Estarfin

Estarfin let out a small exclamation of frustration as he examined the shining metal in the palm of his hand; another flawed attempt after a long day spent before the forge. The alloyed steel was beautiful, but it was still too soft, too liable to be harmed. The delicate inscribing chisels he had created for the task cut too deep, splitting the grain of the metal apart. He held it up to the light once more, wondering whether such a flaw mattered. He shook his head slightly, then tossed it carelessly back into the heart of the forge. Any imperfection could not be tolerated.

(After Of Fire and Ice | The Laurelin Archives  and 'Wasted Treasures' Edited and origin

The wood-elf Parnard had hardly ceased speaking when Estarfin urged his warhorse Gilastor forward, and Swan-Hoof followed closely out of the stable, both horses made excited by the Noldo’s fierce temper. They made their way down the hill, when suddenly in their path stepped Danel, and planted herself in the middle of the road. 

(This tale is set the day following ’Overstepping Propriety', and the day before ‘The Music Lesson; Part One.)

Parnard stood on the roof of Danel’s home, looking out in wonderment at the light of the setting sun making the treetops shine golden green, when he heard his name called. “Lovely ladies! What a delightful sight to see in the dews of the day," he sang out, jumping down and wandering over. He smoothed his hair back, blinking a little, for the sunlight had dazzled his eyes. Then he looked upon Danel’s companion - it was a Woman!

I reached out a hand tentatively. Parnard had said Estarfin must dance, but Estarfin would do exactly as he determined, not any other. I saw the move to decline, even as I offered my hand to him. I saw the change in his eyes as he understood. And he reached forward, taking my hand in his as he pushed himself to his feet. Parnard did not know our customs of old. Why should he? He did not know of our proprieties, at least not those more specific to us than to the Eldar in general.

The elves rode out from their halls, heading east, for Parnard had told them of a place that would be ideal for their feast, a fair green place, remote, far away from the eyes of prying mortals, Men and Halflings alike. Their progress was slow, as the victuals were transported by pony cart.