“I was hoping to drag Naergon out of his musings, but I haven’t seen him all day,” Earcalie said. “He has moved here as well. Waiting to make his mind up about sailing. You do remember him?”
We all turned to glance at her. She had brought up a topic I was keen to ask about. Of course I remembered Naergon! I nodded keenly to her.
“Of course. It is a shame he has not come with you. Another time, perhaps?”
“Naergon: that is a name I have not heard spoken for some time,” said Parnard, lying back on his elbow.
“Many things changed in a very short time,” Earcalie was looking at the dish of strawberries, then helped herself to some.
“Estarfin would be pleased to see another of the Order of Hammers,” said Parnard.
“Yes, I believe so. He was involved in some of the same actions as Naergon.” The direction of the conversation was beginning to sit ill with me.
“I will drag him out of his sad songs sooner or later,” Earcalie laughed.
“How does he fare under Lord Veryacano’s command?” asked Parnard.
“Naergon quit the Hammers,” Earcalie replied without hesitation, “and Imladris altogether.”
Parnard lowered his glass, surprised.
I reached to take some cheese, butter and bread, as Hinglas joined the conversation again.
“He was involved in that business in Dunland, was he not?”
Now I knew that Hingalas had been in Imladris for several months around that time. Of course he would be familiar with that part of the search for Lord Anglachelm. But I was reluctant to hear more on a matter that had given me much heart-searching. Parnard had been there too, at the trial. He also knew. Indeed, he spoke up.
“I was loath to mention it, but it seems everyone here knows of that time, what he did.”
I lowered my head, closing my eyes for a moment. I knew what Naergon had been dragged into. I knew of Estarfin’s part in the dark act. Looking at the others again I saw that Parnard was looking down the road, towards the ridge, and the one guarding it.
“Please…” I whispered.
“Yes, I remember the trial as well. Naergon was definitely there,” Hingalas spoke up, oblivious to my pain on the matter. I could not help it. I knew my expression was darkening with sorrow.
“Why does the talk always drift back to Men? Do we not have anything else to talk about besides the Secondborn?” said Parnard. Or rope?” He added, darting a glance at Hingalas.
The rope maker did not hear that remark, being occupied with looking around for a clean glass. Thankfully Earcalie took the bait, and tried to change the subject. “And what have you all been doing, before this mess happened?” she asked.
I took up a glass and handed it to Hingalas.
“Thank you, my Lady.” He poured himself a glass of wine, then put the bottle back on the blanket.
“Well we spent some time in Mithlond, and celebrated last Summer and Autumn, but we recently returned from a trip to Mirkwood,” I volunteered, looking to Parnard to see if that topic was acceptable. He was slowly sipping wine, eyes turned up to the darkening sky.
“I have heard that it is a terrible, dark place. Is it so?” Hingalas asked.
“There are beautiful parts, Hingalas,” I replied. “The Halls of King Thranduil are magnificent.”
“It is dark, and terrible, in places,” said Parnard.
Earcalie’s eyes narrowed. “So it is said. I haven’t been on the other side of the Hithaeglir yet but …when I do, it is one of the places I want to see.”
“Perhaps the beautiful parts are the best to visit?” Hingalas suggested.
I nodded in agreement with Hingalas, recalling our recent journey, and the previous one Estarfin and I had undertaken almost two years past. “Felegoth is lovely, but Loeglond is my favourite place. It is on the edge of the forest, but the buildings are artfully formed, and it is not underground. The Raft Elves there are generally simpler folk, but approachable.”
“You cannot travel there now,” said Parnard, with the air of an experienced traveller. “The roads are dangerous. All manner of wild beasts will rush at you to trample you down.”
Earcalie made a small grin. “Oh…so just like a patrol in the Trollshaws?”
I considered her words a moment. “Worse, I think. There is some ancient evil stirring there again. We found two slain Mirkwood guards.”
“How terrible,” Hingalas was looking a touch concerned again.
“It was not the best start to our visit,” I replied.
Parnard agreed, saying, “Two dead, right there on the road, and all the wine jars smashed.”
Earcalie sat down on the rug. “Ugh…alright, if you say so. I’ll go to see other places first.”
I smiled reassuringly to her, though I was partly reassuring myself. “The Mirkwood Guards will have all in hand soon enough. They are most competent. Just give them a year or so.”
“Perhaps if you were to go up and around the tip of the wood, you could avoid the forest?” suggested Parnard.
“I might as well skip it altogether then, and go to…Lorien instead, or to Gondor.”
“Gondor is half-a-world away, surely. Why travel so far?” Hingalas likely did not as yet understand such ideas as traveling far and wide.
Leaning forward, Earcalie responded with a look of excitement in her eyes. “Because I want to do things, and see places before sailing. There is still so much I have yet to experience.”
I nodded slowly with understanding. “There will be no return from Valinor once any of us leave. We must make the most of these lands while we remain. We must choose wisely.”
“Yet depart we must, in time,” Hingalas drank more of his wine.
“Perhaps…”
“But that time is not now though, eh?” he added.
I looked up for a moment at the distant figure on the ridge. ‘For me, that time will never come,’ I thought. But I said naught aloud.
“For now though, I will help escort the caravans,” said Earcalie.
