It was late afternoon when Gaerion, Captain of the Uinenlindë, arrived at Numenstaya. An old friend of my family in Valinor, he had come to Endor with the Host of the Valar, Vanya, and Valinorian Noldor. Unlike the vast majority of his Teler kinsfolk, he had set foot on the shore, participated in the battles, and remained. He had been tasked to bring back certain folk, if they were alive, and so willed.
I was one of them.
As matters had transpired, Gaerion had found and put aboard ships any folk that he could who were connected to Mahtan the Smith. As far as I knew, I was the only one remaining. He had said he would wait on my decision. He would not renege on his oath. So it was that he would remain, until I was ready to give him an answer. Leave, or remain forever. He had been with me in Forlond over eight years ago, when I had received a letter from Estarfin, telling me he was saddened to find I would depart without even saying farewell.(1) Gaerion had seen my reaction. He knew better than me then, that I would never depart. Yet he remained for now.
I wanted him to meet Estarfin, about whom he had heard much. I wanted Estarfin to meet one who was like family, as an uncle to me. Yet at the back of my thoughts was ever a warning that, because of the past, they would become mortal enemies.
The First Kinslaying, at Alqualonde,(2) worked both ways. Noldor had slain Teleri, and Teleri had slain Noldor. Both believed their actions were necessary. Gaerion had partaken in that struggle. He was not as one of our local elves of the Falas, he was a Kinslayer in Estarfin’s eyes, as he was in Estarfin’s. Yet I had hope that, with the passing of the Ages, with both of their love for me, we could get along, if not actually become friends? I realised it was not going to be that straightforward.
Now I had encountered Gaerion in Celondim the previous day, where he had visited to find a couple more crew members to replace those injured, while waiting for the Uinenlindë to be repaired,(3) and I had gone there with a little coin looking for gems to work with.
“That is unusual for you, my friend. Rare is it your ship has been damaged and any of your crew injured.”
“Rare indeed, Carnifindë. But something unnatural was on the Corsair ship I pursued.Something with more than a hint of the Enemy about it,” he replied.
I pressed him no further. He would tell me if and when he wanted.
In turn I told him little about Parnard and me being kidnapped. That matter was all but resolved, I believed. There was no need for Gaerion to concern himself. “Do come visit; Estarfin and I are betrothed over a year and a half, and plan to wed at Midsummer. I would be honoured for you to meet him.”
The tall Teler had laughed, seeing my happiness. “I would come and meet the one I have heard so much about. All I care about is that you are happy with him.”
I was very happy with Estarfin, of course I was. But all was not to go as smoothly as I had envisaged.
Like many of his people, Gaerion was wiry, a frame built for speed more than strength. But he was taller than most, and had the rare silver hair that some, mostly nobility, bore. He was noble, but not of the nobility, and he had reason to rue that. He was also a realist, who knew the lady whom he loved would always be out of his reach. His story had saddened me from the first I heard it, as I could not understand letting aught come between myself and the one I loved. But then she loved and had wed someone other than him.
That afternoon, I saw Gaerion riding over the bridge on a tall grey horse, and waved to him immediately. Parnard was sitting beside me on the grass, singing a song about the hawthorn blooming in the vale, and when he saw Gaerion he ended his song abruptly and rose to his feet in surprise. Estarfin had just left the house, and I beckoned him to hurry over.
“Estarfin, this is Gaerion.” I announced enthusiastically.
Gaerion dismounted as Barahirn came forward to take his horse's head. “If you are staying, I shall take her to the stable and then the paddock, sir?”
The Sea-elf nodded his thanks, and smiled. Then turned to us.
“A pleasure,” Estarfin said, appearing curious and nodding a greeting. He was a little taller than Gaerion, and broader of shoulder. He was a Noldo, after all.
“Gaerion is an old friend of my family. Originally from Alqualondë.” I thought that news would set Estarfin thinking: A survivor of Alqualondë? How and why was he in Middle Earth? while Parnard was less likely to appreciate the significance. He was more likely to be disturbed by the silver hair, I think, because it reminded him of certain haughty and ungracious elves of Imladris.
