“A merry evening to you, cousin,” Parnard said to Danel. He had taken to calling her his cousin after she told him that he seemed more comfortable among the Noldor than his own kindred. Perhaps it was because he had Noldorin blood coursing through his veins, he thought at the time. It was a preposterous notion. Danel was a granddaughter of Mahtan, father-in-law to the great Feänor, while Parnard was of mixed low Avari and Nandor stock, with one distant Sinda ancestor; yet the familiar address of 'cousin' was pleasing to Danel, for she cherished their friendship and esteemed the Silvan elf more than most Noldor she had known.
Danel smiled. “Would you care for a stroll under the stars, while we talk?”
Sensing she had something of importance to tell him, Parnard inclined his head to indicate that he was amenable to this suggestion.
“But first,” she said, handing him a package wrapped in paper, “Filignil has been asking after you. She was baking it this afternoon but bade me leave the kitchen before I could ask what it was.”
“Cookery subterfuge, eh? Filignil knows where to find me. Why did she not give it to me herself?”
“She did not want to disturb your cogitations. I think she is a little concerned that you are well. You have been a little quiet of late.”
Parnard unwrapped the package and revealed a fine-grained lemon and honey cake. He took a bite out of it, pronounced it excellent, and they strolled down the path eating in convivial silence until they reached the edge of the small lake.
“I have some news to give, something unexpected.”
“Oh? I like surprises!” said Parnard, brushing crumbs from his robe.
“First tell me your mood.”
Immediate suspicion narrowed his eyes.“My mood? My mood is fine. What has happened? Estarfin found that minstrel after all, did he!”
Danel shook her head. “Nay. But this is indeed sorrowful news. It is Gilastor. He died in Imladris.”
Parnard gasped and held a hand to his mouth. “Oh, no! My heart is made heavy; although I did not know the fellow very well, I am sure he was -”
“Gilastor was Estarfin’s horse, Parnard.”
“Oh, that Gilastor. Of course - how did it happen?”
“He had an illness of some kind. The stablemaster Barahirn suspected as much. Estarfin left word with him to tell us he was riding out in search of answers. I thought if he had questions, we would be the first he would ask,” Danel said, a little hurt.
“I am full of answers,” said Parnard. “Ask me a question, any question, and I will always think of something to say.”
“I am not sure what he is doing, but I think he seeks an answer to his future. He told me that he would speak with Lord Cirdan."
"Cirdan? The one who has a beard just like a Dwarf? Or so folk tell me; I do not believe it unless I see it for myself. What does Lord Cirdan have to do with Estarfin sailing? He does not like boats, you know.”
“I believe that he is seeking him out to see if he can sail West. It is likely having something to do about the exile of the Noldor.”
“Exile? Why were your brethren exiled?"
“We sailed here against the Valar’s wishes,” said Danel, carefully choosing her words in order to avoid saying anything that would elicit unwelcome questions.
“But why would they not forgive you for moving to foreign lands?"
“Well, you see, Parnard, the Valar advised us not to leave. They warned us of the troubles that would follow.”
“Ah! So their counsel was ignored. Why did your folk do that?”
“At the time, my people thought they caged us in their lands.”
“So the Valar were so strict that they wished to flee, but you have a different opinion of them, and have decided they are not as bad as your forebears once thought? Well, well. I do not understand what this exile has to do with you, or Estarfin. I say go there and tell them, ‘You were right after all.’ And they will say, no doubt, ‘We told you so.’ If you must, beg forgiveness. One must learn to humble himself, when necessary; after all, we are all wrong-headed, every now and again.”
“Estarfin is proud and stubborn. He might not wish to do that.”
“Oh yes, friend Estarfin is stubborn as the day is long - but that is a good virtue; very steadfast he is and very thorough in his aim, whatever that may be. And he is mighty proud, lady, mighty proud; but do not the sages say that pride is a sublime greatness of spirit, for it helps one achieve many things?”
