Parnard

As ever, Estarfin and I turned to the stars of Tintalle for guidance. Parnard also turned to her, I believe. We had a task ahead of us that we hoped would result in happiness for our Wood Elf friend, but it meant returning to Mirkwood, his home...a place we were not fond of to say the least. But friendship is a special bond. We would do our uttermost to see him realise his dream. 

(Picture by Estarfin  )

Having descended into the warmer climes of the Vale, we rode on towards the Forrest Gate, and Mirkwood. Though once under the nigh impenetrable canopy of trees the air could be humid, the atmosphere cloying, it would not be freezing, save perhaps in the latest moments of the night.

He could not tear his eyes away from the terrible scene. Two elves, fair of face and lithe of limb lay bloodied and broken upon the forest path before them, robbed of spirit and reduced to empty vessels. There was a male and a female; perhaps closely related for their features mirrored one another, although their hair was of a different hue. Danel and Parnard had stopped briefly at the sight of them, and then had continued their search for others, or for dangers still lurking close. Estarfin found his eyes fixed upon them however, heedless to all else.

After a swifter than feared, but grueling trip across the Hithaeglir, we made steady progress through the Vale of Andune. Our goal was the Forest Gate, and Parnard seemed to grow brighter with every mile travelled. We came to a shaded spot with no sight nor sound nor smell of anything unwholesome, and thought to spend a short time resting. But Estarfin was unwilling to leave us unguarded so close to Men. 

The Greenwood Festival went on all week. Each evening there were fresh delicacies to try (and a very few to avoid) and the wine never came near running out. We could all relax without any undue pressure, save knowing we would soon be away to Imladris, and then the Greenwood itself. 

I thought then that, come next summer, I would have as near a Noldorin celebration for the Gates of Summer as I could. It was pleasing to learn more of each others customs and tastes. 

The Autumn Feast, by Parnard

“He has spoken with me about many things, yes. Or is it something in particular to which you refer? I know he tried to drive you away from him by telling of some of his past deeds? Of the kinslayings?

And I all but bit my tongue, knowing Parnard stood close. 

“He has told me all of it,” Ruineth replied, still softly, but loud enough for Parnard to open his eyes wider. “All of the blood that still clings to him, that can never be made clean.” She shuddered. “He reveled in it.”