A Moment of Rest

Estarfin slapped his hand away, surprised and angered by his presumption. Parnard looked taken aback at the reaction, and sat back down next to the small fire, holding his hands out before the orange flames to warm them.
"Very well Lord Estarfin, if you would prefer to continue with tangled and filthy hair, so be it." Parnard took the small comb and placed it back inside a small pouch at his waist. Frowning slightly, Estarfin lifted a hand to his hair, feeling the coarse and matted hair. Perhaps he had a point. He had never taken as much pride in his appearance as some, but this would not do. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a beautiful silver comb, taking a moment to admire it fondly by the firelight.
"I know you mean no harm Parnard, I am just weary and in a foul mood. My injuries weigh heavily upon me and I feel.... I feel useless in such a state. What good can I do when I can barely lift my own spear? I am slowing the whole company down with my infirmity, and we can I'll afford any delays. Maybe it would be better if you simply left me here. All I do is sleep, eat and snap at my comrades." He looked down at the fire, bitterness etched deeply upon his pale features as he thought of how he had treated Laurelindo after Veryacano had injured his pride.
"Do not be troubled Estarfin, with a little rest you will heal in time. Until then there are others that can take up weapons against our enemy, you do not have to think that you alone can wield a blade. Despite the clumsy ministrations of Laurelindo you will recover your strength soon, I hope."
"Clumsy? He has done no harm to me with the care he has shown, Parnard." Estarfin reached down and unstrapped several buckles before pulling his leather armour open. He showed him the neat and clean bandages that strapped his ribs, the cotton appearing orange in the flickering firelight. "Perhaps it is time that you forgave him for his mistake Parnard, for I am sure he meant you no harm. He did not realise that the arrows of the yrch were poisoned. Remember that your symptoms did not show straight away. An easy thing to miss."
Parnard snorted, clearly not sharing Estarfin's trust of the healer. "Not even fully trained! That is what he said. Only a trainee healer, that is the best help that we can muster on this quest. He knows little of healing I would wager if he cannot spot such a thing. He had even scorned some of my suggestions of how best to treat injuries, if you can believe that!"
Estarfin smiled to himself as Parnard began listing all of the various medicines that they had used in Mirkwood that Laurelindo had never even heard of. He was only half-listening as Parnard explained how the strangest of treatments would be certain to work, and looked down at the silver comb he was still holding. He reached up and tried to pull the comb through his matted hair, quickly stopping as the combs teeth slid through his hair and then suddenly jammed in a great knot, wrenching his fragile ribs in the process.
"Roasted of course, so that the resin can be powdered. If it is then mixed with water and applied to the wound it will help it to heal rapidly. Such a simple treatment is known to all where I come from.... Are you alright?" A slight note of pity entered his voice as he saw the Noldor warrior unable even to pull a comb through his own hair. Looking angry with his own weakness, Estarfin took the comb and stuffed it back into his pocket, scowling to himself.
"Wait, give it here." Parnard insisted, leaning over and holding a hand out. Estarfin paused for a moment before relenting and handing it over, too weary to argue despite his wounded pride. Parnard took the comb and looked at it in the firelight. "Beautiful. Did you make it yourself?" Parnard asked.
"No, it was my mother's once. She gave it to me when I swore my oath of service to the Lord Caranthir. They were both so proud that day, her and my father." Estarfin smiled at the memory, realising that he had not thought of that day for many long years. "My father gave me a knife, but that was lost in battle long ago. It was nothing special you know, but it meant a lot at the time." Estarfin lapsed into silence, staring into the fire and thinking of his family.
"He served Caranthir too then? Your father?" Parnard asked as he moved to perch on the rock above Estarfin. He took the comb and began to carefully pull it through the coarse hair as he waited for the answer.
"Indeed, he was one of his Captains." Estarfin answered proudly. "He led the cavalry, whilst such a force still existed. The lands of Thargelion were open and suited for such things you realise. This land is similar with the open plains and outcrops of mountains; in fact if Rohan was moved a hundred leagues north perhaps it might even resemble it." Estarfin smiled as he spoke.
"A Captain? Surely that is a position of great honour? You served under your father then? That must have made him proud." Parnard asked almost absent-mindedly as he continued to work the comb through the tangled hair.
"No, as I said, he led the cavalry. I have always been more comfortable fighting with both feet upon the ground! I know that he was proud when I swore my oath, but whether my service would please him….. I do not know, he fell in battle shortly after I took my oath." Estarfin had picked up a wet stick from the floor, passing it between his hands and stripping the bark off with his fingers as he spoke.
"My father was a warrior also, in service to the King Thranduil. Though he was not born a warrior of course." Parnard replied, pulling a small pair of scissors from a pouch and beginning to cut out a knot of hair. Estarfin jerked his head away, turning to look at Parnard with annoyance.
"What are you doing? Put those scissors away!" Estarfin snapped. Parnard slid the scissors away, shrugging slightly, and began to pull the comb through the knot with more force. Estarfin turned back to the fire, wincing as the Mirkwood Elf pulled the comb against increasing resistance.
"What was he born to then? What profession did he follow?" Estarfin asked, trying to distract himself from the pain in his scalp.
"Cheese. He made cheese and butter. He used milk from Dale mainly, as the forest was unsuitable for the keeping of great numbers of livestock. So perhaps it is fitting that he marched that way with the army of Thranduil against the wyrm of the north and that he died where he had oft visited. Although what they expected of a cheesemaker I do not know…" Parnard broke off with a trace of sadness in his voice.
"You mock your father Parnard? He offered his service bravely and died as a warrior." There was a tone of surprise and disapproval in Estarfin's voice as he spoke.
"No, of course I do not. I am proud of him, of what he did. It is just a shame that it was necessary." Parnard answered.
"Any would he be proud of you do you think? The path that you have taken?"
Parnard was silent for a while as he pulled the comb through Estarfin's hair, only occasionally catching a tangle now.
"Yes, I think so. Surprised maybe, but I am doing something of worth I believe. When I was younger I would spend my days wandering the trees, and desired nothing more but peace to wander at will. Maybe he thought that I would always wander with no purpose."
"And now you serve as Ambassador to the House Vanimar, although such duties are on hold on the dark road that we currently follow."
"Indeed" answered Parnard "And now I am a warrior." Estarfin chuckled softly at the boast, and Parnard paused. "You do not think of me as a warrior Lord Estarfin?" Estarfin could hear the trace of wounded pride in his voice, and so answered carefully.
"A difficult question Parnard, for we judge that word differently to others. Certainly you carry a fine sword and can use it as well or better than any mortal. But you are in the company of those that have marched into battle for thousands of years. I do not seek to shame you, but you should be careful of calling yourself such in the company that you presently keep."
Parnard resumed combing Estarfin's tangle-free hair, considering the answer. Shrugging slightly, Parnard continued combing his hair until Estarfin's breathing slowed and his head drooped onto his chest. Placing the comb next to his sleeping form, Parnard stood and stretched his limbs looking up at the stars and thinking of where their road would lead them to next.