Aztryd is Found

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AelKennyr Rhiano, Shawn Daysleeper, and Lihan Taifun

Olwe nods absently at the suggestion. Outside the distant cries of the swans and other birds, and the faint rustle of leaves in the summer breeze, there is little sign of life in the Swanhaven. In this empty city, a dwarven mother could be anywhere. "We should separate and look for her in groups, " says Olwe.

 "Let's search her for together, my king, Estelin and Apakenwe can look for her as a group also."

Olwe's eyes meet Nole's, and he gives a short nod. "I agree. I cannot imagine any harm befalling the little mother, but I mislike she is not here." He turns to Apakenwe. "My Lady, you and your brother are most familiar with the palace, so I would ask you please search there." He does not pause for a response, but moves over to the stove and taps down the cooking fire. "We should hasten. Night is coming, and the little mother is still very much a stranger in a strange land."

Estelin nods. "We will search the palace for Aztryd and her child." He bows and starts the search.

"Be gentle, friend Estelin. She has been roughly used," Olwe tells him, but already his thoughts and his steps were carrying him out of the kitchens and into the night, Nole trailing behind him, a faithful shadow, ever constant. The companionship was a comfortable one.  Together merchant and king made their way down to the docks. Nole had whispered a quiet concern that perhaps the mother had decided to try to take a swanship and make her way to her kin. Quietly they walked down, talking in hushed whispers. Without a signal or word spoken, though, both stopped when they came within sight of the sleeping dragon, and King and sailor watched the rise and fall of the great beast for a few seconds before they roused themselves from their reverie.  "I cannot imagine what could drive him here in such extreme fatigue," Olwe confided to his companion.

"I do not know, why would a dragon come here?" He is just as marvelled as his king about the dragon.

The docks were quiet, and the ships still moored when the two arrived. Conferring together, Nole and Olwe searched the empty shops and in one, they found clothes, bolts of fabrics and other things scattered about the floor. Olwe knelt down and scooped up the pieces of  a broken bowl, used to hold a cosmetic of some sort. Mutely he stands up and turns to Nole. His eyes meet Nole's. "Do you think she was here?" he asked the merchant, and scans the floor of the shop. "Wait, Nole, a foot print."

The sea merchant kneels down to investigate the footprint. "It is quite small my king: it may be Aztryd's."

Olwe steps out of the shop, his eyes searching the floor of the merchant plaza. "I believe you must be correct, Nole, for we have no children in Alqualonde, and these muddy prints are fresh." He follows the trail into another shop that sold clothing." She must have been looking for something to wear," He bends down and grabs a discarded, crumpled child's tunic.

"Yes, there have not been children here in a while," Nole reflects sadly. "I wonder where she could have went?"

"Hopefully, where the trail of footprints end, there our search will end also," answers Olwe, absently, and together they made their way from one clothes shop to the other, weaving about the marketplace, following the small tracks of the dwarven mother.  Sometimes, the signs of her passing were evident, crumpled heaps of clothings sized for children, and once they tracked her in a shop that sold hardy rope and sturdy leather packs. Then finally, the trail ends at the edge of the marble plaza floor. Tilion had sailed his vessel halfway across the night sky, by now. Olwe bends down and lightly traces the impression of a foot where it had hit the ground with some force."It looks like she may have been running," he tells the merchant, still bent over the track. "If she were, and left such heavy impressions, we should be able to track her now."

Nole nods as he looks at the indentations. "The footprints appear to lead off into the palace. Why would she have been running away?"

The Teleri King looks up at Nole briefly and back down, his eyes following  the set of footprints trailing off and up the hill. Slowly he stands and takes a breath, the air cool. A small wind rustles the leaves, and Olwe turns to Nole, tasting the salt upon the wind. "It appears that way, my  friend.  As to why, we must ask what caused her flight when we find her safely. Come." And with that Olwe turns his attention back to the trail of footprints, following them back up the palace. Together the two walk quickly, conferring as they come near the palace, but stop briefly as the trail leads to a side of the palace and then to a door little used by most. Olwe turns to Nole and says, "Why would she had fled to here?"

"The steps are quite far apart for such a short person, maybe she was afraid of something? This leads to the basement. There is not much down here. But maybe Aztryd is hiding?"

Olwe's brow furrows as he ponders Nole's question. Then he cocks his head and listens intensely for a moment. He shakes his head and reaches for the door, pulling it open, the rusty hinges protesting.  "For a moment, I thought I heard singing," murmurs Olwe.  Then, after his eyes adjust, he reaches in and taps against the wall, urging to life a light that was craftily manufactured ages ago, by cunning Noldor hands.

