I glanced at Hingalas, knowing what was to follow. Although he was merrily helping himself to the food he had selected, his eyes had that gleam of sudden keenness that I recognised. From the edge of my vision I saw Parnard gulp.
Now I was truly pleased to see both our visitors, and by no means would I refuse them the common hospitalities due. But there was a difference between them. Earcalie was almost the typical Nolde youth, eager, excitable, unable to back down from a challenge. Had I not known many such nissi in my life? Had I not been one such as she? Perhaps she was more outspoken than I had want to be, and sometimes almost eager to start a disagreement, but her heart was good.
“I don’t meet that many interesting folk,” Earcalie was also now eating a little from the fruit and cheese platter. She spoke slowly, between nibbles. “Lindon is not that interesting. But rope… yes, flax…it depends on who needs transport.” She turned to face me again, still dismayed, still seeming to not quite know what to say. “I am so sorry for what happened here.”
I smiled a little, and waved a hand. “ Thank you, but what has happened can not be changed. What matters is where we go from here. We shall endure and in time, thrive again.”
Hingalas paused, a hand on the stem of his goblet of wine. He looked concerned at the conversation.
Hingalas was rather different. Partly that was due to his Falathrim heritage, but he was unusual in more ways than that alone could account for. Parnard and I had encountered him several times in recent years, as had Estarfin and Belegos, though mostly that had been in Imladris. Hingalas was one of the kindest, gentlest neri I had ever known. He had sought to assist me when the dreadful Sea Longing had first affected me, he had visited Lord Cirdan with Parnard and I. He had offered to dance with me to improve my mood. But there was one issue that could make him less than perfect company. That, of course, was his obsession with rope. Not that it was a bad thing in itself, for he sought to make ever stronger, finer, more practical rope for the Mariners of Mithlond. A worthy pursuit. But once begun on the topic, there was little that could halt him.
“I suppose we should explain to Hingalas?” Parnard suggested, catching the direction of my gaze.
I nodded, and rose to take up the wine bottle and refill the glasses.
“We were away, and returned to find Aearlinn dead, and Barahirn near trampled to death,” Parnard said bluntly, but not unkindly. He looked over at me. I looked down and nodded.
Hingalas’s mouth fell open.
Earcalie was on her feet again. She stepped back and crossed her arms.
“Come, though the pain is great, this is Midsummer…or shortly thereafter. We should at least attempt to talk and think of better days?” I did not know what to say to make it well. Not really. But Earcalie’s look of defiance against those who dared strike a Noldor home, and Hingalas’s utter shock, were etched in my memory.
“I can only apologise for not being here earlier,” the rope-maker began. If I were here earlier…could I have been of some…help?”
“Against over a score of Men?” Parnard looked Hingalas up and down. “I think not…I think not.”
“So many?” Hingalas’ voice softened, and he sighed. He appeared a touch embarrassed. As far as I knew, he had led rather a sheltered life in Mithlond.
“Had I known earlier that you were here I would have visited sooner.” Earcale finally uncrossed her arms and sat again, taking up her wine. Her voice had become a little more shrill. “And those Men would have regretted even setting foot here.”
I inclined my head to her, both acknowledging her typically Noldorin reaction, and knowing she was trained enough to do considerable damage. But poor Hingalas…I turned to regard him with a kindly expression. “I thank you for your brave words, friend. And I know you would help others where you could. But matters like that are best left to those with some training at the least. Rope-making is an incredible and necessary skill. I could not do that. But with fighting...I think it better you only take up the sword as a last resort?”
Hingalas’s eyebrows rose. He appeared thoughtful of expression, then nodded. “You have had many dealings with the Men of Bree then?” He rose to his feet and followed me to where I was checking the selection that Filignil had placed in the picnic box.
“There is plenty of those hard cheeses from Duillond, some cold sliced ham, and Filignil’s roast chicken in here. Perhaps you would care for some Hingalas?” I tried to keep us more attentive to the celebration, though I struggled.
Earcalie answered Hingalas’ question bluntly. “No, and I keep my distance from that backwater place.”
Parnard looked round. “It is best not to speak of them here,” his voice was equally blunt.
Earcalie sat down, understanding I believed. Hingalas removed his clock, folded it carefully and sat on it.
I handed plates and knives around the group. As I handed the final one to Hingalas he asked quietly “Why is that, Lord Parnard?”
“Because it is a dangerous sort of talk, Hingalas.”
“Lord Parnard, if they are not within earshot what is the harm in talking about them?” Hingalas looked somewhat confused.
“Because, Hingalas, it can lead to dangerous ideas.”
