," put in Arandur from Glorfindel's left. "Merely jests to lighten the monotony of the journey."
"Jests, indeed," spat Erestor under his breath, barely loudly enough for Glorfindel to hear. The advisor was at the moment clinging to his horse's mane for dear life as he struggled to dig himself out of a snow-bank. The horses could not walk atop the snow, and so there was a deep trail where they had walked. Erestor had to lean on his white mare for support since he had injured himself on the ice, and in the process of walking he had become nearly buried in a deep snowdrift. His reddened face, with strands of stringy dark hair clinging to it, made him look very much like a drenched, angry cat.
Glorfindel smiled at the sight. His annoyance with the stuffy, acrimonious advisor was passing away swiftly. He began to chuckle, then laugh. "Erestor—you look ridiculous!" he said between gasps of mirth.
Erestor's face went past irritation to an expression resembling that of an angry warg. "I hope that my presence is not an affront to your dignity, Lord Glorfindel," he said in a prim voice of deadly calm.
He grinned. "No. The Sun shines brighter with contrast." He stepped over to offer Erestor a hand. "Would you like some assistance, Master Feline?"
Contrary to what Glorfindel expected, Erestor took the offered hand without hesitation. The advisor pulled himself out of the drift with surprising speed, then swiftly maneuvered himself around and shoved Glorfindel face-first into the drift. He leaned back against his mare and smiled triumphantly. "Thank you for your help, Lord Posy."
Glorfindel came up spitting snow. He glared at Erestor and was almost ready to launch himself at the smug advisor, when Belegon suddenly cleared his throat rather loudly. "Master Erestor, Lord Glorfindel—I believe we must press forward," said the captain with a note of warning in his voice. "The wind is picking up, and if it brings more snow then we need to have a shelter, if only for the sake of the horses."
Erestor turned to Belegon and gave him a winning smile. "I quite agree, Captain. Shall we go, then?"
Glorfindel struggled vainly to pull himself out of the snow as the rest of the company began to regroup and press forward. He was only saved when the youngest of the warriors, the archer Rasaras, stepped forward to pull him out of the drift.
"Are you hurt, milord?" asked Rasaras.
Glorfindel gave a wry grin and brushed himself off. "No, I am intact, save perhaps my dignity. Come on, let's join the others."
The wind howled and swirled around Erestor's face, tugging his hood and hair in all directions. He staggered in the snow and clutched Súlfëa's mane with all his strength. He could barely see through the thick snowfall—it was a blizzard. "Just our luck," he groused under his breath.
Súlfëa stumbled in the snow and neighed, her nervousness increasing tenfold as she struggled to walk in the deep snow. Erestor nearly lost his footing along with her.
"Captain Belegon!" he called above the wind. "Captain, we cannot go on any longer! The horses cannot keep their course in this snowfall!"
He could faintly see Belegon outlined against the swirling masses of white. The captain turned and nodded. "We have come about ten miles since the river—I believe I know of a nearby cave. It is between two trees, beside a brook."
The whole company spent the next twenty minutes searching for the cave. It was hard to make out much of anything in the thick snowfall. Every mound of snow looked the same, and it was difficult to tell what was a rock, stump, or snowdrift. The search dragged on fruitlessly, and Erestor became more and more disheartened with each false lead. Suppose they did not find the cave at all? Would they be forced to simply abandon the horses with their blessing, and go on alone?
At last they heard Rasaras's high, thin voice above the wind. "Captain Belegon! I found the cave!"
They followed the sound of his voice and found him standing beside the yawning entrance of gray hard rock. Erestor immediately disliked it—there was something intensely foreboding about the cave's opening. Stalactites and stalagmites framed the entrance like a dragon's teeth, opening up to swallow them whole. He turned to Belegon. "Captain, are you sure we should enter?" he said.
Belegon hesitated a few seconds before nodding. "We cannot go on in this weather. We have no choice. Malchathol, Arandur, go on inside and see if it is clean and dry. Rasaras and Glorfindel, gather the horses together, and Erestor and I will lead them into the cave and see that they are settled."
The company split up to go their various ways without protest. Erestor stood with Belegon at the cave's entrance while Glorfindel and Rasaras gathered the horses, and he took the moment to question the captain.
"Belegon, are you certain that this is wise?" he asked. "There is something about this cave that I do not like."
"No one likes caves, and our people least of all," agreed Belegon. "Yet we have no choice."
Erestor shook his head. "No, that is not what I mean. There is something disturbing about this cave, even more so than any other cave I have ever had to enter. I do not think this wise."
"Do not worry," said Belegon as Glorfindel and Rasaras approached with the frightened horses. "We will be fine."
Erestor was about to reply, when he was suddenly interrupted by the reappearance of Malchathol behind him. The warrior looked at Belegon gravely. "Captain," he said, "we are not alone."
Coming Soon: Chapter Five: The Dam Breaks
