It was two days after Estarfin, Danel and Parnard had ridden out of Numenstaya, heading, they believed, for the Wildwood. Exactly what the older Noldor and their Wood-elf friend were planning was beyond Fearanië’s ken. She had, of course, offered her help. She would ride with them. But they had said ‘no’ in a clear but kindly tone.
Fearanië knew what the problem was. At just over fifty years of age, they deemed her too inexperienced. They suspected she would be more of a liability than an asset to them. To some extent the young elleth accepted that. And that, in turn, made her restless for martial training, and to experience ‘adventures’ she could learn from. She was concerned, thinking about how she could avoid being left behind in future. Miruviel was busy with something in their room, so she walked downstairs and out of the house to pay Filignil a visit.
Now Filignil was a cook of extraordinary skill as was regularly evidenced to all at Numenstaya. But Fearanië happened to know she was far more than a cook. Why, Filignil sparred at times with Lady Danel, and had done so with the huntress Yrill when she was there. She was even known to spar with Estarfin. She had said she was of the people of Celegorm, but while less than one hundred years of age, she was sent to join those of Caranthir. Fearanië knew that would not have happened on a whim, and she was curious to find out more. Filignil, as with Danel and Estarfin, had lived in times of terrible battles. They were born of the exiles who had sailed from Valinor. Those three First Age elves may have been involved in wars, in kinslayings? Fearanië was far too young to understand what she may uncover by her curiosity. But she thought herself fortunate enough to have been given an apprenticeship at Numenstaya, where she could learn much that helped fill in the gaps of her knowledge, in due course.
And such was filling her thoughts when a neatly garbed Miruviel ran out after her, basket in hand. She was becoming a fast friend and confidant, but she was little like the young Nolde in temperament.
“Where are you going, dressed so finely? Is there an ellon hereabouts you have your eye on?”
Fearanië sighed. Nothing could be further from the truth. She had put on a finer dress rather than a work one because she wanted to talk with Filignil, and create a good impression for her. There was naught wrong with that?
“There is none here I have my eye on, Miruviel. The only ellon here who is anything nigh my age is my brother. Besides, I am too young.”
“Young, yes–but old enough to wed, if you wished.”
“I am of a mind to know myself better before I seek a life’s companion. I would be at least a hundred before I give marriage any thought.” She slowed her pace so Miruviel could walk more easily at her side in her tiny shoes. She had never seen any full-grown elleth with such small feet! “I dress up, at times, because I like to dream I am a Lady. There, I said it.” She smiled. It was hard to be annoyed with her Wood-elf friend. “I am not a Lady, of course, nor am I ever likely to be. But I have heard tales of the Princesses of the Noldor; I have read about Galadriel and Aredhel, about Miriel, Indis, Nerdanel, Anairë and Earwen of Valinor. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to have such status.”
“Those must all be terribly High Ladies indeed,” Miruviel said, and blithely swung her basket as she walked. “Our King Thranduil holds Galadriel in great respect. I am not so sure about the others. I know about Queen Melian–everyone does, I suppose.”
“I will tell you about the others sometime, if you wish?” They had crossed the bridge and were walking past some of the houses on their way to the main hall and the kitchens. The day brightened suddenly, from a pale light watercolour sky to a glorious rich blue, reminding them that summer was not quite over.
“You should tell me how they found their husbands,” Miruvial giggled. She reached down and carefully plucked several small pink flowers growing through the grass to twine in her hair. She offered some to her friend.
“Not today, thank you. I am in a more studious mood. Perhaps tomorrow we can look into making wreaths for the Autumn Feast?” Both girls enjoyed weaving wreaths. They had even decided to make some to sell at the Duillond market, if they had time.
Then the door of the hall they were heading to swung open and Filignil herself was walking down the slope towards them.
“Hail and greetings, young ones.” The cook was garbed neatly as always in a seasonally russet work dress. Her hair was, as often, drawn back into a careful bun. She looked as if she meant business, but not as if she was in the greatest hurry.
“Good day to you, Filignil. May I ask your advice on how one may become a Lady of the Noldor?”
Filignil halted and stood looking at them from a few paces away. There was the faintest hint of a smile on her usually stern lips. “And are you asking for yourself, or for your friend? Neither of you were born a lady, I believe?”
Fearanië actually blushed, and shaking her head answered, “But an elleth can dream, can she not?” She avoided looking directly at Filignil.
Filignil leant back and folded her arms. The usually serious Nolde was suddenly amused by what had just sprung on her. She wondered if either of the youngsters had an eye on anyone particular. “Of course, the quickest way to become a Lady anywhere, if one was not born of noble birth, is to wed a Lord,” she said with a smirk. “Alas, they can be difficult to find hereabouts.”
“I know a few,” Miruviel said with a blush. “Lord Parnard has a brother, and he is very tall and handsome–but,” she said, the color rising to her temples, “he is not as handsome as Lord Parnard.”
