I stood by his side in silence for some time. Words would add naught. We needed nothing but the beauty of the stars above us. Peace there was….almost. Eventually he spoke. “This night has brought a wound that I did not expect. The joy of finding our friend here, after our searching. Yet he has such disdain in his heart?”
~ ~ ~
I am Carnifinde Istarnis. Daughter of Urundir and Aldanis, both of Tirion. Great-grandaughter (among several great-grandchildren) of Mahtan, the foremost smith of the Noldor saving only Feanor himself. I am a jewel-smith of note, having trained under some of our most skilled artificers including, for a short time, Celebrimbor. I am studied in the lore of our folk, and of this land, and can wield a sword as well as most.
I know of pride.
Indeed, we Noldor are a prideful people. And do we not have cause to be? But for many that pride is oft tempered with other traits. We seek understanding as well as knowledge, to share our skills with others, rather than hoard them to ourselves, to give battle only in defense of our people and our lands.
So we seek for the most part, but we do not always achieve that end.
Mistakes are made, misunderstandings, and as many of us are ‘blessed’ with rather strong wills, things do go awry.
For all of this, most hold as best they can to honour, and a sense of duty.
Even so, we can be a fay and fiery folk. Tread warily among us.
~ ~ ~
I sit now in my bower, in my house. I sit near the cedar wood fire. It is needed for I feel a sense of chill come over me, though the day has been a fair-weather one. I hurt. It is for Parnard and what he faces, and for Estarfin and his unexpected and unwarranted wounding. I would that both can find it in themselves to be the best they can, yet Parnard’s folly in giving insult to Estarfin thrice cannot go unanswered.
“Friend,” they named each other until last night. And Parnard drove Estarfin into a corner with his bitter words (where nigh any sword would have failed) that he had no choice...little choice in how to respond.
If Parnard insults him to his face again, Estarfin may well slay him.
I understand. Such disrespect to any of our folk would be hard to tolerate. But this was to one known for not tolerating such actions. Was having been a ‘friend’ enough to save Parnard from wrath?
“You will heed him not, neither his words or actions. But you will not harm him?” I had pressed for the answer from Estarfin’s lips when we had stood together to watch the stars.
He remained silent, that I knew his thoughts.
Parnard had given me his word he would apologise, he would grovel and crawl to regain Estarfin’s favour. His tongue had run away with words before he thought to stop, and most bitterly did he regret that.
But….Estarfin would want truth rather than groveling.
Ai, ...Tintalle….watch over their meeting, I called out to her in spirit.
~ ~ ~
“No, Carnifinde,” My father had said firmly. “You have much freedom in this House, and before our Prince. But I must draw a line. You know well whose blood you carry. You are not to be put at such risk. Go to Caranthir himself, and he will say the same, and likely rebuke you more sternly than I.”
And what had I asked that my doting father would address me so? I had asked to take lessons in sword craft from Fearanie one of our foremost swords women, but also one known for her excessive fierceness.
“You know you have our permission and blessing to train in any skill you wish…within reason,” my father continued, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. “Your mother and I do not restrict you to those pursuits most commonly followed by the nissi, yet remember, in this house you are held as a princess. Do not dishonour me by seeking to train with that trouble-maker.”
And my mother was there, thinking and saying the same. “You have no interest in embroidery, nor any form of needlework, neither decor in the house nor flowers, yet we say naught. We have only nay-sayed your pursuit of armour-smithing because it is not where your true skills lie, rather it is where Estarfin studies. And this….have we not sought the best swords master in the north of the citadel to train you? Yet it is not enough. You are not destined to lead our armies. You are not to fight other than for sport, or in the greatest need.”
“Would you so say if I were your son?”
And there we had it.
‘Princesses’ are to be protected, to be kept safe. To be bundled into carriages if danger unsurmountable threatens. Oh most Noldor women could fight at need. Some indeed were notable commanders. Many could use well the sword. But fewer by far were the number who excelled. Was it not our neri who took up arms in times of war? (1)
My parents were to relent a little, when I returned from the time spent with my cousins on the wide plains of East Beleriand. There I improved in my riding skill beyond what I could be taught even by Prince Caranthir’s Horse Masters, and I managed to be ‘sufficient’ in the art of the bow. (Though Belegos of Gondolin was to help me further in that regard.) Yet none dared teach me more than the basics in swordcraft. Upon my return I found my father had chosen a new instructor for me. But it was not Fearanie the free-spirited, who had been removed from the guards for her insubordination.
Neither they nor I had known how late an hour it was for Thargellion. I never met the new instructor. The end was upon us. I was to meet Fearanie again though, and that after I had been taken to safety from Eregion. Then things changed somewhat.
