Parnard

I felt the brigand tense suddenly as the knife slid through his dirty cloth tunic, and then swiftly between his ribs. His muscles strained in shock and desperation, fighting against the inevitability of the grievous wound. His mind took a fraction of a second to understand what was happening. His mouth opened wide, but a barely-audible exclamation was all that escaped his chapped lips. His eyes were wide, looking at me with fear, agony and confusion. Who was I, and why had I done this to him?

It is said that the first of us awoke late at night, under skies of unclouded stars, and the stars were their earliest memory. They loved all of Arda, but were ever moved most in heart by the stars, and the hours of twilight and morrow-dim.(1) 

So it is said. So I have found among most of our kind. 

It took us nigh an hour to ride to the place near Tighfield. A high dark ridge was to our right, like a shadow looming against the starlit sky. The air was cool and fresh, with just a small promise of rain and a far off hint of fire. All was still, save from the occasional hoot of an owl. Some distance ahead and off to the right, a few lanterns could be spotted, twinkling like far lesser stars in the windows of some of the Halfling’s homes.

Parnard Teludarion is a wood elf from the Greenwood. Little more than a child in his six hundred and fifty years compared to we two First Age Noldor, yet he is our mutual friend and ally. What he lacks in experience, he makes up for with curiosity, wit and eloquence. Though seemingly trained in the ways of combat I am uncertain if it is according to his people’s way, as he eschews a bow and knife (save for eating) and instead uses a longsword, Steel-Thorn, made for him by Estarfin.

We rode on for nigh half of an hour, mostly in silence save for comments on sound or movement nearby. Though I had no fear of falling I was still struggling between sitting upright or bouncing off armour. We were no longer in any danger. None of the men would be this near. Indeed, none of those men had survived. I slowed Pelorian as we approached the bridge over the stream. 

“It is hard to find you sometimes among so many fine houses” said Estarfin, as he crossed the hall to stand with Parnard and I near the furnace. A straightforward statement of observation, he had made similar comment about my house in Mithlond. I knew I should speak with him soon, less there was something irking him that could grow out of proportion. Many houses hereabouts lay empty and deserted.