Cinnamon Raymaker, AelKennyr Rhiano, and Lihan Taifun
It is raining again in the eternal city of the Teleri elves. Olwe, Lord of Alqualonde and Tol Eressea, King of the Teleri, shivers a little as sodden clothing clings to his skin. The wind picks up and seems to slice through the fabric, the chill settling down to the bone. Sucking in a breath, he can still taste ash in the air: the smell of burnt wood, melted metal, crumbled stone still rises from where the dragon had breathed fire down upon his beloved Alqualonde.
A brief flash of lightning is followed by a thunderclap, and the king raises his blue eyes to mark the position. Over the ruined tower of Tilion. Blinking as he looks, he sees between flashes, a faint figure, willowly and delicate upon the smaller balcony closest to the ruins. It could only be Elwing, for the Swordmaiden, Elenwe, lies in one of the palace's bedchambers, hovering between life and death. Another flash of lightning cuts through the night skies, and Olwe hurries for the palace, eager for warmth, a change of clothes, and speech with his neice. Even though she had risen from her own sick bed at some point during the attack, she was still too frail and in sore need of rest and recovery. Perhaps, Olwe thinks to himself, now she will be able to talk with him.
Elwing ventures from her sick room once again, though this time at a more leisurely pace and dressed in a more appropriate gown. She listens to the pouring rain, which appears to be beginning to wash away the terrors of the last few days, if not the memories she still finds creeping into her dreams. Finding herself back on the balcony where she last spied her uncle, she breathes in air that is somewhat cleaner, though the ruins of the tower destroyed in the attack are still visible; the blackened, charred ruins. Elwing shudders as a chill passes through her. The call of the sky and the ocean again appeal to her heart, and she turns to the ocean with the stars twinkling dimly overhead and prays silently for the safety of her beloved Earendil. Feeling a little weary she turns and carefully makes her way to a nearby chair and sits down to rest.
Aztryd looks up from her mending, and smiles to herself as she sees Elwing moving outside. She sets down the worn tunic she was working on, and moves to the doorway. "A little fresh air will do you good, sister," she says quietly to Elwing.
The long sword at his back feels heavy, and the straps pull as Olwe slowly walks up the entrance to the glittering palace. Lifing his eyes, he sees his own throne come into view, the banners displaying the shield of the Swanhaven and its motto: "Strength through unity." These days it is a unity forged with sorrow and no little apprehension. It is a unity forged against uncertainty and darkness. But it is a small unity, and if the attack proved only one thing, it proved that Olwe and Alqualonde, and all he holds dear will not survive without finding others to share in that unity, to stand against a darker night than ever he has known. Slowly he makes his way up the stairs to where he last saw Elwing.
Elwing sees her uncle making his way up the winding stair and smiles wanly. How tired and wet he looks. From the way he is walking, this latest attack seems to have wrenched at his heart. As he approaches she looks into his bright blue eyes and welcomes him warmly. "Greetings, uncle dear. Come sit with me. I'm sure we have lots of matters to consider after this latest battering our safe haven has taken."
Olwe looks over to the little alcove three chairs are placed, a small table and a warm, woolen carpet, and sees his niece. He smiles back, the smiling lighting his blues eyes, and for that moment, the small crow’s feet around them vanishes. As he approaches, the squelching of his wet boots catches his attention, and, blushing, he gives a shy and rueful grin. "I guess you could hear me coming clearly," he says. Grabbing the shoulder strap, he lifts the burden of the long sword off and gives a respectful bow of the head to Aztryd. "How are you both this wet night?" he asks, sliding into a chair and laying the sheathed sword down on the ground.
"Aye, wet it is." Aztryd bows from the waist to the King. "But, we are all alive to see it, thank the Maker." Edging cautiously past the tall and soggy king, Aztryd makes her way to the third chair, and climbs up.
"I am feeling somewhat stronger today thank you, Uncle, and this rain is refreshing, though I can see you might not think very kindly of it soaking you the skin," Elwing replies with a twinkle in her eyes.
Watching the dwarf mother climb into the last remaining chair and settle herself upon the cushion, Olwe clasps his hands around his knees and then looks over at Elwing the White. Leaning forward, he peers intently into her face, his eyes sweeping over her features, and when he speaks his voice is low and quiet, full of concern. "Indeed, we sorely need a cleansing rain. It will help the scorched patches of the ground...perhaps." He pauses and tilts his head a little to the side. "Though you still look very wan and wearied, Elwing. I must apologize for not seeing you sooner. There was much work to be done after our," he pauses, "visitors."
