We sat for a while, each caught in our own thoughts now that Parnard was actually summoned. That we shared the same observation concerning Brasseniel’s apparent lack of interest, meant we both were less than convinced our friend would be successful in his endeavor.
We had done our best to prepare him, but short of rattling Captain Brethenel in his armour, (a very unseemly thing to even consider) there was no way in which we could give more aid. Parnard was on his own in that encounter.
My mind turned to Estarfin’s lack of meaningful sleep. Looking at him, he was still very much in control of himself. Indeed, I knew as well as any that our folk could endure long periods without sleep and suffer no major ill effects. Yet over time, it would wear anyone down. In control, yes...but looking drawn of face. Besides which, I was pondering what could possibly be the cause of this recent development? It had only been a few weeks. But alas, it did not take a great investigator to place the disturbed sleep problem close to our betrothal. I had suffered nothing adverse myself; truly I was most happy, but there was a tinge of concern that Estarfin was not. I wanted to help, if he would allow it.
I lay a hand on his arm. “Estarfin, this lack of sleep. It should not continue.”
He shrugged.
Turning so I could look him in the eyes, I spoke more firmly. “This matters! We all need to be sharp of thought and action to return through the Forest. None of us can afford to make a mistake. That includes you. Let me help? A sleeping draught perhaps?”
He looked at me and smiled a little sadly. “The forest brings unsettling dreams. It will pass.”
And I thought, ‘You had these dreams while we were yet in Imladris,’ but I said, “I can make a draught that leaves no drowsiness upon waking. Though perhaps speaking with me of what troubles you is a better medicine? If and when you wish, I shall listen.”
I did not want to sound as if I knew what was best for him, but I did want him to remember he could count on me to always be there for him. No more centuries of loneliness lay before him.
At that moment there came another knock on the door to our rooms. We both turned.
“Most likely we are summoned,” I said, reluctantly getting to my feet. “For Parnard would just walk in.”
“Enter,” said Estarfin, and in walked the same messenger who had previously summoned Parnard. He stood just inside the room.
“Captain Brethenel wishes to speak with you both immediately,” he announced. “It concerns Parnard Teludarion. You are to follow me.”
There was a slight sinking feeling in my heart as I looked at Estarfin. No words were needed between us. We knew what we must do. Despite Parnard’s earlier request, I did not wear Sarphir, though Estarfin strapped on his sword.
It was only a ten minute walk through the winding caves to the Captain’s office. We passed the gardens, bright with trees and flowers and crystals, crossing a small arched bridge over a stream. Some folk were sitting on benches, some upon pale grass. A few turned to regard us as we followed our guide. Though none looked in any way challenging of us, neither was there any warmth.
“We are summoned, so Parnard cannot have been dismissed outright,” I whispered in Quenya.
Estarfin nodded as our guide turned to look over his shoulder at us.
Soon enough we were standing outside a thick oaken door of a dwelling beside a glittering pool.
Then we saw Parnard, but it did not seem likely he saw us. He was gazing into the water, his face pale and troubled. I tapped lightly on Estarfin’s arm. “Those of the Noldor host departing Amon Ereb to battle Morgoth looked more cheerful,” I said to him, again in Quenya.
Estarfin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “We are expected. We shall find him once this ‘interview’ is over.”
The messenger hastening to the door knocked once. A slightly gruff voice replied, “Come in!” Then with a curt inclination of his head, our guide turned on his heels and left.
As we walked inside I took a quick look. Quite a small room was the office of the Captain of the King’s Guard of Mirkwood, sparsely furnished with a large cabinet, a desk and two chairs. There were papers scattered across his desk and an inkwell.
The Captain was standing beside the cabinet, holding a book. He turned as we entered. Tall, though not as tall as Estarfin, he held himself with a confident aloofness. His appearance was that of a proud Sindarin Lord. Our friend had told us Brethenel was fair, I did not doubt that. Fair and firm and confident, all things necessary to a Captain. Had my own father not had those traits? But there was something else: an aristocratic sense of superiority that would brook no challenge. He would be difficult to impress with anything we said or did.
I inclined my head. I too was of high blood, and that Noldor. “Captain Brethenel,” I said.
Estarfin nodded a brief but respectful greeting. “Captain.”
He appeared to study us with his marble grey eyes for a moment or two. Then he nodded and put his book down.
