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Aztryd races back to the palace, puffing and panting by the time she gets to the two flights of stairs to the room where she left Nizl. She grabs the baby, and hugs her tightly. "Come, dearest, we need to get underground. No mean old dragon is going to eat my little Nizl!" She hastily tosses as much of her belongings as she can find into her pack. Hefting the pack onto her shoulders, she heads back downstairs.
The staircase ends at the ground floor. Panic-stricken, she tries various doors along the main hallway. She knows what to do in an emergency at home -- either her parents' dwellings or her husband's -- she doesn't know this place at all. The stonework is sound, but a dragon could smash any tower. At a corner of the hallway, toward the center of the tower, Aztryd finds an unlocked door, opening into what must have once been someone's quarters. There is a carpet on the floor, several chests, and a few scattered chairs. Aztryd shoves a chest aside, leaving just enough space in the corner for herself. She dumps her pack on the floor beside her, and seats herself in the nook she has created, Nizl on her lap. "Don't worry, little one, we are safe here," she says, her voice artificially bright.
Nizl is not much aware of time passing, only of sitting on Mamma's lap, toothlessly chewing on a strap of the pack. Aztryd tries singing the old work songs, such as her clan sisters might sing, to pass the time while waiting. Her voice, alone, sounds hollow in the empty room.
Driven by the smells coming from the kitchen and a rumbling stomach, the Lord of the Teleri pushes open the Jewelled encrusted door. While the aroma was enticing, it escapes identification for Olwe of Alqualonde. He looks to see platters of bread already sliced on the wooden work table and something sizzling away in a pan on the stove. He crosses over quickly, and with a utensil, he flips over the meat, lest it burns. A smile sneaks across the face of the Lord of the Teleri. He cannot remember now, when last he actually prepared a meal. He pauses and corrects himself. He can. The journey from those mountains that bordered his cousin's Comet's realm and separated her peaceful kingdom from a dark and dangerous realm. He frowns and forgets the sizzling meat as he chases the memory. Fleeting now, but once so strong, this memory. But that was in the early days of the Voice's possession of his mind, and things of that time are hazy.
Nole comes into the kitchen to check on the cooking. He sees his king tending the stove. "My King!" Nole looks up, a little embarrassed. "We were just preparing a feast, celebrating our newcomer's arrival."
Olwe turns at the sound of Nole's voice, startled from his reverie, the smell of the meat, close to burning, and the smoke rising spurring him to turn to the task at hand. "Nole, " he says, but his voice is a little tight, strained, and he drops his gazes and hurriedly attends to the meat. "I do not mind helping," he says in a rush, trying to cover the moment's discomfort he felt. "Yes, our guest, " he redirects the conversation. "Please, get a plate." He gestures with his head for his friend to fetch a platter. " I think this meat is still edible."
Nole smiles and goes over and gets a plate. He holds it out as if waiting for his lord to place the cooked meat on it. "I always welcome help. It is true some others try to help me but are unsuccessful, such as that musician Estelin," he says with a slight grin and tries to hold down a laugh.
Olwe deftly spears the meat and drops it on the plate Nole holds for him. Wrapping a scrap of cloth around the handle of the pan, he cross over to where a pitcher of water stands and pours a little in the pan, cooling it. Steam rises, and the hisses of the water as it turns to steam fills the room, mingling the the smell of the smoke and the steam. Olwe's mouth waters, and he searches for a mat upon which to place the still warm pan. "Estelin does try, my friend." He says, and the image of the disguised Lord of Dreams ladling up a "soup" he has spent hours preparing causes an involuntary shudder.
Nole smiles. "Yes, he does," he says and notices a slight shudder from his lord. He looks at the dish. "I think it is still edible. Perhaps it is time to gather everyone for our feast?" He says, smiling. This is one of his favorite parts of the day, sitting with everyone as a family.
Olwe rests the pan on a mat he found and nods. "Yes, my friend. I think all else is ready." He extends his hands for the plate to take it from the sea merchant. "Where is everyone?"
Apakenwe is waiting near the dining table. She has been up to her room, where she deposited the basket of half-finished laundry. Now washed up, and wearing clean, dry clothes, she is ready to see what her brother and the other cooks have prepared for their dinner.
"Elenwe is helping move the food into the dining room. I have not seen Aztryd in a while. Have you seen her, my king?" Nole asks. "I do not think she would miss a meal."
Olwe nods his greeting to Apakenwe before turning his attention to Nole, frowing a little in thought. "I think I saw her this morning. She was wearing an overlarge tunic. But I have not see her since," he replies. His blue eyes lift and meets Nole's. "I cannot think she would miss a meal with a babe to feed."
"Yes, perhaps we should go look for her. It is unlike her to miss a meal like this. What do you think?"
