Parnard gestured around the room. “There is space for dancing; we can push the table aside.” Then he went over to a side table filled with bottles of wine and opened the nearest.
“It is indeed most welcoming.” Estarfin looked impressed as he viewed the decorations. “And the opposite room has the maps, yes?”
“Take a look now, if you like, or later. They are not going anywhere.”
Miruviel rushed over with two glasses, holding them steady as Parnard filled them with fine red wine. Then she brought them to us.
“The urgent matter is the cake, I believe,” I said as I watched Parnard pour out a much smaller glass of wine for Miruviel. She made no comment.
“Thank you, Miruviel,” we said in union, then laughed. “Miruviel has made her choice for now,” I whispered to Estarfin. “She is determined to fit in with us.”
Estarfin nodded. “Though she should still be herself,” he whispered back. We agreed on that. Adopting some of our customs and language was one thing, but we did not want her abandoning all that made her who she was.
Miruviel headed to the table, smiling triumphantly as she gestured at the cake. “Please take a look before I cut it. I took instruction from Filignil on the baking, but the decoration is my own handiwork.”
“We have every intention of looking at it,” Parnard said, his eyes shining in the candlelight. “It is large enough for everyone in Númenstáya to have a slice.”
It touched my heart greatly that this daughter of the Greenwood had chosen to make a second ‘special’ cake for us. The first for the wedding party, and now this! I wondered if it was a tradition of her folk?
“Truly wonderful,” Estarfin said. And it was. Seven tiers high, like our cities of old, it was covered in delicate, colourful flowers and vines, and topping the tallest tier was…well, I was really not sure what.
“Amazing artistry, Miruviel,” I declared, and raised my glass to the young Wood-elf. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Parnard tilting his head as he peered at the cake.
Miruviel blushed and took up a silver cake cutter. “Thank you, Lady Danel.”
“You must take the lid off first,” Parnard advised cheerfully. “I am sure Danel and Estarfin will want to keep it.”
Estarfin looked questioningly at me. ‘We do?’ That was not a custom I knew of, but if it made the Wood-elves happy, we could easily indulge them.
“But it is made of sweet almond paste and sugar,” protested Miruviel. “It is meant to be eaten, Lord Parnard.”
“Oh, really? I thought it was a cut-off basket handle stuck in the cake.”
I gasped at Parnard’s utterance. While the thing did resemble a wicker basket handle, it looked edible. I leaned forward to take a closer look. “It looks too lovely to eat,” I suggested.
“I agree, but I am sure I will enjoy it all the same,” Estarfin said.
Miruviel laughed. “It is a miniature bower, Lord Parnard. You do know what a bower is?”
“Of course I know what a bower is, but that thing looks exactly like a cut-off basket handle.”
Miruviel stamped her small foot on the floor and rushed out the room. A heavy silence followed as Estarfin and I sighed in unison.
“Why, she is gone!” Parnard said in surprise.
“Miruviel, he jests!” I called out after her. Then I turned to face Parnard. “You have upset her.”
“Have I?”
“It is obvious she put much care and effort into this cake. I would not seek to find any fault with it.”
It was not too long before a slightly abashed Miruviel reappeared in the doorway, her posture reflecting a touch of self-conscious embarrassment. She smoothed her linen apron over her skirt, and seemed to be trying to compose herself under the room’s collective gaze.
Parnard bowed deeply before her in apology.
“It looks like a bower to me,” I hinted.
Parnard squinted hard at the sugar paste confection. His doubtful expression suggested he wasn't entirely convinced by the likeness. “It looks exactly like a bower,” he finally agreed. “But will it taste like a bower?”
Miruviel giggled. It seemed she had swiftly forgiven any insult to her cake, and she took up a silver knife and began slicing.
“I have never eaten a bower, so I would not know,” I said. “Come, let us all try it.”
“There can always be seconds, if anyone wants more.”
‘And thirds, fourths and fifths,’ I thought. I watched Parnard accept a plate of cake rather timidly from our cook-helper and retreat to a corner of the room.
Miruviel offered a plate to both Estarfin and I. “I hope you both enjoy it,” she said with a blush.
We wasted no time eating. It was worth the wait. “It is even better than your party cake, Miruviel. And that is quite a compliment.” It was, in truth, delicious.
Estarfin smiled at her. “It is a pleasure to eat. It tastes so sweet, and is so light.”
Parnard declared it was the most delicious thing he had eaten all week.
“We have all eaten well this week, thanks to our cooks,” I said, finishing my slice. “It was no small task to feed us, and I want to thank our young baker most heartily. Filignil may be our housekeeper, but I will recommend that Miruviel make all our celebration cakes from now on. She recognizes true talent and I know she will agree with me.”
