In slumber, a Wood-Elf’s mind often conjures up memories of moonlit glades, and the mind of Parnard was no exception. His dreams were not of dark twisted trees of the blighted Greenwood, but of peaceful green forests filled with the smell of fresh pine and damp earth, and colorful birds darting through the leaves, singing joyful songs. In this familiar and comfortable place of repose, his spirit would wander and he would wake refreshed.
Today the wood was different. Winter had come, and the dark pine trees were laden with heavy snow, their bent branches forming a canopy over him. Pale moonlight glimmered across the drifts in dappled patches of silver. All was quiet. There was no wind, and no birdsong.
Then he heard a sound. At first it sounded like a breathy whisper, barely heard, a sound of snowflakes falling on dry leaves or the beating of a butterfly’s wings. He could not hear any distinct words, only a flowing melody, high-pitched, clear, light and sweet as the tinkling of silver bells. He listened to the music, captivated by its strange tranquility.
The shimmering bells became a hum, and as the tones twisted together a faint shape became visible. The edges of the form remained indistinct and seemed to ebb and flow. It moved with a silent grace, this phantom of music. Then the sound shifted again, and a silhouette of an elf-maid coalesced before him. She wore a long flowing white gown that sparkled with frost. Her pale skin was pearlescent and her cornflower blue eyes were large and luminous, fringed by dark lashes. Her ink-black hair was not styled as he remembered, curling around her face like the spiraling tendrils of a wild vine, but hung straight, fine and wispy, as delicate as a cobweb. It cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, and like her skin, glimmered under the moonlight. As silent as a shadow she drifted closer, seeming to float above the snow.
“Brasseniel!” he cried out. “You have returned to me! I knew you would.”
As the elf-maiden took his outstretched hand in hers, the soft, silvery glow of her form hardened and her features sharpened. Her eyes blazed with a cold, malevolent light, and her hair lifted and writhed as if in an unseen wind.
“Aaaah!” he cried, and woke up. The bedsheet was tangled around him like a bolas. His eyes darted around the room searching the shadows. There was no sound but his breathing and a high-pitched metallic ringing in his ears that faded as his heart calmed. Perhaps Brasseniel had followed him into the waking world! He felt an urge to get up and check his surroundings. There was the cherrywood table with its cup and pitcher, and the bookcase with all of the books that he had been meaning to read, but never seemed to find the time. Everything in the house seemed unchanged, yet his hand still tingled from her touch.
Hours later, a heavy sense of unease still hung over him. It was a disturbing yet beautiful dream. He cursed himself for not having the presence of mind to ask Brasseniel why she was angry with him. Ah, perhaps she would appear in his dreams again! He spent the rest of the day speculating as to where it might lead, and by mid-afternoon imagined that she had changed her mind and would marry him after all, and this was her way to tell him to return to Mirkwood. Yet she was angry. “If she were not angry, then there is much to be gained,” he told himself. “Young maidens are fickle in matters of the heart, often changing their mind because they do not know what it is they want. It seems that I have much to gain, and nothing to lose! When I see her next, I shall tell her that I loved her the very first moment I saw her, but it was a love blighted in the bud and she can count on it that she destroyed it, so that we start even, so she cannot be angry with me! Oh, to think that we could spend the rest of our lives together, if we could leave all sorrows and disappointments forever behind us, and have all our days like the ones spent in Imladris - only better!”
******
After the sponge cake was brought to the table, and the tea was poured, Danel asked, “Where is Parnard?”
“He is still asleep,” answered Marawendi.
“Well, you likely know by now that he has had a trying time.”
“He slept all day.”
“Parnard must be weary, recovering from his travails amongst the men. We shall let him sleep as long as he wants. Has he spoken with you about what happened?”
The young cook shook her head.
“Ah, he will when he is more settled and feeling more like himself. Suffice it to say, what was wrong, is wrong no more. Let your worries drift away,” she said with a soft smile.
“He may be weary, but his appetite is just as robust as it ever was.”
Danel chuckled. “His weariness has not slackened his thirst for wine, either. But I would like to speak about other matters - namely, you. I am very glad that Filignil has taken you under her wing. She is quite skillful in the kitchen.”
“Yesterday she showed me how to make pastry cream for the wedding cake.”
Danel blushed, the color in her cheeks rising slowly and deliberately, as if summoned by a long-forgotten memory. "My thanks. Estarfin and I must speak more of that soon. It has been over a year since we were betrothed, but we have had such a challenging time, and we must seek calmness first.”
