The roads were not muddy, to Parnard's relief, as he would not have his new cloak or armour splashed, and many brilliant lamps cast a silver glow upon the elves as they traveled to the market town of Celondim. As they entered the town-gate in the morning twilight, Danel spoke, breaking their amiable silence, and said to Parnard, “Cousin, that was a pleasant enough ride.” Of the stablemaster they inquired where the Captain Culufinnel could be found; to this the stablemaster said he did not know.
The streets of the sleepy town were mostly empty. A cool breeze was blowing off the water and several elves were busy at the docks, repairing nets and stocking their boats with preparations for the day’s haul. “Well I see no sign of this new Captain. Perhaps he is still abed,” said Parnard. “I will find the knave,” he muttered, and strolling over to the fishermen, entered into conversation with them and stood there gossiping for a long time, before coming back finally to report that the captain was away on patrol, but would return in an hour or so.
Danel said, “We are early astir and must wait for folk to rouse and head to market. I brought all of the jewelry that was left - a few shell-inlaid bracelets, some ruby rings, and a necklace with starfire gems." She patted the pouch strapped to her belt.
“They should fetch good prices. Jewelry is valued more than swords or spears here,” said Parnard, thinking to himself, unless you are a great blond idiot of a captain.
They climbed the winding cobble-paved path, pausing along the way at the bridge leading to the shrine of Tintallë, where the myrtle trees flowered pink and fragrant, shading verdant gardens still fresh despite the lateness of the summer season. Continuing on at a leisurely pace, they eventually reached the center of the town with its capacious forge. There boat-carpenters and blacksmiths gathered ere the sun rose high enough to make the heat from the forge oppressive. Hesitant to disturb the toiling elves, they decided that it would be wiser to watch and wait patiently for the returning patrol, and sat upon a low wall that overlooked the road.
“I think Duillond is better for supplies and wine, but our healer friend knows many folk here. Curumaito can perhaps send some business our way,” said Danel.
Parnard arranged his snowy white cloak in a way so that it was displayed to full advantage, and said, “Do I look in order, Danel?” He tugged irritably at his chestplate. “It is so rigid,” he complained. “Is the armour lying where it needs to lie?”
Danel cast an appraising eye over her friend’s appearance. “It looks excellent, Cousin. After one or two battles it shall feel like a second skin. You have had little chance to wear it.”
Parnard dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Do not say so in front of Culufinnel.”
“I do not look forward to speaking with that pale imitation of you: he is lacking in honour and humour.”
“Yes, very seriously does he swagger and carry his nose high,” he said, casually looking around as he spoke to ensure no one was listening. “Then I shall speak with him in private, if you think it best.”
“I think so. He makes me, oh, how shall I say it? Annoyed! Annoyed at what he did to you: he has treated my cousin very ill. Estarfin likes him not either.”
“Then why does he have me beg my brother for a guard tower!”
She clenched her small fists. “Because we need that tower, Parnard. And who will speak more reasonably to him? You, or Estarfin?”
“Friend Estarfin can be very persuasive,” said Parnard. She burst out laughing, so he quickly added, “but I will have a word with the Captain, alone, when he returns. I am not affrighted.”
*****
Parnard removed the helm with its high white plume that fell gracefully down to his waist, and Culufinnel looked him over, curious to know how his brother had managed to get such a fine suit of armour with coat of mail and greaves of cunningly forged steel, chased all over with silver vines and leaves, and said, “So you have finally come to your senses and wish for an officership: is your self-proclaimed title of 'High Lord' not lofty enough?”
An awkwardly long pause followed. If Culufinnel had not said these unkind words, and had welcomed him more courteously and heartily, as a brother should, Parnard might have recalled the days of his childhood, when there was no estrangement between them, when Culufinnel would return home to visit, and during these times he would play the lute and share tales of his life as a footsoldier of Mirkwood, hoping to inspire his younger brother to follow in his footsteps, and join the army when he was of age. There, he hoped Parnard's waywardness could be tempered, and he would find purpose in life other than seeking frivolity, drink, and dancing.
Culufinnel would speak to him at length, urging him to leave off all his wild courses, and instead absorb qualities that he considered important, such as industriousness, perseverance, tenacity, and so on, and in short, become more like himself. Yet to his surprise, Parnard was not, like other elves, awed by his military skill and leadership (for he had quickly risen through the ranks and gained the support of many high-ranked officers) and for a time Culufinnel was much ashamed to admit to having such a brother, and felt real sorrow for his uncertain fate. This made him even more eager to see Parnard settle down and become an upright, sober elf, if he could not be a soldier, which seemed more and more unlikely as the centuries passed.
