< Previous
AelKennyr Rhiano
Ulmo, Lord of the Waters of the World, heaves a deep sigh, and tries, again, to explain to the diminitive and somewhat confused Wind that, no, he was not summoned, but Manwe would, indeed, see him if a Maia would but inform the Lord of the West.
Eyes as clear as a windless, cloudless day, round and large, peer up into his face as the Wind quailed and said in a musical voice, "But, my Lord, Eonwe is his herald. Was his herald. My job, my Lord, as given me..."
"Yes," thunders the Lord of the Seas, his hand tightening on his staff." I know your job."
"I am the Wind.." she started.
"Of the uppermost North- North East," he says along with her.
She nods and lowers her gaze, her small hands clutching at each other in dismay. He looks over the top of her head, seeking out the face, any face, of a Maia who looked capable of assisting him.
"My Lord, " said Osse, impatiently, his chin tilted as he looks down his nose upon the delicate form of the Wind. "My Lord, humans pass wind faster..."
Ulmo never heard the rest of the sentence. For just then, he felt the mind and heart of Olwe of Alqualonde. Alqualonde. Something is wrong in Alqualonde. The Lord of the Sea turned without a word, his own mind questing, probing to learn what had caused such despair and urgent need, leaving behind the Wind, blinking, and Osse staring after him, openmouthed for a few seconds. Then the Maia was rushing after him. "Lord," called out Osse. "Lord! Where are you going?"
Without pausing, Ulmo looks over shoulder and answers curtly. "To Alqualonde!" As Ulmo takes to the sea, he murmurs, "I hear you, Brother Irmo. I hear you."
> Next
Eyes as clear as a windless, cloudless day, round and large, peer up into his face as the Wind quailed and said in a musical voice, "But, my Lord, Eonwe is his herald. Was his herald. My job, my Lord, as given me..."
"Yes," thunders the Lord of the Seas, his hand tightening on his staff." I know your job."
"I am the Wind.." she started.
"Of the uppermost North- North East," he says along with her.
She nods and lowers her gaze, her small hands clutching at each other in dismay. He looks over the top of her head, seeking out the face, any face, of a Maia who looked capable of assisting him.
"My Lord, " said Osse, impatiently, his chin tilted as he looks down his nose upon the delicate form of the Wind. "My Lord, humans pass wind faster..."
Ulmo never heard the rest of the sentence. For just then, he felt the mind and heart of Olwe of Alqualonde. Alqualonde. Something is wrong in Alqualonde. The Lord of the Sea turned without a word, his own mind questing, probing to learn what had caused such despair and urgent need, leaving behind the Wind, blinking, and Osse staring after him, openmouthed for a few seconds. Then the Maia was rushing after him. "Lord," called out Osse. "Lord! Where are you going?"
Without pausing, Ulmo looks over shoulder and answers curtly. "To Alqualonde!" As Ulmo takes to the sea, he murmurs, "I hear you, Brother Irmo. I hear you."
> Next