She saw how the elf-maid lowered her eyes to the floor in embarrassment, and kindly added, “I fear that I am not explaining myself well, but I thank you for your thoughtfulness. Dear Marawendi, I would rather speak now of your apprenticeship, and perhaps a new friend. We have had a new arrival to Numenstaya. A young elleth arrived late yesterday, younger than you. She is named Fearanë and she is the sister of the stablemaster Barahirn. At present she seeks to learn lore, but I would not be surprised if she, too, desires to learn gemcarving. For the moment she is resting in my house, but I will find rooms for her elsewhere.
“Perhaps you two would like to board together, once you get to know each other? I know that Parnard keeps you under close guardianship for fear of danger befalling you, and it is wise, but I would prefer it if you were to share rooms with Fearanë, else she becomes lonely, or worse, bored. There is no compulsion, of course. Most folk get along well here, but you must choose your own friends.”
Marawendi bowed her head, and said that she hoped they would become fast friends. While saddened at the thought of moving out of Parnard’s house, she wished to lessen her dependence upon him, and thought, ‘Separation strengthens a true affection’, believing that if she distanced herself from Parnard, he would miss her company, and tell her, “You are like a star, and now that you are far away, you shine that much brighter to me,” or, “My love is a garden, and your absence is the soft, summer rain that makes every flower bloom more brightly in my thoughts”- or similarly grand declarations spoken by dashing elves in the romantic poems she was so fond of reading. This poetry, which she read whenever she had a spare moment, never failed to make her heart flutter.
*****
“Thank you, Lady of the Stars, for bringing us all home again,” Danel said over dinner the next day. Parnard was slouched in his usual chair, chin lowered to chest, his face half-hidden by his collar. “Why, he has fallen asleep!” she said in surprise. “Parnard, wake up!”
He opened one eye and mumbled, “What is it! Is something wrong?”
“Nay, Cousin. We were about to speak of our plans for the wedding, and how you can best help with the preparations.”
“I can think of many, many ways,” he said with a yawn, and the words had scarcely left his mouth before his head drooped. He had dozed off again.
“Parnard is a great help in certain matters,” said Danel, after she had taken a deep breath. “He is best encouraged in those.”
“Lord Parnard has not been resting well of late.” Marawendi looked down at her hands folded in her lap.
“He will recover soon enough,” said Estarfin. “Get him to sleep somewhere comfortable. The chair by the fire there is an excellent place for repose.”
“Yes, meldanya, you seem to like resting there,” Danel told him.
Marawendi shook her head. “Nay, I am the one who must sit up in a chair watching Lord Parnard sleep, as he asked.”
“He asked you to do that? Is he troubled that someone may creep up?”
“I do not know. He spoke of bells.”
“Bells?” said the two Noldor.
Marawendi nodded. “He told me, ‘The bells are ringing again!’ Then he got up, and paced back and forth for a long while, his sword drawn, then he said he wanted me to come into his bedchamber.”
Danel arched an eyebrow at this. “Oh, he did, did he?”
“Yes. He had me sit in the chair beside the window to keep guard while he slept.”
“Keep guard from what? If there is a danger we should be made aware of it,” said Estarfin.
“I do not know. Lord Parnard told me, ‘Keep sharp!’ So I did. All I saw were the treetops swaying in the wind.” Danel and Estarfin exchanged glances, and shrugged slightly at each other.
“He said to wake him at any sign of trouble. He tossed and turned, and did not seem comfortable. I put more blankets over him. Then he sat up and said there was no sleep in him because it was driven out by the bells. And then he asked me if I had seen anything. I asked him what I should have seen, and he said he did not know, only that I would know it when I saw it. What does that mean? What if they return here?” fretted Marawendi.
“Who?”
“Those evil men!”
“If they do, they will not be able to assault us without us knowing,” Estarfin told her. “The wall will halt them long enough to mount a defence.”
“Bells ring out news, celebration,” Danel spoke in a quiet murmur. “They also mean alarm. Yet the patrols pass by Numenstaya twice a day, and there has been no report of ill news.”
Noticing the maiden shiver, despite their reassurances, Danel told her, “Dear Marawendi, do not be frightened. We are ready for what may come.”
“Do not fear Men,” Estarfin said. “No more than you would fear a pack of dogs.”
Marawendi lifted her chin. “I fear nothing since you have returned home. Only - I do not like this talk of bells troubling Lord Parnard.”
