Estarfin

The caves beside the Sea were as tall within as a forest of old oaks, and inside the elves erected buildings rather than carving out the caves themselves, which they must not have the skill to do, thought Parnard. As if to try to drive away the damp shadows, the Falathrim hung glittering garlands of luminous globes that cast a misty cold light underneath the stalactites.

“I must speak with you about last night,” Danel said to Parnard. “Know that I did not think clearly.”

“In what way, lady?”

I walked out of the Halls, aware of the heavy wooden door swinging closed and the guards bidding us farewell.

Even the fittest of elves was likely to be just a little winded by the time they reached Lord Cirdan’s Halls. The design of Mithlond, against the cliff face, was a series of levels, such as favoured by many an elven architect. Each could be more easily defended by attack from the land or the sea. I thought then these Havens had never been taken. The ones before, at the mouth of the Sirion, were taken by our own. Estarfin among them. 

It happened the second time, as I left the Hall of Lord Cirdan. Something I could not explain. 

There was a sound of horns in the distance, as of one blowing into great seashells that echoed the music of the sea, the beauty, the yearning for home..aye even home beyond Valinor. True home it was that sounded through the waters. 

Parnard and Danel had not been long in town, and were huddled together in conversation about their plan to visit Lord Cirdan, and what to do next, when they heard a cheerful voice calling to them.

“I did not expect such illustrious company to respond to my request,” said a fair-haired elf who was quickly approaching.