Elwing sees her friend settle into the remaining chair and turns back to her uncle, appreciating the look of concern she sees on his face and hearing the seriousness of his tone. "Aye, uncle. It is my heartfelt wish that I could have warned you about the despicable acts of devastation I witnessed on that long flight home from my quest. I feel somehow I have let you down." Elwing's smile diminishes and she looks despondently to the ground. The weariness again beginning to overcome her. She slumps back in her chair and sighs.
Slowly Olwe shakes his head, his wet hair making a small patting sound as droplets of water strike his wet clothing. Unnoticed, a small puddle of water forms under his boot, but forgotten is the discomfort of the sodden clothes. His blue eyes meet hers, and he answers with the quiet authority of a king. "No." He settles back into the chair. "You have let no one down, my niece. Nothing you could have done would have prevented what happened." He unclasps his knee and sighs. "But, tell what you saw, what you witnessed."
Elwing thinks back on that last sweep of the countryside before she had climbed to the highest possible altitude and headed over the water. In her mind's eye she recalls the charred landscape. "It was as if fire had been unleashed across all the land for a large distance around the village over which I was passing. I cannot be sure, but I think I spied a fiery demon - or maybe it was a dragon - I am finding my memories a little muddled." Elwing looks across at her uncle, puzzled. "I do recall seeing something heading for Alqualonde as I left. I believe it was a dragon? Because Aztryd's quest was urgent I flew on hoping all would be right here in Alqualonde when I returned."
Olwe nods softly, his blue eyes never leaving her face as he answers. "We did receive a visit from a most..." he pauses, and the corners of his lips curved into a wry smile, "peculiar dragon. But he was of no harm to any, unless it be unto himself as he dropped from the skies into the harbor."
Aztryd listens wide-eyed, and shudders at the mention of dragons and demons. Elwing nods thoughtfully towards her uncle. "Imagine my amazement when I awoke here after seeing that devastation on my flight and then being faced with the dire circumstances of the Swanhaven. I thought I had brought danger on us all!" she exclaims.
Leaning forward, the Teleri King made a placating motion with both hands. "No, no, Elwing. You were not the sponsor of such destruction, and it could have been much worse."
Elwing breathes a sigh of relief, grateful for the confidence her uncle has shown in her. "It pleases me greatly to hear you say that, uncle dear. I hope to be able one day to repay your kindness for offering me this haven."
Olwe continues. "Elwing, we were visited by an ancient dragon, one with much scarring upon it body, and upon it rode a Balrog." He nods in answer to her thanks, but watches her to see her reaction. "And such a pairing sends a chill to my heart that no wet clothes could echo."
"A balrog?" Aztryd whispers, clasping a hand over her mouth. "I thought those were only in tales."
Olwe turns to the little mother. "In sooth, I heard tales of one remaining, but that was a long time ago, many passings of many seasons in the mortal world. I thought not that any remained now."
"Aye, I have heard tales," Aztryd continues, in a shaken voice. "But I didn't believe every tale told around a fire, with a mug of ale."
"Perhaps,” says Olwe is a low voice, "we needs revisit those tales before they revisit us."
Elwing gasps in shock at such evil unleashed on the Swanhaven. Holding a hand to her heart, she, too, feels an icy chill. "Nay, Aztryd, uncle, I must say I now believe it was a Balrog that I saw on my way home."
Olwe turns back to his neice and tilts his chin up briefly as he responds. "How far away from Alqualonde was it when you caught sight of it?"
"If I recall correctly," she begins, still holding a hand to her heart, "It was after I had passed over Vana and did a sweep of the nearby lands. It had not crossed the ocean - indeed I was not aware that it might be able to have the power to cross the ocean." Elwing looks at her uncle and Aztryd. "Just the thought of it terrifies me."
Aztryd look mutely at the two tall elves, here among the wreckage of their home. Her own hands are still trembling. Olwe nods absently, eyes unfocused for a few moments. Then he says slowly, "It seemed odd to see the two paired as they were. I have never heard of a balrog riding a dragon as though he were a beast of burden."
"Is that how it managed to arrive here?" Elwing asks, looking incredulously at her uncle.
"The balrog in the tales," Aztryd says cautiously, "was killed. Or they said he was killed."
