“Well done, O cracker-eating varlet! And so I am to be roused, and awakened out of my sleep, to listen to more of your sing-songing prattle! See how my leg is wound up, and my limbs yet trembling and shaking, from the putrid orc arrows? No, varlet, I suppose you must not, else you would give me a moment’s peace, and not twine my thoughts like some noisome, overgrown weed, filling my head up with a bramble chain of idle fancies. You must not suppose I need rest, varlet; but if you do, you are widely mistaken – “
“What is happening? What is the matter now?” said Veryacano, emerging from his tent.
The sudden appearance of Lord Veryacano made Parnard temporarily forget the vexation into which being aroused from sleep had thrown him, and which had caused the lingering effects of the poison to apply themselves more fiercely, his blood being up. Parnard rubbed at his eyes, and said, “Oh, Lord Veryacano, I am most thankful for your kind concern, as always, but I am sorry to report that this cracker-eating varlet is not much of a guard - he now inspects his handiwork!” Parnard motioned at the bandage swathed around his ankle.
“You are calling an accident my handiwork?” Telpenaro said indignantly.
“Accident!” cried Parnard. “I suppose it is mighty convenient to call it such. Mighty convenient."
“Parnard and I were taking a walk in the woods. I offered him some rations, and he stepped into an orc trap. That is what happened, in short –“
“It was not a place for cracker eating, Lord Veryacano,” interrupted Parnard.
Telpenaro shrugged. “All in all, it was an absurd chain of events. But we got him back to camp, and Laurelindo took care of him.”
“Yes, and it was well that he did, else I would have my met my death by an orc, who stuck me full of poisoned arrows, whilst I waited for this cracker-eating varlet to return.”
“Do not ignore that I ran to get help for you as you told me!” said Telpenaro.
“It was either that, or have you cut my leg off to free me from the trap. That would have finished me, no doubt! And Lord Estarfin was just over yonder, in that copse of trees, so he told me himself. You did not look very hard for him, did you? – varlet!”
Veryacano was silent throughout this exchange, listening to both elves as they argued, his hands clasped behind his back. “It seems to me,” he said, addressing Parnard, "that you should better watch where you step. I told you it was a dangerous place.”
Parnard knew better than to argue with the Hammer Lord, and further test his short supply of patience. Thinking it best to drop the matter, he quickly bowed his head in deference, and murmured, “Yes, my Lord.”
“Got any more of those accursed crackers, varlet?” said Veryacano, turning to Telpenaro with a chuckle.
“Nay, my Lord,” said Telpenaro, a sheepish look on his face. “I gave them back to the Men. They did not tell me that they were horse feed –“
Parnard gasped. “What! You gave me horse crackers to eat!”
Veryacano chuckled harder. “Well, Parnard. You do not look as if you have suffered any serious injury.”
“No, no, my Lord, I only was in a perilous half-sleep, akin to waking death, under effects of deadly orc poison,” he complained. “It was not serious at all - as you say!”
“I fear you will not survive this journey, if you continue like this.” Veryacano held back a grin.
“I dare say I will not, with cracker-eating varlets as my guards,” muttered Parnard under his breath.
Little did Veryacano or Telpenaro know that during the night, while they rested, the scout Fearanie and warrior Estarfin had returned to the camp and discovered Parnard in a delirious stupor, writhing in pain beside the campfire, coming dangerously close to rolling over on its coals. They expressed surprise and dismay over his dire condition, and that he was left unattended by his appointed guard. The result of this conversation was that Parnard took it into his head that he was greatly wronged by Telpenaro, who had failed entirely in his duty. He was only too thoroughly persuaded of this to allow of any giving of it up for wrong. The poison had done its worst, and though its effects were weakening, it had worked its evil deep, muddling his wits and twisting his good nature, and it made him see things in a harsh, ill light. Therefore, he believed it was true, and that Telpenaro acted as he argued. Yet Lord Veryacano did not see it the same way, thought Parnard, frowning. Why, it was almost as if he did not care what happened to him! He well knew that Veryacano did not respect him – the Hammer Lord made this obvious with every condescending word and gesture, but he never thought that he wished to see him come to harm. Now he was not so sure. Perhaps he had tired of him, and this was his way of getting rid of him, for good.
By this time, the other elves of the company were awake, and were busying themselves with their morning routines: breaking their fast, rolling up their bedding, and doing other tasks to prepare themselves for the next stage of their journey. Tindir, Lord Veryacano’s second-in-command, joined the small group by the fire with his wife, Himwen, who passed around wafers of lembas. Parnard jealously watched Telpenaro eat, his eyes dark as green slate. He could not eat without getting sick, which had never happened before in his life, and he did not care much for the experience. There were many times when he could not eat, because he had no food, and this leaving off of eating was the cause of his being so thin; even with plentiful food, it seemed impossible for his body to recover what it had done without for so long, and Parnard could never gain any weight to his frame, no matter how much he gorged himself. “It is very strange,” he thought, “for my stomach to buck up, and be so unsettled. The poison must be very potent, and still coursing within me, but I will shake off its effects, and, for the future, avoid falling into mistakes that are, as that cracker-eating varlet claims, so ‘absurd,’ and which are so harmful to my normal habit of breathing!” And ruminating moodily about his circumstances, and the all too fleeting joys of quixotic fate, Parnard had almost convinced himself that Telpenaro was Veryacano’s own personal assassin, when a small golden-brown falcon descended and alighted upon the Hammer Lord’s gauntlet.
