(The reading order is after The Autumn Feast. Part 2. By Filignil. )
I spoke with Filignil about sparring with me from time to time. I needed to train more regularly. Of course it was Estarfin I needed to train with, that I could learn better to fight at his side, but he was strangely reticent. So it was to the experienced Filignil I turned.
We had held an impromptu spar midway through the Festival week. Just for fun, not heavily armed nor armoured. Silk gowns sufficed for both of us. But we had all been speaking of festivities in our youth, and it seemed we had few to offer Parnard as examples of more Noldor–like practices. Yes, Estarfin did remind me of ‘Fighting In the Dark’, and ‘Who Can Be Highest, both of which could result in light damage to persons and buildings. He had the effrontery to accuse me of mixing those two games because I said my main tactic for ‘Fighting In the Dark’ was to find someone tall and climb up them. But I get ahead of my tale.
Sparring was often more formal at home, but it seemed Filignil had similar traditions, so with a whisper and a wink, we drew daggers on each other in my house. Unfair? Of course it was. Filignil excels in bow craft, whereas I have always favoured the sword. Had we used our weapons of choice I am not so sure I would have been swift enough to defeat her. But in this case we battled for a mere five minutes. I do not think Parnard understood why we were fighting, but Estarfin watched and nodded, and said we both had made some good moves. He also told me to close my eyes, which I ignored as he was confusing sparring with Fighting In the Dark. I think he also looked upon Filignil with a slightly different eye from then on. A Housekeeper, yes, but she was also very much one of Prince Celegorm’s Hunters. And I think that contest enabled each of us to see and respect more of each other’s abilities.
So by the end of the week I sought her out to request practice with her, if she would.
She was apprehensive, as even with Aearlinn and Hithaerial’s help, she was rather busy sorting out provisions for our journey to Mirkwood. She reminded me that, to be effective, practice must be regular, and sustained.
I knew that, of course and had practiced alone, as I had done for centuries, but now I had even more reason to seek to maintain my skill: I did not know where the next months would lead us. I would be no burden to be escorted, but the Nolde I had been born to be, and one who could add to any fight rather than distract. Estarfin I trusted without doubt. He was fully recovered from his past injuries, and I knew Parnard to be no coward. I would not be a weak link.
We had a short session on the last day. Just padded jackets, thick leather gloves and blunt wooden swords. Back behind the Hall we went, that none stumbled on us. It was nowhere near enough for what I wanted, but it was a start. Like Estarfin, she would not hold back. I found I had a few bruises at the end. I believe she found some too. I had missed it...the clash of swords, the weaving and dodging, actually having someone who would push me to my limit. No warrior at heart, yet I always held to my father’s words that all nissi should be able to defend themselves at need. And something more of course. I had long ago held the favour of Prince Caranthir. I had been given the best training Thargelion could offer. For some reason it was in my thoughts I did not want to disappoint my Prince. Neither would I disappoint Estarfin.
“We will train regularly when you return from your travels,” she had said. “I am always there for you.” It was a promise.
Games! Estarfin seemed in the mood for playing games. It clearly said he was recovered from any headaches from over-indulgence at the start of the week. He came bursting through the doors and looked around, full of curiosity from the start.
“Is this new?” he said, sniffing the flowering plant in its pot by the door.
“No. It has only just come into bloom though.” I waved to him, looking back over my shoulder. I had been searching under the table.
“Are you playing a game?” he asked, seeing that Parnard was also searching around the room.
“No, ‘tis not a game, Estarfin. Filignil has hidden my shoes,” he told him.
“Yes. It is a game, like we used to play in Thargelion,” I said, hoping it would get Estarfin to join in.
“Oh, good! We are looking for shoes.” He hung up his cloak a touch deliberately, then started searching in the flower boxes.
Parnard disappeared behind the scullery screen and soon the sound of wine pouring into glasses could be heard.
I looked at Estarfin. He was rummaging through the dresser. “No shoes here,” he said.
Parnard returned, offering glasses almost brimming over. “Wine, on this, the second to last day of the Autumn Festival?” he said, merry despite the loss of his personal property.
Estarfin smiled thanks at Parnard as he took the glass, and turning dramatically towards the light seemed to pose before us: it was then that we noticed his brand-new clothing.
“A new robe! How fine, how very fine,” Parnard said.
Estarfin turned around, modeling his robe: it was an attractive deep green hue, not his usual red or somber black.
I smiled and rubbed the fabric of his sleeve between my fingertips. “An excellent choice. It is very comely.” It was indeed a finely tailored garment that I suspected was made in Celondim.
He returned my smile and raised his glass in a toast. “To Autumn, and the finest of feasts,” he said.
“To Autumn, and the finest of feasts,” we repeated, and raising our glasses, drank deeply.
I was happy. We were together. Life was good. If only our journey east would bring a completion to our circle of happiness for our friend from Mirkwood.