Olwe gives a little shrug and nods at Aztryd's words. "Yes, indeed. And other records of balrogs do not place them crossing any large body of water. Whether they can or not, we do not know for any surety." Olwe pauses and then, after a side look at Aztryd, he asks Elwing, "Niece, bearing in mind where the little mother's people are, how close was the balrog to them? Your best guess?"
Elwing looks at her two companions. "My best guess would be that it was across the sea away from the Blue Mountains where Aztryd's kin abide. I had also passed Vana before I caught sight of any danger,' she replies.
Aztryd remembers to breathe, after hearing Elwing's answer. Olwe nods again, and dips his head a moment, studying the carpet. After a few moments of silence, he speaks. "We have been in the mortal world for a few turns of the seasons, and though my understanding of the lands, where they lie is based upon history and not the trade routes, as Nole's is, I believe that Aztryd's people are safe, at least for now." He looks over to see her reaction.
Aztryd takes several deep breaths, and then says quietly, "It is good that the ... abomination ... is not close to them. But how can any place be truly safe? Did not that creature cross the sea to this island?"
Elwing shakes her head in disbelief of the events that have unfolded here in the Swanhaven - images from her dreams had become so enmeshed with the events of the past few days it was all a little hazy, as her vision seemed to be becoming. Looking at her two companions, she sighs and whispers, "I must apologize uncle, Aztryd. I feel the need to return to my bed and rest a while longer. I do hope I have been able to give you some clues, uncle, as to what I have seen. Though it really is somewhat muddled."
Olwe nods. "Of course, Niece. You need rest. Please, Aztryd, will you companion my niece, as you have been. I must think upon what next must be done." He looks over at Elwing and says gently, "Rest your heart, Elwing. You played no part in what happened here. I know that. Rest and restore thyself."
Elwing looks gratefully at her uncle and smiles. "Thank you for easing my heart: it means a lot to me. You too should rest, uncle. It has been a trying time for us all."
"Of course," says Aztryd automatically, gratefully sliding back into the role of sickroom attendant. "Come, sister, get your rest." Elwing wearily rises from her chair and nods respectfully to her uncle.
Olwe rises gracefully, looking down as he hears his foot land soundly in the tiny puddle. Looking back up sheepishly, he says, "I should at least change from these clothes," he allows, but then he takes one of niece’s hand in his. "I want you to focus on becoming well, Elwing. Please, we will talk again when you are stronger." Then he leans forward and kisses her forehead, pulling back with a blush. "I," he stammers a little, "When my daughter was so troubled, I would kiss her forehead." He gives a tiny smile. "I hope you did not take it amiss."
Elwing smiles at her uncle's gesture "Do not apologize, dear uncle. It is a wonderful feeling to know I have family around me."
Olwe nods softly, his blue eyes soft, as he murmurs. "I, too have miss the feel of family."
But Elwing was already turning away. She walks slowly away from the alcove smiling at Aztryd's comment. "I am very happy to have a sister like you, Aztryd," she whispers. Then she slowly makes her way back to her bed.
> Next Olwë > Next Elwing > Next Aztryd
A brief flash of lightning is followed by a thunderclap, and the king raises his blue eyes to mark the position. Over the ruined tower of Tilion. Blinking as he looks, he sees between flashes, a faint figure, willowly and delicate upon the smaller balcony closest to the ruins. It could only be Elwing, for the Swordmaiden, Elenwe, lies in one of the palace's bedchambers, hovering between life and death. Another flash of lightning cuts through the night skies, and Olwe hurries for the palace, eager for warmth, a change of clothes, and speech with his neice. Even though she had risen from her own sick bed at some point during the attack, she was still too frail and in sore need of rest and recovery. Perhaps, Olwe thinks to himself, now she will be able to talk with him.
Elwing ventures from her sick room once again, though this time at a more leisurely pace and dressed in a more appropriate gown. She listens to the pouring rain, which appears to be beginning to wash away the terrors of the last few days, if not the memories she still finds creeping into her dreams. Finding herself back on the balcony where she last spied her uncle, she breathes in air that is somewhat cleaner, though the ruins of the tower destroyed in the attack are still visible; the blackened, charred ruins. Elwing shudders as a chill passes through her. The call of the sky and the ocean again appeal to her heart, and she turns to the ocean with the stars twinkling dimly overhead and prays silently for the safety of her beloved Earendil. Feeling a little weary she turns and carefully makes her way to a nearby chair and sits down to rest.