“It is an excellent idea,” Estarfin said.
“A most excellent idea, Cousin,” said Parnard, his mouth full of cake.
With that, the tension vanished and a shared contentment returned to the room. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed the cake, and happily, a grand portion of it still remained.
Blushing profusely, Miruviel curtsied and murmured that she would like to take a slice of cake to her friend, Fearanie.
“Tell her that our Lore lessons will resume soon,” I said as she carefully wrapped the slice in a napkin.
With another quick curtsey and a bright smile, she took her leave.
I helped myself to another slice of cake, and the others soon followed suit. “You know, Cousin,” I mused, “I think Miruviel’s artistry in the kitchen is truly boosting her confidence and helping her settle in. And despite her spontaneous nature, Fearanie has been a wonderful help to her as well.”
“They have become fast friends,” Parnard agreed.
Turning to Estarfin, I added, “Her baking reminds me of the cakes we used to have on High Days at home. It even brings back memories of celebrations in Ost-in-Edhil.”
Estarfin smiled softly, though he wouldn't have known firsthand of the festivities in Eregion.
“Do you remember our Prince’s celebrations?” I asked, a sudden smile breaking across my face. “The year he had that massive cake and the fireworks? A terrible combination, as it turned out! It was a huge ‘Fruits of the Forest’ confection, and when the display went off, everyone in the front rows was completely covered in it. I was picking frosting out of my hair for days! Caranthir was utterly furious at first.”
Estarfin offered a small smile, though a touch of restraint lingered in his eyes. “I never had the pleasure of seeing those grand cakes up close,” he murmured, “let alone tasting them.”
My smile faded, and I lowered my eyes, a sudden wave of sorrow washing over me for the fractured lives we had left behind. “Caranthir did laugh after a few moments,” I said softly. “It was a stroke of luck for the cooks and the display organizers that he found the humor in it. But meldanya, it would have been so much better had we all been together back then.”
“But you are together now,” Parnard interjected, stepping in to lift the heavy mood. “And I am certain there will be plenty more cakes and fireworks in your future.”
I looked at my ‘cousin’, touched by his thoughtfulness. “Indeed. And with Filignil’s help, we are passing down our skills and tradition. The original cakemaker in Thargelion passed her secrets down to Filignil, who in turn taught the craft to others—including our own Miruviel.”
A sudden sigh escaped me. Delightful as this respite was, it was almost time to return to our daily responsibilities. Matters would not organize themselves, no matter how helpful and diligent Filignil was. There were plans to finalize, coin to make, and buildings and defenses to finish.
“Alas,” I murmured, looking down at myself, “although I love wearing this gown, I think I must return to my usual garb tomorrow. It will be far easier to work in.” The flowing gown of lilac, rose, and silver thread was easily my favorite of all I owned. I had commissioned it in Imladris some forty years ago, yet I had never found the right opportunity to wear it until now.
Estarfin’s expression softened with a touch of disappointment. “We do not need to hurry these days away, Danel. They are only here once. Surely we have the rest of our lives to attend to mundane chores?” He reached out, his fingers briefly brushing the fine fabric. “It is beautiful on you.”
Despite my many years, a warmth rushed to my cheeks at his words. Though I had chosen the design long before I knew he still walked this earth, I had worn it this week in part because I hoped he would appreciate it.
“Thank you,” I replied, my voice softening. “Then I shall be sure to wear it again soon.”
Parnard poked idly at a sugar decoration that had fallen from the side of the cake. “It really is a fragile thing. I carried it all the way across the field from the kitchen. Miruviel was sore wroth with me.”
“Why is that?” Estarfin asked, raising an eyebrow. “Did you carry it incautiously?”
Parnard shook his head defensively. “I carried it as I always carry things, only with even more care: I balanced it on my head.”
Estarfin set down his plate without a word, slowly reaching for his wine instead.
I took the opportunity to stand. “I wish to go and change now. The rain seems to have subsided, and I would like to swim later. I certainly do not want to spoil this gown.”
Both neri nodded their understanding. I hurried back to my quarters, leaving them to their own devices—no doubt to continue consuming the remaining cake and wine.
I loved swimming in our small lake, but Estarfin would only enter the water in the warmth of summer. I understood that. There was a tale behind his great dislike of the cold that he had not yet told me. I would not disturb him regarding it. He would tell me when he wished, and it was not a matter that affected us greatly.
