“Why is Rainith not with us?" Estarfin asked Danel again.
Did this blockhead not understand anything? wondered Parnard. He spread his embroidery out before him and lifted up his wineskin. “Ai!” he gasped.
“What is it?” said Danel.
Parnard shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. Yesterday, the wineskin was plump with good wine: strong red, the kind to warm hearts and lighten the burden of the road. But someone drunk nearly all of it - ah, that explains much! His blood hot, Parnard faced the tall warrior Estarfin. His head was bowed and his face was hidden underneath his black cloak. He was rubbing his temples, as if his head pained him. Well it should ache! He should be laid out on the ground after drinking that much wine. Parnard marveled. For a moment – only a moment - he found himself admiring Estarfin. But he is proud, mighty proud, a proud and haughty fellow, this one who treats others with anger and contempt. If only the others had seen this proud haughty fellow surrounded by his squalid wreck of a house! Estarfin’s fists suddenly clenched like one who is readying himself for an attack. Instinctively, Parnard drew back, thinking that the imposing Noldo read his thought, and trembled inwardly.
“W-what a pity, a sore pity, lord, that we are walking abroad at this season and court the cold weather, when we have no wine to drink! I would have brought more,” he said, his voice heavy with regret, “but my poor horse looked terribly overladen.”
Parnard took up his embroidery and was very busy with his needle all of a sudden. It was rather disconcerting, knowing that a wine-guzzler was more or less responsible for their safety. If Estarfin was not asking the same foolish questions, his gray, lusterless eyes were gazing into space. Sometimes Estarfin would take out a creased and smeary paper, and scribble feverishly on it: notes, Parnard believed, written to his Lord Veryacano, reporting on their progress. The thought made Parnard even more determined to see the matter through, and have the satisfaction of returning to the Valley and Lord Anglachelm. But what was this Noldo thinking?
Conversation with Estarfin was a trial, even for the loquacious wood elf. He refused to talk about Minas Elendur, and why he had disappeared to visit that mausoleum – for that was what Parnard considered it. He began to think that it would have been wiser to leave him at its doors. Estarfin was mighty unsettled of late, and with the exception of an occasional surly look and a muttered word, he seemed not to notice Parnard at all; while at other times, he would catch a glimpse of Estarfin’s confused eyes gazing at him, as if trying to recall who he was.
“You think me weak,” he heard Estarfin growl, and looking up from his needle and thread, was astonished to see him standing inches away from Elloen. If he was afraid, he made no sign of it. Very admirable of him! Perhaps he should do something, say something, before Estarfin beat him to a jelly. Parnard thought of the icy camp at Vindurhal and hesitated.
“I leave you all to scout the way, and find you half-way up the mountain!” cried Belegos, striding into camp. His attention distracted and his anger already forgotten, Estarfin turned to face his friend.
“Rainith? Where is she?” he asked Belegos.
Parnard smiled at Belegos’ confusion. Befuddled and overheated with strong drink was Estarfin, but like other things, it would pass soon enough.
“It was a good wine,” he said, and laughed to see Belegos look even more confused.
“Wine?” Estarfin burst out. “Do you have any?”
Parnard grinned at Estarfin. “No, lord, someone hath drunk it all down! I would gladly give any wine I had to you, if I had any.”
“I cannot find my wineskin, so I must have lost it. I certainly do not remember drinking it.” Estarfin made a sheepish half-smile.
“Ah, I have done so, many a time. It is but a trifle, lord. When we cross the mountains, we will find more,” Parnard said carelessly, all the while thinking that a visit to the dismal southern Greenwood would not improve this Noldo’s view of the world one whit.
So madness and folly go hand in hand, and are brought to light by events which come upon the wise and foolish alike, and rise from uncertainty, disappointment, and death – the necessities of circumstance, though some disagree, and say that these are just punishment for transgressions for that which has long ago been done.