Aztryd looks up from her mending, and smiles to herself as she sees Elwing moving outside. She sets down the worn tunic she was working on, and moves to the doorway. "A little fresh air will do you good, sister," she says quietly to Elwing.
 |
| King Olwë |
Elwing sees her uncle making his way up the winding stair and smiles wanly. How tired and wet he looks. From the way he is walking, this latest attack seems to have wrenched at his heart. As he approaches she looks into his bright blue eyes and welcomes him warmly. "Greetings, uncle dear. Come sit with me. I'm sure we have lots of matters to consider after this latest battering our safe haven has taken."
Olwe looks over to the little alcove three chairs are placed, a small table and a warm, woolen carpet, and sees his niece. He smiles back, the smiling lighting his blues eyes, and for that moment, the small crow’s feet around them vanishes. As he approaches, the squelching of his wet boots catches his attention, and, blushing, he gives a shy and rueful grin. "I guess you could hear me coming clearly," he says. Grabbing the shoulder strap, he lifts the burden of the long sword off and gives a respectful bow of the head to Aztryd. "How are you both this wet night?" he asks, sliding into a chair and laying the sheathed sword down on the ground.
 | |
| Aztryd |
"I am feeling somewhat stronger today thank you, Uncle, and this rain is refreshing, though I can see you might not think very kindly of it soaking you the skin," Elwing replies with a twinkle in her eyes.
Watching the dwarf mother climb into the last remaining chair and settle herself upon the cushion, Olwe clasps his hands around his knees and then looks over at Elwing the White. Leaning forward, he peers intently into her face, his eyes sweeping over her features, and when he speaks his voice is low and quiet, full of concern. "Indeed, we sorely need a cleansing rain. It will help the scorched patches of the ground...perhaps." He pauses and tilts his head a little to the side. "Though you still look very wan and wearied, Elwing. I must apologize for not seeing you sooner. There was much work to be done after our," he pauses, "visitors."
 |
| Elwing the White |
Slowly Olwe shakes his head, his wet hair making a small patting sound as droplets of water strike his wet clothing. Unnoticed, a small puddle of water forms under his boot, but forgotten is the discomfort of the sodden clothes. His blue eyes meet hers, and he answers with the quiet authority of a king. "No." He settles back into the chair. "You have let no one down, my niece. Nothing you could have done would have prevented what happened." He unclasps his knee and sighs. "But, tell what you saw, what you witnessed."
Elwing thinks back on that last sweep of the countryside before she had climbed to the highest possible altitude and headed over the water. In her mind's eye she recalls the charred landscape. "It was as if fire had been unleashed across all the land for a large distance around the village over which I was passing. I cannot be sure, but I think I spied a fiery demon - or maybe it was a dragon - I am finding my memories a little muddled." Elwing looks across at her uncle, puzzled. "I do recall seeing something heading for Alqualonde as I left. I believe it was a dragon? Because Aztryd's quest was urgent I flew on hoping all would be right here in Alqualonde when I returned."
Olwe nods softly, his blue eyes never leaving her face as he answers. "We did receive a visit from a most..." he pauses, and the corners of his lips curved into a wry smile, "peculiar dragon. But he was of no harm to any, unless it be unto himself as he dropped from the skies into the harbor."
Aztryd listens wide-eyed, and shudders at the mention of dragons and demons. Elwing nods thoughtfully towards her uncle. "Imagine my amazement when I awoke here after seeing that devastation on my flight and then being faced with the dire circumstances of the Swanhaven. I thought I had brought danger on us all!" she exclaims.
Leaning forward, the Teleri King made a placating motion with both hands. "No, no, Elwing. You were not the sponsor of such destruction, and it could have been much worse."
Elwing breathes a sigh of relief, grateful for the confidence her uncle has shown in her. "It pleases me greatly to hear you say that, uncle dear. I hope to be able one day to repay your kindness for offering me this haven."
Olwe continues. "Elwing, we were visited by an ancient dragon, one with much scarring upon it body, and upon it rode a Balrog." He nods in answer to her thanks, but watches her to see her reaction. "And such a pairing sends a chill to my heart that no wet clothes could echo."
"A balrog?" Aztryd whispers, clasping a hand over her mouth. "I thought those were only in tales."
Olwe turns to the little mother. "In sooth, I heard tales of one remaining, but that was a long time ago, many passings of many seasons in the mortal world. I thought not that any remained now."
