Cinnamon Raymaker
On and on she flies, eastward - ever eastward. Through day and night, she loses count of the times Arien and Tilion coax their charges across the blanket of sky through which she passes. Still there is no sign of Vingilot or her beloved before each dawn.
The sun warming her and allowing the currents of air to support her, Elwing allows her mind to wander and consider the sights her keen eyes observe from above. Surely that was a great chain of islands she saw below her. Indeed, that ugly black scarred outcrop and the magically suspended islands, which Princess Fur had called skylets, resembled the island of Vana from which lord Ulmo had recently delivered her. Was it only so recently this had occurred? The ages through which memories faded in and out flashed through her mind as pictures on a screen, light and shadow, colour and monochrome, 'til she closed off the memories and brought herself back to the present purpose of her flight.
"I must stay alert," she warns herself. "I must not let the pain of times lost come to the fore as I carry out this task."
Far below, she watches her swan shadow flit across the blue ocean as she flurries past. Before much longer, she sees, in the distance, a small mountainous coastline. Her heart lifts a little, knowing that she has almost reached her destination. As she flies closer, she remembers she is searching for a gap between some mountains, which will guide to to a landing place at Belegost, err Gamilfun - she corrects herself - again remembering that all has changed in these parts.
Elwing veers south, deciding that she will make a sweep of the mountain range, which is only a few leagues away at this time. She gracefully catches a thermal and glides in towards the peaks, watching the surf break on the shore far below. The gulls noisily welcome her to this land as she flies ever closer, accompanying her along the shoreline. Tipping her wings, she relishes the feeling of company after such a long flight alone.
With a final flurry, Elwing flies upwards and veers north to begin a search for the river mouth indicating her destination. As she glides over the ranges, she notes something which makes her heart jump into her mouth. A band of around fifteen dwarves, each wearing light armour, is beating a path northwards across the range with an air of determination. One in particular has a dark scowl gouged across his face and a very heavy battle axe. He is waving in his fist as he gruffly yells at his comrades to move along to Gamilfun, to the home of Lord Ulreg, to sort out this business of his recalcitrant wife, Aztryd, and to get his hands on the bride price owed him. Hearing this carried on the wind, Elwing increases the beats with which she is flying and searches out the gap in the ranges, seeing it only a short distance ahead.
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The sun warming her and allowing the currents of air to support her, Elwing allows her mind to wander and consider the sights her keen eyes observe from above. Surely that was a great chain of islands she saw below her. Indeed, that ugly black scarred outcrop and the magically suspended islands, which Princess Fur had called skylets, resembled the island of Vana from which lord Ulmo had recently delivered her. Was it only so recently this had occurred? The ages through which memories faded in and out flashed through her mind as pictures on a screen, light and shadow, colour and monochrome, 'til she closed off the memories and brought herself back to the present purpose of her flight.
"I must stay alert," she warns herself. "I must not let the pain of times lost come to the fore as I carry out this task."
Far below, she watches her swan shadow flit across the blue ocean as she flurries past. Before much longer, she sees, in the distance, a small mountainous coastline. Her heart lifts a little, knowing that she has almost reached her destination. As she flies closer, she remembers she is searching for a gap between some mountains, which will guide to to a landing place at Belegost, err Gamilfun - she corrects herself - again remembering that all has changed in these parts.
Elwing veers south, deciding that she will make a sweep of the mountain range, which is only a few leagues away at this time. She gracefully catches a thermal and glides in towards the peaks, watching the surf break on the shore far below. The gulls noisily welcome her to this land as she flies ever closer, accompanying her along the shoreline. Tipping her wings, she relishes the feeling of company after such a long flight alone.
With a final flurry, Elwing flies upwards and veers north to begin a search for the river mouth indicating her destination. As she glides over the ranges, she notes something which makes her heart jump into her mouth. A band of around fifteen dwarves, each wearing light armour, is beating a path northwards across the range with an air of determination. One in particular has a dark scowl gouged across his face and a very heavy battle axe. He is waving in his fist as he gruffly yells at his comrades to move along to Gamilfun, to the home of Lord Ulreg, to sort out this business of his recalcitrant wife, Aztryd, and to get his hands on the bride price owed him. Hearing this carried on the wind, Elwing increases the beats with which she is flying and searches out the gap in the ranges, seeing it only a short distance ahead.
> Next