Parnard

They had planned to hunt for boar or deer that day. There would be a need for food that would last until midsummer at the least. A boar hunt? That was before they came across a small surprise on the edge of the Halfling's lands. 

Danel watched as Parnard dived under the water and came again to the surface in the middle of the Huntsman's belt. It was too much for her. She too would swim in the stars reflected in the lake.

Danel and Parnard look over the valley from one of Duilond's platforms. The stars again draw their attention. Danel explains she is considering approaching the Dwarven craftsfolk of Ered Luin, to see what sort of glasses for star-seeing they can make, in lieu of the Mirdan crafted one she has long since lost. 

Being concerned to celebrate Midsummer with a feast, and knowing the halls are running low of certain items (wine), Parnard seems delighted to find a good supplier of young wines and cheeses in Duilond. Danel happily puts in an order for as soon as it can be delivered. 

With Estarfin away in Mithlond, Danel and Parnard ride to Duilond to purchase provisions. They stray into the enclosed garden, though it does not seem at its best. 

"Are we to settle this with blade or with words?" Estarfin said.

He stood, like a black garbed executioner I thought. Though he had eschewed armour, and wore only cloth trousers and tunic, he would make a swift end of the Wood Elf, even had his hands been tied behind his back. A warrior trained and honed, at nigh his strength of old, against an embroiderer. Brave though Parnard could be, he stood no chance whatsoever. 

Estarfin laid a hand to his sword hilt. I believe Parnard looked to his eating knife.

Cold winds whipped past him tugging at his robes, pulling his hair back from his face. The taste of the sea was in his mouth, and he could feel the salt upon his skin. The stone cliff beneath his feet fell several hundred feet away below him, yet the white foam of the waves crashing into the rock  still had the power to throw spray high enough to soak his robes. The day was growing late, the heat of Vása spent for the day. He shivered slightly; the wet robes clung to him, pulling the warmth from his flesh.