The night air outside the scholar’s archive in Duillond was cool and the starshine glimmered down upon the worn stone pavers. Parnard stared at the stars. He had already changed into his red dressing-gown lined with white satin, worn over his sword belt. The scabbard of Steel-Thorn, having nowhere to go, flared straight backward from the slitted vent of the gown like a metallic tail, and added a careless swagger to his ensemble.
The Wood-elf hesitated whether he should start for home, then decided the night was too fair; the stars were bright and the moonflowers on the pergola had just opened their trumpet-shaped blossoms. He sipped from his cup. The wine was rich, full of fruity flavor. Everything was perfect. It was better to stretch the moment out and savor it to the fullest.
He was just about to congratulate himself on his clever idea to go to Duillond when two shapes suddenly loomed into view.
"Why, what are you doing here!" Parnard exclaimed, nearly dropping his goblet.
Danel did not smile right away; instead, her luminous eyes widened slightly, as if she could not believe that he was safely standing there. Beside her, Estarfin stood with a strange expression that managed to be simultaneously blank yet deeply judgmental.
"Looking for you, Cousin," Danel said gently.
Parnard froze. For a second or two, he seemed too surprised to say anything at all, then flailed an arm toward the glowing windows of the scholar’s archive. "But! I was right here, well—over there, in that musty place!"
Estarfin gave a slow shrug. "We did not know that."
"Well, you should know you were sorely missed," Danel chided.
Parnard bowed his head, feeling his enthusiasm for the evening draining out of him. It was supposed to be a triumph of relaxation. "You were right," he mumbled, too low for either Noldo to hear.
"I thought..." Danel paused, her voice tightening with anxiety. "I thought you may have been approached by some of the Corsairs again."
He snapped his head up, looking between Danel and Estarfin. “If I ever see them—I will ride straight back to Númenstáya, and tell you! I promised, did I not?" He glanced back at the library. "I have seen neither hide nor hair of any Corsairs..."
"Well, that is excellent news," Danel said with a smile.
Parnard nodded and smiled back at the two Noldor. "As I was saying, you were right. About Gondor."
"Oh yes?"
"It is very, very far away, and oh! The things those scholars told me about it," Parnard said, his mouth twisting into a look of profound distaste. "Their names escape me at the moment.” He waved his hand, dismissing the triviality of it all. “You know, those two grey ladies."
"Are they staying here?" Danel asked. "I have seen them before. Strange and somber, but kindly."
"Two great fonts of wisdom they are. They found a map of the place."
"It is a very good library," Danel agreed.
"The tales they told me–unbelievable! And they advised me, too. So I took all of it into consideration, then I stepped outside to enjoy the stars and a few glasses of wine, when you two showed up!" He grinned, expecting a laugh.
Instead, Danel looked him dead in the eye. "Parnard, you do realize that even though we didn't want to go to Gondor, we would have gone with you?"
"But—you said you would not go."
"You are family. We would never let you go alone."
"I would not ask you to do that. It would be utter folly! What do you take me for, a fool?”
"We said we did not want to go," Danel clarified, before bursting into laughter. "Of our own choices, we would never go!" She shook her head. Estarfin, who had been quietly scanning the courtyard for a wine seller, tracked down the local merchant. After a quick exchange of a few coins, he returned to the courtyard bearing three bottles of Limael’s latest vintage, along with two goblets. Parnard enthusiastically whisked up the goblets, filling them to the brim, and handed them out.
The three elves stood together under the starlight drinking wine. There was no more talk of Gondor, or Corsairs, or stolen armor. There was no more worry or sadness. There was only the cool, fragrant night air, the winking stars, the crisp, rich taste of the wine, and the heartening reassurance of each other’s company. “Perfection again,” Parnard thought with an almost smug joy.
The illusion shattered instantly as a horse galloped past in a sudden clattering of hooves. They looked up in time to see Bregar speeding away on horseback.
Parnard craned his neck to stare after the streak of dust. "Well! He is in a confounded hurry."
“There are lots of folk coming and going this night," Danel observed as a thundering of hooves echoed from the north. It was the first of several search parties that Captain Culufinnel mustered in Celondim that night.
"Indeed!" Parnard chuckled, taking another sip. "It is almost as if the town were on fire."
"We should return home soon, to put Miruviel's mind at rest," Estarfin said, his deep voice cutting through the amusement. "She is most concerned for you."
"As is Captain Culufinnel,” Danel added.
Parnard’s cheerful expression fell. "What?"
"Your brother told us to give a message to Bregur of your disappearance," Danel explained smoothly. "Now that you are found, it would not do for Culufinnel to be uninformed."
"You spoke to my brother?"
"To see if you visited Celondim. We thought you might have spoken with him about going to Gondor."
"Of course not," Parnard sighed. “Why would I ever do that?”
Danel reached out, patting his shoulder with a consoling warmth that erased disturbing thoughts of his stern older brother and blocked out the chaotic shouts and galloping of unseen riders. "Worry not, we shall sort it all out. We are just glad you are here."
And there, under the starlight, with wine in their hands and the distant commotion fading away, the elves smiled and rejoiced for their good fortune.
Meanwhile, several miles down the dark southern road, Bregar was riding with desperate speed; his cloak whipped behind him in the wind, and his eyes were wide with grim determination. He pictured poor Parnard, lost in the wilderness or, worse, bound hand and foot on a Corsair ship sailing down the river. Bregar leaned lower over his mount's neck, urging the beast to move faster.
"Hold on, Parnard!" Bregar shouted into the night. "We shall rescue you from the vile clutches of the Corsairs!” They tore past a milestone, kicking up chunks of dry dirt. Bregar’s mind raced with the gravity of his mission. He had to reach the riverport. The fate of a fellow Elf hung in the balance!
Back in Duillond, a comfortable silence had settled over the stone patio. Danel took a delicate sip of her wine, her eyes suddenly widening as a thought struck her. She looked over at Estarfin. "Meldanya..."
“Yes?”
“Did you…by any chance…tell Bregar that we found him?”
Estarfin paused, his goblet halfway to his lips. "No," he said flatly.
Danel made a slightly pinched face. Bregar was going to ride all the way to Celondim, while Parnard was just a few feet away, getting drunk on a porch. “We should probably leave a note before we go.”
“Yes," Estarfin agreed, taking a long sip. “Eventually.”
