Parnard and Gondor perhaps?
After Captain Culufinel departed for Celondim, Estarfin and I sat in silence for a while. We each had much to consider, regarding those corsairs' presence, and our dear friend Parnard’s desire to reclaim his stolen armour. We had no trust in the words of the man Tazakr. Of late I had viewed anything concerned with Corsairs to be Naraal’s doing. I wanted nothing to do with that Sea Captain. I heartily wished he would disappear from my life.
Estarfin had been sipping at his wine, almost as if wanting to make each glass last for the evening. He was watching me, watching my reactions. Not that I ever minded him doing that. But I wanted us to be at peace when we were together, rather than ponder a journey that neither of us wanted to go on. We would not go to Umbar, that much was certain. But Gondor…?
“We must speak with him soon, meldanya,” I said. “Less this notion of finding his armour leads him too far south, and into great danger. Parnard is most dear to my heart. I would not lose him.”
Estarfin nodded and, seeing my glass was nigh empty, refilled it. “He is as family, Racarnë. We shall not lose him, even if convincing him not to pursue his goal be challenging.”
The doors to our home were pushed open. To our surprise, a young man entered, wearing a baggy blue tunic gathered round the waist with several belts. No hose was visible, and below his bare knees were wound cloth strips of a brownish-grey colour. On his shoulders was a short mantle, also drab in colour, fastened on the left shoulder by a simple pewter pin. Instead of a hood, he wore a shapeless cap that was pulled down low, almost obscuring his eyes.The shoes were fine black leather, thin-soled, and were very pointed at the toes. I recognized them immediately.
“Estarfin–” I held out a hand, lest he reach for his sword. “‘Tis only Parnard.”
Estarfin had already halted. He also knew. He frowned.
“It is pleasing to see you, Cousin. Please sit down and share some wine with us.”
Parnard was never one to say ‘no’ to such an invite. “It turned out rather well,” he said, twirling on his heel. “Look how this dumpling of a hat covers my ears!”
“Ah, a mannish outfit!”
Estarfin drank his wine and frowned again.
Parnard laughed as he took a seat. “I was not sure I could sew it properly from memory.”
I poured and passed a glass of wine to him. “Do you have time to sit awhile?”
He flung a strange scarf with a knotted fringe around his neck, and replied that he always had time for that.
“There are matters we would speak of. Your clothing looks…plain, as a man’s raiment oft appears.”
“It is most inelegant," said Estarfin.
I lent back a little, closer to my husband, as he continued frowning his disapproval.
“You do look homely, a touch coarse, Cousin.”
Parnard grinned with pleasure. “That means my smartness is hidden, like stars in a fog. It is welcome news to me, for now I appear like a real man.”
“You may have hidden the glow of the stars, but we will drink more wine to return a measure of light.” I rose from my chair and went to collect wine and another glass.
My ‘cousin’ sat in the chair that his brother had recently vacated, and took up the untouched wine Culufinnel had left.
“How clever of you to know that I would visit! You have already put out my glass.”
“And here is another, though do not drink it all at once. We need you to have your wits about you.” I filled the new glass but set it to the back of the table.
“It is one of those kinds of nights, is it? Ha ha!” He tugged uncomfortably at one of the low slung belts buckled about his waist.
“Oh, and help yourself to the boiled eggs and cold lamb, if you will.”
My ‘cousin’ took out his eating knife and winked at me.
Estarfin settled himself more comfortably, leant forward a little, and spoke bluntly, as was oft his way. “We do not think it wise for you to go to Umbar,” he said.
Parnard speared sliced lamb on his knife and began munching away happily. “Oom-bar? Oom-bar? Why would I wish to go there?”
I glanced at Estarfin, glad that he had broached the important matter so soon, and passed the bread basket. “Your brother was here a short while ago, giving us more news of Corsairs,” I said.
Parnard dropped the knife on his plate with a clatter.
“Estarfin and I now know his thoughts, although we have thoughts of our own,” I continued.
Parnard leaned back slightly from the table, as if trying to distance himself from the mention of his brother’s visit. He quietly withdrew his hands into his lap, his gaze dropping to the floor. When he spoke, his voice was flat and tightly guarded. “Each person has thoughts. And I have some thoughts, too,” he replied.
“That is a good thing, lest we all think the same,” I tried to deflect a little of the seriousness of the matter. Just a little.
“Cousin, Estarfin and I are concerned for your well-being.” Now I was speaking bluntly. “Not that we doubt your skills, but rather, there are some rather unwholesome folk about.”
