“Are you recovered from our hunt?” Danel asked Parnard as she watched him sharpen a long knife.
“Recovered? Of course. Swan-hoof is being well-looked after in the stables; we have plenty of meat to last throughout this season; and friend Estarfin seems to be his old self again. All is well!"
Danel made a tight, strained smile. “You are right that Estarfin is much like his old self again. I do think this place is doing him good."
“I was glad to see him so merry. I told you that I would see that lord made contented, if not happy, and he is already happy," said Parnard.
“Yes, I asked him, before he went to Mithlond, if he was happy, and he said, ‘These last days were better than I could have hoped.’”
“There you have it: all is well!” Parnard told her again, this time with more emphasis.
“But,” added Danel, arching an eyebrow, “I cannot help but think he is happiest when slaying Men.”
“Well, he does have a certain zeal, now that you mention it - ”
“And neither of us tried to stop him,” interrupted Danel.
Parnard looked wide-eyed at Danel, incredulous. “You think I could stop him? You once told me to never stand in his way, and I have learned a thing or two myself in that respect.” While others care how others should best act, my care is how to best hold my peace, he thought, frowning a little.
“Oh do not look so glum, my friend. Estarfin has obviously forgiven any issue he had with you. It is wise for you to never get in his way.”
“So our bold and ever-ready friend cut down a few bandits. So?”
“I think he enjoyed it too much.”
“Well, I tried to warn them," continued Parnard, as he continued to draw the blade of his knife along the whetstone. "I thought perhaps to give them a fighting chance, as we stole up to them in the dark, not entirely unlike robbers. My Westron is a bit rusty, I suppose.”
“I heard you quite clearly, but sadly, the Men were too panicked to heed your warning.” She smiled at Parnard. “Please understand, I am not judging Estarfin.” Danel bit her lip. “Oh, I suppose I am, a little.”
“A little what,” said Parnard, seemingly preoccupied as he tested the sharpness of the knife against his thumb.
“A little judging of him. My heart quailed when we topped that hill and saw them, two dozen or so men and women, brigands all.” Danel sighed.
“Hmph. I do not sigh for such folk. We know Estarfin bears no love for any Man, least of all mischief-makers."
"And I know where that hatred comes from, Parnard. You see, a long, long time ago there was a battle, a huge battle. We fought against the master of the one that your people call the Necromancer. Our troops were determined and brave, and there was a chance of victory - at least, so Estarfin believes, but one of the tribes of Men turned against us, mid-battle, led by a man named Ulfang.”
“A wicked name indeed!” interjected Parnard, now drawing his knife across the hide to scrape off bristles. He must be quick about it, if there was any more delay the bristles would not come out and then he would be forced to skin the boar, and that meant needless waste of good white fat.
“Yes. Estarfin fought in that battle and saw victory snatched away: perhaps you can understand now why he has continued enmity for Men? We Noldor were never the same after that terrible defeat, and, to this day, it remains a hard matter to speak of.”
“Yet another bitter failure caused by interloping Men…why was such an alliance even forged in the first place?”
“Because some Men had fought with us in early days - they were honorable, for the most part, but too easily corrupted. Yet not all Men are so. We should think twice before handing them death, for they, too, are children of Iluvatar.”
“Would those thieves and brigands have done the same for us?” Not waiting for her answer Parnard insisted, “Estarfin was right to do it.”
“Of course he was right. It was good that Estarfin was with us.”
Parnard blinked several times in surprise and perplexity, his face wearing the puzzled look of a person trying to follow a remark made to him which his mind had no room to accept. “It was a fine night. We should ride out more often," he finally said.
“There is one more thing that I must say before I end this conversation, Parnard," Danel said, lowering her voice, "My fear is that Estarfin will kill Men haphazardly. I have no issue at all with him slaying any who threaten us, but when he sees a Man, any Man, he becomes rageful.”
"If Estarfin must rage, let him! One cannot bottle the wind; a high and fiery spirit needs to burn until it is spent. It may take a long while, but nothing lasts forever in this world - not even the dread-filled rage of a vengeful Noldo.”
Danel looked cannily at Parnard. “Do you suggest that we point him in the direction of those who need something to fear? Excellent! That is exactly what I was thinking."
Glad to hear their conversation had returned to perfect harmony and equanimity, Parnard smiled and said, "Yes, we must be the pointers."
“I am pleased that you understand so well and agree. Then you must have some proper armour, and sword practice, too.”
“If you think it best, Lady…” Parnard replied, scraping the knife faster and faster across the hide as he wondered what he had gotten himself into.
Estarfin rages furiously, but it is only for a little while. Danel does not like it but what lady loves to look at an angry face? Is it any wonder that his lofty spirit is disturbed by the many offenses of Men? Once having taken offense, it must be soothed somehow. Did Elves ever ordain any laws for mortal Men? Was it ever settled by us what it was fitting for Men to do, or not do? If no laws were ever ordained, then we cannot claim justice, yet we also cannot allow the crimes of Men to pass away in silence. Could we? These thoughts whirled through Parnard's head as his knife sent bristles flying through the air.
