Shortly after midday on the second day, I ceased pacing, sat down at my desk, took up pen and paper and began writing.
Estarfin, Meldanya, I was wrong. I own it all, have no excuses. I wronged you. I apologise with all my heart for my actions. I never meant to hurt you in any way, yet that is exactly what I have done. I cannot undo it. I can only ask you to think of what I have spoken, and know, though my actions in this case failed abysmally, usually words and actions match. You have my heart and my trust, you know that. I am far from perfect, but I make oath now that I shall ever be mindful of my deeds, that I never hurt you in this manner again. Nor in any manner, if it be possible.
I shall give you space from my presence for a while, though know I am here, and here I remain. Know I would listen and speak at any time you wish. Know that, while I have not shown it in this recent action, in truth you ever have my love and regard.
Parnard must speak with you for himself, though I dare to say he loves you greatly, and is mightily grieved by any pain he has caused.
D
I walked down the path and over the bridge, passing Marawendi and Fearane on the way. They both looked concerned. There was no sound coming from the house, though the shouting and smashing of things had been reported to me earlier. I knew what Estarfin had been doing.
I knelt down and pushed my letter under his door. He would read it or not, but it was my hope he had exhausted his initial pain, and would at least look at what I said. There was still no sound of movement from within, so I slowly trod the path back. I knew the young ones were concerned, others were too, but this was between Estarfin and I alone.
Later, I took a ride into Duillond to order some fresh summer fruit. Filignil came with me. We may not have appeared fearsome, but we were two who could more than hold our own should any dare to cause us trouble. She spoke with me a little on Marawendi, on how she was very impressed, and on being willing to teach her archery if Parnard thought that more suitable than sword wielding. She discreetly kept away from anything connected with the wedding. Once back at Numenstaya, she told me she was ever there to aid me as I wished, but then made a hasty retreat back into her kitchen.
The rest of the day I wandered about my small library, wanting to bury myself in something interesting, distracting, but found no book to fill my emptiness. The setting of Anor was, of course, rather late as we approached midsummer. I normally loved long bright evenings, but that night….I just wanted to make things well between Estarfin and I.
As the first stars appeared, I decided to take a walk down to the lake. If Estarfin was considering leaving his house, it would be now, under starlight.
It was beautiful. Tintalle had spread her cloak of stars as far as the eye could see. No clouds obscured the view. The air was warm, carrying a hint of honeysuckle and rose from the nearest garden. I gazed up. ‘Lady of the stars, I know this is my mistake to sort out, but I ask your help as always.’ I could ask no more of she who had already given me so much. So I stood, bathing in her light, and listening to the last songs of the birds before they took rest. A nightingale trilled its tune.
“Ah, Tindomiel.”
I turned to see him walking down towards me and the lake. He looked drawn and tired. In his hand was a half-drunken bottle of wine.
“Estarfin. Will you speak with me?” I asked.
He looked at me and nodded slightly. “What shall we say?”
“Whatever you wish to say. I shall listen.” I turned my back to the water to fully face him. He took a sip from the bottle.
“Yet you know what I would say already, I think.” he looked to the stars a moment, also calling on Tintalle, perhaps.
I tried not to show the concern I felt that he was still drinking, still seeking numbness from his hurt. He needed to think clearly if we were to reach reconciliation.
“The stars,” he said, “They are set in their path. As are we.”
That wounded me, though I doubt it was his intent. “We are not stuck. We can break our betrothal if that is your wish, though it most certainly is not mine. I would suspect you are hurt, disappointed and angry.”
He shrugged. But he was listening.
“I tried to explain in the letter I wrote you…”
“Letter?” He looked straight at me again.
“I wrote to you, I put it under your door. I was most, am most concerned for you. You know if you are hurt, I am hurt also?”
He shook his head. He had not seen it.
“I take all the blame for this. I knew I was acting against you even as I agreed to keeping it hidden. You are blameless.”