“You recall that Estarfin made me promise to sail West when the Shadow falls across the land? I wonder if he is considering coming with me.”
“He should go with you, if he can ever get over his dislike of boats. We all should, one day.”
“I am not sure if you will be as happy there as here.”
“If Brasseniel agrees to come with me, why would I not be happy? Are there no trees there? Is it a great flat plain?”
“I have never seen it, but those who are still here who hailed from that place say it is a fair green land full of many wonders.”
“A fair green land full of many wonders!” Parnard repeated, his eyes growing brighter just thinking about it. “I do not understand all this debate. It seems a simple matter to me: we should all go.”
“I would not leave without Estarfin,” said Danel, her voice growing firm. “But if Estarfin will not seek the blessing of the Valar…” She avoided saying anything more as it would only lead to more questions from the inquisitive wood-elf.
“If you wish to go, he must go with you. What are we to the Valar, anyway? Servants?”
Danel nodded slowly. “Servants, or pets.”
Parnard’s smile slipped from his face. “Why would we ever wish to go there!”
“That is what those of my folk who departed from their lands thought of the Valar, long, long ago. This is how Estarfin thinks of them now - save for Elbereth herself.”
“If he truly wishes to go there - and I do not understand why - could he send a message to these Masters to ask in advance? Before he goes all that way, so as not to waste everyone’s time, and then his mind will be set at ease. I could even help him word his message so they will not take offense.” Parnard nodded, thinking this was a very practical approach.
“We cannot send a letter to Valinor. How would we receive their reply? A bolt of lightning striking the house? A clap of thunder?”
“How they send word back is their choice, but any signal would do, as long as we knew what to look for and what it means - hmm. I understand now that it is not as simple as I had first thought. It is rather poor advice I give, cousin.” As Parnard said these words, big raindrops began to fall, without any portent of thunder or lightning. “Come, let us seek shelter.”
The elves ran back up the hill and re-entered the hall. Danel pointed at something sitting on a shelf, a small block of gold. She took it up and showed it to him. “Estarfin gave me this. He told me that I was not make anything for him out of it. I told Estarfin he already wore the mithril ring I made him; there is no need for a gold one…” Danel’s voice trailed off as she realized the implications of what she said.
“No room on his finger for it, eh?” Parnard said as he took the gold and weighed it in his palm.
“I have always preferred silver myself,” Danel whispered, her eyes downcast and face pale.
“I agree, cousin! Gold is not like other metals; it is warm to the touch, and its color is like the beech leaves in early autumn. It is a pretty lump of metal, though I ne’er understood why Men and Dwarves fight over it. Now, silver is different; it is like the moonlight on the water, or dew on a spiderweb.” Parnard waxed on about the beauties of silver, and why it is superior to gold, heedless of Danel’s stricken expression.
“I can make something for you and Brasseniel from this gold, when the time comes, since I cannot use it,” she finally said, willing herself to maintain her self composure.
“I told you before that I will let you know when the time comes,” Parnard said, sharper than he meant. He looked closely at Danel. She had grown quiet all of a sudden, her cheeks were wan and the corners of her mouth downwardly curled. Her look and manner fed the anxiety gnawing his heart about the prospects of his troth plighting, which had occupied much of his thought of late. Parnard hesitated a little before saying, "Perhaps, oh, I suppose it is quite unlikely, and merely a bit of wild fancy flitting through my head…”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps Brasseniel has changed her mind! Do you think it is possible? No, it cannot be! But what if she did? No, no! How can I think such terrible things!” He strode over to the fireplace and stared at the ashes on the hearth, feeling all the failures of the past more keenly now than ever.
"Do not succumb to despair," cautioned Danel. "It will twist your mind."
"I have nothing to cling to during this strange and unaccountable silence, only a few faded memories."
"You must be patient. It will take time for the Captain to receive your message." She walked over to him, put her hand gently on his arm, and said, "This will end well. I have hope." These words of reassurance were spoken as much for her benefit as his, but did little to cheer either elves' hearts, being only empty words.
