Parnard

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.

((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.

We rode on. I had expected the further north we travelled the colder it would become. To some extent that was true, but it snowed less and the sky was more of a watery pale blue-grey. Even such little light was welcome. As we drew nearer to Bree we were passed on the road by two travelling groups. One consisted of cozily garbed Dwarves, who made a brief but polite acknowledgment to us, as we did to them. 

We travelled slowly uphill, past the Stonecrop Encampment where we had arranged to meet up with Captain Culufinnel and along the road towards Herne. He was waiting by the crossroads there, and looked as if he may have been for some time. The Captain let out a single deep sigh of relief as he saw us, the warmth from which misted the air before him, showing pale against the leaden sky.