Parnard burst into the house. Seeing the two Noldor look up from the breakfast table in surprise, he gave a short gasp, then immediately collected himself, smoothed his hair back, and offered a casual nod in greeting.
“Cousin, your timing for meals is uncanny,” said Danel. “Filignil has prepared a pigeon pie and minced onion pudding.”
He feigned interest in the breakfast spread. “Not much to drink, is there?”
“What do you mean? There is orange juice, and here is a pot of freshly-brewed elderflower tea.”
“Orange juice,” repeated Estarfin, for emphasis. He was very fond of the stuff.
Danel smiled. “I know exactly what he wants. Let me fetch some wine. Be seated, Parnard.”
“No, no! Allow me to help,” he replied, and bustled over to the corner wine cabinet, opening it up and rattling the bottles around. “I do not see the wine I am looking for, Cousin. Let us go into the other room to find it.” Danel gave him an odd look. No wine was stored in that room, but she followed him without saying a word.
“Come closer, Danel, and look in this chest,” Parnard said once they were in the room, sitting upon the lid. He leaned over to peer through the arched doorway. Estarfin was preoccupied with his orange juice and seemed to be paying them no heed. Seizing his chance he whispered, “I met the man Naraal on the road leading from Numenstaya.”
“Naraal is here?” she gasped.
“Shhhhh!”
“If he is here, then we should tell Estarfin.”
“No, Cousin!” Parnard glanced over his shoulder again to see the big Noldo had found the bowl of boiled eggs and was slipping one from its shell. He turned back and whispered into Danel’s ear, “The man wants the mithril payment for your ring.”
“Ah, I wondered when the Umbarrim would come for that,” she said.
“Do you have it? That ‘other’ wine?”
“Indeed I do.” Lowering her voice she said, “By the way you are acting, he must still be nearby: Parnard, I must tell Estarfin.”
“No. He left instructions on where to leave the mithril. We cannot tell Estarfin he was here, not until I get my armour back. Naraal said he might know where it is, and if Estarfin learns of his visit, he will ride him down and slay him before we can find out.”
“Estarfin won’t kill him, at least, not straightaway.”
“You cannot be certain of that.” Parnard stole another glance at the breakfasting Noldor. Estarfin chewed slowly, rhythmically, humming a low note of approval before swallowing and reaching for the next egg. He won’t stop eating eggs until he’s hard-boiled from the inside out. As if in response to his thought, Estarfin paused mid-chew and looked towards him. He was wondering what was taking them so long to find a bottle of wine. “Are we running low?" he called.
“No, no. We have wine a-plenty!” Parnard sang out.
“He wants the most suitable wine, meldanya, as always,” answered Danel. She frowned at the Wood-elf. “I cannot act behind his back.”
“You are not doing anything, nor are you saying anything about the man. And do not drink too much this day!” Danel, after a mere sniff of the grape, could babble the hind legs off a donkey.
She grew firm of expression, not liking that she must hide things from her betrothed, but knowing in her heart that Parnard was right. “Very well. I shall see to it, but I shall also see to the man, if need be.”
“There is one other thing I should tell you.” Parnard paused. It was an indelicate matter, one he was loath to mention. “From what Naraal told me,” he murmured slowly, “I sense…I suspect…er, well, that he is…”
“Yes?”
“Er…he is still besotted with you.” Louder than he meant to say, he barked out, “You want two bottles, Cousin - no, three!”
Danel sighed with annoyance. “Did you not tell Naraal to go away, far, far away?”
“I told him that you had no thought of him whatsoever. But come! Estarfin has eaten almost all of the eggs.”
“I wish he would go back where he came from and never darken our door again.”
“Did you manage to find the wine?” Estarfin asked as soon as they returned.
His beloved drew out three bottles of unopened special reserve early spring wine from the corner cabinet. “This is what Parnard was seeking, and he also wished we had a bottle each. I hope it is to your taste,” she said to Estarfin.
“A bottle each? You must not wish to achieve anything this day.”
The Wood-elf waggled his head in a nondescript way of reply. His friend described the usual sort of day that he preferred, but made it seem not so preferable to admit to it. He slid into one of the high-backed chairs, rich with carving, and padded with the matchless splendor of Elven cushion making. Instead of adopting his customary languor of repose (one leg flung across the armrest) he remained upright and vigilant.
Then to his horror Danel said, “Parnard also told me something else.” He bared his teeth in a grimace, bracing for the worst. “He told me not to drink all the wine.” She was testing his nerves in that Noldorin way of hers. Passing a hand over his face, he laughed to himself, then informed Estarfin that he felt as if much had already been achieved, and it was only the early morning.
“Oh, yes,” Parnard chirped as he tucked a cloth into his collar, “for starters, the sun rose up. I consider that a major accomplishment.” He poked chicken, a biscuit, and some pickled radishes on the tip of his eating knife, and began to eat.
