Culufinnel

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“Cousin, wake up!” said Parnard. “I think I did it!”

Danel awakened from her slumber on the grass and sat up. The Wood-elf was leaning over her, green eyes bright with excitement. 

The roads were not muddy, to Parnard's relief, as he would not have his new cloak or armour splashed, and many brilliant lamps cast a silver glow upon the elves as they traveled to the market town of Celondim.

“And you were saying, meldanya?” My attention was focused on him again.

He sighed, lowering his head. “I worry that the tide is rising, whether we want peace or vengeance.”

The late afternoon of the fourth day saw me ride into Celondim. I wanted to pick up a few resources from my house, and speak with the stone mason. As fortune would have it, a patrol was just passing Numenstaya and I joined them. Lelyaro has been to visit Barahirn, and spoke encouragingly to him. He was not to be concerned about the horses; there was someone on their way to act as temporary stable hand. The job would still be his if and when he wanted it.

“I still cannot believe that she does not wish to see me,” said Parnard as he walked in small, aimless circles around the room, the words of Captain Brethenel still ringing in his ears. 

“He did not say she did not want to be betrothed, did he? Only that he would not permit it," said Danel.

“If that is her choice - perhaps she knows that only pain could come from it?” said Estarfin.

“I was surprised at your sudden departure, great need must have driven you, perhaps?”' asked Estarfin, carefully gauging Parnard’s response.  

The wood-elf nodded. “My brother Culufinnel was urging me. He never relents. I am sorry I did not say anything! I did not even tell Sogadan that I was leaving.”

“We should head out straightaway from the Valley, and not wait until next spring,” urged Culufinnel. "The geese are flying low. Foul weather is coming."

To the Lord Ambassador of Bar-en-Vanimar Parnard,

It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter to you. When your lordship left for the Hithaeglir, little did I know that my duty would require me to bear sad tidings to you through my letters. I had one in progress since the last report I sent, and it consisted of all important matters, such as the latest speculations of the valley folk and the tale of an escaped chicken from the kitchens, but the contents of that report matter very little now.