"I hear singing too" he agrees with his king. The light illuminates the hallway and doors. He rarely visits the basement. Any idea where she may be?"

Aztryd hears a distant creaking, and stops to listen.  How strange.  Dragons would not open doors; they would smash the entire tower.

Olwe allows his eyes to re-adjust to the presence of the softly glowing light. "I am not sure," He starts to answer and then takes in a breath." Yes, there are fresh foot prints here. See?" The wet imprint of a small imprint of twigs and leaves and grass leading down the long hallway."Come on," says Olwe and he hastens down the corridor, his eyes searching, his eyes straining for any sound.

Nole feels more excited, certain they are nearing the end of their search. The food upstairs is getting cold. "I hope she is here, otherwise I will have to recook dinner."

Olwe gives a small snort and answers softly. "Better a cold supper  than that ...'soup' the night before. I think Estelin used  a distillation of cocoa as well as a bit of octopus.  It was .....interesting."

"Yes that... dish... was interesting. I tried to teach him how to clean up the mess after that one."

Aztryd bounces Nizl on her knee.  Are those perhaps voices she hears in the hall?  "There, magpie, perhaps the others have come to join our hiding place.  They knew we found a good spot."

Olwe grimaces a little at the thought of the meal, and from the weary sound in his friend's voice, he cannot begin to imagine the state of the kitchen after the preparation was done.  He turns his head to answers the merchant and stops, raising a hand to silence Nole. Cocking his head, he gives a silent hand signal for Nole to wait. Was that a soft, low voice he heard?  He stands stock still, all his attention devoted to listening. Slowly, carefully, Olwe makes his way down the hall and finds the door to one room open. Cautiously he waves Nole to follow him and with the light from the hallway spilling into the room behind them, they both enter.

Aztryd sees shapes in the doorways, elvish shapes by the size.  "Come on in, there is plenty of room here," she calls to these fellow refugees.  "The stonework here is as solid as any.  We should be safe."  She hopes.

"Safe?" Nole says. "Safe from what? Dinner is ready! And I cooked it, not Estelin."

Olwe looks about the room and then sees the movement, and the outline of the dwarven mother, in the corner. Walking into the room he says softly."Why are you here, little mother?"

"I didn't know where the usual refuge is," she says a bit uncertainly.  "I couldn't find anyone to direct us, so I had to find a safe place on my own.  Where should I be?  You two shouldn't be hunting for me, you should be out with the warriors!"

Olwe looks back at Nole and then turns to Aztryd, his brow furrowed as he asks in a puzzled tone, "Warriors? Why would we be out with the ....warriors?"

Nole shrugs. "I do not see a reason to call the warriors. The dinner will not attack." Nole adds the last with a grin.

"The dragon?  You didn't notice the dragon out by the water?"

Olwe's eyes widen in sudden understanding. 'You saw the dragon fall into the sea." He extends a hand, palm up and with his fingers, he beckons her to come out of the corner. "It is safe," he reassures.

"Oh, the dragon," says Nole. "I had forgotten that it landed. There is still  a lot we do not know about it, but it is safe for now."

Aztryd stares blankly at Nole.  "Forgot?  Forgot about a dragon?"

"I did not see it fall.  I was crawling onto the beach when I saw it."  She struggles to get her feet under her, without setting Nizl down.  "But, King, that was surely a dragon!  It is not 'safe'."

"It was a dragon, my Lady, and although very little about the world can be called 'safe,' for the time being, it is too hurt and too exhausted to do more than sleep and heal. And, little mother, I must believe that were it to mean us harm, Lord Ulmo would have pulled it under the sea with mighty waves ere he let harm come to the Swanhaven." He spoke braver and with greater assurance than he felt. But, the Lord of the Teleri reasoned, with the presence of Irmo and Nienna in disguise, suddenly the dragon could not be a creature of the Dark Lord.

Just then, Olwe stomach gives a loud rumble. He blushes and claps a hand over his belly. "Please, my lady, we have supper waiting, and all are searching for you. Let us repair to the kitchens and take our meal. There, we can discuss this better."

"I will see to the meal, my King, and make sure it is still warm to eat." Nole says as he turns to exit.

Aztryd looks up, from one elf to the other, with a small frown.  "I suppose it hasn't eaten us yet.  Injured, you said?  That would give us some time."  She moves forward, with the others.  "In that case, I suppose there is time for a meal, whatever may befall later."

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