wood elf

What began as a friendly hunt for rabbits in the hills behind Celondim, takes an unexpected turn. 

('A Bitter Argument by Parnard.' )

It started off most pleasantly. Esterfin had rode at dawn to the coast, so great was his wish to see the Sea again. He returned around midday, with some ham and cheeses from the market, and an exceptionally good bottle of wine. It was one of those rare bottles that could put the best Dorwinnion to shame. Proud was he to share it with Parnard and I. 

"I would hear your tale, if and when you wish to speak of it." I said to Parnard. And he told me he was fine. Then he told me the rest, and still I though thankfully he was mostly fine. Aye, there was a small matter that concerned him and I, but I tried to install hope. The way things were at the moment, I doubted he would have years of waiting ahead. 

And in the end, I told him a little of what was on my heart. I am not sure he could take it in. 

And I found him. Standing, looking over the waters was he, with a rare expression upon his face. He turned as he heard my approach, smiling cheerfully as he gave greeting. But I knew Parnard well enough to see a hint of shadow in his eyes.

We sat by the waters, and spoke a few pleasantries before opening up more, each to the other. of what had transpired in recent years. 

Nínimil of Eryn Lasgalen, perhaps in a moment of quiet reflection.

A coloured sketch of Nínimil. Is she being a bit smug here, or just being an Elf?  Is there a meaningful difference? You decide!

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