Parnard and Danel had not been long in town, and were huddled together in conversation about their plan to visit Lord Cirdan, and what to do next, when they heard a cheerful voice calling to them.
“I did not expect such illustrious company to respond to my request,” said a fair-haired elf who was quickly approaching.
“Who is that fellow calling us by name?” Parnard murmured to Danel, peering at the stranger. He seemed vaguely familiar. His pale hair was pulled back and secured with a leather thong; he wore a pale grey clean doublet, and he was now bowing deeply before them.
“Surely you remember Hingalas?” Danel whispered in his ear.
“Oh! It is you, Hingalas,” said Parnard with a laugh, as Hingalas took his hand and shook it vigorously. “How good to see you again.”
“I am so delighted you came. I knew some would come, but for both of you to…ah, it warms my heart.”
“Come for what?” said Parnard, a look of confusion settling over his features.
“You will not be disappointed,” Hingalas said, and gestured for them to follow.
“Are you sailing in a boat race?” Parnard asked, eagerly following, having heard about such things from the Falathrim.
“It is not far; do not be alarmed,” assured Hingalas, beaming at them with a shiny white smile.
“Show us what you will,” graciously assented Danel. Hingalas led them downhill to the docks, and paused by the boat landing. “Is it not marvelous?” he asked, proudly placing one hand on a short length of steel rope that was strung between two pilings.
Panrard looked all around the dock, and up and down the river. There were no boats. “It is a fair place, a fair place,” he agreed, a little disappointed.
“I explained in my letter of course, but to see it in person…”
“Letter? What letter?”
“Why the letter I sent to Lord Elrond, informing him of the marvelous development. Like I told him, I knew it would draw interest.”
From the elf’s excited talk and gestures, Danel surmised that Hingalas wished to show them a certain rope hanging from the dock, and nudged Parnard in order to draw his attention to it. “Lord Elrond? Alas, we have not been in Imladris of late, but no matter,” said she.”I remember your ideas when we were there.”
Hingalas was a frequent visitor to the Hall of Fire, being fond of wine and dancing, although he would often kick the other dancers in the shins with his wild capers; and all of his talk centered about rope: its making, the best knots for a particular kind of rope, and he would speak of his plans for a special type of rope that he was creating. Parnard had forgotten about all of this, because after a few minutes of this sort of talk, his thoughts would invariably drift to other matters, such as obtaining another glass of wine from Sogadan, or if he wished to take a second bath that day, or what the cook might be preparing for his dinner.
“A metal rope?” said Parnard, now comprehending the cause for Hingalas’ excitement. “Will it not rust? In the salty air? You know, the sea-tang.”
“If not maintained, perhaps, but think of the uses!”
“Ah…the uses, yes…” Parnard tried to think of these, or even a few words to say about the rope’s wondrousness, but nothing sprung to mind.
“Ten years it took to make, worth every day.”
“Ten years!” exclaimed Parnard in disbelief. Ten years was not long to an elf, but it still surprised him. It was only a bit of rope.
“Is it much stronger than ordinary ropes?” Danel asked, out of politeness.
“Oh yes, it is steel, so it must be. A steel shirt is stronger than a cloth shirt, is it not?”
The elves could not deny this fact: it is an incontrovertible truth that a steel rope would naturally be stronger than any ordinary hempen rope.
“I recall you telling us at length of your rope-making plans,” said Danel. Parnard nodded emphatically, feigning interest.
“I knew you would remember,” Hingalas said with another wide smile. “What a wonderful day!”
“I say make a giant net out of it, and use it to drop on enemies,” declared Parnard.
“You are always full of ideas, cousin,” said Danel.
“A wonderful idea, Lord,” said Hingalas.
“Do not call me ‘Lord,’ Hingalas. I am no longer the Lord Ambassador,” Parnard told him.
Hingalas shrugged. “Once a Lord, always a Lord. My mother taught that to me.”
“Did she? Hmm,” said Parnard, who liked the title, and wondered if the saying held any truth.
“Well, she was actually speaking of cats - but still.”
“Once a cat, always a cat?” said Danel.
Hingalas nodded. “Exactly, lady.”
*****
“Well!” said Parnard as they stepped outside Lord Cirdan’s halls. “Now I can say I looked upon Lord Cirdan’s beard. I will tell all the Greenwood elves of this day and they will believe me, I think. Cousin!” he said, turning to Danel. “Did you receive an answer for whatever it is you wished to know?”
Danel shook her head. “Yes - and no. But I have other matters I must consider. If I ask Cirdan for a seat on the next ship, a little under a year’s time -”
“You wish to depart so soon?” asked Hingalas.
Parnard could not believe his ears for a moment, then suddenly burst out, “Then why did you take the trouble to set up the house by the coast? Why did you tell me to visit the market to learn the prices of sea gems?”
“Because things change, Parnard.”
Elves hate change, and Parnard was no exception. He set his jaw and looked fixedly at the far eastern horizon. “I wonder where I shall go next. I suppose I could find my way acros’t the mountains, back to the Greenwood…”
Danel looked at him, her eyes welling up with tears. “I am not sending you away, my friend. I had wondered if you may sail also?”
He kept his eyes turned eastward. “How can I sail when I have not spoken to Brasseniel! I am still waiting for her letter; it may be some time coming. Why do you wish to sail now, Danel? What gave you this idea?”
But Danel only shook her head sadly and said, “You must speak with her.”
“You are leaving without Estarfin, then?”
“If he chooses to remain, that is his concern.”
“You said that you would not sail until all was sure to fail. Did you not promise Estarfin that?”
“It is sure to fail, for in many years we Elves will fade away into memory. Oh my dear cousin, would I could bring you joy.”
“Then do not sail! Not so soon?”
“We have all the time in the world, yet the world does not have all the time for us. Yet our time is not approaching so quickly as that?” said Hingalas.
“I am sure you mean well, friend,” Danel replied to the ebullient ropemaker, “but I am fatigued and do not understand that. I shall seek my rest. I wish I had not sought Lord Cirdan this eve, kind though he is.”
“I think this ill news and Estarfin will take it worse!” cried Parnard.
“He will not.”
“He will!” insisted Parnard, bitterness seeping into his voice and souring his expression. “I wish we had ne’er come here at all!” The lady’s seeming indifference astonished him and left him unsettled, and it appeared to him that all the three elves had planned together, and had yet to accomplish, had utterly faded from her interest.
“Parnard, you know your thoughts carry much weight with me,” she said.
“Not today.”
“They do. But sleep is what I need, so that is what I shall do. We will speak tomorrow, Parnard?” she said, then waved good-bye.
Parnard watched her leave. Her strange manner puzzled him, he could gather nothing from it that was favorable, and she went away seemingly determined to follow her own path, without accepting any counsel. He stalked up and down the road, his thoughts in turmoil, at every two or three steps resolving, and re-resolving his plans, all the while muttering about the changeable tempers of Noldor, and how he wished Danel had not mentioned sailing so soon, or better yet, not at all. “I want a place to think things over. Somewhere that I can…meditate about things,” he said out loud.
“You seek a tavern,” Hingalas suggested brightly.
“A public house? Is there one hereabouts?”
Hingalas nodded at the Wood-elf. “There is even dancing, on some evenings.”
“I am in no mood for dancing,” Parnard said with a frown. “Do you drink much?” he asked, eyeing Hingalas closely.
The fair-haired elf smiled at him and nodded. “When celebrating, yes.”
“And you are celebrating this rope creation of yours, yes? Then let us go to this tavern. If there is dancing, well, I cannot help that. Lead on, lead on…”
“Come, then. The wine will not drink itself.”