The Sea-elf looked at Estarfin with a friendly smile, though I suspected he was considering the suitability of my ‘choice’. He knew me well. He only knew Estarfin from what I had told him. Whatever he thought, I knew he would not question me. He knew how long I had waited for my present happiness. “It is good to finally meet one I have heard so much about,” he said, inclining his head respectfully.
My ‘cousin’ looked Gaerion up and down, then declared a hearty welcome, as if he had been waiting for his arrival.
“This must be Parnard,” said Gaerion, tilting his head in respect.
“Gaerion’s ship is in dry dock in Mithlond at the moment. He has some news.” I explained.
“News, eh? The good sort of news, or the other sort?” said Parnard with a sharp look at our guest.
“News of varying sorts, son of the Greenwood.”
Estarfin raised an eyebrow, and for a moment I sensed a slight chill coming from him. He controlled it almost immediately. ‘Alqualondë,’ thought I, with a small sigh.
“First I came to see if all was well. I have been at sea for some months and have only just become aware of what happened here. My condolences for the troubles, and the loss of the young elleth.” He bowed his head and placed his right hand over his heart. “And congratulations for all others being safely home.” He smiled so affectionately at me that I stepped forward and took his arm in mine. Yes, he had been a support through my long years, especially the dark ones in Eregion. Still regarding me fondly, Gaerion spoke. “This one has become almost as a daughter to me over the yeni. I would be most grieved if any harm came to her.” It had taken time, but Gaerion and I were truly family. I would be most grieved if aught harmed him.
“No harm shall come to her here,” Estarfin stated bluntly. He, too, looked as if he was assessing my old friend. “We Noldor build our walls and our strength.”
Their gazes met, both wanting the best for me. Both wondering about the other. I had mentioned Gaerion to Estarfin, but mostly in a passing manner. I had never told him fully of the Teler’s tale; of his love for my grandmother, who had chosen one of our own kind. Of his study with Mahtan, and his specialising in silver-work. Of his kindness and courage in supporting me through much of the Second Age, through till recent days. Gaerion could have sailed home many a yeni past, but he stayed while I decided. For long I had thought Estarfin slain, and so the possibility of my return was ever there. But since I found Estarfin alive….Gaerion had known he would fail to take me to Valinor with him.
“As to the news,” Gaerion broke eye contact with Estarfin, and folded his arms over his chest.
“Let’s hear it, Seagull,” said Parnard. “What is the word, bird?”
“‘Seagull?’” I was taken aback by Parnard's flippant attitude to one whom I had just introduced as a friend.
Gaerion regarded Parnard, the barest hint of humour crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I have been chasing a few Corsair ships of late,” he said.
“Men sail so near?” Estarfin frowned.
“Not a fleet, only a few solitary ships pass our coast. The Uinenlindë can outrun most, if not all. I follow them slowly.”
“Oh, really? Whereabouts?” Parnard asked with a casual, polite interest. He was on dry land; the mention of Corsair ships did not seem to concern him in the least.
“From the Southern Isles up to Forochel. I would know what they are about this far north.” The Wood-elf’s genial face clouded with worry. Gaerion continued, “They give Mithlond and the Gulf of Lune a wide berth. We have overcome slave ships a few times and relieved them of their cargo, and have freed many captured Secondborn in the North, and on the shores of Gondor, and sometimes even a few of our own folk.”
“That is the news?” Estarfin asked, sounding unimpressed.
“The news is also that one Azrazôr is on a ship travelling north, headed this way.” Gaerion likely believed we knew not of Azrazôr. But I had overheard mentions, though my knowledge was small.
“What is an ‘Azrazôr’?” asked Parnard.
“Azrazôr is a man, one of the treacherous Black Númenórians who is more ambitious than the usual ilk, which is saying a great deal. We know not how far it extends as yet, but I encountered him aboard a ship we were pursuing. He is not to be underestimated.”
“Then sink him,” Estarfin retorted.
“I have tried. It proved more difficult than I hoped. We tracked his ship as far as the Shield Isles, then the Uinenlindë was damaged while giving pursuit. It was heading south, to Umbar, we suspect. We could outrun him, outsail him, but we could not contest with bolts of fire from the sky.”