Estarfin sipped at his wine again, looking a little less disapproving.
“Why are you concerned? Did the Corsairs wish to take me away again?”
“Not that we know of, but there is one of them, who was recently in Celondim,” I answered. I nudged Estarfin. “Eldest*, can you explain it more plainly than I?”
Estarfin frowned and said, “We do not wish to leave these lands in search of your armour, nor do we think it wise to treat in any manner with those men.”
Parnard looked between the two of us, his eyes wide and suddenly vulnerable, searching our faces. “You do not wish to search for my armour?” he asked, his voice rising.
I nodded. I felt as if I was betraying my ‘cousin’, but I preferred him to remain alive, armour or not. “We both understand your wish to reclaim what was stolen from you, but we fear for your safety. The Corsairs are not to be trusted. Something is afoot.”
Parnard seemed to be struggling to find words. Finally he said, “So your desire to stay here is greater than your desire to aid me.”
“Umbar is an evil land. It was certainly not always so, but it has been for some time. Sauron has a grip there that has not been assuaged.” I tried to explain.
“But I do not wish to go there.”
“Well, that is a good start. But Gondor is also tainted, though less so. They still have connections with the Heirs of Castamir and Númenor.”
Parnard lifted his chin. “I understand perfectly. You have had enough of wandering in foreign lands.”
“It is not that. We have no wish to travel in mortal lands, especially after last year. But we would certainly do so for you.” I looked to Estarfin to explain the problems with Gondor.
Parnard pulled the short mantle tighter around his shoulders. “But the Men will not know we are Elves,” he protested, his voice low but fiercely insistent. He lowered his head, hiding his chin in his collar, and felt around for the rim of his cap to ensure it was properly covering his ears. “Do I not look just like a mortal?”
“No,” said Estarfin. “Thankfully not.”
“I suspect you did not recognise me when I walked in.”
“Your outfit looks mortal, but you do not. We can all wear caps to partially hide our faces, but there is our bearing and presence; what we are is not so easily disguised.”
Parnard blinked in realization, then puffed out his chest. “I suppose it is hard for me to appear like them. It is difficult to hide the light of our kind.”
Estarfin nodded. “Gondor is a land of men, which is bad enough.”
“But Earcalië went there and she said the folk were not all bad. They recognised her for what she was, and did not seek to harm her.” Parnard was, of course, referring to our visitor while we were nigh Forlond.
“Earcalië is a lovely and increasingly learned nis, but she is still very young, and inexperienced,” I said. “I understand her curiosity and her restlessness, for I was once similar. But my travelling was driven by need first, by my home being destroyed. And I was well tutored in the arts of defence.” I leant forward again, speaking softly. “As you may know, Gondor has no King. It has Stewards, some few being reasonable to deal with, but others, the present one included, have been…suspect. Weak. There is much disorder as a result.”
Parnard traced a finger over the tabletop’s surface. “All the better to sneak in unsuspectedly, then!”
“Cousin, evil stalks the streets of Minas Tirith.”
The Wood-elf drew back. “What kind of evil?”
“Lies and corruption, even more than is usual among Men. I say not all Men, for some try to hold fast to their ancient blood, of those who stood with us in the Old Alliance, but most have fallen away. There is shared blood between Gondor and Umbar. Their leaders both hail from Númenor of old. Any, including this Steward, could be in the services of the Dark Lord.”
Parnard said nothing at first, then made a groan of dismay. “So, what you are telling me is that traveling there would be ill-advised.”
“We fear for you. And I suppose also for us?” I turned to Estarfin. “We would be unlikely to return if challenged by a great number.”
Parnard cupped his chin in his hand. “Miruviel read a book that said that the city has seven high walls, each with one locked gate. Is it true?”
I nodded. “Yes, it is based on our old cities. Based on Tirion upon Túna in the Undying Lands. Therefore it has beauty of a sort. White marble, yes, and houses, halls and places of study all designed to inspire. There are statues of old heroes in many places, and taverns on every street. But there are also tombs. There are very many beautiful tombs–beautiful on the outside. Yet it honours the dead more than the living.” I rose to my feet and moved to stand by Estarfin’s chair. A chill had gone through me at that memory.
Estarfin spoke at last. “What are your thoughts?” he asked Parnard.
He looked up, a little startled at the question. “Gondor is not a fit place for my armour. I suppose I must be patient, that is all, and await news of it–and put my trust in a bunch of thieves and cutthroats!”
“What news could you hear of it that you would trust?”