All his lectures were of no use: Parnard was not to be kept either from idleness or folly, until, increasingly frustrated by his brother’s attempts to correct him, he quitted Mirkwood, and after wandering alone through the wilds for a time, fell in with a group of quarrelsome Noldor. Then Culufinnel was left with sinking doubts as to how a person like Parnard, with his head way up in the clouds, would fare in the darkening world.
Culufinnel spoke again. “It has been too long, brother, since we parted ways,” he said, chill formality in his voice.
“It is no use to be angry with me. You know I always take my own course,” replied Parnard, quietly.
“I am not angry. It is only that I wish you would take a wiser and a better one.”
Still barking up that tree, are you, you old dog? thought Parnard. Danel was right! His brother did seem as if he was jealous of him, but of what, exactly, he did not know, and Danel could not tell him, other than to say that it was because his nature was more friendly and convivial than his brother’s. Could he help it if he was such a jolly, fun-loving fellow, and a favorite of several powerful nobles of the Golodhrim? That was bound to incite envy. Parnard smiled. “Ah, you may look surprised! There is no accounting for the tastes and fancies of the Noldor, but they must be named the Wise Elves for good reason,” then he laughed, and said, “What an uncommon delight it must be to you, dear brother, to see me appareled in such martial splendor!”
Culufinnel frowned. “Do not make light of such a serious thing! It is distressful to see that you have left Mirkwood so soon again. How is Mother?”
Parnard fumbled with the helm, fingers nervously twitching at its crest of feathers. “I cannot say for certain. I did not have much time to visit. I was there, there on business -”
“Yes. It just so happened that a letter arrived yesterday from Captain Brethenel,” said Culufinnel.
Parnard staggered back a little in surprise. “Oh? Well I suppose you know all about it, and wish to tell me what you think!” he said with a fierce bitterness.
“Captain Brethenel did tell me everything,” replied Culufinnel with perfect calm. “It is not for me to give an opinion on this matter; however, I will say that I was unsurprised to hear your suit came to nothing, as it never stood a chance. I meant to advise you from pursuing Brasseniel's hand, and so save you needless pain, but knowing that you would go your own way in the end, I did not. I wish - I really say this in all good faith - that you would limit your fascinations to that which is within your grasp. Find a proper love, some simple-hearted maid who will overlook your faults, settle down, and take up a trade - all excellent advice Father gave you, long ago.”
Parnard had, for once, the good sense to be silent, and stood there quite dejected in mind. He saw himself back at the rude barracks at which he was stationed some five hundred-odd years ago, moving stealthily to take out the small book he stashed underneath his straw mattress, only to see it clutched in his golden-haired brother’s beefy hand. He had kept the secret journal for many months, for without the work of his pen there was little else for him to do, and it unburdened his heart to pour out its turmoil upon the pages. Perhaps he deplored the hours he spent writing down his heart’s secrets in the little book, now lost for good, it seemed.
Culufinnel continued, “Since my appointment I have worked most earnestly, first visiting all the land around. There are some gaps in the fencing. We have been gathering lumber. I have already begun overseeing the renovations of one of the abandoned lighthouses, and when it is complete, it will become the newest guard post.”
This shook Parnard’s thought from its dark musings, and he burst out, “That is precisely why I am here, brother! There was an attack upon our home! Folk were maimed and killed, our house was damaged by fire, and our possessions taken by a plundering mob of Men - where they are now no one seems to know - the Men, I mean.”
“So Curumaito, one of the villagers, told me. He seems to know a great deal of the goings-on here. It was fortunate that you were away with your friends when the attack occurred.”
“Please - please, you must help us,” said Parnard, forcing the words out, and hating himself for begging.
“I am very glad that you have come to me, but what can I do? Perhaps it is a sign for your friends to sail without further delay, and not risk another terrible assault.”
“They refuse to sail.” And then Parnard told his brother what he wished to hear, something that Culufinnel himself once told him, long, long ago: “If we sailed we would be forsaking our duty to inspire hope and valour in the hearts of all the Free Peoples: we must stay and fight.”
“Fight! Yes,” said Culufinnel, his eyes shining with a trace of amazement as he considered it possible that one of his lessons might have sunk into Parnard's wine-soaked brain and taken root. “It is probable that the Men who attacked you will attack again: you must be ready for any eventuality. Tell me, how may the Captain of Celondim assist?”
