Miruviel

Miruviel’s eyes widened. “What about the two scholars?” Glancing at Fearanië she added, “I myself have little time to linger beside open windows.”

It was two days after Estarfin, Danel and Parnard had ridden out of Numenstaya, heading, they believed, for the Wildwood. Exactly what the older Noldor and their Wood-elf friend were planning was beyond Fearanië’s ken. She had, of course, offered her help. She would ride with them. But they had said ‘no’ in a clear but kindly tone.

Once again Parnard the Wood-elf followed where the Noldor led, bound by that ineffable pull he always believed would guide him toward a great destiny. He had been bustling around all day, and was now securing his bedroll to his pack. Inside was a blanket, his shell sewing kit, a quartern loaf of bread, a comb, and several changes of linen.

Parnard gestured around the room. “There is space for dancing; we can push the table aside.” Then he went over to a side table filled with bottles of wine and opened the nearest.

It was six days after our wedding.The guests from Celondim had returned home, Curumaito with a promise to visit again soon. Filignil had parceled up most of the remaining feast and was sending it to some of those who could not make the event. In this matter Captain Culufinnel was to be a major recipient, with enough to live on for a week. The weather had been kind to us, glorious sunny days and clear night skies were additional gifts. But by that evening it had begun to rain.