Danel turned the conversation elsewhere. “I should tell you, Parnard, that we have decided that we do not want many, or even any, guests visiting us - at least, unless we already know them well.”
“Too much has happened of late,” said Estarfin. “We must think of our defences.”
“I see. Are we to refuse the ancient laws of hospitality to any who may show up on our doorstep?”
“We do not turn away anyone in need, nor friends.”
“A proper guest must be invited,” Parnard opined.
“True,” said Danel. “I shall not be inviting anyone to visit for a long time. I agree with Estarfin: we must see to our defences and supplies and provisions.”
“Are the spears ready?” asked Parnard. Estarfin had been given a commission.
He shook his head. “I will need a few days. In truth, I have not started yet.”
“It must be very dull, making the same spear over and over. Do sailors use spears on boats? For combat?” he added.
“Gaerion’s crew do when at close quarters combat with another ship.”
“Then Estarfin can make spears for his crew to skewer the Corsairs.”
Estarfin smiled at the thought. Thinking to lighten his heart even further Parnard leaned close, and said that he recently heard rumour of a boat of Corsairs moored along the northernmost banks of the Lhûn River. Of course such a thing was impossible; a large war-class dromond would be unable to pass through the mouth of the Lhûn unnoticed by the wardens of Mithlond, but that did not stop town gossips from spreading nonsense to the countryfolk. “Perhaps Captain Gaerion will give chase and skewer them!” he said in delighted conclusion, his features growing sharper than ever.
Danel nodded approval. “He will if he knows. Gaerion used to tell me of pursuits at sea, and of ships sometimes ramming each other, and those who best rode the wind would have victory. He will confer with Lord Cirdan, then do what is necessary. Do not worry about Corsairs, Parnard. Gaerion has much experience with relieving the Southron ship-masters of their slaves. There are a few that he has a particular enmity for.” She glanced at Estarfin. “Remember that pesky Man, Naraal?” Parnard was mid-swallow as Danel spoke and coughed on his wine.
“Naraal is Gaerion’s nemesis,” Danel informed them. “Gaerion would capture or kill him if possible. But apart from this news of Corsairs, my mind is set on us celebrating this Midsummer. The memory of Aearlinn at this time last year still saddens me. I would have happy memories of the day again.” The two Noldor smiled at each other.
Danel was referring to the upcoming wedding, realized Parnard. “What is to be eaten at the banquet?” he asked. “Ducks and lamb?”
“Rabbit, geese, pigeons, deer, and a couple of boar.”
“That may be enough. We need a few dainties. A tender suckling pig is what we want, and I heard that Marawendi and Filignil are making a great cake as big as a wagon! Oh! There is so much to do.”
“Yes, a very busy season lies ahead: that is why I mention it now,” said Danel.
“Well, the menu, at least, is settled.” Parnard reclined back in his chair and studied the interesting shapes the shadows made as they flickered across the ceiling.
“As Estarfin has said, we should continue to look at our defences.”
Estarfin nodded at Danel. “I have read a few of the books in this place concerning stonework. We cannot afford to hire anyone for the near future. A star-watching tower is achievable; however, a fortress is out of our reach.”
“What! No Star Castle?” Parnard said, greatly disappointed. It had been his idea.
“Sadly, for now. But Cousin, our fortunes shall improve. It will take a little time.”
“I am the most patient of Elves,” sighed Parnard, “but I fear it will take me a very long time to master stonework.”
Estarfin grinned. “Maybe one day we will have the skill to build the castle ourselves.”
“I should like that,” said Danel. “A castle built by us.”
“I am no good at that sort of thing. I will make the flags, seven large, red flags, with a seven-rayed white star on each, broidered on the edges with gold and silver thread, and they will shine like stars in the wind!” Parnard announced. Danel clapped her hands and Estarfin seemed pleased.
“But for now,” said the Wood-elf, slipping his eating knife into his boot, “home is the hearthside, and the heart’s ease.” All of that hewing, and lifting, and settling! As mighty as Estarfin was, he would need at least a thousand years to lay stone upon stone, and he would not have time for anything else. Yet soon he would be married and busy with finding ways to please Danel. That was the normal course of marriage, as Parnard understood it. An elf should be free to stay at home, without any duty laid upon him, for one year after marriage, and thus bring happiness to his wife. Children would follow - although upon this last point he was uncertain. He was aware of the physical union required, but Elves did not bear children merely by that; childbearing was a deliberate act, and neither Estarfin nor Danel had voiced any desire to raise a family. The times were too uncertain, too troubling. How do Elves decide what time is best, and what do they do, once they have made up their minds? This latter question was a great mystery to him. One day, if he were so fortunate, he would find himself a wife, and discover how it was done.