Choosing a plainer and simpler silken under-dress in pale blue, I removed my headdress, and loosened my hair. Then, taking up a cloak, just in case, I hurried back to them.
“I know it is delicious, but it is surely too rich to eat that much of it?” Estarfin was saying to Parnard. I walked over to him and took him by the hand, hoping he would take my hint that the stars would soon be fading.
“A simpler dress for swimming in,” I said. “After that gown, I hope it does not disappoint you.”
He smiled. “Disappointing? Never.” Estarfin regarded my dress with as much favour as he seemed to grant all my clothing. He bowed deeply before me.
“Neither do you ever disappoint me, meldanya.” I bowed to him in turn. We both laughed. We were happy.
Parnard’s eyes shone with pure merriment. He peeled a fondant violet off the remnants of the cake and stuck it flat onto his tongue. “Alas, the first rays of Anor are already on the horizon. There shall be very little swimming under the stars today, I fear.”
Estarfin frowned.
“But the stars are in your eyes anyway,” Parnard quickly laughed.
“There will be stars again tonight,” Estarfin countered quietly. “Come, let us walk to a good spot to watch the dawn.” He finished his wine, picking up his glass and the mostly full bottle. We stepped out of the house and into a garden that felt gloriously bright and fresh from the recent rain.
“We can return our betrothal rings to our fingers now,” I suggested, slipping my arm through Estarfin’s.
“Do whatever your hearts desire,” Parnard half-sang in reply. “Now that Miruviel’s great cake has been revealed, I can finally rest easy.”
We wandered down to the lake, wine and glasses in hand, intent on drinking a toast to the rising sun. Once we found a comfortable spot with an open view, Parnard slipped his small knife from his boot and began working at one of the stubborn waxen seals. I settled onto the grass with Estarfin close beside me, both of us drinking in the cool morning air. Setting down the tray of glasses that I carried, I looked out over the water.
“It has been a year of deep sorrows and struggles, but we are together now,” I began softly, my eyes tracking Parnard as he abandoned his knife and resorted to tearing at the thick wax with his teeth. “Long may that be so.”
Estarfin leaned back on his elbows, turning his face up to bask in the first gentle warmth of the morning. “We must prepare for whatever may come,” he murmured, “but we must also cherish what we have right now.”
“True enough, friend,” Parnard mumbled around the neck of the bottle. With a sharp twist and a triumphant pop, he finally freed the cork from the waxen seal. “And with more willing hands joining us, our work will be lightened.”
“I am envisioning a true sanctuary,” I mused, looking out over the water. “A place somewhat larger and far more defensible than Lin Gilliath.” These visions of the homestead we could create often occupied my thoughts, but they needed the blessing of the others—most of all, Estarfin. “Is that a dream you share, meldanya?”
He paused, considering the horizon. “It depends entirely on our fortunes. Given enough gold and time, we could build a small citadel here.”
“It feels like a real beginning.” I rested my head against his shoulder, lingering there for a few quiet minutes. The spot felt perfect. It was not Orladion in Imladris, where we had first exchanged our vows, but it was our own ground—the foundation of a home we would build together. Reaching down, I withdrew the ring from the small pouch he had returned to me and placed it in his hand. Then, I unclasped the ring I had crafted for him, which I had been wearing safely on a long chain around my neck. “It is time?”
Estarfin smiled and sat up, nodding his agreement.
“Our vows have already been spoken, and the first promise is now fulfilled, but after all the effort poured into making these rings, it only feels right that we should wear them both. Will you place yours back upon my finger?”
“Of course, Racarnë.” He took my right hand gently in his, carefully sliding the most beautiful ring I had ever seen, Formenos steel and silver set with seven small, flawless diamonds, back onto my index finger alongside my wedding band. Then he pressed his lips to the back of my hand.
“Thank you for understanding,” I whispered, feeling the last heavy remnants of sorrow lift from my heart. “With this, you have completely wiped away the bitter memories of the brigands.”
“And away they shall stay,” Parnard declared, deftly splashing wine into our glasses without spilling a drop.
I slipped the betrothal ring I had crafted off its chain, and reaching out for Estarfin’s hand, slipped it onto his index finger, beside his marriage band. “No ill memory clings to this ring,” I told him, looking into his eyes. “It is returned to you with nothing but pure joy, now that we are both finally happy. We have waited longer to be together than any couple I have ever heard of. A brand-new custom is well justified, and I am glad of it.”
Leaning in, I kissed his hand. I knew everything about who he had been, both the good and the ill. I knew exactly who he was now. And as the dawn fully broke around us, I found myself eager to discover who he and I would become together.
.