~ ~ ~
We had spent some time riding from Imladris to the coast. A leisurely journey it was, that saw us speak ever more freely, one to the other. Things Estarfin told me that I would hold in my heart, for never would I betray his confidences. And I spoke also of matters close to me, that I came to understand myself better, as well as him. Ever he spoke openly, though cautious and guarded of matters that lay ahead of us. Indeed, we both knew what likely lay ahead. This could not be forever, as our fore-fathers had thought their lives would be. But we talked, and laughed and grew in trust of each other. It was good. I was happy. And so I hope it may continue for as long as possible.
We arrived in the outspread village of Numastaya not long past dawn. A little tired from riding, perhaps? But I think we were both looking forward to being in one place for a time. Estarfin had spent much of the Second Age dwelling at the coast, and he already knew Celondim itself, and the outlying settlements. But he knew not the houses where my Steward, Lelyar, and his wife Arnone, had moved most of my belongings and library. Numastaya lay mostly unoccupied when I set out three years past. I doubted many more folk would have moved in, though sometimes it served as a place to wait for others to gather before sailing West.
Spring was always beautiful at the coast. So many trees in blossom of white and pink. So many bushes were coming into bloom. The place smelt of the salt sea air, and of freshness and of...hope? It was with a growing sense of contentment that I rode at his side, down that slightly overgrown path to the homestead.
We headed to my house, one among five smaller buildings that made up my halls. I had hardly spent any time there, leaving the moving of records and artifacts to my Steward. I was pleasantly surprised by what I saw.
Estarfin looked around approvingly. He noticed the statue set close to the forge.
“Celebrimbor,” said I, though I suspected he knew that.
“Why not his grandfather…or great grandfather instead. I wonder?”
I smiled back as I drew Pelorion to a path lined by white trees. “I have no objection to statues of our King, or of his father, if that is what you would know. I am still of the people of Feanor.”
Dismounting, I led my mount to the small stable by the side of the house. A new stable-hand turned from grooming one of the already stabled, and looked surprised.
“Lady Danel?”
Estarfin, who had also dismounted, was following me. “I was just wondering if that statue was yours,” he said with a hint of dryness.”
I raised a brow at him, then turned my attention to the youth who had addressed me.
“Indeed. And this is my guest, Estarfin.”
Estarfin nodded in turn, but was back to looking at the houses and forge.
“Barahirn, my Lady” the stable hand replied with a bow. “I was appointed by your Steward but two years past. How may I serve?”
“For now there are two horses well-deserving of rest and some attention. Care for them well. And I shall speak with you later.”
Another nod. Barahirn by name, but not yet by nature, seemed a touch overawed by Estarfin and I. “Lady, the Steward and his wife are dwelling in Mithlond. We knew not to expect you. But the house is livable and there is food and wine…”
I held up a hand to stop any further attempts to serve. “Worry not. We shall manage.”
With a flush to his cheeks, Barahirn led Pelerion and Gilastor to the stalls.
“Less grand somewhat than your halls of old, at least what I remember of the outside of them.” Estarfin observed with a smile.
I wondered for a moment what he meant. Was he thinking of Tham Foroden in Imladris? “It is smaller by far, but I have a workshop and forge, a library and a small infirmary. It is sufficient.”
His smile spread as he shook his head. “I was thinking of your older halls. Far older.”
“Oh.”
I reminisced in turn, for my father’s halls in Thargelion had indeed been grand, in a high tower that overlooked the Prince’s gardens, and a three floored library. I found I was blushing slightly. Had I not descended somewhat from my early status? Yet I liked Numastaya.
“Come,” I pushed open the doors to the house, enjoying the scent of cedar wood and of…recently baked pastries? “Forgive the untidiness, but ..ahh….” I looked around to view a clean and orderly room, with a few logs on the fire, a large plate of food on the main table, and a nearby rack full of wine. Estarfin had followed me in, and was taking his own mental notes, no doubt.
“Make yourself at home, if you will” I said, gesturing widely. “Or look about the other buildings . No place will be closed to you.”
“So many books and parchments,” he observed. “You collect such things?”
“I have done so. Somehow I think those days are now past.”
Estarfin walked over to a bookcase, tracing the book spines with an ungloved hand. “Why have you finished with old books? Have you learned all of the secrets you wished?”
I only hesitated a moment. “Nay, but I had thought …..(What had I thought?) I had thought that as I am remaining here when most depart, there will be none to pass that knowledge to.”
He looked at me with that small sadness in his eyes again. What was it that caused the sadness? I had my suspicion.
And there was the sound of a horse cantering past the house. I looked up as Estarfin opened the door again.
“It may be your Steward has returned.”
Then he walked through the door. “Danel….”
I hurried to him. There, standing on the path in front of him, was Parnard, looking most merry. Parnard! Though we understood not how or why he was there, we were both overjoyed to see our old friend. It was a wonderful surprise.
Little did I realise what a challenge to pride I would face in the coming days. My own, no less than Estarfin’s.
1 Morgoth's Ring 'Of Laws and Customs among the Elder' p213. Christopher Tolkien edited, suggests that the women tend to practice healing more, whereas the men bare arms at need. However, there are no matters restricted to either.
