Estarfin

“It appears I am bound to drink wine all day and night, then,” Parnard declared, folding his arms across his chest. “And then I must close all the shutters of my mind and act as if nobody is home.”

“That should not be difficult,” Belegos quipped.

“Any development with your…predicament?” Belegos asked Parnard as he settled himself on the floor. 

I smiled as soon as I walked into the room, and saw it there on the wall, over the bed. For a moment a different sort of ‘magic’ lifted my spirits. It was good magic. I looked to Estarfin, who was just behind me. 

“Remember?” I said.

And our evening continued, with us standing before the main Hall, and the figure of Tintalle. It was cool but not cold, that we had no wish for thicker cloaks, or to light a fire. We stood and conversed as the hours passed us by.

We four stood by the statue of Tintallë, under her swift-growing starry mantle above. Filignil had just departed to bring water for Belegos to wash his face and hands, and wine for us all. 

“Is it not said, do not ask elves for advice, for we will say both no and yes?” Belegos said with a hint of a grin. 

Estarfin had suggested Parnard slept outside, under the lights of Tintallë. I first thought of the sea, the mantle of Ulmo, for defense.  A different Vala, but the same need for an ally whose will could not be challenged. Oh, I was angry then, at myself for not seeing clearly earlier; with the Sorceress Zairaphel and her petulant tenacity.

((After The Last Days of Thargelion: Part two. Friends. 2/2 | The Laurelin Archives. ))

((This tale comes after  Numenstaya but before A Troubled Homecoming.  ))