We Noldor are oft associated with Fire. True enough, we are a fiery folk, some little less than our King of old. Spirit of Fire, he. Spirits of fire many of the rest of us. But fire is two sided, both creative and destructive. And some adhere more to one facet than the other.
Best of all are those who achieve a balance, I deem. For something has sometimes to be destroyed to be built anew, and in more serviceable form, We live. We learn. We adapt as best we can. But sometimes we need to stoke the flames a little more to remember who we really are.
I had been looking at the old halls on the hill. Deserted for some time now, they had belonged to a family who had made a living supplying seeing glasses to the mariners, and who had developed further the Falathrim method of seeking true north by a stone from the stars. Their story fascinated me. They had obviously enjoyed a good life here. It seemed they had only taken ship into the West after talk of the Necromancer in Mirkwood started spreading. Their children’s children had children. They would not see them grow to give battle against a Dark Lord, should the rumours come to fruition. So they sought the ultimate refuge of our kind. They sought peace in Valinor.
And at that time my grandmother was in a search for more places to store her growing library and artifacts. She had given them some of her collection, the works they desired, some jewellry. A sword. There was not much that any of us needed to take with us to the Undying Lands.
I had inherited the main Hall as well as the smaller ones. But it needed some work, should I wish it used again.
I was left with three servants to aid me sort out the situation.
The most capable Filignil was a Nolde of some discipline, and came well recommended as housekeeper and cook.
Fenion was a blacksmith of but a little over five hundred years. Also with Noldor blood, but mixed with the blood of the Falas. He aided Barahion with the care of the horses, while Barahion himself was a worker in wood. So it was between us that we could cover most necessary skills.
Our first task was the clean and restore the large kitchen. I had in mind Parnard’s hoped for midsummer feast, and knew he struggled with the meat preparation in my small house. I could envisage him now, having his own domain here, to make preparations as he wished. I had already told Filignil she was to assist him where she could. She had made one of her ‘lemon sucking’ faces, but as she did that frequently I paid little heed. The adjacent smaller hall I envisaged as a place for a buffet, set regularly for breakfast, and irregularly for festivals.
The main hall was something I had pondered on since Estarfin and I had first arrived. Though he had not asked after such, taking himself off to Celondim or the coast instead, I had thought it good that he had a space of his own. Somewhere he could be away from Parnard and I when he wished. While Parnard had the run of the Halls and had been offered any one he wanted, Estarfin used but a small upstair room when not outdoors. When I noticed the old design of spirits of fire on the main furnace in the Hall, my mind was made up. I wondered if he would remember too? Not all used that motif of course, but it had been popular in the Palace, when I was young.
Now I had been pondering if that hall may be a suitable place for him to store his armour and weaponry, should he ever decide to bring more from Imladris, when Parnard entered.
With Gilastor gone, we were in a bit of a predicament. I had known the horse was tired, having already carried Estarfin to Mithlond and back, but I had not thought he would just walk home. Swann-hoof would not have been able to carry Estarfin and Parnard, so of need he would have to ride on Pelorian with me, or walk home himself. I would not have the latter.
I spoke softly to my mare, and to his credit Estarfin also thanked her in advance. She snorted loudly and tossed her head. I mounted, and moved to the front of the saddle, letting free a stirrup so Estarfin could climb up behind me. Did it not feel strange to me, that he, of all folk, was riding so? But an accomplished rider was he, that there was no need for him to steady himself by holding onto me. So we rode down the hillside to the brigand’s camp a short time after Parnard departed
The dawn was brightening into a fine morning, the deeds we had done left at the top of the hill, that we were in a more carefree mood. Happy, aye. I felt we were both so minded. Then there was the noise of rustling from the edge of the forest. We turned as one, both hearing and seeing the form watching us. And Pelorian put a foot wrong that I slid to one side, and Estarfin placed a hand about my waist to steady me.
“A Halfling,” he said. “Thinking himself well hidden, and beyond our range of hearing and vision.”
“They can be quite stealthy, these Hobbits, I observed.
“To the likes of men, perhaps,” he replied.
We moved on at a canter. He did not remove his hand.
“Oh, what a fine Mansion,” Parnard said, as the main doors swung closed behind him. It was his first time in that hall, so I was not surprised he was impressed.
“It used to be, Parnard, And I intend it to be so again. Cook, Filignil that is, has been helping me on making this hall our kitchen and pantry. The one in the house is too small for any major celebration.
The Wood Elf helped himself to a slice of recently baked bread, munching on it approvingly.
“Look at all her cookery books,” he said, pointing to the large, filled, bookcase. He walked over to closer observe the titles and run a finger across the spines.
