Earcalie

“I thought you were concerned before we reached Angmar, cousin?” I questioned Parnard. 

“I was concerned for those Halflings; those men threatened to tear them to pieces if we did not lay down our weapons.”

I left Estarfin and Earcalië catching up on news as they sat on the sands. It was time to bring out at least some provisions, and most definitely time to bring out some wine. I walked to the kitchen, where Estarfin had left the large basket he had brought from the local inn. Yes, there were fresh bread sticks in it, sliced meat, roast boar and several pieces of roast chicken.

“I am so sorry I did not send a message. It was a very small and private ceremony, after a difficult year. But I still should have let you know.” I explained as best I could. It was not the whole truth, for we had made our final choice of a time rather swiftly, and knew not where to send a message as Earcalië was oft on the road. 

After dinner that evening we sat in the main room, candles giving a flickering golden ambiance to the walls, and spoke of our trip to Forlond. 

Parnard rose to his feet and bowed before Estarfin as he approached us. He looked a little weary to me, though not overly so. We tried to take regular shifts of guard duty, he and I, Yrill and Ceuru and Filignil. Barahirn protested he was also able to take his turn, but we deemed he needed a couple more weeks rebuilding his strength. 

“I was hoping to drag Naergon out of his musings, but I haven’t seen him all day,” Earcalie said. “He has moved here as well. Waiting to make his mind up about sailing. You do remember him?”

I glanced at Hingalas, knowing what was to follow. Although he was merrily helping himself to the food he had selected, his eyes had that gleam of sudden keenness that I recognised. From the edge of my vision I saw Parnard gulp.

(This tale takes place two days before Danel and Parnard leave Numenstaya for Celondim.)