“It was headed to Umbar?” I asked hesitantly.
Gaerion nodded. “Interestingly, the Corsair’s ship belongs to an old acquaintance of mine. We have had a few encounters when I have relieved him of captured men and women, destined to be slaves.”
“Naraal…” I whispered nigh silently, wondering at the possibility. Parnard overhead me, though, and frowned.
“As soon as the Uinenlindë is ready, I am charged to sail in pursuit again. The Fleet Commander wants the ship watched, and prevented from entering our waters. I would feel better with one of our learned aboard to advise.”
I shook my head. It would not be me. “I am sorry Gaerion. I am not ready to travel again. I would be here, with my betrothed.” I did not ask why he wanted one of our Wise. I already had suspicions from the mention of bolts of fire.
“Be not sorry, Carnifindë. I would not permit you to sail. My task is as a Guardian to you, not one who leads you into danger.”
He brushed a few strands of silken silver hair from his face and said to Estarfin, “The other news concerns you, a smith of great skill, as Carnifindë tells me. Are you able to supply my crew with twelve spears within two weeks? I want them to be as well-equipped as possible.”
Estarfin thought for a moment. “Simple enough, although I will need to find some ash handles.”
“Ash trees can be found in the woods to the east,” volunteered Parnard.
Gaerion nodded. “There is a saying, ‘If you want silver worked, ask a Teler. If you want weapons or armor made, ask a Noldo.”
I was feeling tension in the air. Gaerion was polite and well meaning, but I thought he was coming across to Estarfin and Parnard as a touch arrogant. Having the Uinenlindë in dry dock was frustrating for him. My companions were less likely to understand that point. Parnard seemed not to take him at all seriously, which was unsurprising but still disappointing, and Estarfin barely spoke. Not that he was ever loquacious, but neither did he usually hold back.
“Twelve long spears and a dozen boat hooks too, if it is possible?” the Sea-elf asked again, careful and formal, the way one would address a shopkeeper. Gaerion knew about Estarfin. Indeed, he had expressed his desire to meet him several times. Surely he wasn’t taking up the ancient kindred grievance with my beloved? Nay, that was not like him.
Estarfin caught my eye for a moment, and bowed his head slightly to me. “Indeed, they shall be ready,” he then replied to Gaerion, with far more politeness than I expected. He was a Master Smith, the best in Thargelion of old, exceeding even Forodhir. He was also adept at controlling his moods, usually.
Gaerion inclined his head.
The politeness and formality felt wrong. It seemed to me that they would draw swords to continue the ages-old kindred strife, if they could.
“Lindon is under no particular threat, but there is increasing movement from the South Lands. We must keep close watch on their movements. At least until we know what they are up to.” Gaerion continued.
Estarfin turned to Parnard. “Is your brother aware of this?”
“Eagle-eyed Culufinnel? I should hope so. Captains are supposed to know about things like this.”
“Your brother?” Gaerion’s eyes widened in surprise. “ A shipmaster from Greenwood? Surely not?”
“Parnard’s brother, Culufinnel, is the Captain stationed at Celondim, not of any ship,” I explained.
“It would not do to have enemies on both sides of Numenstaya.” Estarfin narrowed his eyes.
I laid my hand over Estarfin’s. “There were only a few ships sighted, meldanya. Lord Cirdan will deal with them. And we have already dealt with most of the brigands.”
“Men multiply swiftly. There will be more.”
“And if they come this way, we shall deal with them again, no?”
There was a faint smile on Estarfin’s lips as he looked down at me. But I knew he was not happy at that moment.
Parnard said, a little too breezily for my tastes, “When next I see my brother, he shall answer for it. I will say ‘Brother, are you minding the coasts? Are they free and easy?’” He nodded, confirming his intent, then said, “While we have been conversing, the sun has sunk below the hills. Perhaps Gaerion would like some refreshment?”
Well, yes, I thought. I had been lax in my hospitality. Neither had Parnard been his usual gracious self. I needed to do something to improve matters.
“Can you stay a while?” I asked Gaerion, with a warm smile. “There is so much to speak of, and it is my wish that you three will get to know each other a little better.”