“Thank you for attending my summons,” he said. “I would offer you both a seat, but as you can see…” he gestured to the one chair on our side of the table.
“A shortage of wood in the Greenwood, perhaps? It matters not,” I replied. I felt Estarfin watching me, and in my mind I could hear his rebuke. ‘Manners, Danel. This is his land, his Command.’
“The Forest provides plentiful wood. I do not often entertain,” the Captain inclined his head with an apologetic air. Then he continued, his eyes again focused on our faces. “The reason I called you here is to speak of what was found on the path by you.”
I was expecting him to ask about Parnard, but to ask about the death of two of his Elves was not unreasonable.
He stared at Estarfin. “I cannot help but think I have seen your face before…forgive me.”
Estarfin frowned slightly, but maintained his calm demeanour.
“Cemmen, your Door Warden, has reported all we told him to you, I suspect?” I stated
Brethenel nodded. “Indeed.”
“ I have travelled through the Greenwood only twice before,” Estarfin spoke out. “I think it is unlikely we have encountered one another.”
Crossing his arm, Brethenel partially turned his back to us, and gazed at the fire. “My guards found the body of one of the men,” he said, turning back to look at us directly again. “Or what was left of it.”
“Only one of the men?” I questioned, feeling a sense of sickness and sorrow. “There were two at the least.”
Shaking his head, the Captain wandered over to the cabinet again, to stand almost beside me. ‘He knows,’ I thought. I am a murderer, and he knows! I steeled myself for whatever was to come.
“Thank you for returning the bodies of our Scouts,” he said. He opened the cabinet and revealed a bottle of wine.
“It would have been unseemly to leave them where they lay,” said Estarfin.
Brethenel nodded. “Would you care for any wine?" he asked.
“A glass would be pleasant,” I replied, suspecting he may offer far more than one glass in an effort to encourage me to speak more freely. It would not work. I would drink but one glass.
He immediately poured me a glass of the rich, red wine, then turned to Estarfin. “Wine, Estarfin of…?”
“Please,” Estarfin smiled briefly.
“Thargelion of old,” I cut in. “We are both from Thargelion.”
Brethenel walked over to Estarfin and handed him a glass, then returned to stand by the fire. As I suspected would be the case, he took no wine for himself. “Your friend wished that I speak to both of you as well,” he said.
I raised my glass to the Captain. I would toast his effort at least.
He smiled just a little, and nodded to the glass. “I trust Parnard has a good taste in wine; he brought that to me. I do not imbibe often, my position does not allow it.”
“That is understandable,” I began, “May I ask…?”
Brethenel turned to me with a questioning look. “Yes?”
“The remains of the man, can they be returned to his kin?” It did not make right my situation, but even as we buried our own when possible, I thought it only right that Men were helped to do the same. From the corner of my eye I noted Estarfin trying to hide his distaste behind his raised glass. I understood his actions, but I still felt it was unseemly to speak otherwise.
“It may be possible,” Brethenel answered me. “If so, I will see it done.” Then he looked towards Estarfin. “Parnard brought that wine as is a custom of his people. I suppose you are unfamiliar with it? It is akin to ‘gifting’ - as at betrothal Feasts, and so on.”
“We have learned of the customs of his people, but we cannot say we know all,” I answered, as Estarfin again sipped his wine. “But his intent was to gift you, as the father of Brasseniel. He has spoken of little else but her in recent months.”
“Is that so?”
“He sent a letter to you, but had no reply nor way of knowing if it had arrived.” I said.
“I received no letter.”
“The roads are perilous from Imladris to Felgoth,” Estarfin put down his glass on the table. “Even on the Western side of the Hithaeglir, many messages go astray.”
Brethenel snorted. “The thought that the letter would arrive to me is…”
“Hopeful?” suggested Estarfin.
“You could say that.”
I tried to explain more fully. “He had not heard from her. He was beginning to fear less something had happened, and wanted your confirmation all was well.”
“I believe that is why he came himself,” added Estarfin.
The captain looked momentarily at his chair, then at us both standing, and remained on his feet. “I do not disbelieve his ardour,” he said. ”Is this your purpose here? To accompany him on this - hopeful - errand?”
I spoke slowly and calmly. “He asked us as his friends, which we are.”
“The roads are perilous,” repeated Estarfin.
“Very good of you, but I am afraid it will come to naught.”
