Parnard sat on a fallen tree, feet dangling, the pointed tips of his boots tracing strange figures in the snow.
"That accursed Man is already causing problems, and we are not even deep into the mountains," he said in Quenya softly to Limiriel .
"What kind of problems?"
Where to begin? thought Parnard. First, he insulted me in the Hall of Fire and said I was a do-nothing, then tonight, he called me a liar to my face in front of the company! and then only a short while later, he had a shameful argument with his commanding officer. Thendryt believed his Tûr had made a mistake, forcing him to come with us, that was plain enough. His eyes were hardened, full of bitterness, and his tongue dripped scorn like vinegar. If this were not enough, as he went out from camp, he very rudely shoved Tinurendis aside without a word. Why do Elisbeth and Khalis bear it? Veryacano would not.
Sogadan the Vintner told him once that Thendryt owed a debt to Elisbeth, and that is why he was pressed into service of the Warband. That would explain a few things, namely, his insolence - where was Thendryt now? Most of the elves were still resting by the campfire, and it had been hours since he left, and there was still no sound of his great heavy boots clomping on the crusted ice.
Perhaps he was wrestling with his conscience, and regretted his hasty words by the campfire. Parnard snorted, eyes scanning the terrain. There was a streamlet issuing from the snows on the mountain above. Pure and clear flowed its waters as it gushed forth, twisting this way and that. It might have been a straighter rivulet, but it had forced its way past rocks and over ridges along the mountain slopes, and made a path for itself where no path had been. All night long, the stars would have shone brightly in its waters, but it was too choked with rocks and debris, muddied, and, far below the peak of the mountain, the rocks closed over it and he could not see where its waters led. All because the streamlet took the wrong course. Far away, across the ice field a she-fox trotted, carrying a plump rabbit in its mouth back to its pups.
By way of reply to Limiriel, he gave a shrug, and said mildly, "He has need of patience. Like all of his kind," he added. "I fear that he will not learn it prowling around and knocking over innocent folk."
"He is a Man," said Limiriel.
"That he is...that he is. Well, we do not wish for him to fall into a crevasse, do we?"
She studied his face. A wry smile was forming in the corners of his mouth.
"You must watch him, Limiriel. Carefully. Discreetly."
This was how to learn patience.