“For a short while, dear Carnifindë,” he replied. “Alas! I still have a stack of reports to write when I return to Mithlond.”
“We have had visitors a-plenty of late,” murmured Parnard, his gaze fixed blankly on the setting sun, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
Again I wondered if he was still dwelling upon Talkale’s recent unpleasant visit. I suggested that we bring wine outdoors. The stars enchanted us all, but I felt the need for a roof and four walls to contain my thoughts, and the comfy chairs beckoned.
“I am fine with sitting indoors. I see much of the sky when aboard ship,” said Gaerion as he followed me to the door of my home.
As usual, Filignil had set out the meal and was already gone before we entered the room. Another place setting was laid out, with a few plates of bread topped with savory relishes and cheese sauce, intended as a supplement to the main dishes. Somehow the housekeeper had anticipated our dinner guest. “Please, take my usual chair," I told Gaerion.
He shook his head. “My thanks, but I ate earlier, not knowing if this would be an appropriate time for my visit. I shall sit next to you, here.”
Estarfin took his usual seat opposite me and did not even look at the meal set before him, while Parnard sat down, whipping out his Dwarf-steel eating knife, and quietly sized up the meal.
“Dorwinion wine?” I offered, and seeing them all nod, I poured it from the large carafe into four crystal goblets. Filignil had put out the best crystal ware. “It is good to see you again,” I said as I raised my glass to Gaerion. The others followed suit, and we began eating.
I noticed that Gaerion was again staring at Estarfin. “You remind me of someone,” he said, then looked away.
“I do not believe we have met, though we may well have been in the same battle or two,” Estarfin said, somewhat curtly.
Gaerion shook his head. “No, you remind me of someone in the Blessed Lands.”
“Estarfin was born here,” I hastily intervened, as Parnard pushed a dish of seafood in front of me for my consideration.
“These prawns are so small,” he noted, “that they are shrimplets. The net must have been very fine. It is said, ‘the smaller the shrimp, the sweeter the flesh.’”
“My father and mother were born in the lands of the West. Perhaps you recall them?” said Estarfin pointedly.
Gaerion shook his head, “I mainly knew folk who worked or trained with Mahtan.” Then he turned to Parnard and smiled faintly. “I have sat with Danel many evenings in Forlond while she spoke of you both, and of her other friends and acquaintances in Imladris.”
“If she has told you of us, what more do you need to know?” Estarfin pushed back his chair, and for a moment I thought he would put his feet on the table again, a behavior that Parnard had unfortunately taken up. Estarfin’s better manners held sway, and he took a few sips of his wine.
Gaerion looked at him again, less intently, then he laughed. “Your own words and actions tell me more than Danel ever could. What about yourself, Parnard?”
He paused his meal, putting down his eating knife, and settled back in his chair to draw a deep breath, signaling the start of a long recounting. “I was born in a small hut, in the deepest, darkest corner of the Greenwood,” he began.
The Teler gave the Wood-elf a sideways look. It wasn’t quite what he had in mind. “I was thinking more on how you came to know each other,” he said, before Parnard could continue in this vein. “Was it during recent times in Imladris, perhaps?”
“Oh.” Parnard sipped wine then said, “Barahirn will help!”
We looked at him, puzzled.
“The most excellent thought just occurred to me! Since Barahirn will assist Estarfin with the making of the twelve spears and boat hooks that Gaerion needs, they will be ready in a trice. Barahirn is Estarfin’s new apprentice,” Parnard informed the Teler, cutting into a mushroom-filled pastry. “He will learn how to make a spear, come number five, or possibly six. What do you say, Estarfin friend? Or perhaps he is a fast learner, and will master spearmaking after forging only one or two, if he has the talent?”
Estarfin refilled his glass to the brim and nodded. “If he wishes, and has any aptitude.”
“An assistant smith, here?” said Gaerion. “That is surely a good thing, to keep the skills going through the generations. We cannot allow our craft to die out. Sadly, I have known many skillful elves who perished over the long years.”
“As have I,” Estarfin responded. His mentor, Forodhir, who fell in the Nirnaeth came to mind. “I have no intention of following them.” He drank a little more deeply from his glass.