He lowered the bottle, his weary eyes reflecting the starlight again. He spoke more gently. “I do not understand why you simply did not tell me?”
“Oh, Estarfin,” It was all I could do not to throw my arms around him. “Will you hear my thoughts, that perhaps you may understand better, even if you do not find it in yourself to forgive?”
He looked at me as if he was searching my heart. He knew I had not meant to wrong him, that this breach between us was wrong. He nodded. “But out on the pavilion in the water?”
I agreed most readily. We had done some of our best talking on pavilions in water. “As you wish,” I said.
We walked out to the white marble pavilion, set amidst the lake we had swum in together before the recent darkness that saw us torn apart. “Remember?” I asked softly, knowing that he would.
“I was happy then,” he nodded. “The waters, the stars and each other.”
“There was naught more I would wish for,” I replied.
He looked to the stars a moment, smiled a little and looked back at me.
“I could understand why Parnard wanted the armour back. It was something you had made for him. I knew because that is how I felt about the betrothal ring.”
“I understand that.” He settled down on the floor of the pavilion, still taking an occasional sip from the wine bottle, but with nowhere near the urgency. “I know the lengths to which our folk will go, to reclaim what is ours.”
“They were both gifts from you, that we were so proud to have,” I continued.
“I understand that also. They were dear to you both, and almost impossible to remake.”
I dared a full smile at him. “Now Parnard was accosted unexpectedly, and Naraal was full of craft. He was acting as a go between by coming for the mithril my pledge held me to. But he saw a way of extending that contact. If it had been the other way round, and Parnard had his armour back, but I had not your ring, I would have listened. Such can be the hold on us of cherished possessions.”
He nodded, he was listening, though still drinking a little. “I can understand all of this. Why did you not tell me?”
And that was the heart of the matter. “Because Parnard and I both believed your desire to slay Naraal would overcome all else.”
“On that matter, you are probably correct.” he confessed dryly. “But not telling me left Numenstaya vulnerable. You told no others here either?”
“No,”
He looked disappointed with me. “After what happened, safety is one of my foremost concerns. I work as I do, and others help, to safeguard all.”
I nodded. I knew. “I have no reasonable excuse, Estarfin. I did write to Gaerion, whose letter I received two days later saying Lord Cirdan and the fleet were aware there was some Corsair activity. Patrols had been increased. Three extra ships were dispatched. And Naraal is but one man. Should he cause trouble, you or I or Filignil could handle him. At need we could handle a ship load of Corsairs.”
“You know Men are trouble. Where there is one man, there are others. Yet you did not warn us?”
“I understand.” and I did, I was too old for such folly. We were too old for such folly. “I do not know how to undo what is done. I can only say I will make vow I shall not act this way again.”
He shook his head. “That will not be necessary. I can be difficult. I understand that.”
I looked up at him, amazed.
“You are no more difficult than I am, meldanya. Neither of us are perfect.”
He gently brushed a strand of hair from my face. “I ask for no vows. You know that. All I ask is that you are honest with me.”
“You are ever honest with me. That is part of why I am so angry with myself.” I felt all was sufficiently resolved to lean against him, as I would usually do.
“I was angry, with you, with Parnard, with myself. I drank heavily.”
I smiled sadly, knowingly.
“My house is a mess.”
“Oh. I would never have guessed.” I ran my fingers through his hair, finally relaxing after the concern of the past weeks. “Then I shall help you tidy it, if you will permit.”
“I made the mess.”
“I caused you to make it.”
We both smiled. It was a deal. We would work swifter together anyway.
“And I shall not tell you unimportant things. You need not know what fruit I bought at the market earlier.. “
He drew me to him a moment. And we were both wounded, but better together.
“May we walk down to your house, that I see what can be started on?” I asked, reluctantly disengaging from his embrace.
“On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“That you tell me what fruit you bought earlier.”
I laughed. “Strawberries,” I said.