"Aye, I have heard tales," Aztryd continues, in a shaken voice. "But I didn't believe every tale told around a fire, with a mug of ale."
"Perhaps,” says Olwe is a low voice, "we needs revisit those tales before they revisit us."
Elwing gasps in shock at such evil unleashed on the Swanhaven. Holding a hand to her heart, she, too, feels an icy chill. "Nay, Aztryd, uncle, I must say I now believe it was a Balrog that I saw on my way home."
Olwe turns back to his neice and tilts his chin up briefly as he responds. "How far away from Alqualonde was it when you caught sight of it?"
"If I recall correctly," she begins, still holding a hand to her heart, "It was after I had passed over Vana and did a sweep of the nearby lands. It had not crossed the ocean - indeed I was not aware that it might be able to have the power to cross the ocean." Elwing looks at her uncle and Aztryd. "Just the thought of it terrifies me."
Aztryd look mutely at the two tall elves, here among the wreckage of their home. Her own hands are still trembling. Olwe nods absently, eyes unfocused for a few moments. Then he says slowly, "It seemed odd to see the two paired as they were. I have never heard of a balrog riding a dragon as though he were a beast of burden."
"Is that how it managed to arrive here?" Elwing asks, looking incredulously at her uncle.
"The balrog in the tales," Aztryd says cautiously, "was killed. Or they said he was killed."
Olwe gives a little shrug and nods at Aztryd's words. "Yes, indeed. And other records of balrogs do not place them crossing any large body of water. Whether they can or not, we do not know for any surety." Olwe pauses and then, after a side look at Aztryd, he asks Elwing, "Niece, bearing in mind where the little mother's people are, how close was the balrog to them? Your best guess?"
Elwing looks at her two companions. "My best guess would be that it was across the sea away from the Blue Mountains where Aztryd's kin abide. I had also passed Vana before I caught sight of any danger,' she replies.
Aztryd remembers to breathe, after hearing Elwing's answer. Olwe nods again, and dips his head a moment, studying the carpet. After a few moments of silence, he speaks. "We have been in the mortal world for a few turns of the seasons, and though my understanding of the lands, where they lie is based upon history and not the trade routes, as Nole's is, I believe that Aztryd's people are safe, at least for now." He looks over to see her reaction.
Aztryd takes several deep breaths, and then says quietly, "It is good that the ... abomination ... is not close to them. But how can any place be truly safe? Did not that creature cross the sea to this island?"
Elwing shakes her head in disbelief of the events that have unfolded here in the Swanhaven - images from her dreams had become so enmeshed with the events of the past few days it was all a little hazy, as her vision seemed to be becoming. Looking at her two companions, she sighs and whispers, "I must apologize uncle, Aztryd. I feel the need to return to my bed and rest a while longer. I do hope I have been able to give you some clues, uncle, as to what I have seen. Though it really is somewhat muddled."
Olwe nods. "Of course, Niece. You need rest. Please, Aztryd, will you companion my niece, as you have been. I must think upon what next must be done." He looks over at Elwing and says gently, "Rest your heart, Elwing. You played no part in what happened here. I know that. Rest and restore thyself."
Elwing looks gratefully at her uncle and smiles. "Thank you for easing my heart: it means a lot to me. You too should rest, uncle. It has been a trying time for us all."
"Of course," says Aztryd automatically, gratefully sliding back into the role of sickroom attendant. "Come, sister, get your rest." Elwing wearily rises from her chair and nods respectfully to her uncle.
Olwe rises gracefully, looking down as he hears his foot land soundly in the tiny puddle. Looking back up sheepishly, he says, "I should at least change from these clothes," he allows, but then he takes one of niece’s hand in his. "I want you to focus on becoming well, Elwing. Please, we will talk again when you are stronger." Then he leans forward and kisses her forehead, pulling back with a blush. "I," he stammers a little, "When my daughter was so troubled, I would kiss her forehead." He gives a tiny smile. "I hope you did not take it amiss."
Elwing smiles at her uncle's gesture "Do not apologize, dear uncle. It is a wonderful feeling to know I have family around me."
Olwe nods softly, his blue eyes soft, as he murmurs. "I, too have miss the feel of family."
But Elwing was already turning away. She walks slowly away from the alcove smiling at Aztryd's comment. "I am very happy to have a sister like you, Aztryd," she whispers. Then she slowly makes her way back to her bed.
> Next Olwë > Next Elwing > Next Aztryd