“Why good news, of course. That it is about to be delivered to my hand.” He drummed his fingers against the table. “I can be very, very patient, you know.”
Estarfin and I exchanged glances.
“Patience is a start, as is the belief that whoever has it will surely not destroy it,” I started to say. Estarfin was frowning again. “Perhaps the Corsairs will return some or all of your armour, though we must still question why? What do they want in exchange? Perhaps they will not, and this is but some sort of game to them? “
Parnard sat with his hat pushed forward, biting his thumbnail as he listened.
“It may be simply a case of outliving those who have taken or bought it?” I suggested.
“That will not prove difficult.” Estarfin continued to sip at his wine.
“Cousin, we cannot tell you what to do. We cannot even really advise you. For my part, I would only go if it was to rescue either one of you, but I do know that certain ‘items’ can have a great hold.”
“Well, there is no chain around my ankles, that is for certain—yet your words give me pause. Even Estarfin does not wish to look for his creation.” Parnard swiveled a hopeful eye at him.
“While not indestructible, it shall surely outlast any man,” Estarfin said.
Parnard sighed then took up his glass, draining what was left in one gulp.
“You know us to be no cowards, Cousin, but it is not a place either of us wish to walk. Of the lands we know, it has the largest number of men, and the works of their hands. For Estarfin to go there would mean his death, and so also mine.”
Parnard nodded. “It is hard to leave one’s happiness to set out on a fool’s search–I know that Cousin, I know that. It is my lot.” He ripped off his cap and almost threw it into the fire, but hesitated at the last second and tossed it into the corner.
“I say again to you that Estarfin will make you another suit of armour, from mithril. Would you consider using that until we find a better way of reclaiming the original?”
“Mithril? Where would you get that much mithril?”
I pondered a moment. I knew that would be no simple matter either. “I have already melted down most of the mithril I had, but as we accumulate more coin we may be able to trade with the Dwarves of Thorin’s Halls? Or perhaps barter for it?”
“They would ask for a tremendous sum,” Parnard pointed out.
I nodded. I was aware.
“It would not be entirely of mithril. Such a thing is unheard of,” Estarfin said.
I tried to soften my husband’s words. “One piece forged and paid for at a time? It would be an alloy, but still most beautiful.”
Parnard nodded slowly, then said, a bitter edge creeping into his voice, “We crept into Dol Guldur to reclaim Danel’s sword Urussë, and came out without too many injuries–surely you recall that? Would a sword made of mithril replace that which your great-grandfather made?”
I was aghast. A sword made by Mahtan of Tirion, armour made by my beloved, trained by one who was taught by Aulë, both were dear. Yet the reclamation of Urussë had been a very different situation, and I had aimed to go alone from the start. “Both of you are far more valuable to me than that sword,” I said.
“Yet still we went to Dol Guldur.”
I would have walked in alone, had not Estarfin and Parnard volunteered to come with me, though Estarfin said he had been ordered by Veryacano to keep me safe, and I had asked Parnard to guide us through the wood to that dark tower, but in that situation I did not wish to fan any flames, and said, “That sword was forged in Tirion; it was my family heirloom, precious beyond belief, but it is not more precious than either of you, nor the lives of the others who accompanied me. And I am grateful for everyone who did.”
Estarfin was now looking at Parnard with understanding, I thought. We Noldor certainly had enough reason to understand what it meant to have one’s prized possessions stolen.
A short, bitter sound escaped his throat—not quite a laugh. “I am surprised at you two Noldor,” Parnard said, his voice dropping to a raspy murmur. “Never did I think to see you balk...” He snapped his head up, his voice suddenly sharp: “...yet the day has come!”
“It is not fear, rather, it is loathing, as if we should enter a pit of filth. I would rather face a Nazgûl.”
Parnard looked as if he had more to say, but merely sipped gloomily at his wine.
I looked at Estarfin. He had not been bothered by the insult, neither would I be. We knew it was untrue, and we also understood what was behind it.
“It is almost time to rest.” I said. “We shall see what tomorrow brings.”
“I suppose it is time to lay this aside. If my friends will not come with me, what hope do I have alone?” Parnard regarded us sadly for a few moments, then scooped up his mannish hat and put it on his head with a yank.
“The armour will survive for Ages,” I reminded him.
“So will my memory.” Parnard muttered something else under his breath, then left.
*Parnard, and sometimes Danel, refer to Estarfin as ‘Eldest’ as he is the eldest of the three, though not by much compared to Danel though.
