((This tale comes after Numenstaya but before A Troubled Homecoming. ))
We slept well in those fireside chairs. It did not matter that I also longed for a bath, it was so wonderful just to be home again. There was a faint patter of feet from time to time, that caused me to briefly open an eye. It was Filignil, taking away cold or old food and drink and returning with fresh cordial, juice, fruit, cold sliced meats and cheeses, and a few pastries and pies: no more searching through saddlebags for dried meat or berries for us.
I woke up later in the morning and tip-toed to my room to bathe and change. Fluffy warm towels and bottles of oils and cleansing balms were laid out on the bed; a freshly-laundered shift and one of my red silken dresses and one of green silk hung nearby. I was ready to indulge myself. The familiar feeling of washing away both trail dust and weariness after a long journey - of cleansing hair snagged by branches and cobwebs - is a return to civilization. I luxuriated in the soothing bathwater for some time. But then hunger began to call to me, and a need to see how Estarfin and Parnard fared. I donned the green dress for a change.
“It is good to see you in your own attire again,” Estarfin said in Quenya, raising his wineglass to me as he stood beside the fireplace in the main room. Having also availed himself of a hot bath, his skin was scrubbed pink, carrying the faint smell of oranges, a favored fragrance. His wild hair was somewhat tamed by the weight of water, but promised a grand display of curls once dry. He was now attired in a clean green robe and padded doublet.
I smiled. How did he manage to always coordinate so well with me? “I am glad to be wearing it again,” I replied, also in the old tongue. “It is good to see that you no longer need to wear armour.” I thought then that I would attend to his hair later in the evening.
He pushed a waiting glass of wine across the table to me, inclined his head and smiled. “A lighter, fresh wine. It is palatable this time of day.”
I raised my glass to him in turn. We should rest longer, I knew, but my mind was on all the matters I believed needed attention: Parnard, the horses, the others in Numenstaya…
“We have time,” he said, and I could almost believe he was sensing my thoughts.
A soft knock sounded on the heavy door, barely loud enough to be heard. It opened, and a pair of large brown eyes peeked in, and as soon as she saw me, the maiden hurried inside and closed the door.
“I told you we would bring them back, Marawendi,” Estarfin said to the young Wood-elf.
“Dear Marawendi, it is so good to see you again. I hope you have not been too worried?” I said, knowing that she had probably been worried nigh out of her mind, but we were back, and I did not want her dwelling on the past months. She was dressed in a simple, lavender-hued gown, her dark brown hair swept up at the sides and held in place by two combs, well-carved from a fine, white shell. She bowed deeply to us, then was almost bowled over as Parnard burst through the door.
“Cousin! You look most refreshed,” I said.
A self-satisfied grin spread across Parnard’s face as he flung the ends of an absurdly long scarf over his shoulder. It looked suspiciously like the old fringed tapestry that had once hung in the entry hall. He wore a quilted jerkin of bright sea-blue cloth that sported a number of buckles and belts which seemed to serve no purpose, and a pair of embroidered slippers with pointed toes. His black and silver hair, still wet, was brushed back into sleek waves, and gleamed in the firelight like polished obsidian.
“And you look delightful, Marawendi,” I added, once she had regained her composure. “Perhaps now that we are back, I can redress some of my earlier negligence. Please, be seated everyone. There is wine and cordial on the table, and enough food to satisfy our appetites until lunch.”
Parnard took the seat nearest the platter of cold roasted chicken, looking much more his usual self. Despite his improved appearance, a lingering unease settled over me as he surveyed the platter’s choice pieces. “Did you prepare this for us, Marawendi?” he asked.
She nodded and murmured assent as she took a seat next to him, waiting for us all to take what we wanted.
Whipping out his eating knife, Parnard began spearing chunks of cheese and fruit to pair with his chicken. “It seems Marawendi’s skill with the cookery arts has far exceeded my expectations,” he observed, and set to eating. She glanced shyly toward her fellow Wood-elf, the color of a wild rose blooming across her cheeks. I turned to Estarfin for confirmation of my thoughts, but he was busy at that moment surveying the pastries. He finally picked one, sniffed it, shrugged, then took a bite.
