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Images of Parnard of the Greenwood, Danel and Estarfin of Thargelion, enjoying each others company and the pleasure of the beach and sea. Based upon the following:
The night had been long, and he felt exhaustion take him as he sat in the comfortable armchair. His anger had cooled, partly satisfied from the blood that he had shed, partly by the knowledge that whatever misunderstanding had led to the mortal being there must have been of his own doing, not Danel's. He smiled to himself as he closed his eyes, remembering the joy he had felt when riding with Parnard and returning blooded from their hunt. He knew that Danel was watching over him, and he welcomed her presence.
Estarfin urged Gilastor on, and he bounded forwards eagerly. Parnard followed on Swan-Hoof, the companions ready to ride through the night to find their vengeance.
Estarfin felt the brief resistance of cloth and flesh before the beautiful blade nearly bisected the dark figure. He kicked the almost-lifeless body from his sword, flicked the blade back, taking the misshapen head from the thing, then watched with fierce satisfaction as it slumped to the floor. Another wrong righted, another of their wicked race wiped clean from the spheres of Arda. He raised his crimson blade to the stars, a gesture of both reverence and defiance.
I stepped out onto the narrow path directly in front of Gilastor. With swift management, Estarfin halted the mighty warhorse a few feet from me. He met my eyes with an expression that would have feared most folk. He was furious.
Estarfin had eventually arrived, taking Norlome to the stable, and then striding over the large lawns to join Danel and Parnard overlooking the sea. He looked exhausted.
Danel smiled a warm greeting. Estarfin nodded in return.
"Where have you been, friend Estarfin?" asked Parnard, offering up an almost full wine skin.
"Working the forge. It is time I started earning my keep again."
Parnard blinked as the concept of 'earning one's keep' sank in. "Making swords or suchlike?"