"Well, Sogadan,” said the Lord Ambassador. “What do you think I have inside this box?”
“Your coin to pay off your wine bill, I hope! You have let it run up again."
Parnard dragged his purse out of his pocket, and counted gold into the outstretched hand of the Vintner, a little annoyed, but he told himself that his friend must live well too, and he acknowledged that perhaps twenty pieces of gold would not only assist with making Sogadan more prosperous, but he might just listen a little better, too. “Now, Sogadan. I did not come here to idly sit drinking wine," he announced.
“Remarkable,” said Sogadan, truly surprised, and watched in wide-eyed silence as Parnard produced a tiny key and unlocked the small wooden chest he brought to the Hall of Fire with him.
“Tonight is different: tonight is an evening worth celebrating!” said Parnard to him and anyone who happened to be within earshot. “Lord Anglachelm thought it proper to try the fortunes of the House, because it pleased him to do so, and it was wise and good counsel. Let him be praised for it!” Parnard lifted high his wine glass in a toast in absentia to the Tûr of his House. “Who would have thought that Lord Vorongwe would find exactly what was needed! It is a strange occurrence, but such are the ways of fate!”
“No, no,” replied Sogadan affecting mock patience. “The circumstance, strange as it is, is not the strangest I have ever heard you tell me, and you have done as all people of your situation generally do: if any good fortune happens to them unawares, they regale themselves, and they pat themselves on the back, and say it was meant to be.”
“Well, well, perhaps it is because Fortune favors the brave,” interjected Parnard.
“I thought it was, Fortune favors fools.”
Parnard frowned. “Sogadan,” said he, “you surely do not mean to make a jest of us?”
“I will not tire your lordship with any more of my observations, save this last one! The longer you have served Bar-en-Vanimar, the more sleek and wealthy you and your fellows have grown, and the more satisfaction I have had from seeing it.” Sogadan uttered this sincerely, as his wallet had grown fat from the effect of his friend’s liberality with the grape. He decided at that moment to seek amusement and laughter elsewhere, and looked suddenly very serious and self-deprecating. He even bowed his head in respect.
Parnard nodded and smiled. “Well, well, it is very good of you to say so,” he declared, and threw the chest open under the Vinter's nose. A pile of very plain-looking colorless stones nestled within. The firelight caught and shimmered on the stones and glowed like a living blue flame.
“There they are – the rarest of the rare! Moonstones!”
“What makes them glow like that?”
“Hmm...I know not. All I need to know is that moonstones are to Dwarves what wrack and ruin is to Men!” Seeing Sogadan’s blank look, he explained, “Dwarves covet them. They will trade many cart loads of good steel for these pretties! Or so I hope...I must take care to put them in a safe place."
Parnard started browsing over the list given to him by Aurineth. It was in Quenya. Undaunted, he skimmed the document until his eyes alighted on the familiar words, 'quality,' and 'valuable.'
“Just listen to this, Sogadan! 'Many...uh...pieces of high quality...hidden underneath a stone. Many fine gems of – ' yes I do believe it reads, 'excellent work. One...' ah...'ringstone...sides...’ hmm! Well what does it say? Never mind that part. Here it says, 'the reverse bears a mark,' no, 'design' it must read...'a design of a fist clutching what looks like firebolts' - ? What, pray, is a firebolt, Sogadan? - ah, well! 'There is no inscription to refer to the owner of the seal, not even a few letters, but no hint is needed.'"
Parnard looked up from the list. “Well I wish they had written a hint! That is mighty curious, mighty curious!” He continued to read, “'The gems in the third' - something - 'are of carved beryl and are also' – there is that word again! 'Cake' - no! - 'wafer' - no! 'Seal' aha ha yes! 'Ringstones' and 'seals,' of course! 'A battle...on one, two soldiers,' ah, it must be 'skewering' I believe, 'a beast with a long – ' hmm! I do not know that word. 'One of soldiers holds out his shield and is about to launch a spear against it. Both wear crested helmets with long...tails of feathers, and there is a tower in the mountain, and standing on the tower is a lord overlooking the scene, and he is wearing a mantle and a crown, the points of which are...' I think that reads 'deeply carved.' And it says here that they were 'given to - to - followers who wore them in their rings as a mark of...honour. Much in the same style as the preceding, and of similar material, but finer in detail, and perhaps, much, much older...’”
He lowered the paper and looked mystified. This was a great victory for Bar-en-Vanimar.
Sogadan yawned.
