Estarfin

And our evening continued, with us standing before the main Hall, and the figure of Tintalle. It was cool but not cold, that we had no wish for thicker cloaks, or to light a fire. We stood and conversed as the hours passed us by.

We four stood by the statue of Tintallë, under her swift-growing starry mantle above. Filignil had just departed to bring water for Belegos to wash his face and hands, and wine for us all. 

“Is it not said, do not ask elves for advice, for we will say both no and yes?” Belegos said with a hint of a grin. 

Estarfin had suggested Parnard slept outside, under the lights of Tintallë. I first thought of the sea, the mantle of Ulmo, for defense.  A different Vala, but the same need for an ally whose will could not be challenged. Oh, I was angry then, at myself for not seeing clearly earlier; with the Sorceress Zairaphel and her petulant tenacity.

((After The Last Days of Thargelion: Part two. Friends. 2/2 | The Laurelin Archives. ))

((This tale comes after  Numenstaya but before A Troubled Homecoming.  ))

We turned into the grounds of Númenstáya to a call from above, a hail from Filignil at her lookout point. “Oh, welcome, welcome back!” she cried, then lowering her bow, turned to run along the ridge to meet us. The sky was at that beautiful point just before dawn, when the eastern edges of our view, over the houses and further hills, were outlined with a pale rose-gold glow.

I awoke to find Estarfin absent, although his cloak was placed over me. Parnard, however, was sitting on a nearby rock, resting his chin on his hand and looking rather thoughtful. 

“We will travel soon, I believe. At least this time I do not wear iron chains,” he said upon hearing my movement.