“Well met, Sogadan. Remember us?” Danel said to the Vintner of Imladris. The hour was late; the great Hall of Fire was almost empty, without the usual hum of subdued voices, and the elves’ entrance was marked by few of the Valley denizens.
“I should hope he does!” said Parnard, strolling over, evidently enjoying Sogadan’s surprised expression. “If he does, he should pour out four glasses of his best red wine straightaway.”
As wine was poured, Estarfin sat upon the marble stairs and removed his boots, knocking dried grass and a thistle out, while Marawendi marveled at the rich tapestries and furniture. Such a pleasant impression was produced upon the mind of the young elf-maid by this delightful nook of the Last Homely House, that she was quite oblivious to the stares of the Vintner.
Seeing Sogadan’s inquisitive gaze flicker over the comely maiden who was still garbed in her plain dust-stained gown of Greenwood make, discolored as an old bone, Parnard quickly volunteered, “This is Marawendi of the Greenwood, Sogadan,” and thought that he would go at once to fetch bowls of water and towels for laving their faces and hands, so that Sogadan would not start asking awkward questions about his failed betrothal to the maiden Brasseniel. Up until now, he had not given much thought as to how he would explain this to folk; great was his relief when Marawendi curtsied low to the Vintner, and in a soft, lilting voice asked her companions how long they would remain at Imladris.
“A day or two at least to let the horses rest,” replied Estarfin.
“We are in no hurry to return, are we?” said Parnard, sipping wine and smacking his lips two or three times in delight, for his wineskin had long been drained dry. “There was that business with the forge-maiden Ruineth to attend.” He glanced meaningfully at Danel. “You must seek out that one alone this time.”
“I shall do so, Parnard,” said Danel. “I wish for no more arguments. But for now, let us all enjoy our return, and the wine, the food, and the peacefulness. Any news of the Valley to share, Sogadan?”
The Vintner began speaking of the latest gossip in the Valley: one of Lord Elrond’s twin sons ran off a mountain trail in the middle of a blizzard, and got himself lost for a little while.
“What! Elladan did something stupid again, did he?” said Parnard.
“That is not news,” said Danel.
“I ne’er considered him the smarter one of the pair.”
“No, it was Elrohir who ran off and got lost,” explained Sogadan. The elves murmured and nodded knowingly: those twins were two of a kind, to be certain.
“We may have news for you,” Estarfin said to Sogadan. “Did you hear of the Men killing Elves in the Greenwood?”
“Quite possibly it was a werewolf,” said Danel.
Sogadan looked shocked, almost affronted: the Valley would be full of this, and other dark tales, before sunrise.
“Or perhaps it was the wicked Men who crossed the Mountains of Angmar through Mount Gundabad,” said Parnard, as if such a thing was perfectly normal and to be expected.
“Are they a particularly wicked type for their kind?” asked Estarfin.
“Yes, Estarfin friend. They engage in the most abominable practices -”
“All their sort are an abomination that should be met with the sword,” interrupted Danel.
“Of course, I am not speaking of the superstitious Hill-Men,” but Parnard was unable to explain further, because at that moment a fair-haired elf wearing a long pale blue tabard entered the Hall of Fire, and interrupted him with the announcement that he brought message from Lord Elrond.
“It is not good news, alas!” said the elf.
“Most news is not good news, stranger!” said Parnard, finishing his wine. “It would not be news, then, would it? Not bad, this vintage - more wine, Estarfin?”
“It is better than drinking rainwater from a dwarven basin,” said Estarfin as he held his glass out. By the sour look on his face it was apparent that Sogadan did not appreciate this remark.
The messenger drew himself up and said, “Lady Danel, Lord Elrond heard of your arrival and this news is for your ears. Alas! Lord Cirdan sent word that your abode beside Celondim was attacked -”
Parnard whirled around and cried out, “Attacked! What do you mean, ‘attacked’ - !”
“Some ten days ago, by a group of men. At least ten, it is written, but few escaped thanks to the deadly arrows of Lord Belegos.”
The colour draining from her face, Danel asked, “And what about the others we left behind? What of Filignil, Aearlinn, and Barahirn?”
The messenger sighed and bowed his head. “Barahirn, the stablehand, was trampled by a horse and gravely injured. He is said to be making a slow recovery. Filignil is not mentioned by Lord Cirdan.” Then he lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “The maiden Aearlinn was slain.”
“Aearlinn - ?” gasped Parnard. “Why, I just spoke with her not so very long ago before we left!”
“Lord Cirdan has doubled the patrols and appointed a new Captain to Celondim to investigate. My condolences to you all,” murmured the messenger, hesitating a moment, then turned on his heel and walked off.
The sad intelligence was relayed as gently as possible: but the instant the doors shut behind the herald the spell was broken. Danel seemed to be swaying slightly, and it was well that no weapons were allowed in the Hall of Fire, as the wild look in her eye suggested that she would run someone through if a sword were in her hand at that moment. Estarfin neither moved nor spoke but stood there with black fury written all over his face. In contrast, Parnard made an anguished wail, crying out in a loud voice, “Very fair she was, with pale brown hair! O! Why did we ever go away to the Greenwood?” and flung his wine glass down on the floor with such violence that it smashed to crystalline bits. Marawendi began to cry, tears filling her eyes, wetting her long lashes and rolling down her pale, pretty face.
“Where was Filignil?” cried Danel, who was now trembling with rage. “How could Men have reached deep into the Ered Luin without any patrol stopping them?”
It was Estarfin who sprung into purposeful action. “We must make preparations to leave,” he announced. “I will fetch a new sword from the armoury. We should gather provisions and ride hard on the morrow. With any luck we shall find them swiftly.”
“We will hunt them down and slay them,” vowed Danel.
“I will see to the horses - Marawendi, assist me,” said Parnard, taking the sobbing maiden by the hand, and leading her away from the great hall. “And all our journey to the Greenwood in vain! Alas! Alas! After so arduous a journey we are met with terrible news! There will be a heavy reckoning for this!” So saying he ran off at full speed, practically dragging Marawendi along behind him, and disappeared through the archway, heedless of the stares of the open-mouthed Valley folk.
