I was not sleeping well. Rather, I replayed my decision of the past two weeks regarding what I knew of Naraal, and what I withheld from Estarfin. I asked myself time and again, why I had not told him that Naraal had been outside Numenstaya to claim the Mithril owed the Black Dwarf.
I was not afraid for Estarfin. A skilled swordsman though the Umbari Captain may be, a warrior of Thargelion with over six thousand years experience would easily best him, and Naraal deserved whatever he received. If his acting the part of middle-man between the Black Dwarf and I was meant to garner my affections, he must be insane. Surely he knew by now that I had no love or regard for him? I was betrothed, and could no more give my heart to other than my chosen one than I could sprout wings and fly. I was of the Elda, and the Noldor at that.
What I feared, nay, what worried me was Parnard not getting his armour back if I did tell Estarfin.
Now I know that no made thing is generally worth a life. (Silmarils are a matter unto themselves) But I had my betrothal ring pulled from the finger Estarfin had placed it on. I had fought to keep it, but greater numbers and the threat of torturing Halflings had prevailed. That did not mean I gave up on getting it back. So to some extent I understood my cousin. Estarfin had made both the ring for me, and the armour for Parnard. In the making, he had used the last of his precious Formenos Steel. It would be highly unlikely he would ever come across such valuable material again. The ring I had bargained for. It had been returned to me by the dwarf Duzir, for my word I would pay him three bars of Mithril. What was Formenos Steel to him? He had no clue of its worth. But Mithril he understood. Three bars of Mithril, to be exchanged for my most beloved possession. I had melted down several ornaments and unwanted pieces of jewelry to make those bars, ready for whenever he sent Dwarf merchants to collect them for him. Only it was Naraal who eventually turned up. I gave the bars to Parnard who left them where instructed. I never wanted to see or hear of the Man or Dwarf again. I thought the matter was over.
But Naraal had drawn in Parnard with a small possibility of finding his armour. He had told him he may know where it was. That was enough to set hopes for my dear friend. I understood. I also understood when he told me, “We cannot tell Estarfin, or he will slay him - then I shall never get my armour back.”
Everything in me said do not withhold this news from Estarfin. We were soon to be wed, we would be as one. It was never in my heart nor mind to hide anything from him. (Except perhaps surprise gifts I had made for him.) One just did not hide things from their beloved. But poor Parnard wanted news of his armour.
I did not know what to do. I wanted to keep tryst with Parnard. I wanted to tell Estarfin. I could not do both. So, it came to be that I explained to Parnard that I had to tell Estarfin. I believe he was disappointed, but he understood, and replied, “If you must, then you must.” To be truthful, I do not think hiding the event from Estarfin sat easily with him either.
A few evenings ago I decided to correct my ill-choice. It began pleasantly enough. Parnard and I were outside my house when Barahirn approached, rather joyfully for him. It seemed his sister, Fearanë, and my young apprentice Marawendi were planning a small party before the wedding. They had wanted to surprise everyone, which they had, and give Parnard an evening of respite from his additions to my wedding gown. They had even asked Filignil to lay down her food preparations and be indulged by them for the evening.
“Well, it is no surprise now you have told us, Barahirn. When is it to be?” I asked.
“A week and a day,” he explained. “We are drawing close to Midsummer.”
At that point, Estarfin exited the door to the hall where his forge was located. He glanced over, then began slapping his tunic, sending dirt and dust flying in the air. He removed his thick, leather gauntlets, hanging them over his belt, and approached us with a smile.
“Lord Estarfin,” Barahirn bowed deeply. The youth had much admiration for my husband-to-be. “My sister, Fearanë, is full of excitement regarding the news.”
“The news?” Estarfin halted beside me, smiled slightly, then turned aside and shook his mane of hair, running fingers through it like a comb. As usual, it held a collection of leaves from when he had been outdoors, and a lot of coal dust from the fires of the forge.
“She and Marawendi are preparing a ‘before your wedding’ party.” Barahirn beamed with excitement of his own.
“Just for the nissi, or are we neri invited?” Estarfin looked questioningly at him, and the stable hand’s expression fell.
“Oh, I had not thought of that,” he said softly. He glanced down at his boots a moment.
“Surely any party is for all?” I interrupted. If by any chance it was not, I would see that altered.
Parnard came to the rescue. “Barahirn, you already mentioned I am to take respite from my needlework, and right glad I am to hear it, because my fingers are worn down to nubs! Last I looked in a mirror I saw a prince of a fellow, not a nis. If I am to attend, then there must be an open invite, no?” My cousin laughed, and rubbed his knuckles on his chest.