“Have you seen my wineskin hereabouts, Estarfin? I may have left it on the road,” said Parnard.
Estarfin glanced around the room. “No, I have not. Where did you last see it,” he asked Parnard.
“On the road or on the roof.”
“Did you leave it in your house?” I asked.
“I doubt it; I haven’t been home of late. One cannot make merry alone in their house. I know: I have tried it.”
I stepped forward and gave Parnard a gentle hug. “You know you need never be alone here, Cousin.” Parnard laughed, a little embarrassed.
“Perhaps Filignil has your wineskin,” said Estarfin. “Perhaps she also was the one that has hidden your shoes?”
“You know how she loves keeping the place tidy,” I added.
“That is true. She is a strange one,” said Parnard.
“Maybe she has taken it to fill it with that brandy for you,” Estarfin said, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Ah! That I doubt, as we depleted much of her stock last night, but perhaps we will find more of that stuff to drink.”
I gave Estarfin a warning glance less he make a repeat of the drunken first night. “Maybe it is a game?” he said with a laugh. "She has hidden your things, and in the case of the wineskin, we must find it to drink it?”
“I do not like that sort of game,” fretted Parnard. “I must have strewn my belongings from here to the village. I went for a ride earlier, you see."
Estarfin shook his head, determined that a game was afoot. “No, this is a fine game she has planned. What else has she taken?” Estarfin smiled, then turned to climb the other bookcase to check if anything was hidden on top. There was an ominous cracking sound heard, and at once he scrambled down.
“I have no coin,” declared Parnard, after patting his pockets, “but that is not so unusual. Oh well! I tell myself whenever I lose something, ‘Wherever it lies, it lies there still.’ It will turn up, eventually.”
Estarfin turned around in surprise. “You are not seeking for your lost things?”
“Now? When it is raining outside?” Parnard turned to me and said, “We came in here, did we not, Cousin, and we have searched throughout the hall; my things must be outside, getting rained on as we speak. Ha ha ha!"
“Oh,” said Estarfin, looking disappointed. “So it is not a game?”
“Hmm. I suppose it could be. Filignil may have taken my things in jest - it may very well be a game, a strange, perverse sort of game.”
“We used to play games at the High Feasts," said Estarfin, a little wistfully, I thought I knew some of what Estarfin was likely remembering, for I had taken part in these myself.
“Really! What kinds of games?” asked Parnard.
Estarfin finished his glass of wine, then he began listing the games. “We played a lot of dice. And ‘Do You Dare?’ And - what else…? ‘Guess the Food’ and ‘Run and Fight’...”
I chuckled at Estarfin. “I was good at that.”
“Which? 'Run and Fight?'”
“Yes! Nobody would come near me if they could see me, so I just ran. I was never defeated.”
Estarfin looked thoughtful. “What else did we play? 'Who is the Highest?' and 'Fight the Dark' - ”
“Many of our feasts' games involved fighting,” I interjected, seeing Parnard's growing look of confusion.
“In the courtyard was best,” said Estarfin.
We grinned thinking about our memories from our youth.
“Cake fights were fun…and tasty.” I chuckled. ”I would have been part of the younger group than you most of the time though, and we got the best cakes.”
Estarfin frowned for a moment, then brightened again as he added, “All you needed was some chalk to mark the track and the field.”
“If it stopped raining,” I said, remembering several washed-out games ruined by downpours.
“If it rained, Fighting In the Dark was just as good!” Estarfin said with a look of fond reminiscence.
“But how could you see!” said Parnard.
“We could not see: that is the entire point.” I answered.
“You would fling your fists out in the dark, hoping they would collide with someone?” Parnard said, incredulous.
“We could not see whom we were hitting or kicking. It was great fun, but unless I clambered up someone tall, I would get the worst of it.”
Estarfin gave me a strange look. “That was you - !”
I laughed. “Perhaps. Do you recall the child who sat on your shoulders, hanging onto you by your hair, and kicked you in the ribs like a pony?”
He frowned.
“I am jesting, Estarfin!”
He shook his head. He did not believe me. “One time Namaica broke three bones in his hand when he punched the wall,” Estarfin said, laughing happily at that memory.
“Oh, I heard about that,” I said.
At this Parnard lowered his wine glass and gave us a hard look. “Was anyone killed?”
“Of course not! We were little more than children. Danel, do you remember those ginger-haired twins who ran around a pillar straight into each other?" Estarfin said, then turning to Parnard asked, "You never played such games?”
Parnard shook his head. “Where would we run? Through the dark, straight into the spider’s mouths? Perhaps those in Felegoth did, but my folk would gather 'round the fire to sing and jest and dance.”
I thought then how different our childhoods must have been. We Noldor fought imaginary dangers and each other, while Parnard's kindred contended with the ever-present threat of spiders, wargs, and orcs.
Then the main door opened again, and in walked Filignil. She halted and brushed a little rain off her cloak. In her hand she held three full wineskins.