“Soft cheese and raspberry, Lord Estarfin. The meat pies are two kinds: pheasant and the last of the dried venison minced with red currant,” Marawendi added in a soft voice, knowing the types of food we each preferred. He nodded his thanks, and took another pastry after he finished the first. He liked her. I believe he felt compassion for her. She was very young and far from home, with only Parnard who understood her ways. Estarfin and I would help her settle in as much as we could, as would Filignil. With a wave of my hand, I urged Marawendi to make her selection from the platter before I took my own portion. She shook her head and said she had tasted enough while she was cooking, but she poured a glass of apple juice.
“I know I keep saying it, but it is very good to be back home,” I began, taking up my own knife to select some cheese and fruit. “We also have much work to do in order to catch up on our plans.”
Estarfin nodded, likely thinking of the pile of steel awaiting him in the forge. Parnard stopped eating, and looked questioningly at me, that for an instant a chill ran down my spine. I shook my head, and the moment passed.
“But first I would speak of you, Marawendi. My absence has meant you have learned naught of the arts I promised to teach, but I hear from Filignil that she is very impressed with your work in the kitchen. Coming from her, that is praise indeed.”
Parnard declared everything was seasoned and cooked to utter perfection, then loosened his long scarf, and helped himself to seconds.
Marawendi bowed her head and folded her hands in her lap. The wild rose blush returned to her cheeks.
“To that end, and unless you wish it not, I would have you train with Filignil three days a week. As an assistant to start with, but she is willing to teach you more complicated skills.”
“I shall do as you command, Lady Danel,” Marawendi said.
“Not as I command; as you wish,” I clarified. “I would not recommend something to you I did not approve of. The choice is yours alone.”
Estarfin sliced off another hunk of brisket. “This is pleasing. It is almost sweet in taste.”
“It is a special marinade that Filignil taught me, Lord Estarfin,” Marawendi replied, her voice gaining a little more strength.
I gave her a knowing smile. ‘We may not be your family in the Greenwood, but we can still become friends, young one,’ I thought. “Then it is settled. You shall learn from Filignil three days a week, and study Lore and History with me for two days. It will not be a test of your knowledge, but to equip you with the understanding of all our kind, and the main events that shaped us as a people. The rest of the time you are free to do as you will. I am sure Barahirn will teach you more about horses and riding, if it seems good to you.”
She looked up, her gaze still timid. “But will you still teach me jewellry-making, Lady Danel?” she asked plaintively.
Good, I thought. That was more like it. “Of course. Though that may have to wait a month or two, until I am certain of what materials I have, and have purchased anything we need. A little more patience, and you shall learn of the jewelcraft of the Noldor, which is beyond compare.”
A flash of radiant joy lit up her face, and she seemed less a lost child and more the young elleth she almost was. Then she lowered her eyes, so all that was seen of them was her long, dark lashes. In time, she would become who she desired to be. We would give her every opportunity.
Later that afternoon I went to visit Pelorian, and to see if Iavas was settling in with the other horses. The day was not a fair one, and heavy grey clouds threatened snow, so the horses were stabled. Barahirn was tending to them in stablemaster fashion, which involved a lot of soft talk, brushing, and a few treats. He had a young, black-haired nis with him. It turned out she was his sister, Fearanë, sent to us with a plea to help her learn more of our culture and history. Barahirn had given his family in Forlond such a good report of us, that they had no doubt where their inquisitive daughter should study, if we would accept her. I said I would have to see what Estarfin and Parnard thought, but I suspected they would not object. And I had a thought developing in my mind that the youngster could aid us in a certain situation. I told her she could stay in my house that night, on the upper floor, but I would find something permanent the following day. She was quiet, but unlike Marawendi, she seemed very self-assured.
Pelorian was delighted to see me. She came straight over after I had finished speaking with Fearanë, and nuzzled me in a welcoming manner. I put my arms around her neck and hugged her.
“You look full of life, my old friend. May it be that tomorrow is a brighter day, and we can go for a short ride at least.”
There was no remaining sign of her injury. Swan-Hoof, Parnard’s small black mare, neighed, and wanted a welcome, too. Iavas was asleep on his feet, standing by Norlomë, Estarfin’s horse. Another concern seemed sorted. Save for that niggling feeling regarding Parnard, our homecoming was going well.
(Picture: There is something the matter with Parnard. )