The stable hand looked up, eyes twinkling again. “Unless it be the plan of the nissi to spoil you?”
Parnard said he rather liked that idea, blushed, then laughed.
“It is for all to attend, Barahirn. If we have any unexpected visitors, we shall bid then call another time, or send them away. You are to rest as well.”
Estarfin looked a little confused by the matter.
“Worry not, meldanya. We are already decided to have only two witnesses at our wedding; they, Tintallë, and The Allfather, are more than enough. Yet the rest of Numenstaya is joyful for us. I had asked if they could have the celebrations outside, and Filignil and Marawendi are working on a feast for them. Some fireworks, music and dancing.”
Estarfin drew a deep breath.
“And this is their way of giving to us. We should indulge them.”
“They are all a-flutter, and speak of making wreaths of flowers for their hair. At least, Marawendi does.” Barahirn was excited again.
“That is because she is cooped up here,” said Parnard. “Hemmed in by brigands. As the sage once said, ‘A simple pleasure scatters a thousand griefs.’”
Estarfin turned to regard Parnard with concern. “Is she unhappy then? Marawendi?”
Parnard looked uneasy. “She is? Marawendi unhappy? That is news to me. Well, we cannot have that.” I knew it had taken her a while to settle, but particularly after the arrival of Fearanë, the Mirkwood elleth had seemed quite settled.
“What do you think, Cousin?” I asked Parnard. “I believed she was happy, enjoying your company, Fearanë’s and Filignils.”
“Ah, but she is young, and all roads are new.”
“And Filignil will help her keep focused.”
“But she is hemmed in, and feels unsafe.” Estarfin persisted with a slight scowl. He didn’t like the idea of any of us feeling unsafe. To that end he was working as fast as he could on our defensive walls.
“‘Hemmed in’ is a more appropriate description for Fearanë,” I commented. Our free spirited young Nolde was oft asking when she could be trained to give battle to the local goblins and orcs. “She does not feel unsafe, but yearns to be trained to defeat our enemies.”
Barahirn shuffled his feet, looking embarrassed. “Sometimes I have wondered if our parents sent her here for just that? Oh, the Study of Lore and Gem-smithing are more than enough, but where could she get a thorough training in our old ways? Lord Estarfin, and Ceuro, and even yourself, Lady Danel, are the nearest to our home.”
“Imladris still has enough Noldor to see a thorough training given.” I said what I knew.
“That is too far from home,” Barahirn tried to look me in the eye, as he understood I expected.
“One cannot expect too much from young elves,” Parnard said. “They are often restless, plump full of follies and wild ideas, and have not embraced wisdom, like us.”
“Or because there are no adequate instructors in any particular skill left. A lot of our folk have taken ship. We have to travel to learn.” Barahirn folded his arms across his chest and raised his head to look towards the stables. Time to check on the horses, perhaps? “We were only taught basic defence in my home village,” he continued. Fearanë and I have some skill with a shield, and less with a spear.”
“All who dwell here should be able to defend our home, should the time come…” Estarfin spoke as I expected. But he was setting himself up. I moved closer to him, and wrapped both arms around one of his. He glanced down at me. “Danel, I am filthy from work. I need to bathe.”
I nodded. He did. But it would not deter me from supporting him.
“The young ones need proper training,” Parnard said.
“Would you teach us, Lord Estarfin?” Barahirn’s face beamed bright with an eager will.
And I knew, if Estarfin taught them half of what he knew, they would be worthy participants in any force. He was ruthless, he had told me. Yes, he was when necessary. The younger folk had little idea of what it could take to stay alive in any skirmish. But if he, and perhaps Yrill and Ceuro taught them…
Parnard was now eyeing Barahirn head-to-toe, as if judging a bolt of cloth for defects. “Have you fully healed from your injuries?” he asked.
Barahirn nodded. But I understood Parnard's skepticism. The stable hand had received such grievous injuries that we had wondered if he would ever walk again.
“Very well.” He softened his gaze. “Anyone who wishes to train in the use of arms may do so. Except Marawendi.”
“Except Marawendi?” I said to him in surprise. “All nissi were taught in Thargelion, Parnard. It was not that our Prince needed us to join battle, but some wished for it, and all wanted to be able to defend themselves at need.” I was a little shocked by Parnard’s pronouncement, even though I knew how much he wanted to protect the young Wood-elf.
“But that was a long time ago, back in the First Age,” he protested. “We are here, now.”
“You do not wish her to be able to defend herself?” Estarfin asked, in an interested rather than judgemental tone.
Parnard seemed lost in deep thought.