“She has quite a collection,” I commented. “Far more books and individual recipes in her own room. She even has some more unusual ones from the Golden Wood.”
“Any from The Greenwood?” Parnard licked his fingers.
I shook my head. “Not that I know of. But I have not read all. She usually worked among Noldor only. There are a few Lembas recipes from Ladies long departed that she keeps closely guarded.”
Parnard had wandered from the table to the side room. “This may make a pleasant dining room, if we brighten it a little?”
“A table here” I gestured along the wall, “and but a few chairs?” I was aware the room was far from the banqueting hall I was hoping Estarfin would accept. “I doubt we shall have many guests in this nigh forsaken place….but you never know.”
“We could fit thirty in here,” Parnard commented hopefully, brushing back hair from his eyes.
I was still unsure any would visit after my poor behavior the week before. But who could tell. The others here were also Noldor, so may have understood.
“I am afraid I may have stunted our social circle, Parnard,” I admitted. He just smiled, and followed me behind the screen into the main hall. I had only earlier that day made a start on cleaning it.
“I thought this room may do as Estarfin’s armoury over time?” I stretched out my hands and spun on my heels, gesturing to how much room there was. “Not that he has much with him at the moment, but at some point he may wish to bring some more here from Imladris. Or just make some more pieces. I want him to have space where he can get away from us when he wishes.”
“How many weapons do you think he has?”
“I know not, Parnard, but I imagine quite a few.”
There was a thoughtful look on Parnard’s face, as he raised a hand to his chin. “I may have cleared out a lot of weapons in his dwellings in Imladris. To make space to walk, you understand.”
“You threw out some of Estarfin’s weapons? Then let us make sure he is in a good mood when he finds out.”
Parnard made a small laugh. “Nay lady, I cleared them to his armoury there. I would not throw weapons out.
In truth my aim was for Estarfin to have space for whatever he wished, be that weapons, armour, trophies. I would that he did not live in a hovel with a forge if he did not have to.
My companion had spotted the main furnace, and walked over to it.”Is this a shrine of sorts?” he asked, closer to the truth than many would be.
“A shrine to Fire?” He pointed to the moving flame painted on the surface, and the small long tailed lizard in the flame.
“It’s a symbol I remember from my old home,” I moved to pick up a poker and stir the flames a little. “See the lizard? They can live in the flames even as we supposedly can.
Parnard scratched his head. “Live in fire? Yet you are burned by flame just like the rest of us.”
“Indeed, but flames are our comfort and defense, but also sometimes our doom, as you likely know.”
The wood elf nodded his head. “The matter with the vow. I remember what you told me.
“What was done, was done.” I wanted to move on from that reference, too close in its outreach that it could still scorch me. “At the end of the day my people are crafters more than destroyers.” Then I thought of a different track. “Is the green cloak finished for me? You know I will no longer wear red when riding out any distance.” I felt merry at the thought, for once my willfulness had been set aside, I saw the sense in it.
“Oh, I meant to tell you. It is almost finished. I have had so much to do, what with the salting and the dressing down….but I shall finish it with all haste then.” Parnard made an apologetic smile and bobbed his head. He had no need to apologise. I knew he had been busy.
“For Midsummer’s, are we going to ride out to feast, or remain here?” he continued.
“I do not mind. As long as we have a good view of the stars.”
There was the sound of the main doors to the hall being pushed open, then let shut loudly.
I turned. Maybe Filignil…or Estarfin?
The ‘loud’ suggested Estarfin.
Parnard jumped, his concentration on the celebration disturbed. “Who is that?” he called. Then Estarfin walked into the main hall.
“Oh, it is Friend Estarfin,” Parnard announced with a small laugh.
I smiled a greeting to him.”Well met.”
He nodded briefly. “It is hard to find you sometimes, among so many fine houses.”
“You are not used to sharing a horse with another.” he said.
“And you are?”
I was not used to sharing a horse with *him*. The ride that far had seen me shuffling between sitting as straight as I could, and leaning back against him, which was not the most comfortable as we were both wearing armour, albeit light.
“In some situations, at the edge of a battle, the sight of a friend on a horse can be most welcome. There have been times I have avoided injury by accepting a place on another’s horse, and where I have offered such aid in turn.” he informed me.
“Any advice then?”
“Do not wriggle around so much. You will not fall. I have you. Nor will I fall and pull you off.”
There was a hint of humour in his voice. I thought he was enjoying my predicament as well as the day’s work.
“I shall endeavour to be a more steadfast rider then. Though we could swap positions if it is preferable to you?”
“I am most comfortable,” he replied, tightening his hold of me just a little. “There, worry not.”
