Filignil

Miruviel’s eyes widened. “What about the two scholars?” Glancing at Fearanië she added, “I myself have little time to linger beside open windows.”

It was two days after Estarfin, Danel and Parnard had ridden out of Numenstaya, heading, they believed, for the Wildwood. Exactly what the older Noldor and their Wood-elf friend were planning was beyond Fearanië’s ken. She had, of course, offered her help. She would ride with them. But they had said ‘no’ in a clear but kindly tone.

“We thought to have a celebration under the stars,” Danel said to the small assembly of elves. “Filgnil has placed food and drink on a table by the lake. This way.” She walked away, the dew-covered grass dampening her trailing skirts. Estarfin made no move to follow; instead, he fixed a heavy gaze on Parnard.

Nai elen atta siluvat rénna veryanweldo ✧ VT49/43* May two stars shine on the day of your wedding

*(VT - VinyarTengwar)

By the time Alcarinquë the Glorious* had ascended to the zenith of the velvet-indigo sky, its steady, cream-colored radiance burning like a beacon, piercing the dense web of stars that the Elves named the Burning Bridge**, Parnard glided up to the manor house. Through the windowpane he saw Filignil sitting in the kitchen alone, at work polishing several silver candlesticks with a rag dipped in a mixture of vinegar and wood ash. 

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. 

It was the gloaming time, the time of half-light when day settled into night. A reddish hue colored the western horizon as the birds quieted, tucking beaks into wings to sleep while restive frogs began their nocturnal chorus of lusty croaking.

“I have offered the ring to Tintallë for her blessing. This is Forodril,” Danel said, showing the ring to Estarfin. “The ring’s stone is made from a rare gem. It has all the colors of the northern sky inside.”