Fearanië managed to regain some of her composure. “Captain Culufinnel? He is a fine ellon, but he is not a Lord. And besides, I am too young to think of marriage yet.”
Filignil nodded sagely. “That is true, Fearanië, but it is not too young to consider betrothal in the coming years. And some few do wed young. Now, Miruviel is more of an age to find a husband,” Filignil stated, and winked at Fearanië. “Come, both of you, there is nothing urgent to hand. Let us sit on the sward by the lake and speak awhile. Not that I can give much guidance to you on this matter: I never wed.” It seemed at that moment that the old elf’s shoulders relaxed a little, and if she did not suddenly seem younger, she did seem unexpectedly willing to talk of ‘youthful matters’. “I was going to ask you, Miruviel, to come to the kitchen this afternoon. I am making some sauces to be stored for the Autumn Feast, ones I have not shown you before–plum and damson. I would have you learn how, but it can wait.”
So the three walked to the place Filignil had indicated, Miruviel leading the way in her eagerness, her face pink as the flowers in her hair, and Fearanië frowning because it seemed unlikely they would speak of First Age battles.
Miruviel smoothed out her skirts as she sat and set aside her wicker basket. Fearanië sat beside her, keen at least to listen to Filignil.
Filignil began, “Among we Noldor marriage is sometimes put aside until a path of study is chosen. Sometimes until that study is mastered. One cannot give their full attention to many things at once. Our folk marry when they are ready, and when they have found someone they want to be with. Both of you know that we are wed a long time. Choose well.”
Miruviel blushed anew and fiddled with a few loose threads on her sash.
“My parents and grandparents spoke with Barahirn and me about marriage,” Fearanië explained. “We both understand our lores and customs, of course, so neither will do anything foolish. It is helpful to find someone with some similar interests.”
“Someone who is handsome and romantic...” Miruviel added with a wistful sigh..
Fearanië sighed too, though could not say she thought those qualities were unimportant. “Listen to me, it is Lord Estarfin who married a Lady, and he does not want to be addressed as ‘Lord’.”
“How do you know about that, Fearanië?” Filignil swiftly turned to face her, looking more serious again.
“I overheard them talking, one evening.” Fearanië instantly realised she should not have mentioned that piece of information. “Not that I make a habit of listening to them, or to anyone. He was just asking her not to address him as ‘Lord’ as it was not a title he had earned. She sounded a little disappointed, though she understood.”
Filignil shook her head. “We will not speak of what is said between Danel and Estarfin. That they are happy after ages of loneliness is enough. I have known of few elllyn who would accept a title directly from their wife’s family. It also depends on what that title is. We may speak of wanting more ‘Lords’, but unless one is born with it, it is difficult to earn. Of course, given reason, anyone can be ennobled.”
“Then my aim is to be ennobled by Lord Elrond for my bravery and skill in battle!” said Fearanië.
“Not for your skill in lore?” Filignil suggested wryly. “There was someone I was interested in,” she continued, wanting to turn any talk away from Danel and Estarfin. “Only he was slain in the Second Age. Even had he lived, we may not have wed. We were not over-young, but our duty kept us apart much of the time. Raumoliro was his name. He was of the folk in Thargelion. I liked him very much, I cared for him. But it was not to be. He was slain in Eregion. Perhaps we shall meet one another one day, in Valinor.”
“And then you will wed and live happily together forever after,” said Miruviel, who spent her free time reading sweeping romantic poetry about fearless Elven lords who traverse long distances, slay roaring beasts, and outsmart wicked folk to rescue their captured ladies.
Filignil shrugged. “Perhaps he has wed another.”
Miruviel’s eyes widened. “Do they do that in Valinor?”
“The unwed are free to wed there, of course, if one is returned to life by the Valar. If they were wed before they died, they are still wed.”
She nodded, understanding better than Filignil had expected, and turning to Fearanië said in a breathless whisper, “Then there is no rush for you, my friend. It is never too late, no matter how long you dither.”
Fearanië made a rather childish expression, immediately regretting it. “I may decide not to wed at all! But speaking of Captain Culufinnel, as you were earlier, I heard several of the ladies speaking in Duillond and they think he is very dashing. I also heard that he and Lord Parnard may have noble blood!”
Miruvial looked keenly at her friend. “What do you mean, noble blood?”
Filignil was beginning to wonder just how much Fearanië overheard. She decided to clarify as much as she could. “As far as my understanding extends, Danel is the only ‘Lady; here, being a direct descendent of Mahtan of Tirion. Estarfin, as already spoken of, comes from no noble blood line, though I, as well as some
others address him as ‘Lord’ out of regard and respect. Parnard, however, and therefore Culufinnel also, are of the plain ordinary folk of the Greenwood. Culufinnel is a Captain, and so has a title, whereas Parnard has been addressed as Lord Parnard by Danel for some time. As he does not object to it, we others also sometimes call him ‘Lord’.” She held up her hand. “And no, I am not by any stretch of imagination Lady Filignil.”
“But what about those two scholars?” Fearanië asked.