Olwe sweeps the room with his gaze. "Has anyone seen her recently?"
Estelin looks up. "I have not seen her since the morning. We should look around for her."
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.
The staircase ends at the ground floor. Panic-stricken, she tries various doors along the main hallway. She knows what to do in an emergency at home -- either her parents' dwellings or her husband's -- she doesn't know this place at all. The stonework is sound, but a dragon could smash any tower. At a corner of the hallway, toward the center of the tower, Aztryd finds an unlocked door, opening into what must have once been someone's quarters. There is a carpet on the floor, several chests, and a few scattered chairs. Aztryd shoves a chest aside, leaving just enough space in the corner for herself. She dumps her pack on the floor beside her, and seats herself in the nook she has created, Nizl on her lap. "Don't worry, little one, we are safe here," she says, her voice artificially bright.
Nizl is not much aware of time passing, only of sitting on Mamma's lap, toothlessly chewing on a strap of the pack. Aztryd tries singing the old work songs, such as her clan sisters might sing, to pass the time while waiting. Her voice, alone, sounds hollow in the empty room.
Driven by the smells coming from the kitchen and a rumbling stomach, the Lord of the Teleri pushes open the Jewelled encrusted door. While the aroma was enticing, it escapes identification for Olwe of Alqualonde. He looks to see platters of bread already sliced on the wooden work table and something sizzling away in a pan on the stove. He crosses over quickly, and with a utensil, he flips over the meat, lest it burns. A smile sneaks across the face of the Lord of the Teleri. He cannot remember now, when last he actually prepared a meal. He pauses and corrects himself. He can. The journey from those mountains that bordered his cousin's Comet's realm and separated her peaceful kingdom from a dark and dangerous realm. He frowns and forgets the sizzling meat as he chases the memory. Fleeting now, but once so strong, this memory. But that was in the early days of the Voice's possession of his mind, and things of that time are hazy.
Nole comes into the kitchen to check on the cooking. He sees his king tending the stove. "My King!" Nole looks up, a little embarrassed. "We were just preparing a feast, celebrating our newcomer's arrival."
Olwe turns at the sound of Nole's voice, startled from his reverie, the smell of the meat, close to burning, and the smoke rising spurring him to turn to the task at hand. "Nole, " he says, but his voice is a little tight, strained, and he drops his gazes and hurriedly attends to the meat. "I do not mind helping," he says in a rush, trying to cover the moment's discomfort he felt. "Yes, our guest, " he redirects the conversation. "Please, get a plate." He gestures with his head for his friend to fetch a platter. " I think this meat is still edible."
Nole smiles and goes over and gets a plate. He holds it out as if waiting for his lord to place the cooked meat on it. "I always welcome help. It is true some others try to help me but are unsuccessful, such as that musician Estelin," he says with a slight grin and tries to hold down a laugh.
Olwe deftly spears the meat and drops it on the plate Nole holds for him. Wrapping a scrap of cloth around the handle of the pan, he cross over to where a pitcher of water stands and pours a little in the pan, cooling it. Steam rises, and the hisses of the water as it turns to steam fills the room, mingling the the smell of the smoke and the steam. Olwe's mouth waters, and he searches for a mat upon which to place the still warm pan. "Estelin does try, my friend." He says, and the image of the disguised Lord of Dreams ladling up a "soup" he has spent hours preparing causes an involuntary shudder.
Nole smiles. "Yes, he does," he says and notices a slight shudder from his lord. He looks at the dish. "I think it is still edible. Perhaps it is time to gather everyone for our feast?" He says, smiling. This is one of his favorite parts of the day, sitting with everyone as a family.
Olwe rests the pan on a mat he found and nods. "Yes, my friend. I think all else is ready." He extends his hands for the plate to take it from the sea merchant. "Where is everyone?"
Apakenwe is waiting near the dining table. She has been up to her room, where she deposited the basket of half-finished laundry. Now washed up, and wearing clean, dry clothes, she is ready to see what her brother and the other cooks have prepared for their dinner.
"Elenwe is helping move the food into the dining room. I have not seen Aztryd in a while. Have you seen her, my king?" Nole asks. "I do not think she would miss a meal."
Olwe nods his greeting to Apakenwe before turning his attention to Nole, frowing a little in thought. "I think I saw her this morning. She was wearing an overlarge tunic. But I have not see her since," he replies. His blue eyes lift and meets Nole's. "I cannot think she would miss a meal with a babe to feed."
"Yes, perhaps we should go look for her. It is unlike her to miss a meal like this. What do you think?"
Olwe sweeps the room with his gaze. "Has anyone seen her recently?"
Estelin looks up. "I have not seen her since the morning. We should look around for her."
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.
((to be continued))