Hingalas smiled at us all. “You must bring your finest flax to Lord Cirdan,” he said to her. “We shall put it to good use.” Then he gestured to me with his wine glass.
I noticed Earcalie staring at him. “If I bring a rope made of Hithlain…?”
“It is a fine rope, to be sure.” Hingalas’s eyes shone brightly again.
Earcalie appeared to be holding back a chuckle.
“But often it is thin,” Hingalas continued. “I think perhaps it is hard to make, so only a little can be made? But we oft need rope as thick as a wrist, or leg, even! Can you believe that?”
“Oh, I can,” said Parnard. He lounged back against the grass, seemingly resigned to the conversational turn, and drank down wine as if it were water.
“Sometimes, elves who sail leave some of their possessions to be used by others who stay. There are many kinds of rope I have seen on the docks.”
Hingalas looked at Earcalie. “What kind?”
I flashed a glance at Parnard. He was dragging a hand over his face.
“Hmm…from hithlain to rough thread to linen, silks even, fibers…” Earcalie replied, seeming to warm to the discussion.
Hingalas moved closer to her, so he did not miss any of the details.
Earcalie grinned. And I wondered what her sharp mind was planning.
“Do you know that some kinds of algae are also resistant enough to be used as rope?” she added with a straight face. “Deep, deeep under the sea.”
Parnard stabbed a piece of ham and a pear with his eating knife. “Al-jay,” he said with a shudder, “a slimy, nasty green stuff that gets in the hair whilst swimming.”
Hingalas’s eyes widened. “Truly?” he exclaimed. “Such a rope would not corrode and perish in the salt spray of the sea! That would be a marvel indeed.”
“And some say,” Earcalie lowered her voice to a hush, “Uinen herself gifts this very special rope to the most worthy.” She took a drink from her glass to hide a snort.
“Such could be more useful than even metal rope,” I said, then felt ashamed for contributing.
“Without doubt, without doubt.” Hingalas smiled.
“Then Hingalas must get some of this special stuff and make a rope! Where to find this Al-jay?” said Parnard.
“Al-gae,” Earcalie corrected. “Deep under the sea, where they grow in long filaments.”
“Al-jay,” Parnard repeated, slowly and loudly, enunciating each syllable.
Earcalie shook her head. “Algae. Gaeruil. Seaweed.”
Hingalas was thinking ahead. “It would need neither oiling, or polishing…Would it need to be kept wet? Would it become brittle? I do not understand why Lord Cirdan has not spoken of this with me before?” He looked a little hurt, but put on a brave face.
“I believe Lord Cirdan seems great promise in your development of metal rope, Hingalas. One task is enough.” I tried to make amends for my earlier encouragement, and in truth Cirdan did value Hingalas’s discoveries highly.
“Perhaps Lord Cirdan did not know anything about it,” said Parnard, and gasped in astonishment at his own comment.
Hingalas suddenly stuffed the rest of his chicken into his mouth and jumped to his feet.
“Hingalas?” I asked, concerned.
“Is it special metal? Is it mithril?” asked Earcalie.
“S…l Ish…m..ll…” Hingalas mumbled with a mouthful of chicken. He coughed discreetly.
“Squish it?” said Parnard, puzzled as Hingalas tried to chew faster. “What was that rope invention of yours about, anyway?” said the Wood-elf, tapping a finger against his temple.
“Apologies. Steel, twisted steel,” Hingalas managed to say.
“I remember now! It is a steel rope that needs oil like a plant needs water, but it must be showered with oil every hour, it seems,” Parnard said, smiling as he recalled Hingalas’s oily vigil tending to his special steel rope.
“Steel?” exclaimed Earcalie. “Why would you need any kind of rope then, if you can make one out of steel? It would be so much more resistant.”
“We thought to coat it in tar…” Hingalas replied. “The salt air … it degrades it so swiftly. But this algae rope? it might be what we have been searching for. Think of what we could achieve with such a thing.”
Parnard and I looked at each other. I suppose we were out of ideas just then.
“Well, I haven’t seen it myself. It is a rumour the sailors like to tell,” Earcalie explained.
But Hingalas was set on action. He picked up his cloak and put it on. “Indeed, indeed,” he said.
“Where are you setting off, friend Hingalas?” said Parnard.
Hingalas made a deep bow. “I must return and speak with my Lord at once.”
“Oh, but of course. Please return for the Autumn Festival, if you can.”
I felt saddened by Hingalas’s departure, but it would be pointless trying to dissuade him while he had rope in his thoughts. “You are welcome here anytime you care to visit, Hingalas, “ I rose to my feet and inclined my head.”
Hingalas bowed again. “Thank you for your hospitality. If you need any assistance from those wicked men be sure to contact the new Captain of Celondim.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Nice to have met you, Lord of the Rope,” Earcalie smiled and waved farewell.
And then he was away, walking towards the barricades rather than the opening to the bridge.
Earcalie laughed as he climbed over the barricades and through the ditch.
“Will we lose Hingalas to the Sea?” pondered Parnard, helping himself to more wine and then giving a final wave. “He will try to dive deep, methinks…”
I waved too, and also to Estarfin who was walking towards us, having finished his watch. The two passed, speaking for but a moment, both likely eager to reach their destination.
“He is so kind and thoughtful,” I remarked to Parnard. “The world would be a poorer place without him.”