“We have Filignil, Yrill and Ceuro to protect us, and, if need be, we can call upon Captain Culufinnel.”
At the mention of his brother’s name Parnard startled awake, and seeing all eyes upon him, sat up and dragged his hand over his face. “I was merely resting my eyes,” he muttered. “Pray continue, I find this conversation riveting.”
“Marawendi told us that you are troubled by the ringing of bells,” said Danel.
“It is the most extraordinary thing.”
“Are they inside your house?”
“They are inside my dreams. I do not recall dreaming of bells before. It is odd that I should start.” He did not tell them about Brasseniel. They would think him pathetic, a hopeless spurned suitor who clung to phantoms rather than face the cold hard truth. In his dreams he no longer rested under dark pine and leafy beech, but searched the snow-covered wood calling her name, lost and alone, doubt gnawing his heart, despairing at his plight, and having the strong suspicion that someone was laughing at him.
“I like the sound of bells,” Danel reflected, “but not when I do not know where it comes from.”
“What sort of bells are they? Deep bells, or twinkling bells?”
Parnard shut his eyes. Leave it to Estarfin to ask the sharpest questions, and lift the lid off the pot! “They are soft, twinkling bells, like the stars winking at me, but they are not stars, and the bells are laughter, like tiny silver bells being shaken at me, laughing a shrill, tinkling sort of laughter. And -” he hesitated.
“And -?” said the elves, leaning forward, the food on their plates ignored.
“And I sense that someone is looking at me.”
Danel gasped, Estarfin frowned, and Marawendi murmured, the tips of her ears turning beet red, “I was looking at you.”
“No, no, it was not you,” Parnard said, and opening his eyes said, “I cannot remember anything else.”
“What is this all about?” Estarfin said to Danel in Quenya.
“I am not sure,” she answered in the same language, so that the Wood-elves would not become alarmed, “but it is my belief that the sorceress that held us captive is behind this mischief! The bells’ laughter is hers; she watches him when he is most vulnerable. She might have something like a scrying mirror, or even a palantir.”
Estarfin pushed his chair back with a loud scrape and looked around the room, eyes narrowed. “She watches us? I do not see anyone,” he said, then left.
“Is someone watching you, or all of us?” Danel said to Parnard.
“I do not know. It is only a feeling - that feeling one gets when he is unaware that he is being watched and then he turns to look to see who is watching but he does not see anyone.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” said Danel. “That is often a warning.”
“A warning! Of what?”
“Of being watched. In this case, you are watched from afar, all the way from the realm of Umbar. You know who watches you. I will not say her name.”
A shadow crossed his face as he nodded. The silence in the room became heavy, filled with an unspoken, dangerous promise. It was the woman, of course! Yet another act of treacherous cunning did she work upon him; to cozen him, she had masked herself as Brasseniel! Cold rage washed over him, followed by a crushing disappointment. Parnard could say nothing at first, then he leaped from his chair and yelled, "What does that woman want from me? Will I never be free from her wicked wiles?”
The words hung in the air; Marawendi’s face went pale until it was almost as white as her apron. Her lip quivered and tears welled up in her big brown eyes. Danel rose to her feet and circled the table, drawing her into a gentle embrace. “Do not be so distressed,” she said. “There are ways to ward off that sort of thing. She is not all powerful, though much is possible from a servant of Sauron. She cannot really harm Parnard and do whatever she wants. But when he slumbers, that is when her power waxes, and then she peeks into his dreams.”
“To what end?” said Estarfin, who stood in the doorway with a spear clenched in his hand, his face grim.
“I do not have all of the answers now. I must learn more. I suspect she seeks to torment Parnard for escaping. She cannot hurt him, merely disturb his sleep - I think.”
“As if denying rest from me was not bad enough, she must also rob me of my dreams!” Parnard howled in frustration. The anger consuming him, he gripped fistfuls of his hair and pulled, as if to rip the rage right from his skull. “Marawendi cannot stay up night and day looking out the window! Oh! I have such a pain in my head!”
“If you would not shout and wrest your hair, you would not give yourself a headache,” sobbed Marawendi.
“I need to think upon this, and see what I can find,” said Danel. “There has to be something written about this kind of sorcery.”
“We can take shifts watching over you as you sleep, if that will help,” offered Estarfin. “Try sleeping under the stars.”
Danel straightened up and squared her shoulders, a fierce resolve blazing in her grey eyes. “Or we shall ride to the sea, and ask for Ulmo’s aid.”