Hingalas nodded slowly, but I was not convinced he understood.
There was nothing for it. “Once we are settled you must tell us how your metal rope is doing,” I said, almost biting my tongue at what I had potentially unleashed.
The young rope-maker looked up, bright of eye, but then managed to restrain himself and continue with the talk about Men. I picked up the large dish with Filignil’s roast chicken on it. Perhaps a different tactic would help?
“Do you think they are still here, watching?” Hingalas’ voice was too soft to have reached Mannish hearing had he been correct.
“What?” Parnard looked around. “Here, now?”
Hingalas stood up suddenly, dropping his plate which I had been trying to fill.
“Where?” Earcalie joined in the looking, her voice dagger-sharp. “I can assure you, they will not leave here alive.”
“And here I am, weaponless again,” fretted Parnard. Then he turned, startled by the commotion. “Hingalas! “You have flung your plate on the floor!” He laughed, breaking some of the tension.
“Oh…false alarm?” Earcalie relaxed as well, taking up her plate and knife.
Hingalas looked down at the scattered chicken with some dismay.
“Do not be concerned. Here is another,” I offered, hastening to put more food on another plate. Hingalas took it with a bow and a hint of a sheepish smile.
“It is our Housekeeper’s specialty. She always cooks this for festivals or any special occasion.”
Parnard was already cutting out big pieces from the blueberry pie, and stuck a large chunk on the end of his knife, then he took up a chicken leg and began eating with both hands. “This chicken is delicious, as always,” he pointed out.
I threw the dropped chicken some distance away, where the ravens and hawks would have a good extra meal later, and noticed that Earcalie was eating a morsel. She looked at me in turn.
“This is good. Who is your Housekeeper?”
“Filignil, from Himlad of old. She is from Prince Celegorm’s people.” I replied, smiling. I was finally getting to enjoy some of Filignil's cooking.
“Ohhh…” Earcalie’s eyes lit up almost as much as Hingalas’s had at the mention of rope. I recalled her as being most interested in the Lords of the First Age.
“Really? She served him, or just…lived in his castle?” continued the young nis. “As if that is anything less. I would have loved to see Beleriand with my own eyes.”
“It is beyond me to gift you that, Earcalie, but once things here are rebuilt, it would please me to have you as a guest again. There are three of us who can regale you with memories of the First Age. As for Filignil, her parents left Valinor with the host of King Feanor, and she was also among the first generation born this side of the Great Sea. She learned her hunting skills among Prince Celegorm’s folk, and was held in esteem by him. She learned her cookery skills a bit later, at Amon Ereb I believe.”
Earcalie’s eyes glistened like stars in the night sky. I hoped she would return, when she had time, that Filignil, Estarfin and I could fill her mind with images from our memories.
“That was a time when nothing was boring,” she said wistfully. I smiled at her. I would not tell her of the mundane chores to break her dreams, though Estarfin would possibly tell her of Dragons and Balrogs.
“I would explain something, Earcalie. I oft call Parnard ‘cousin’, though obviously he is not.”
Parnard nodded in confirmation of my words.. “I might just as well be kindred to these Noldor,” he said.
“I am over six thousand years older than Parnard, and not a Wood-elf,” I said, giving him a fond smile. “I have almost no blood relatives left here. When he found out, Parnard offered to be my Cousin,” I inclined my head deeply, honouring him for his kindness.
“Ah yes…I thought it was a term of endearment,” Earcalie said.
“I can be your cousin as well, Earcalie, if you so wish?” he offered.
“Uh –”
Parnard laughed.
“Well, I am not six thousand years old at least,” Earcalie answered.
I waved a hand; age was of no concern. “Alas, I am the Ancient One here. You three are all in your youth.” I picked up a clean glass and handed it to Earcalie, as I saw Hingalas rummage through the picnic basket and remove several varieties of cheese.
“And Estarfin is even older,” Parnard said.
“Only by a few years,” I whispered under my breath. “Estarfin is the eldest.”
“I wish I was older,” Earcalie looked up, seeming not quite happy, “I missed two Ages worth of great deeds.”
Hingalas had been sniffing the cheeses. He selected one, cut off a large chunk and put it on his plate. “He is standing on that ridge over the road you know. He looks very stern.”
I smiled at the observation. I knew well what Estarfin could look like, especially when guarding us, but then they did not know him as I did.
“I know. I spoke with him once or twice in the Hall of Fire,” Earcalie nodded to Hingalas.
I raised my glass to Parnard and the others in turn.
“You see, we are all safe. Estarfin will slay any Men that approach,” I added, lest that conversation arose again.
